THE APOCRYPHA

Story One:

FOLKLORE

By Paul Whittaker

Punishment duty. That's what this is, and I'm not afraid to voice my protest. After all, the High Council and General clearly have little interest in this undertaking I have been given. An undertaking that will only be kept as some dusty tome within the bowls of the library or consigned to the limitless depths of the Matrix.

If you have stumbled across this work by any unfortunate chance however then I am pleased for various reasons–one being the likely intervention of our better cousins–and feel you may be at a loss as to what I am prattling on about.

I, Second Junior Scribe Athenia Astravaliana, were directly involved in the search for a certain time-extracted Clara Oswald. An endeavour, I might add, that was wholly disastrous–although I am not sure in what way as I seem to be missing all the memories pertaining to events. As such, I have been transferred to the lower levels of the Scribe's Halls for my 'reassignment'.

Down here, rogue elements akin to the Doctor are monitored or documented–of which there aren't many. To that end, our remit is extended to include other dimensions and universes, and in a particular twist of cruelty I am tasked with documenting the exploits of Ms Oswald's parallel cousin in the nearest divergent realm to our own–listed by the Doctor as 'Pete's World.'

Of all events that have transpired, they are near identical to our own, up to a point. The Clara Oswald of this reality is now, in fact, a Time Lady. Gifted as such for her services to the people of Gallifrey and the universe at large by a Time Lord society that believes that the best way of preventing the next Time War is to actually be helpful and get other races to like them–right now I really do wish that you were reading this, General.

I have been given an 'assignment' however, and as an act of defiance I will certainly fulfil it to the best of my abilities in a–mostly–impartial manner.

This account of things that were, but not, shall be called 'The Apocrypha,' and it begins not long after the young Time Lady of interest has left the Academy. My only wish is that this information be of some value to you, the reader, and that your intentions be benevolent...

Part 1: As Fate Would Have It...

SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS, 2016

The pine marten poked her head from the hedge and sniffed the air. She had visited this place many times before, as had her parents and their parents before them, but that was no reason to get careless; to get careless was to get dead.

She gingerly put her paw forward, had another sniff, and when she was entirely convinced there was no danger her sleek body emerged from the undergrowth. The marten trotted across the garden, past the vegetable patch and across the lawn to the pedestal that rose from the ground.

'Can you see her?' Aylish Bruce asked as she watched from her bedroom window.

'Yeah,' Darcy, her little sister whispered.

The funny little mammal climbed the post and proceeded to scoff the treat left for it, blissfully unaware of the higher creatures that watched from afar.

'Martens love jam sandwiches…' Aylish said.

When the marten was done, it leapt from the feeding table and lolloped back to the forest.

Aylish turned to her sister and smiled. 'Stargazing?'

Darcy cheered in reply. Her bedtime should have been hours ago, but her sister was awesome like that.

'Well, get your hat,' Darcy's protector added. 'Don't want to catch a cold do you?'

Aylish peered through her telescope, carefully adjusting the dials on the tripod. 'That should…' With a final, almost infinitesimal twitch of her fingers the object centred. '…Do it…' The budding astronomer stepped away from the instrument and gestured to it. 'The Andromeda Galaxy.'

Darcy peered through the eye piece. 'Wow!' she instantly exclaimed.

'It's two point three million light years away,' Aylish explained. 'That's how long it took for the image to reach us. You're seeing back through time to a place before anybody existed.'

Darcy looked excited for a moment, but she then turned to her sister with terror in her eyes.

'What's the matter sweetie?' she asked and wrapped her arms around the trembling girl.

'Is that where the Cybermen came from?' her charge whimpered.

'A don't know…' Aylish mumbled as the images flooded her mind. The town had been lucky the second time it happened–but the news footage, the stories, the sky… they were as sharp as ever.

'Are they coming back?'

Aylish looked up at the celestial blanket and a shooting star leapt across the timeless panorama. What was she supposed to say?

'Good morning Port Gloam,' the disk jockey sang from the alarm clock radio and Aylish's eyes snapped open. 'It's another glorious July morning here on the edge of nowhere and it's the first day of the summer holidays, so if you are a former inmate of PG Primary or Woodvale High it's time to go wild! '

As her world came into focus, Aylish read the time.

