Disclaimer = The Doctor & his companions are the property of the BBC, all other characters in here are works of fiction and any similarity to persons living or dead is purely accidental. 

An Empty Return by Drew Payne

Lute walked slowly and carefully into The Great Reception Hall of the Patriarch of Cheem. He placed one foot in front of the other, placing one foot down on the polished stone floor, his thick branch legs absorbing the weight of his body, before he moved his other foot forward. Over and over as he walked; his ceremonial bronze armour giving out tiny creeks of sound as it moved against his solid wooden body.

Walking behind him, his whole body seemed to have shrunk down further and smaller inside his own armour and robes, was Coffa. Even though Coffa was behind him, Lute knew that Coffa walked with his head bowed and his eyes only upon the floor.

The living walls of The Great Reception Hall, walls made of living trees rooted in the ground, stretched up high into the sky, until their branches met in an elaborately woven vaulted ceiling. Along these walls stood, in rows three deep, all the assembled members of the Patriarch of Cheem's court. Stood there was every species and hew of tree known, all of them dressed in their finest robes, reds and greens and gold shining in the bright light, all of them watching the return of him and Coffa.

At the head of the hall, were he was always sat upon his huge and elaborate living throne, was Patriarch of Cheem. He had been sat so long upon that throne that his dark wood body had grown into and mixed with the pale grey and green wood of his throne. The two had long since grown together as one. His broad bark face, crowned by a head of spiking pale branches fanning out in a halo, was creased and aged with the cares of his position. Today, though, his face seemed even more drawn and worn then ever, his heavy and deep features seemed pulled downwards as if he was experiencing an exceptional gravitational pull.

The closer and closer Lute came to the Patriarch the more he felt the sense of dread pull down upon him. During the journey back here, enclosed in that lifeless metal box of a spaceship, Coffa had shut himself away in his cabin and refused to speak to even Lute. Lute, in his turn, had wondered the endless corridors of that lifeless space ship. The three of them had traveled to Platform One with such a sense of anticipation and excitement. They would be returning to their ancestral home, even though to watch its final moments and not exactly set foot upon its soil.

Lute stopped before the Patriarch, within the golden star inlayed into the stone floor (in the centre of which sat the Patriarch), and bowed deeply before him, as all were expected to do. His armour creaked audibly as he bent forward. A moment later he heard the same creaking sound from Coffa's armour as he too bowed before the Patriarch.

As Lute straightened up his body he found himself under an intense glare from the Patriarch's bright green eyes. It was obvious that news had already gone before them, that he had already been told of the events of Platform One. Yet the moment their shuttle had landed he and Coffa had been summoned here, they had not been even allowed a moment to recover from their journey and once more stand upon living soil.

"You have bought back the body of our daughter Jabe," the Patriarch's voice boomed out, filling the entire hall with his rich and deep voice, actually bouncing off the living walls.

"No, my lord, that was not possible," Lute replied, trying to push down the unease he felt from merely being so close to the Patriarch - he knew his own voice sounded so lost and small in comparison.

"No? Why not, our son Lute, why not?" the Patriarch's voice boomed with such force that Lute actually felt the very wood of his body vibrate with every word.

"We were not able, my lord, because." Lute found himself stumbling over his reply. He knew the Patriarch or any other members of the court would not welcome his answer.

"Why? Why?" the Patriarch's voice boomed at him, the Patriarch's green eyes stared at him, the intensity of the first ray of the rising sun.

"I am very sorry, my lord, but Jabe was burnt. There was nothing left of her body," Lute replied, trying to keep his voice level, but the moment he said the word "burnt" a ripple of shock had run around the court - he could feel them whispering in shock behind him.

"Burnt!" the Patriarch shouted at him, the shear volume of the Patriarch's voice physically pushing at his body - Lute had to force himself from taking a step backwards when faced with that shear volume.

"Burnt! Our daughter Jabe was burnt!" the Patriarch shouted, the bark of his face glowed with anger. "Fire is our ancient enemy! It is always a loss of honour, a disgrace when it claims one of our people. Death by fire means that one's body can not be returned to the soil from which they first came. It is our ancient tradition and fire has denied it to our daughter Jabe!"

"But, my lord, she gave her life so that many, many others might live," Lute felt his voice tremble as he spoke, the Patriarch's face and eyes were glowing with rage. "Coffa and I would not have survived without Jabe's sacrifice. Her brave death saved us all, her brave death brought down an evil tyrant. She died the death of a hero, my lord."

Silence fell upon the whole court, a tense silence were Lute could feel every eye there upon him, he could feel all of the court watching him. The Patriarch still stared at him, that same intense stare, but he remained silent for a long moment, his mouth tightly closed. Lute now had to physically push down the desire to step backwards, away from the intensity of the Patriarch's stare, that unblinking and forceful stare.

Finally, like a thunderclap breaking an oppressive summer night, the Patriarch spoke, his commanding voice rumbling throughout the great hall - Lute's body positively shivered with its force:

"We will honour our brave daughter Jabe, our brave daughter who saved many lives. Let her name never be forgotten."

A ripple of agreement rushed thought out the gathered court, but Lute paid no attention to it. For, as the Patriarch's words faded away, he heard the quiet and plaintive sounds of Coffa sobbing, sobbing for their lost sister Jabe. He knew how Coffa felt, he knew Coffa's pain.

The End