Contents
Cover
About the Book
About the Author
Title Page
Tales of Trenzalore
Let It Snow by Justin Richards
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
An Apple a Day… by George Mann
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Strangers in the Outland by Paul Finch
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
The Dreaming by Mark Morris
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Copyright
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781448142606
www.randomhouse.co.uk
Published in 2014 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing.
A Random House Group Company
Copyright © Justin Richards, George Mann, Paul Finch and Mark Morris 2014
The Authors have asserted their moral right to be identified as the authors of the Work in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
Doctor Who is a BBC Wales production for BBC One.
Executive producers: Steven Moffat and Brian Minchin
BBC and DOCTOR WHO (word marks, logos and devices) are trademarks of the British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
The Random House Group Limited Reg. No. 954009
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Editorial director: Albert DePetrillo
Series consultant: Justin Richards
Project editor: Steve Tribe
As it had been foretold, the armies of the universe gathered at Trenzalore. Only one thing stood between the planet and destruction – the Doctor. Only one thing stood between the Doctor and the next Great Time War – his name. For nine hundred years, he defended the planet and the tiny town of Christmas against the forces that would destroy it.
Behind the technology barrier maintained by the Church of the Papal Mainframe, at the heart of the Truth Field, close to the crack between this universe and the next, the Doctor stood steadfast between life and death. He never knew how long he could keep the peace. He never knew what creatures would emerge from the snowy night to threaten him next. He knew only that at the end he would die on Trenzalore.
Some of what happened during those terrible years is well documented. But most of it has remained shrouded in mystery and darkness.
Until now…
Brought together in this volume are just four incidents from the time the Doctor spent on Trenzalore. Four stories of heroism and danger. Four stories that document the lengths the Doctor would go to in order to protect the place he had made his home. Four out of hundreds – perhaps thousands.
Over time, more stories will surely emerge about how the Doctor protected the town of Christmas, and how the townsfolk took him to their heart and cherished the time he bought them. But for the moment, we have only rumours and legends, myths and stories.
Tales of Trenzalore…
The sky burned. Crantle was used to the lights that punctuated the long nights – the stars and the countless spaceships that orbited Trenzalore and had done since before his grandfather was born. But this was something different. A trail of fire blazing across the heavens and crashing down on the other side of the high ridge that surrounded the town of Christmas.
Crantle lived outside the main community. He did the snow run – taking sleds laden with snow to the outlying communities. The snow farm at Christmas was the main source of water for many of the further settlements on Trenzalore. Crantle harvested the snow, packing it into the insulated holds of his sleds. They travelled in a small convoy, Crantle in the lead sled, calling to the dogs, though they knew the route as well as he did. The other sleds followed, roped loosely together, speeding over the frozen ground.
When the snow gave way to ice, and the ice slowly gave way to a greener landscape, Crantle lowered wheels beneath the sleds to continue on into the almost perpetual night. A round trip took him over a week. Over a week with no company except the dogs and his own tuneless singing. It would have driven some men insane, but Crantle loved every minute of it.
He spent the time between trips looking after the dogs, and tending the small heat-houses where he grew his own vegetables – anything that lessened his dependence on others. Meat and fruit he got in return for the snow he traded.
He wasn’t due to make another snow run for several days yet, so the burning sky was a curious distraction. Crantle sat in his favourite wooden chair on the front porch, and watched the trail of fire blistering past the stars and distant ships. It disappeared behind the ridge in a sudden shower of sparks. In the depths of the night, two more lines of fire etched a path towards the planet. But Crantle didn’t notice them. His attention was on the dying glow where the first fireball had fallen.
‘Meteor’ was a name somewhere at the back of his memory. A rock falling from the sky. One of the communities that Crantle dealt with was a small mining town. They dug into the ground – into rock – looking for valuable minerals and ores. Perhaps Crantle didn’t need to bother digging. Perhaps the rock he’d seen fall had shattered, showering valuable debris across the landscape. It was unlikely, Crantle thought, but as he had nothing better to do it was worth a look. He lived close to the top of the ridge, so it was probably less than an hour’s walk. Even if it wasn’t valuable, it might be interesting.
