Silencing the Drums

IN WHICH THE DOCTOR HEARS A STORY


—-

“Why are we standing around here, again?”

Rom and Kyu waited on a rocky promontory several miles from the Fox’s den, both leaning against the bole of a tall, broad-leafed tree. Kyu had instructed Rom to dress well that morning, but had been tight-lipped as to the reason. These past few days he’d been nearly buzzing with energy, tidying his home and charting elaborate diagrams on bits of parchment. The man had his suspicions, but Kyu frequently had these fits of activity for no discernable reason. This vigil was certainly odd, but Rom had learned to expect the unexpected.

“We’ll see it before sundown,” Kyu said, repeating the same reassurances he’d offered all day. “I know it’s to happen today, but time can be a tricky thing. Always shifting. Don’t worry – I promise you won’t miss it.”

Rom nudged a shoulder against Kyu’s and laughed. “Bastard, keeping your secrets. It’s getting cold out here!”

“Be patient,” Kyu chuckled. “I promise, I’ll warm you right up when we return to the den. Might have a good story this evening, as well.”

And so they waited, an hour more, then two, and their small, white sun began to sink low against the horizon. Still Kyu watched, taut as a pulled bowstring, scanning the vast plains for any sign of movement. All was still, save a passing herd of shaggy silver-white ungulates.

When he at last heard what he’d been waiting for, the sound shot through him and lit every nerve on fire. He let out a wild whoop of glee and turned to Rom, grinning wide. “I told you! Sun’s not down and here they are – nearly late, but not quite. Come, I want him to know we’ve been waiting!”

Rom knew better than to ask. He pelted after his Fox, chasing the bizarre, metallic whine carried to them on the wind.

~*~

Gintsuru was not an easy planet to get a lock on. It was uncharted for the most part, and the TARDIS always had quite a fight tearing through the temporal energy that surrounded the place. He was always especially careful not to cross his own timeline – the TARDIS wanted a reference point and struggled mightily for a familiar point in time.

“So, yes – Storytellers! Bet you’ve never been to visit them, have you, Master?” The Doctor circled the console with long, uneven strides, attempting to keep a hand on every single instrument at once. Jack manned one end, flipping switches and turning dials as ordered, but was in constant danger of being knocked flat by the Doctor’s legs. It didn’t help that the TARDIS itself was shaking, lurching from side to side as she rode the temporal turbulence that surrounded their destination. For his part, the Master clung to a railing and made disparaging remarks about the Doctor’s abilities as a pilot.

“No, I never have,” he sneered. “Why bother? From what I heard, all they ever do is sit around and tell stories. Frightfully boring, isn’t it?”

The Doctor laughed. “How do you think I got the better of you, that year that never was? Stories! Words! Language! There’s not a thing in the world that’s stronger than that. You, with your brute force and, what was it, lasers – completely blindsided.”

“Fool me once, Doctor,” the Master said with a scowl. “Next time I’m just going to murder your companions and save myself the trouble.”

The Doctor shook his head and, as the TARDIS made a particularly ferocious lurch in the Master’s direction, leaned in close, bracing himself on the railing. “Ah, but that’s what you always say. Not very good at the follow-through, are we!” He swung back up to the console and thunked a fist down on a large, particularly shiny silver button. “There we go – hold onto something now, everyone-“

The TARDIS groaned and lurched again, and at last worked out a viable landing sequence. Jack struggled with his wide panel of controls, completely out of his depth with the bucking, shaking time machine. Advanced spacecraft – no problem. An ancient, wonky TARDIS piloted by fewer than half of the recommended crew – definitely a problem.

“Doctor, we’re coming in a little fast,” he shouted over the whine of the emergency breaks and rumble of straining mechanics as the TARDIS punched through the wall of the vortex. “Shouldn’t we slow her up a bit?”

“No!” the Doctor crowed. “This is the best part. Well – not as good as when they say, ‘It’s bigger on the inside’ – but nearly. Here we are- nearly there now-“

The TARDIS materialized in one piece, not smoking or sparking, landing with hardly enough impact to flatten the white grasses around it. A quick glance and his instruments told the Doctor that they’d landed precisely where and when he’d wanted to, and he grinned at his two passengers in triumph.

“I hate to say I told you so, but – I told you so,” he said as he circled past Jack. “Now, it’s probably a bit nippy out there, so I’d suggest coats and hats. Perhaps just coats. Not just hats, though, that’d be silly. I’m going to need the end of that lead, Master.”

The Master grudgingly passed him the looped end of the lead. There was no point in resisting – he’d be in a better position to gather information outside of the TARDIS. Anyway, he was going stir-crazy and didn’t think he could handle indefinite hours locked away in the spare room.

“Know that I’m going under protest,” he said, straightening his coat lapels. “I think you’re a daft idiot, and that this is going to be a pointless exercise.”

