Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [63]
‘It’s OK,’ said the Doctor, his voice calm and reassuring. ‘It’s me.’
‘What happened?’ asked Jude, still panicked and holding fast to the Doctor’s arms.
‘That creature was rummaging through our minds,’ said the Doctor. ‘For some reason, it decided that we should live.’ And suddenly his face broke into a grin and he pointed at the dark shape further down the corridor. ‘Doesn’t look so frightening now we’re this side of it, does it? Looks sort of… lonely.’
Jude turned, grinning. If they’d walked through the creature, then that meant…
‘That’s right,’ said the Doctor, turning his back on the dark angel. ‘The heart of the Castor!’ He jogged towards a huge door, rounded and formed of some bronze-hued metal, and almost embraced it, flinging his arms wide in every direction. ‘Come on!’ he called to a hesitant Jude. ‘Nearly there!’
‘Nearly there!’ said Petr, pausing just for a moment. In truth, the island in the centre of the lake was at most only a few hundred square metres in size, but Saul had been unable to walk unaided and it had taken them some minutes to leave the beach. Now they approached the island’s one feature – a great, rocky outcrop that rose up suddenly from the brown sand.
Martha risked a look back. Standing in the village, the island had not seemed very far away, but their journey had been daunting and now the cluster of buildings and houses was entirely invisible in the distant fog.
She turned back to Petr and Saul. Saul hadn’t said much since their arrival on the island; he winced often when applying weight to his left leg, and Martha knew he was in a great deal of pain. She’d offered to check his wounds, but Saul had refused. However, he took advantage of this momentary lull to turn and glance at his older brother.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply, his voice sounding brittle and dry.
Petr glanced away. ‘Those creatures would have killed us all. It was simply self-preservation.’
‘I meant for not killing me back there!’
Petr stared at the dark, rocky outcrop, as if trying to read some meaning in its jagged edges and vertices. ‘Would you have let me?’ he said.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Would you have deserved it?’
‘Perhaps,’ said Saul, after a moment’s thought. ‘Perhaps we all do.’
Petr nodded. ‘That’s true enough, I suppose.’
‘I’m sorry for what happened,’ said Saul. ‘Between me and Kristine. I know just saying “sorry” isn’t adequate, but –’
‘You’ve destroyed my world!’ said Petr suddenly. ‘It’s all over now. Everything’s… worthless.’ He looked around, a man conflicted between anger and tears. ‘I don’t know why we’re here. Perhaps it’s better that the village is destroyed!’
‘You were preoccupied by your duties,’ said Saul carefully. ‘Kristine was lonely…’
Petr clapped his hands over his ears. ‘I don’t want to hear it!’ he said. ‘I don’t want to listen to excuses!’
‘There’s no excuse for what happened,’ said Saul simply.
‘And the lies! And…’ The next word came out as a whisper, a harsh prayer or a mournful curse. ‘Thorn…’
‘You still love Thorn,’ said Saul, breathing heavily, though with emotion or because of the pain, Martha wasn’t quite sure.
Petr nodded slowly, rubbing a hand across his eyes. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘I’m trying so hard to hate you – you, and Kristine, and Thorn – but… I can’t.’ He looked around, glancing up at the starless sky and the distant shoreline, lost in the fog. ‘Come on,’ he said quietly.
Martha scrabbled around in the shingle, pulling out a long, water-smoothed piece of driftwood. She didn’t know if the lake had tides, or if the wood was just some random detail of the entire bubble world’s unreality, but it seemed sturdy enough, and she passed it over to Saul.
Saul grunted, forcing the stick under his arm like a crutch, before setting off for the rocky outcrop. The stunted spire of sharp stone at the heart of the island was bathed in diffuse light, great cracks and fissures becoming visible as the three travellers approached. Even more obvious was a great cave, concealed between