*
The light from the twin moons of Trenzalore revealed a blackened scar across the snow that was a reversal of the trail of fire across the sky. Snow was already covering the burned ground again, the flakes hissing and melting where they fell onto the hotter patches. Crantle walked beside the bare ground, using it as a path to guide him to the meteor, testing the snow ahead of him with his long wooden staff. He could just make out the jagged dark shape of the meteor nudged up against the edge of a wooded area.
The moon-pine trees swayed gently in the cool breeze, waiting patiently for the few minutes of daylight that would sustain them through the next long night. Crantle peered into the moonlight shadows, half expecting to see the gangly shape of the Doctor waiting for him among the trees. If anyone from Christmas came to see what had fallen beyond the ridge, it would be the Doctor. If there was anyone in Christmas that Crantle actually enjoyed talking to, it was the Doctor. There was something about the man that engendered confidence. Somehow Crantle felt he could be alone with the Doctor – there would be no prying, no polite questions, no pointless conversation simply for the sake of it.
But as he reached the end of the charred path through the snow, Crantle saw no one. In front of him, the meteor was smoking as if it was still on fire. Its jagged side glistened in the moonlight, steaming, melting. Water pooled round the base of it, running back down the wound it had gouged out of the ground. It was about twice Crantle’s height, and as deep – a rough sphere rounded by the heat of its arrival. And, to Crantle’s surprise, it was made of ice. As he approached, it wasn’t heat that he felt on his face, but a cold chill.
Crantle prodded at the ice with his wooden staff. Stepping closer, he reached out a tentative hand, patting the side of the ice. He could feel the chill through the thick padding of his glove. But something else too – a faint juddering, a vibration. As if the ice was shivering from its own cold. He wiped his glove across it, clearing the frost and leaving a smooth, glassy surface. It reflected the moons and the stars, their light smeared and distorted on the undulating surface.
But beneath the shimmering lights, deep within the ice itself, there was another shape – dark and blurred. A figure? Shuddering, as if it was struggling to move within its icy tomb. A trick of the moonlight, Crantle thought. No one could survive inside a block of ice. And this ice had fallen from the sky – no one could be inside it.
The sound was like a tree snapping in the wind. A sudden crack, and the whole section of ice in front of Crantle split from top to bottom. A section sheared off, crashing to the ground and shattering like glass. Instinctively, he stepped back. Moments later, a fist punched through the ice close to where his head had been. Sharp, transparent splinters whipped past Crantle’s face, stinging his cheeks and catching in his beard.
If he cried out in surprise or fear, the sound was lost in the explosion of ice as the creature inside shattered its way out and stood before him. A massive figure, towering above Crantle, encased in dark green armour like a reptilian shell. The face was hidden behind a helmet that covered the head, eyes shielded by dark shutters that reflected Crantle’s own frightened face. Thin, bloodless lips pursed in what might have been contempt. Or amusement.
Crantle’s only defence was the wooden staff he held. He brandished it in front of him, waiting to see what the creature would do next, trying to decide if he was safest to stand or to run. He didn’t expect it to speak.
‘Primitive!’ the towering figure rasped, its voice a harsh whisper. ‘You will ssssurrender to usss.’ It took a lumbering step forwards, reaching out towards Crantle.
He reacted without thinking – slamming the heavy wooden staff into the creature’s chest. The creature swayed slightly under the impact. Crantle drew back the staff to strike again. But the creature moved faster than he had anticipated. A clamp-like hand grabbed the staff between the stubby fingers of its gauntlet, ripping it from Crantle’s grasp. Then the creature hurled it away, the massive hand now reaching for Crantle instead.
He took a step backwards, turned to run. But too late. The creature’s armoured hand closed on the back of Crantle’s neck. He felt himself lifted into the air. The world was a sudden blur of confused motion – trees, ice, the creature’s impassive face, snowy ground racing towards him. Then darkness.
*
The Ice Warrior watched the humanoid’s inert body for a moment, checking for any signs of continuing life. But there were none. It gave a hiss of satisfaction. Above, the sky was split apart by the blazing path of another ice meteor. A third followed close behind. They impacted one after the other further along the ridge, just inside the treeline.
The Warrior stepped over Crantle’s body and made its way towards the nearest of the meteors.