The Doctor wound the lead end around his hand twice, giving him a strong grip while still allowing the Master a good five feet of leeway. He had an awkward moment in which he wasn’t sure what to do with his leashed Time Lord, all too conscious of the connotations of their arrangement, but called up his recent victory over the Master’s ego and steeled himself for what was to come.

Their small entourage was already waiting for them. Kyu’s face lit up like the sun and he took a deep bow, the long sleeves of his coat brushing the ground. A bemused Rom did the same after starting a moment at the man on the leash.

“Doctor! I’ve been anticipating this visit,” Kyu said. “And a new face, as well – though I see you’ve brought the Falcon with you.” He smiled, sly and knowing. “Mmm, a Falcon dressed in Crane’s clothing. That coat suited you much better, Doctor.”

The Doctor was used to Kyu’s mannerisms, but the Master was not. “I really hate creatures that speak in riddles,” he said with an elaborate eye-roll. “Especially transparent ones.” He glanced at the Doctor and added, “You said they’d be clever.”

“Well. I’m sure he doesn’t want to show his hand right away,” the Doctor shrugged. “In any case – it’s good to see you again as well, Kyuubi. Been getting on alright?”

Kyu might’ve had something clever to say in response, something worldly and revealing, but he lost his moment as soon as Jack Harkness stepped forth from the TARDIS. Rom’s attention had been drifting a bit, but the moment he laid eyes on the Captain he launched straight for him like an over-enthusiastic puppy.

“The Face of Boe!” he exclaimed, reaching out to shake a bemused Jack’s hand. “Jesus, it really is you. Who’d have thought? You’re the whole reason I joined the Time Agency – that I ended up here!”

Kyu was startled to silence for all of two seconds, then laughed, dropping all pretense of formality. “Sorry, he’s not normally like this,” he grinned. “Rom – down, boy! Give the man some air!”

Jack chuckled and shook Rom’s proffered hand, clearly pleased to have been recognized. “Nah, nah, it’s alright. Always happy to have a fan. What’s your name, kid?”

Rom suddenly realized what a starstruck fool he must look and cleared his throat, grasping for any remaining shreds of dignity he might have. “Romeny Cooper. Joined up with the Agency after you came to speak to my class back home. Best decision I ever made.”

“The Agency’s defunct now, isn’t it?” Jack asked. “Ran into an old friend of mine, told me the whole thing had been disbanded. I went MIA a while ago.”

Rom nodded. “Yeah. When it went belly-up, I decided to shack up with this guy.” He quirked a thumb in Kyu’s direction. “Second-best decision I ever made.”

“Well, I’m glad to see our childhood ambitions fulfilled at last,” the Master interrupted, “But has anyone else noticed that it’s cold out?”

“He’s right,” Kyu nodded. “Better finish up introductions indoors. Come on – the den’s not far from here. None of my people should notice your TARDIS - none of them bother to venture this far out from the capitol.”

~*~

Kyu’s den was gloriously warm after the chill wind of the open plain. The vast complex stretched out over more than a football field’s worth of land, divided into small, individual warrens. The sitting room was the largest space in the den, big enough to accommodate a dozen deep, comfortable sitting mats and a scattering of chairs. A large, round firepit sat at the center of the room, keeping the place cozy against the deepest chills; a network of air vents and intakes kept the room smoke-free. Though the place was clearly hewn from the living earth, the room had a refined charm to it, with walls and floors covered over in soft, silver-blue wood and glass tiles. Small orange globes ran up the walls to provide illumination, a new feature since the Doctor’s last visit and, no doubt, a reference to the TARDIS’s interior.

“So, you’ve come to ask me for help,” Kyu said once they’d all settled comfortably beside the fire. “No, don’t deny it – it’s written. You’ve come to ask me for help with your newest… companion.”

“His captive,” the Master interjected, and gestured at his leash in disgust. He and the Doctor sat as far apart as they could manage with the lead snaked between them obscenely.

“His companion,” Kyu replied, his expression serene. “You came to him to stop the war-drums.”

“Still not impressed,” the Master said, disdainful. “Come now, Storyteller – tell me something I don’t know.”

“The Doctor gets the first tale.” Kyu flashed him a wink and rose, reaching for his hand. “Been a while since I’ve gotten to be in a locked room alone with him. And this face! You get younger and younger every time.”

“I can’t let go of the lead,” the Doctor protested, flustered by Kyu’s advances. “It’s Atraxi-“

“I know what it is,” Kyu said. “Atraxian lead. Can’t let go or he’ll teleport immediately to whatever thing you’ve programmed as his cell. Doesn’t have to be you holding the lead, though, Doctor – you’ve got this big, strapping ex-Time Agent with you. Surely he can handle this skinny bastard.”