'7:02am.'

'Don't you ever sleep Jake?' she groaned and rolled over.

Darcy stood there wearing her most stern expression and cuddling her teddy bear. 'I want pancakes,' she demanded.

Aylish growled with frustration and threw one of her pillows at her.

'There was another death late last night,' Jake reported with some attempt at professionalism while Aylish finished flipping pancakes. She heard small footfalls on the stairs and quickly changed the station to a static swamped Radio A&B.

'What's wrong with the station?' Darcy asked as she clambered onto the counter stool.

'Still messed up,' Aylish said as she served up.

'What about Jake's station?' the wee lass enquired as she reached for the syrup.

'The same,' her big sister lied as she dipped into the jam.

The deaths... The first had been three nights ago, and the authorities were far from forthcoming on details, but everybody in the Ring and Sword swore they saw a shambling corpse approach old-man MacMorrow right before he dropped dead–thankfully she had a week off. Last night it had been O'Sullivan and a banshee according her inconsolable husband. Now this new dose of misery...

There was a new strain of weird infecting Port Gloam, and Aylish wanted her little sister keeping as far from it as possible.

'Anyway, have you got everything packed?' she added, clapping her hands together sharply.

The little girl nodded.

''Cos you know I'm not hoofing it all the way here, then down to Mina's again because you forgot socks.'

'I packed everything,' Darcy insisted.

'And stay out of Mr. O'Neill's strawberry patch this time.'

The little imp grinned mischievously.

'I mean it,' Aylish insisted. 'Or no camping at weekend.'

Darcy pouted and Aylish frowned.

'Och, gimme some credit,' the carer retorted. 'I practically invented that look!'

They waited by the door as the red people carrier crawled up the gravel path beside the house. 'Daddy's coming home tomorrow,' Darcy noted brightly, and her big sister smiled down at her. Aylish then ruffled Darcy's long white hair–the same unusual colour as her own–with mischievous intent and Darcy pulled a sulky face before sticking her tongue out in reply.

'Hey, you two!' Mrs Green greeted as she stepped from the car. 'How could somebody so small need so much stuff?!' she then remarked as Darcy attempted to skip over with a sizeable hold-all in hand.

'Wish I had so much stuff!' Aylish chuckled as she caught her up and took the weight of the bag. 'I've got it sweetie,' she added before carrying it the rest of the way and throwing it onto the back seat.

Darcy clambered in beside and fastened her seat belt. 'Bye, Aylish,' she chirped.

'See you tomorrow cheeky chops,' Aylish said with a big grin and shut the door.

'Have you heard?' Mrs Green asked once the child was out of earshot.

'There's been another death...'

'Some East-European backpacker walking to the Ring and Sword.'

'Oh no!' Aylish gasped, her hand to her mouth in all too-real empathy.

Mrs Green nodded gravely. 'They heard the screams inside the pub but they were having a time with goblins tearing the place up!'

'Goblins? Really?'

'So George said. Throwing glasses, turning over tables–one pushed Jeremy off his stool! Of course, Helen was having a fit. She went after the lot of them with the broom, but they weren't bothered. Anyway, by the time they vanished, the girl was dead and her friends were with her. They claimed they saw this really pale girl with red hair and claws attack her.'

'Wait... You mean, like a Vampire?' Aylish exclaimed, her head positively spinning from the mostly unbelievable news.

'You'd know better then me. The thing is, George said there wasn't a single mark on the body that he could see. So how'd she die?'

All Aylish could do was shrug.

'You know what I think? Government conspiracy. Just like the Cybermen. I haven't let my Mina drink any tap water since this all started.'

'You'll keep an eye on Darcy though, right?' Aylish enquired, glancing to the car.

'Aye, don't worry your head!' Mrs Green laughed. 'We've got plenty of stuff for the girls to do at home, and we don't live near the pub. That seems to be where all the trouble is. Still though, it can't go on, can it?'