By the time the Ice Warrior reached the nearer of the two meteors that had crashed down nearby, the Warrior inside was already smashing its way out. It stood in a shattered mass of ice, staring out at the night-clad landscape around it – the snowy ridge that stood between them and the small town of Christmas, the undulating terrain, the darkening woods.
The two Warriors saluted each other with a hiss of satisfaction. So far there was no indication that the Church of the Papal Mainframe had detected their arrival. Inert within the ice, all communications and technology stripped out of their armour, the hope was that there was nothing to detect – no emissions, no processor leakage, no power source.
‘Where is Lord Ssardak?’ the second Warrior said. ‘Did you see him arrive?’
The first Warrior gestured towards the woods. ‘His ice capsule came down nearby.’
They set off at once, lumbering through the snow towards the darkness of the wood.
Behind them, a curious figure peered out from behind a scraggy bush. He brushed his icy hair out of his eyes, and hurried after the Warriors, careful to keep well back and out of sight. When the Warriors disappeared into the trees, he waited for a while, anxious not to make any sound that would give away his presence, then followed.
Immediately, it was dark. The skeletal branches and gnarled trunks of the trees screened out the pale light of the moons. Ahead of him, he could hear the massive creatures forcing their way through the undergrowth and vegetation.
*
The third meteor had ripped a hole through the canopy of the wood. The huge ball of ice seemed to glow in the moonlight shining down through the gap between the broken trees. A thick mist clung to the ground as the ice slowly steamed and thawed. The two Warriors marched up to the ice, mist swirling round their feet. In unison they raised their huge fists, and together smashed them into the ice.
Watching from nearby cover, the man who had followed them into the wood saw the Warriors tearing away the ice. Finally, they stepped back, and a third figure emerged from the shattered remains of the meteor. Slightly shorter than the Warriors, sleeker in close-fitting armour that was somehow elegant rather than brutal. A dark cloak hung beneath and behind his elongated helmet, and when he spoke his voice was less laboured than the Warriors’ rasping tones.
‘Essbur, Zontan – you have done well.’
The Warriors saluted their lord, fist to breastplate.
‘The components will arrive soon,’ Essbur – the first Warrior to arrive – hissed.
‘We must observe,’ Zontan added.
Lord Ssardak nodded. ‘These trees obscure the view. Show me the quickest way out of these woods.’
The Warriors turned and headed laboriously back the way they had come. The man watching them pressed himself back into the undergrowth and held his breath. Only when the Warriors had passed did he let out a relieved stream of steaming air. It choked off as a heavy fist clamped down on his shoulder.
He wasn’t a short man, but his head was barely up to the shoulder of the Warrior that heaved him out of his hiding place. The creature’s free arm was raised, ready to hammer down. The man braced himself for the impact.
‘Wait,’ Ssardak ordered. He strode up to the man and looked down at him. ‘He may be useful.’ Then he turned and continued to follow the other Warrior on his way. The Warrior dragged the man roughly after them.
At the edge of the wood, the four figures paused. Two huge Warriors, the tall, aristocratic Ice Lord, and the dishevelled human in a damp, hapeless coat.
‘Who are you?’ Lord Ssardak demanded.
The man shrugged. ‘I live here, that’s all. Saw the fireballs. Came to look. I didn’t mean any harm. I wasn’t going to interfere. Can I go home now?’ he added hopefully.
Ssardak leaned down, so close that the man could see his own thin face reflected in the dark shields over the Ice Lord’s eyes. ‘I am Lord Ssardak. These are my Warriors – Essbur and Zontan. If you try to escape from us, they will kill you. Do you understand.’
The man nodded furiously. ‘What do you want?’
‘First, your name.’
‘You can call me Elias.’
‘You know this area?’
Elias nodded. ‘I’ve lived here a long time. I know it as well as anyone.’
Ssardak gave a hiss of satisfaction. ‘Then watch.’ He jabbed his fist at the sky – where four tiny points of light were streaking between the stars, growing steadily brighter and larger.
‘What are they?’ Elias breathed. ‘Shooting stars?’
‘Ice capsules, like the ones we arrived in. Only much smaller.’
‘You mean – there’s something inside them? More of your Warriors?’
