by Doctor Who
The Doctor stopped suddenly. ‘Excellent idea,’ he said.
27
Martha, sighing, circled on the spot and started to walk away. Then she noticed the Doctor wasn’t coming and she looked back at him.
‘One slight problem,’ the Doctor continued, still rooted to the spot.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’m caught in a trap,’ said the Doctor, pointing down to something metallic at his feet. For the first time Martha could see the beads of sweat on the Doctor’s forehead. ‘Doesn’t half hurt,’ he added.
28
Saulmovedthroughtheforestsilently,butatspeed. Somethingwas wrong. The equilibrium of the forest had been disturbed, possibly by some rogue element – a new predator, perhaps? He wasn’t unduly surprised. With all that was going on in the village, it was surely only a matter of time before the unease and disruption spread further afield.
He’d found nothing in his rope traps, though the bait had gone from a couple. The wolves – or whatever they were – seemed to be getting cleverer by the day. Still, it only took one slip, one newcomer to the forest who didn’t recognise the tell-tale signs. . . Saul had replaced the meat before heading off to the traps in the north and west of the forest. He hoped he’d have better luck there.
As he approached the area, his sense of unease deepened. His shoulders prickled and his mouth became dry.
He could hear voices.
‘I can’t really get a good grip on it.’ A woman’s voice.
‘Ow, that hurts!’ A man – in some discomfort.
‘Look, I’m trying my best!’
Saul was about to march into the clearing – this was Saul’s area, surely they knew better than to come up here? – when he realised that 29
he recognised neither voice. They spoke in clipped, rushed words, and that wasn’t just a result of the trap. These were people used to living life at speed, and the pain in the man’s voice was as much irritation at an interruption as a genuine fear for his own life.
Saul paused for a moment, his hand on the short sword that he always carried at his side. Who were these people? Traders did, on occasion, come to the village – almost always seeming to trigger yet another argument between Saul and his brother – but invariably word was sent ahead of them. Saul was sure that no emissaries or mer-chants were expected, and even if they were lone individuals seeking some sort of business opportunity, why would they try to approach the village from the woods? Much easier to take a route down from the mountains.
Perhaps, then, these individuals had a more malign agenda – perhaps it was their presence that had so disrupted the forest. Perhaps, even, they were responsible for the succession of recent, grim events, though, as he crept forward, Saul had to admit to himself that they didn’t sound terribly sinister.
Incompetent, perhaps, but not sinister.
‘Now I’ve got my finger stuck!’
‘Doctor, you’re not helping. Look, let’s wipe away the worst of the blood and try to get a good look. . . ’
Saul settled behind a squat flowering shrub and gently parted the leaves. There were two outsiders, completely unknown to him. The man was dressed in a subdued manner, as if he wished to wear nothing that would detract from the expressive force of his own personality. The woman, on the other hand, was as brightly coloured as a flower desperate for the attention of a life-giving bee. Her clothing was a kaleidoscope of hues and textures and her dark hair resembled the crest of some exotic songbird.
The more he considered it, the more Saul concluded that – whoever they were – these people were not a threat. And, if that was true, then what – or who – had caused such a palpable shift in the atmosphere in the woods?
Pushing these concerns to the back of his mind, Saul was about to 30
rise from his position and greet the outsiders when he heard a twig crack, far away to his right.
The woods – despite the constant, frantic bickering of the couple in the clearing – became quieter still. Saul, holding his breath, moved his head slowly in the direction of the sound.
He could sense that something was coming, alerted by the sounds of the trapped man and his friend. Something grim and purposeful, something as different from bear or wolf as he himself was from a hen or a swan.
Something huge and threatening, something from legend, was advancing towards them.
Petr found the Dazai sitting on the steps that led up to her home, regarding the trees of the forest’s edge as intently as one would pore over an ancient document. Her broad forehead had cracked into a puzzled frown, but something like a smile played out on the edges of her lips.