Aylish shrugged again. 'It'll get sorted soon, I suppose,' she added with a half smile.

'Has to, doesn't it?' Mrs Green agreed. 'Unless they move the lot of us!'

Aylish just nodded along with the woman. Such a thing was unthinkable on her part.

'Anyway. I better get going before wee Darcy gets too bored.'

'I think you better had,' Aylish said. She stooped down and tapped on the window before waving to the little girl inside. Darcy waved back.

As soon as they'd gone, Aylish nipped back inside, packed some lunch, and headed out into the wilderness.

The quickest way to The Lady's Reach was through town, but nowhere did she feel as alive as she did in the heart of Sidh Dubh forest. It was as if she were anchored to the earth–rooted like one of the many trees that surrounded and protected her. Indeed, she often felt that if she ever spoke to the trees they might reply in a language only she could truly understand. The raw, terrible and joyful pulse of all the lonely wild places was her own, and nowhere did this connection feel as strong as it did when she was in the vicinity of Port Gloam's famous Faery Ring.

The ancient ring of toadstools marked the heart of a great clearing. By an exact spacing of a meter, the seemingly perfect circle of fungi was interspersed by small and equally ancient standing stones, each scrawled with Gaelic script–or so Aylish presumed as she couldn't read Gaelic and she couldn't read these glyphs.

Aylish looked briefly to the dour face of Shilya's Keep–an old, old castle that loomed over the dell from its mountain-side throne. Its name a mystery even to the experts, the castle had apparently featured quite prominently in her twisting family tree, but had left their hands generations before and was now maintained by the National Trust. She'd been on school trips of course... and hated the place...

She shuddered, the icy fingers of foreboding playing her spine like a harp string. The scent of greenery in bloom warmed her heart however, and the songs upon the wind were a balm for her soul.

Aylish soon reached the main road into Port Gloam and was met with a seemingly endless procession of military vehicles. From jeeps and trucks to surveillance vans, they came in many varied forms, but were united under the name of UNIT. The lass ducked out of view and waited till the almost incessant grumble of tires faded from hearing, then raced on across the thoroughfare and through the wood beyond.

The military were absent when she reached her destination, and relief numbed tortured legs. With an eye over her shoulder, she stole into the cave she'd discovered as a child and headed down through the arm of rock that protruded into the Sound of Mull.

'Good day, my dear,' an instantly recognisable voice rumbled from deep below.

'Hello, old man,' she replied to the dark with a smile as she stumbled down time and tide carved steps. 'What have you been up to?'

'Dreaming,' the voice replied. 'Dreaming of stars, of worlds unseen, and of your next visit. Tell me child, have they arrived?'

'Just now,' Aylish said.

'Then he will soon be here,' her life-long friend stated, filling her with both hope and sorrow. 'Would you like a game of chess?'

'How about Monopoly?' she asked as she neared the source of conversation.

'Even better!' the voice boomed. 'Can I be the shoe?'

It was a clear night as Aylish sat before her telescope with Thermos and radio at her side. She tugged her beanie down snugly and savoured the comfort of her trusty purple hoodie. Despite being a mid summer nights eve, there was a bitter wind blowing in from the Atlantic.

'So head down to Dermot's Bate and Tackle today for a discount on all your fishing needs,' Jake read. 'Here's Chvrches with 'Get Away'...'

'Tune,' she muttered as she peered through the eye piece and mumbled along with the timeless tale of two people battling to hold on to each other against all the odds.

Just as the song reached its thumping-yet-heartaching crescendo the radio gave in to the surrounding static.

'No, no, no!' the girl protested as she fiddled with the dial, and that's when she heard the groaning of powerful engines–followed by an almighty crash.

Aylish gasped and grabbed her torch. The unearthly sounds had come from the driveway down the side of the house, and as she crept toward the corner, the resident Pine Marten shot past in the opposite direction with a torn bag of strawberry bonbons in her mouth.

Summoning her courage, Aylish turned the bend to find a second shed sitting squarely in her vegetable patch.

''Take some sweets for the locals,' he said!' a young woman grumbled as she struggled through the bed of foliage. ''Works every time' he said!'