Ssardak glared at the man. ‘I said they were smaller. What is inside does not concern you. Seeing where they come down does. Now, watch.’
They stood in silence as the capsules sped towards them, screeching overhead and disappearing into the distance in a blaze of fire. Sparks and flame shot up from each of the four impact points further down the valley.
‘Now tell me,’ Ssardak said, turning to Elias, ‘and I know that this close to the Truth Field you cannot lie – can you help us find the capsules?’
‘Yes,’ Elias said. ‘But so many meteors in one night – other people will have noticed. They’ll be looking too.’
‘You mean the Doctor?’
Elias nodded. ‘Anything out of the ordinary, and he’s right in the middle of it.’
‘You know the Doctor?’ Essbur hissed.
‘Everyone knows the Doctor. Is he why you’re here?’
‘Why else?’ Ssardak snarled.
‘Then I’ll help you,’ Elias said. He sighed and nodded.
Ssardak regarded him closely. ‘You would betray your own people?’
‘I’ve done that before,’ Elias said. There was a tinge of sadness in his tone.
‘Why would you help us?’ Zontan demanded.
‘Life has changed here since the Doctor came. Before that, if the stories are true, Christmas was a peaceful, happy place. Since the Doctor arrived, I’ve been scared for my life almost every day.’
‘So we can trust you?’ Ssardak said.
‘I’ll help you find your ice capsules,’ Elias said.
‘That much is evidently true. But will you betray us? Will you tell the Doctor about us, about the capsules?’
Elias smiled thinly. He wiped the snow from his forehead and eyebrows with the back of his hand. ‘Like you said, I can’t lie, not here. And I promise you, I shan’t say a word to the Doctor about you or about what you’re doing.’
‘Then you will help Essbur and me recover the capsules,’ Ssardak said. ‘Serve us well, and we shall let you live.’
Elias nodded. ‘The nearest of your capsules looked like it came down the Glade of Everdell, just past the frozen brook. I’ll take you there.’
He started out across the moonlit landscape, wading through the thick drifts of snow. When he glanced back, he saw that Ssardak and Essbur were close beside him. But the other Warrior, Zontan, had turned and was striding off in the other direction.
‘He’s going the wrong way,’ Elias protested. ‘None of your capsules fell back there. Where’s he going?’
‘It need not concern you,’ Ssardak hissed. ‘Zontan has a different mission to complete. But we are all working to the same ends.’
Essbur nodded, reaching out a massive arm and pushing Elias forwards. ‘The death of the Doctor.’
A group of about a dozen people made their way through the snowy fields towards the ridge. Despite the bright moonlight, they carried lanterns. Several of them had shovels. As they reached the top of the ridge, they split into pairs, each heading off in a different direction to continue their search.
‘If he’s so keen to find these fireballs,’ Mattias grumbled, ‘why isn’t the Doctor with us?’
‘He can’t be everywhere at once,’ his wife Maria pointed out. ‘But he’s searching too. If he thinks these fireballs are important, then we should look for them. The Doctor will find us soon, you’ll see. He’ll be with some of the others now, and I bet they’re not half as grumpy as you are.’
‘I didn’t have to come,’ Mattias grunted.
Maria linked her arm through his as they walked onward through the snow. ‘No, you didn’t. But here we are.’
Two hours later, Maria was the one complaining. She was cold and tired, and they had found nothing. ‘Perhaps we should just give up and go back home,’ she said.
As she spoke, a tall, lanky figure hurried up to them, bounding through the snow with enthusiasm.
‘Give up? We can’t give up now. We’ve only just started.’ The Doctor turned to look up at the sky, opening his mouth wide to let several snowflakes fall in. He snapped his mouth shut. ‘Oh, taste that snow. That’s a good harvest of snow, that is.’
‘Why are we looking for these fireballs?’ Mattias demanded. ‘What use are they to us?’
‘To us? Nothing at all.’
‘Well then.’
‘But they must be useful to someone, or else why send them? Tell me that, eh – why send them?’