Petr stood for a few moments, unsure if the Dazai had heard him coming. ‘Noble Dazai,’ he began after a few moments – as irritated as ever by the lack of authority and assurance in his voice.
‘I heard you,’ snapped the Dazai, still regarding the dark, swaying trees. ‘Unlike your brother, you thunder around with all the subtlety of an amorous bull!’
‘Noble Dazai,’ said Petr, swallowing down his embarrassment, ‘I did not mean to. . . ’
‘Shh!’ she hissed, a finger appearing at her lips. ‘Something is going on, deep in the trees. . . ’ She paused, her eyes active – and then sighed, turning to Petr. ‘Ah, the moment has gone,’ she complained.
‘We will find out soon enough.’
‘I am sorry,’ said Petr, bowing low.
‘What do you want?’ snapped the Dazai, her eyes still blazing.
Then, as Petr stood there, trying to clear his throat and formulate what he wanted to say, she seemed to cast off her irritation like a dis-carded cloak. She rose, unsteadily, to her feet and, one hand gripping a cane tightly, extended the other to lightly touch Petr’s arm. ‘Come, 31
you can tell me as we stroll through the village. A walk will do me good.’
Without asking, the Dazai looped her arm through Petr’s. They began to head towards the village green and Petr’s formal hall at its far side.
‘My brother came here this morning,’ Petr said simply. He knew it was better to be blunt with the Dazai; she disliked many things, and needless embellishment was one of them.
‘Who told you?’ she asked, though her former irritability had sub-sided. It was a question, not a criticism.
‘I saw him myself,’ said Petr. ‘I did not sleep well, and was watching over the village before sunrise.’
‘Hoping that your own attentiveness might save the children?’
‘Or prevent them from returning to us, yes,’ said Petr. ‘If I could, by my own actions, save our village from its fate. . . ’
The Dazai glanced at Petro. Her voice became quieter still. ‘Noble Petr. . . You would indeed do anything to save your subjects.’
‘They are my family,’ said Petr simply.
‘Indeed they are,’ said the Dazai. ‘Why do you ask about your birth brother? It is no secret that he fetches me water each morning.’
‘Forgive me, noble Dazai, but. . . I need to know if the two of you have discussed anything regarding this. . . situation.’
‘Your brother is a loyal subject,’ said the Dazai. ‘Though his roving spirit would love to travel the land far and wide, he accepts the judgement that you have handed down and contents himself within the forest. In all the time we have spoken he has never once expressed resentment or frustration.’ The Dazai paused for a moment, her eyes full of affection. ‘He would do nothing to undermine you or to risk the good of this village. If he had some insight or knowledge, he would bring it to you. You must know that.’
‘I know that he was your favourite to become leader.’ The Dazai continued on her way, leaning even more heavily now against Petr’s side. ‘That is true. Your brother has many noble qualities – a man of action, a man impatient for change and progress, a man with drive.’
The Dazai chuckled. ‘But the village council wanted a thinker, a de-32
liberator, a man more used to weighing up matters than coming to an impulsive conc
lusion. And, as the months have passed, I believe that they were correct to do so.’
Petr paused, his eyes wide. ‘You think. . . it was right that I became leader?’
‘It was.’ She laughed again, a throaty, intimate laugh at odds with her austere reputation. ‘Even the Dazai can make mistakes. She is merely the adviser, the sage, the ceremonial outpouring of that which is within. . . She is still human, and she is not beyond making mistakes!’
‘You are very generous, noble Dazai,’ said Petro ‘I wish I were so accepting of my past errors!’
‘You know I would see you at any time,’ continued the Dazai as they passed a group of men and women beating the rugs outside their homes. ‘It is your right as elder, and my privilege as your subject.’
‘I’m not. . . I’m not sure how I match up to my younger brother. I have none of his strength, his prowess, his bravery. . . ’
‘It is as I said: your qualities, your strength, are different. That does not imply worthlessness.’
‘Sometimes I wish I was more like Saul,’ said Petro ‘Nothing seems to bother him.’
