Doctor Who_ Wooden Heart - Martin Day [70]
‘Thorn! Thorn!’ Petr was sobbing, absolutely unashamed and innocent, like a baby.
The boy returned the embrace. ‘Dad!’ He hugged Petr tight, as if desperate for these physical sensations after a period of dreaming limbo. ‘What happened to us?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Petro ‘What matters is that you are back!’
Martha prodded Jude gently, for the girl was still looking around, baffled by the two overlapping realities and the sudden appearance of the lost children. ‘I think your dad wants to see you,’ said Martha with a grin.
Jude ran across the room, her arms wide, as if finally acknowledging that making sense of it all would have to wait. She hurled herself into Saul’s embrace; he winced and stumbled slightly, but said nothing, lost in the joy of reunion.
Martha smiled. She could sense the creature’s delight – freed of the shackles of other people’s evil, and revelling in the confused babble of voices and stories, the final prisoner of the research station Castor was doing what the Doctor had ordered – enjoying the world that it had created.
‘You gave me such a fright!’ Saul was saying, still clinging tightly to his daughter. ‘Promise me you’ll never wander off like that again!’
‘Don’t make me promise something you know I can’t keep!’ Jude was giggling, just a normal child teasing her father. ‘But, if it makes you feel better… I’ll not go wandering – for the next couple of weeks, anyway!’
Petr stood tall, his face smudged with tears and dirt. ‘Listen to me, everyone!’ he said loudly. The children stopped jumping and shouting, looking instead towards their leader in hushed deference. ‘We should return to the village – there are lots of people who want to see you again!’
‘And how are you going to cross the lake?’ asked Martha, ever the pragmatist.
‘The Dazai has her methods,’ said Petr, ‘and so do I.’
It was only then, as the children began to file out of the cave, that Martha caught the creature’s voice in her own mind.
Trust me, Petr. Lead your people back to the village!
Martha ran to the cave’s entrance and looked out. The sky was full of stars now, not an empty void; light fell down on a lake that was perfectly calm, and a village liberated from fog. As if in recognition of all that had happened, the lanterns that had filled the village hall were now spreading across the bridges and pathways and lanes, bathing houses and workplaces with light and warmth.
Between the island and the shore near the village there now stretched a spur of rock. Water still flowed down its sides, as if it had only this moment emerged from the lake like a long, sinuous creature coming up for air.
For all Martha knew, that’s exactly what the creature had called into existence. This world belonged to the alien creature; it could, she supposed, do exactly what it liked with it.
Martha stood for a moment, watching the excited children scamper across the land bridge. They were already swapping stories of heroes and dark angels. She hoped the causeway would remain a permanent feature of Jude’s world – she could imagine generations of people coming here and creating their own legends about today’s events.
And, perhaps, Jude would tell her own children of a traveller from beyond the stars, of seeing the ‘real world’ that existed beyond and behind the trees and houses and lake, of battling dark angels and pleading for her life before a creature with godlike powers. And her kids wouldn’t believe a word of it, and rightly so. It would become a tall tale, alluded to and mocked, and, over the centuries, a myth, fit only for arguments and dreams.
Petr and Saul passed by, about to start their journey over the causeway. Jude and Thorn played in front of them, just kids happy to be alive – and glad to be going home. Saul was walking unaided now, but Martha could sense that the