Mark Chadbourn - World's end

He was about to ask what Shavi was suggesting when there was a sudden churning of the water and something large rose up in a gush of white foam and sleek black skin cast ruddy in the light of the fire. Its head reached as high as a double-decker bus for just an instant before it ducked back beneath the waves.

"What the hell was that?" Veitch looked dumbfounded.

"The sea serpents have always been close to the Fomorii. They don't need to be coerced like the Fabulous Beasts." Tom shuffled up beside them to watch the swirling water. "Even when the doorways were supposed to be closed, the serpents swam back and forth, prefering neither here nor there, but somewhere in between."

"Are they dangerous?" Veitch's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he considered ways to reach the island.

"They have the teeth of sharks and their coils can crush bones and boats."

"A watchdog," Ruth said.

"Then how the hell are we going to get over there?" Veitch's frustration boiled over into impotent rage.

While the others threw ideas around, Laura watched from a distance, and she was the only one who saw the faint shadow cross Shavi's face. Quietly she tugged at his sleeve and drew him away from the rest.

"Spit it out," she whispered.

When he looked at her she realised the expression had been one of fear. "I cannot control these changes that are coming over me-"

"You should try being a twelve-year-old girl."

11 — the things I can do …" He struggled to find the correct words.

"I know it's scary. But everything's spinning out of control."

He sighed and lowered his dark brown eyes. "At first it seemed so wonderful, all these amazing new possibilities opening up to me. The trances, the dreams. But when I had that vision at Manorbier, it took nothing at all to get it started and it was so powerful it was almost as if I was really there. I could smell the blood on the wind …" He raised the back of his hand to his mouth in distaste. "Now I am afraid. I wonder where it will all end."

Surreptitiously, Laura took his hand; his fingers were cool and supple against her hot palm.

That subtlest of connections brought a smile to his lips. "One should never shy away from new experiences, I suppose."

"So what can you do?"

"When the change first came over me it was like I could almost understand what the birds were saying in their song. Then, as time progressed, I discovered it was more than that … it was as if I were in their heads, listening to their thoughts. And not just birds, but all animals." He paused for a long time as he weighed his words. "It is possible I could get into that creature's head, enough to subtly direct it. Perhaps enough to keep it away from a boat."

"But?"

"But I am afraid if I truly try to enter its mind, I may never be able to get out again." He watched her face closely for her reaction. When none was noticeable, he said, "I am waiting for you to tell me not to be so ridiculous and to do my duty."

"You're talking like I'm the responsible one. It's your call-I won't think any differently of you one way or the other."

He smiled broadly. "You are very mature. Why do you act like you are not?"

"We all know what happens to cheese when it gets mature."

Veitch suddenly spotted them huddled together. "Oi! What are you two plotting?"

Shavi lost himself in thought for a moment, then confidently strode over.

They headed back a couple of miles until they found a road which skirted the town; the fires were burning too hard to drive through it. On the north side there were plenty of little coves and they eventually chanced on one where a boat was moored at a private jetty. If the owner had survived the Fomorii attack, he was nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly they abandoned the van and transferred the talismans and what provisions they thought absolutely essential to the boat.

"This may seem a stupid question," Church said once they were all aboard, "but has anyone here sailed before?"

Veitch made a face. "Been on the Thames Ferry. Didn't like it very much. And that boat in Wales."

"I owned a small boat for fishing on the loch in my heyday," Tom said. "And I have even fished at sea, so I have enough knowledge to get us out there. But the currents between the mainland and island are rumoured to be strong and if the serpent gets angry, his backwash will capsize us. I presume we can all swim?"

They all nodded, apart from Veitch, who began to look a little wary.

"That's not an option," Church said. "How are we going to do anything if the talismans are at the bottom of the deep blue? You've got to get us out there and keep us steady so Shavi can do his bit."

"Try to," Shavi stressed.

They cast off and Tom steered the boat away from the shore. Although the water had appeared calm from dry land, they were soon bouncing across the waves in a queasy chopping motion. The wind had changed direction and now the thick, acrid smoke was being blown out across the bay; it was as if a thick fog had rolled between them and Skye.

"If we get past the serpent, we can take the boat around the north of the island to Dunvegan. It is built on a sea loch, so we can go right up to its walls."

Church stood in the prow, tasting the salt as the spray stung his face, trying to ignore the icy cold that now permeated his entire body. Shavi rested on the wooden rail next to him to stare into the blue-green depths.

"How are you holding up?" Church asked.

"I think we are all holding up remarkably well, seeing that we are a mass of neuroses and contradictions wrapped up in skin and bone-in short, very human-being expected to do the job of heroes."

Church shrugged. "What's a hero? Some big muscular guy with a sword? Or some normal person who takes a swing for the greater good, despite everything?"

Shavi looked at him curiously.

"I'm just saying we're trying to do the best we can under the circumstances. Maybe the historians will come in with their whitewash brushes in a few years' time to turn us into heroes."

"You are only a hero if you win." Shavi looked up, his smile taking the edge off the bitter words. "There is no place in Valhalla for those who simply tried hard."

The smoke rolled in around them, choking, stinging their eyes. They all sat down in the bottom of the boat where the air was freshest, listening to the eerie echoes as the smoke muffled the lapping of the water and the sound of the town burning. They could have been hundreds of miles away, lost in the centre of the Atlantic.

Then Shavi's clear, sharp voice made them all start. "It is coming."

At first they could hear nothing. A few seconds later, from out of the smoke, came the almost mechanical sound of something breaking the water at regular intervals, growing louder as it drew closer. Church watched anxiously as Shavi closed his eyes, his face growing taut with concentration. The splashing, stitching sound came on relentlessly. Shavi's brow furrowed, his lips pulled back from his teeth.

At the last moment Church realised it wasn't going to work and he called out to the others to hold on. The serpent surged just past the prow and the boat lifted up at forty-five degrees. Church ground his eyes shut and gritted his teeth: someone cried out; he was convinced they were going under, dragged to the bottom in the backwash; a horrible way to die. But the boat poised on the cusp of tragedy like some terrible fairground ride and then went prow down just as steeply into the trough left by the serpent's passing. Waves crashed over them. Church sucked in a mouthful of seawater, but somehow held on. The boat righted itself jarringly, as if it were skidding across sand dunes. Church looked round; amazingly, everyone was still clinging on.

"If it hits us astern it'll shatter the boat," he yelled to Shavi.