‘All right,’ Maria challenged. ‘Why?’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘But I think we should find out, don’t you? Don’t answer that,’ he added quickly. ‘Look, I’ve told the others we’ll meet in the hollow behind Preacher’s Clump in an hour, all right? Johann is setting a fire and Old Thom said he’ll organise a barbecue breakfast. That’s what’s so great about the long nights here – you’re never far from breakfast. So I’ll see you there, yes?’
‘Yes, all right,’ Mattias agreed. He couldn’t help smiling at the Doctor’s energetic demeanour.
The Doctor himself was already hurrying off back through the snow, half running, half jumping. ‘And if you find a fireball, bring it along,’ he called back. ‘So long as it’s not too hot to handle.’
*
The best way to recover the ice capsules before anyone else stumbled across them was to split up. Essbur was reluctant to allow the human to go off on his own, but Ssardak seemed unworried. Later, as Essbur returned with the second of the ice capsules, there was no sign of Elias.
‘He will not betray us,’ Ssardak assured the Warrior. ‘He gave us his word.’
‘Is the word of a human to be trusted?’
Ssardak’s thin lips twisted into a slight smile. ‘Not to trust him would be dishonourable. But he gave us assurances and the Truth Field means he was not lying.’
‘What if he does not return?’
‘It makes little difference,’ Ssardak said. ‘But here he is.’
Sure enough, Elias was stumbling back towards them through the snow. He stopped to catch his breath before speaking. ‘There are people,’ he gasped at last. ‘From the town. I think they’re searching for your ice capsules too.’
‘Did they see you?’ Essbur demanded.
‘I know how to stay hidden when I want to.’
‘Have you located any of the capsules?’ Ssardak asked.
Elias shook his head. ‘You?’
‘Two,’ Ssardak said. ‘They were close together.’
He stepped aside to reveal the capsules lying in the snow behind him. Each was a rough sphere of ice, about the size of the balls the Christmas children kicked around for amusement. Inside its glistening heart, Elias could see the shadowy shape of something frozen inside.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘The first components,’ Ssardak told him. ‘Now we must find the others before the humans stumble across them.’
‘One of them came down the other side of that wooded area,’ Elias said. ‘It’s a bit further, but you’ll be quicker skirting round the edge than trying to go through.’
‘And the fourth?’ Essbur hissed.
‘Down in the valley, I think. That’s where the people I saw were heading.’
‘Then we should go there first,’ Essbur said.
‘They’ll see you,’ Elias pointed out. ‘And I’d be quicker. No disrespect,’ he added quickly. ‘But if you’re hoping to keep this all secret, maybe I should look for that capsule and you get the other one?’
Ssardak reached out and grasped Elias’s shoulder as he considered. ‘You will tell no one about us, about our presence here,’ he snarled. ‘Say it.’
‘Of course.’ Elias’s face was twisted with pain. ‘I’ll tell no one.’
Ssardak loosened his grip. ‘That is good. Because if you do, Essbur will kill you.’
‘I don’t doubt that for a moment,’ Elias said, rubbing his shoulder. He forced a smile. ‘So, I’ll meet you back here, then, shall I?’
Ssardak waited until the human was almost out of sight before giving Essbur his orders: ‘Follow him. If the humans have already found the capsule, you will recover it. They will know we are here soon enough – once Zontan completes his mission.’
*
Further down the slopes, Zontan had almost reached the town. The massive Ice Warrior lumbered through the snow, heading directly towards his target. His mission was simple and straightforward. And once completed would lead inevitably to the death of the Doctor.
*
By the time Maria and Mattias joined the others by the fire, there was a pig roasting on a spit and several local farmers had turned out to see what was going on. There were perhaps twenty people sitting round, warming themselves and enjoying the smell of the imminent breakfast. Maria knew most of them, but not all. Some of the farmers and scavengers out here beyond the ridge kept themselves to themselves.
The Doctor was sitting cross-legged a little way from the fire. In his hands he was turning over what looked like a large ball of ice, juggling it so as not to get too cold. Finally, he set it down on the ground in front of him, and leaned forward to stare intently at it.
‘Is that what we’ve been looking for?’ Maria asked as she and Mattias sat down beside him.
‘Yes…’ he answered absently. Then his face cracked into a wide grin as he looked up at them. ‘So you came. Breakfast – can’t wait.’
‘What is it?’ Mattias asked.