'Scuse me?' Aylish questioned and flashed the torch on her in what she hoped was a confrontational fashion.

'Oh, am I in Scotland?' the visitor exclaimed with excitement as she span round and regarded Aylish with curious eyes.

With a round face, bonny cheeks and shoulder length hair of deep brown, the small trespasser was certainly beguiling, if not a bit strange. Aylish's attention flickered to her clothes for a second despite her understandable surprise. Leather jacket, white shirt, a jauntily loose tie, tartan skirt and black tights... Definitely not a rambler!

'What are you–' Aylish started but the stranger shushed her.

'Lemme just try something...' the girl said with an almost musical Lancashire lilt before licking the end of her finger and holding it up to the breeze. 'We're near Mull,' she then stated with some authority.

Aylish nodded.

The girl looked up at the stars. 'Two thousand and sixteen...'

Aylish nodded again.

'A thursday!'

Aylish shook her head. 'Wednesday.'

'Oh well,' the trespasser dismissed with a shrug and buckets of cheer. 'Two out of three isn't bad...'

'You mean you didn't know when or where you were when you showed up in your shed?' Aylish asked and considered how insane it would have sounded if not for everything else in her life.

'I didn't mean to end up here,' the visitor said defensively, communicating with her hands as much as her mouth. 'I put the coordinates in for nineteenth century London and there wasn't anything else to do so I thought I'd have a power nap and, well... I ended up here some how. Probably just a hiccup in the Helmic Orientators.'

'Power nap?' was Aylish's first question out of all that.

'Yeah,' the visitor said matter-of-factly. 'There's this guy I know. So much better at it. you could be talking to him and you'd never know that–'

The girl's eyes widened in a way that didn't seem quite possible as a feral growl filled the air. Aylish assumed that the trespasser's reaction was one of fear as she turned around to be confronted by the sight of a nine-foot werewolf sauntering up the drive toward her–but as I record these words she isn't quite sure if it was 'the thrill' instead.

'Move!' the visitor whispered as she grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into the shed.

The cavernous space with its towering central column, its outer walkway and lower level, the lights, the banks of controls, the clicking and spinning glyphs above: it was all so much to take in.

'You're not human, are you?' Aylish breathed.

'What gave you that impression?' the girl chipped as she strolled up to the console.

Aylish didn't answer. But then, 'What about the werewolf?' She turned and nervously stared the double doors down.

'Don't worry,' the girl said. The soft sincerity evident in her voice took Aylish off guard considering the stranger's prior attitude, and the reluctant passenger found the trespasser smiling warmly from across the centre. 'Not much can get in here... Hold on,' she added and frowned at the nearest of the two monitors. 'That's interesting.'

'What is?' Aylish dared ask as she nervously toyed with one of the pure white bunches protruding from beneath her dark blue beanie.

'You are...' the girl said, stopping her work and staring squarely at her.

Aylish froze.

'It ceased to exist as soon as you entered the Tardis.'

'It's not just me,' Aylish then started in her own defence. 'It's been happening around town for the last four nights now.' Just never this far from the Ring and Sword...

Aylish suddenly and terrifyingly couldn't shake the feeling that Darcy was also threatened. She had long learned to trust this gut intuition when others might scoff or dismiss. Too many times had she correctly sensed her little sister's peril, and when her mother had...

'Please,' Aylish begged while trying not to sound too desperate, 'I always know when my sister is in danger and I'm feeling it now...'

'Where is she?' the stranger asked, just like that, without scorn or question–the moment when Aylish began to trust.

'I'm the Teacher,' the mysterious girl added with furtive wistfulness as she entered the given location.

'Teacher who?' Aylish asked as she eyed the many surrounding bookcases, brimming with an embarrassment of knowledge and literary treasures.

'Just the Teacher,' the Teacher smiled.

'I'm Aylish,' our wayward lass replied with a little hesitation. 'Aylish Bruce.'

'Well, you'd better hold on, Aylish. These short hops aren't all that simple,' the Teacher said and threw the lever with the limitless glow of excitement in her eyes.