‘You know that isn’t true,’ said the Dazai. ‘We are all affected. It is true that this shadow has not yet passed over Saul’s family. That does not mean that he is indifferent to the suffering of others. None of us are.’
‘Then you can understand why I wanted to speak with you,’ said Petro ‘If Saul knows something, has some insight. . . ’
‘If Saul knew anything he would come to you.’
‘I hope that’s true.’ Petr sighed. ‘I hope. . . I’m doing the right thing.
Saul’s urge to get help from beyond the village. . . He’s not without his supporters, you know.’
‘You must continue to do what you think is best,’ said the Dazai as they came to a halt outside the ceremonial hall. Larger than any other building within the village, its pitched roof seemed to slice into the sky. Flags fluttered from its corner and metal lanterns clashed 33
and chimed as they hung over the great doorway. ‘As I have told you before, help will come, in one form or another,’ continued the Dazai with a smile. ‘It always does.’
Martha tugged desperately at the toothed trap that had snapped shut around the Doctor’s ankle. He appeared not to have lost much blood –though he’d made some quip about needing to dry-clean his trousers later – and the rough metal jaws seemed not to have closed entirely, allowing him to move his leg a little. Despite this, he seemed to be – if that were possible – even more manic than usual. Martha reckoned it was some sort of shock kicking in – though goodness only knew what kind of shock an alien with two hearts might suffer.
‘I must stop doing this!’ said the Doctor, his eyes wide. ‘It really is rather embarrassing.’
‘It sounds like you make a habit of it.’
‘Oh, you know, every few hundred years or so. And then there was this school trip. . . ’
‘You went on a school trip?’
‘I use the term somewhat loosely. I mean, can you imagine me sat at the back of a clapped-out old bus rolling stink bombs down the aisle and chatting up Lucy McGregor from class 6C?’
‘Actually, I can,’ said Martha.
The Doctor snorted. ‘Oh, you’ve got such a low opinion of me, Martha Jones! My teachers thought I was a model pupil. I never got into trouble.’ He paused. ‘Well, not that often.’ He glanced away.
‘Well, not when it really mattered. Well, not on a day with a “z” in it, anyway. . . ’
Suddenly his face broke into a broad grin. ‘Oh, hello!’ he said more loudly, looking over Martha’s shoulder. ‘Martha, we have company,’
he added.
Martha turned. Coming towards them across the clearing was a tall, broad man in brown robes. His face was hard to read, though his eyes seemed to twinkle with energy. A sword – thankfully sheathed
– glinted at his belt, and his long, wild-looking hair was pulled back into a pigtail. He was moving silently over the branches and leaf litter 34
of the forest floor – and, disconcertingly, he wasn’t even looking at the Doctor and Martha.
He bent down at the Doctor’s feet and, without a word, flicked a hidden catch and pulled open the trap. He indicated, with an impatient move of his head, the far side of the clearing.
‘Well, thank you,’ said the Doctor, who seemed not to have noticed the man’s anxious demeanour. ‘I’m most grateful for your. . . ’
The man hissed the Doctor into silence and gestured at the other side of the clearing again. As Martha and the Doctor moved away –the Doctor was hobbling slightly but able to walk unaided – Martha saw the man, still crouching, draw his sword silently. The weapon was subtly curved, but short enough for use in the limited spaces afforded by the dense forest.
Throughout his encounter with the Doctor and Martha, the man’s eyes had been fixed on something else, some deeper darkness between the trees, and only now did Martha see what had so transfixed and terrified him.
A vast, awkward creature had advanced on the Doctor and Martha while they’d been preoccupied with the trap. Though still largely obscured by foliage, Martha caught glimpses of its skin – hide? – as it moved from side to side as if assessing its targets. She glimpsed prominent, ridged bones, with eviscerated skin almost seeming to hang in strips, impossibly slender limbs, and, just once, scarlet eyes that burned with a malignant intelligence.