“I’ve always wanted a fox-pelt coat,” the Master sneered. “Come – why don’t you try your chances?”

“Patience, you wild beast,” Kyu laughed. “Go on – give him over to the Captain. If he acts up, Rom will sit on him.”

Rom nodded with great enthusiasm. The Master gave him a sidelong glance, appraising. “My, my. Perhaps I’ll have to try and make a dash for it.”

Reluctant though he was, the Doctor couldn’t ignore Kyu’s request. Storytellers had their rituals, and if he wanted to get anything out of this little jaunt, he’d need to play by Kyu’s rules. He gave a stern warning to the Master and Jack both, reprogrammed the lead to accept Jack’s biological signature, and gingerly handed the end of it over. The Master sat quietly, though the Doctor could nearly feel the resentment brewing in him.

“Come along, Doctor. This won’t take a moment,” Kyu said, grasping the sleeve of his coat and guiding him down one of the many corridors that radiated off of the central room. Just down the passage lay a small, sparse room, furnished with a pair of floor cushions and nothing more. A tangle of tree roots covered the raw ceiling, and the walls were bare earth, unfinished and still living. The small space was dark and womb-like, and as soon as Kyu closed the door on him, the Doctor felt the Storytellers’ magic at work.

Kyu sat across from him, his features lit only by the faint bioluminescent glow of a small fungus covering the tree roots above. In the dim light he seemed more of an animal, his eyes alight, his features sharp and vulpine. “I am going to tell you a story now,” he said, his voice low and even. “Let it work upon you – this is the first step in finding what it is that you seek.”

And with that the tale began, and the Doctor lost his hold on everything but the words spinning out before him.

~*~

Once upon a time, when the world was new and the Eye still burned bright in the hearts of all of your kind, there lived a beast we call Falcon. He desired to obtain mastery over all things, believing that with his wit and clever strength, he deserved the world entire. Falcon, fierce, bright, merciless, raked the sky with his sharp, sharp talons and tore the fabric of the world with his cruel, cruel beak, and loosed upon it horrors beyond reckoning.

Once upon a time, when the world was new and the Eye still burned bright in the hearts of all of your kind, there lived a beast we call Crane. He desired to heal the hurts left by creatures such as Falcon, and in his deep and unrelenting mercy found himself an enemy of his kind. Cast out, hunted by his people, Crane held dear to the one creature that still tied him to his lost homeland – and this creature was Falcon.

Strange a pair though they were, Falcon and Crane could not help but be bound to one another. Each time Falcon visited his wrath upon a world, it was merely a summoning call for Crane. Each time Crane soothed the hurts of a world, it was an invitation for Falcon to oppose him. They fought across ages, each seeking to gain the upper hand, each needing every moment of their conflict – a perfect balance between destruction and rebirth.

It came to pass that the Eye was lost, and your kind passed from this world. Falcon and Crane remained at the very last, bound up by hate and love and an eternity of conflict. Crane thought Falcon lost in the purge, but knew deep down in his heart that his hated enemy, his beloved brother remained somewhere in the world, waiting for him.

When Falcon returned to himself, brought to life by the simple suggestion of a human being, he was filled with wrath and hate. He dug his talons into the End of All Things and rained destruction down upon the earth, and all the while cried out for Crane. When the pair came together once more, the whole universe sang with it, rejoicing in the reunion of two ancient foes.

They fought once more across the ages, and the depth of this conflict is too great to tell of here. Suffice to say, Crane took the day once more, as he always must – but this time, Falcon paid a terrible price. To mend the hurts he’d caused, to save the Doctor’s life, he walked into hell.

How long he spent there, no man may know, for what is time in a place of timeless suffering? The inferno broke him, took him apart and pieced him together again and again, seared his flesh and mind, robbed him of every scrap of sanity he had. Here would this tale end for a lesser beast, but the Falcon did not have it in him to die. In his terrible and beautiful agony he cried out across time infinite, clutching and clawing at the one thing he still held in his shattered mind.

My people tell of a magic locked deep within the heart, the power to rip the fabric of time and space and span galaxies with a thought. This is a dangerous magic, made possible only when the mind is able to focus on a single thought sharp as the point of a needle.

For one splendid moment, Falcon thought of nothing but Crane – of the enmity they shared, of the eternal bond they shared, of a deep, overpowering, unrelenting love. The skies parted for him and he was lifted from his purgatory, brought back into life once more by Crane’s infinite mercy.

Here, the tale grows muddled. Though cast from hell, Falcon was wounded in heart and mind, a lost child wandering the labyrinth of his own tortured psyche. Crane himself had little left to offer him, emptied out by the savage inevitability of loss. One thing is for certain – just as the world wept with joy when Falcon and Crane came together once more, she will weep again if they are torn asunder.

~*~

When the Doctor finally returned to himself, he was startled to find that he’d been crying.