‘Keep walking,’ whispered the Doctor, who’d obviously seen the creature now. His voice was simple and serious, all trace of mania
– and his usual humour – gone.
Their rescuer, too, was backing away, still almost on his haunches as if coiled to strike, still staring implacably at the huge, obscured beast. Only when the man came alongside the Doctor and Martha did he sheathe his sword and engage them in conversation. His voice was deep and warm but he spoke in clipped, anxious words.
‘Do you need help?’ he asked the Doctor. ‘We need to get away from here.’
‘I’m OK,’ said the Doctor. ‘Thanks for sorting out that trap.’
35
‘Normally I am alone in the forest,’ said the man, by way of apology.
‘What was that creature?’ asked Martha.
‘Something that does not belong here,’ said the man.
‘And we’re safe now?’ asked Martha, risking a glance behind her.
She couldn’t see the clearing now, still less any sign of the tall, angular beast that had watched them through the trees.
‘Let’s hope so,’ said the man, though he sounded less than certain.
The man, who introduced himself as Saul, quickly escorted the Doctor and Martha to the edge of the forest. He said little as they walked, his eyes and ears alert instead for any sign that the creature had followed them through the trees. Martha noticed that the birds were silent now; all she could hear were their own footsteps. Each step sounded impossibly loud; each twig that snapped underfoot was like a rifle shot.
The trees began to thin, the undergrowth becoming less ragged and more luxuriant. The Doctor kept trying to scan Saul with his sonic screwdriver, surreptitiously; Martha glowered at him, worried that this would be construed as rudeness – or a provocation. But thankfully Saul’s back was always turned to them.
Suddenly they were out in the open, standing high on a hillside, looking down on a lush valley of grass cut through by a twisting river.
And, clustered on one bank of the river as it blossomed suddenly into an expansive lake, sat a village of flags and spired buildings.
‘Home?’ queried the Doctor.
Saul nodded. ‘My brother did not tell me we were expecting visitors.’ He turned back to the Doctor and Martha. ‘I’m sorry if you’re in pain,’ he added ruefully, indicating the Doctor’s ankle.
The Doctor waved away the apology. ‘Your brother is?’
‘Our elected leader. You’ll want to speak to him first.’ They began to descend the hillside. Even from this distance Martha co
uld see horses and cows in the fields and children playing outside a school. It was a comforting, everyday sight after their close encounter with the beast in the forest.
36
They followed a small dirt track into the village, Martha wondering idly if Saul had created this himself by sheer dint of having walked to and from the woods so often. And then she noticed that-there was no proper road into the village at all. It seemed entirely cut off from the outside world.
And then she reminded herself that, as far as they knew, they were still within, or attached to, the space station she and the Doctor had explored. Perhaps there was no ‘outside world’ – perhaps this was all there was. But the illusion of a far larger reality was persuasive. The mountains and rolling hills that framed the scene seemed utterly real.
If this was merely some computer simulation, some painted backdrop, it was breathtakingly detailed.
Martha wondered – if she and the Doctor just carried on walking, would they eventually come to the edge of the world?
‘I would very much like to see your brother,’ said the Doctor suddenly, as if he’d come to some sort of decision. He stopped for a moment to look at Saul. ‘I’m afraid I may have some. . . interesting news for him. For all of you. . . ’
‘Oh?’
‘I don’t know quite how to say this, but. . . ’ The Doctor sighed and glanced away. His manner reminded Martha of a hospital consultant about to deliver terrible news. ‘The fact of the matter is, I’m pretty sure you, the mountains, the village. . . ’ He indicated the entire vista before them with his outstretched hand. ‘None of this existed a couple of hours ago.’
37
Jude was bored. The constant droning of the teacher’s voice had become a lullaby designed only to make her eyelids feel heavier and heavier. She’d enjoyed the lesson about the history of the village, which, like a stone skipping over still water, had touched on everything from glaciers and how valleys are formed, to history and the lives of the first leaders of their community.
