Mark Chadbourn - World's end

A shadow fell across her and she looked up to see Laura silhouetted against the setting sun. She shifted her position to see Laura's face and it was as she had guessed: cold, dispassionate. "Don't you feel anything?" she said in a fractured voice.

But Laura didn't even seem to recognise she was there. She stared blankly at Church's staring eyes, cocking her head slightly to one side like she was examining a work of art. "I knew you'd do this to me, you bastard," she said softly.

Veitch slumped down on the edge of the bridge. "At least we won," he said wearily. "We drove them off. Despite, you know … Despite us being a bunch of losers. We did it."

They remained there for a painful moment, not knowing what bound them together any more, barely able even to recognise themselves. And then they heard a crunch of gravel and turned to see Tom and one of the Danann walking towards them. The god exuded power from every pore of his golden skin, and when they looked into his almond eyes they saw nothing they knew.

He stopped before them and rested his gaze on each one of them in turn, a faintly disturbing smile playing on his lips.

"Who are you?" Ruth asked faintly.

The smile grew even more enigmatic. "Once my names were known to everyone in the land. So soon forgotten? It will change, it will change. Who am I? I am Nuada, known as Nuada Airgetlamh, known as Nudd, known as Lludd, known as Lud, founder of Londinium, wielder of Caledfwlch." There was an unpleasant arrogance in the turn of his head. "The Tuatha De Danann give you thanks for freeing us from our place of banishment. In return, the Allfather has given permission for the use of his cauldron."

Tom held out the bowl they had found under Glastonbury Tor. Ruth looked at him blankly. "The Cauldron of Dagda is the cornucopia, the Horn of Plenty," he said softly. "It is the Grail, the source of spiritual renewal. The taker of life and the giver of life. The crucible of rebirth." He smiled. "Take it."

Ruth's hands trembled as she took it, barely able to believe what he was saying. The moment her fingers closed around it, she felt a subtle heat deep in her stomach, rising up through her arms to her hands. The moment it hit the bowl, it seemed to weep droplets of gold, which collected in the bottom. When it had partially filled, Tom motioned to Church.

Though uncomprehending, Veitch jumped from the bridge and dragged Church from the water, resting the body in his lap and the head in the crook of his arm. He looked up at Ruth with the simple belief of a child.

Ruth glanced at the golden liquid, which moved almost with a life of its own. A part of her could not bring herself to accept what was being suggested: the dead were dead, a machine switched off never to be restarted; there was no subtle spirit, no beyond or Happy Home fairytale for the religiously naive; everything she had seen could not shake that part of her. But still there was another part of her that accepted wonder and hope, that believed in the World Where Anything Can Happen. There was a time for cynicism and the restraining lessons of adulthood, but this was a time to be a child. She knelt down and placed the bowl to Church's lips, while Veitch manipulated his mouth so the liquid would flow in. And then the world seemed to hang in space.

There was darkness and warmth and a vertiginous, queasy plummet into something unpleasant. And then Church opened his eyes. Briefly, Veitch and Tom had to restrain him as he was overcome with convulsions; images of Calatin's attack, the agony of the serrated sword biting into his flesh, the smell of his own fear, passed through his uncomprehending mind in an instant. But the sensations of the changes coming over his body drove the disturbing thoughts from him; the golden liquid seemed to be seeping into every part of him, transforming him as it passed, although he had no idea what he was becoming; yet beneath it there was the numb antagonism of the Fomorii Kiss of Frost still within him; heat and cold, light and dark, battling for supremacy.

"You have been reborn."

Church looked up into the face of Nuada. It took a second or two to recognise who he was and what he was doing there. Slowly he looked round at the vision of gold and silver, faces almost too beautiful, presences too divine, and the transcendental wonder he felt brought a shiver of deep emotion. Tears sprang to his eyes in relief at the miracle. "The Danann!" His voice sounded like it was being ground out. "The others freed you … you drove away the Fomorii …"

"The Night Walkers departed rather than face our anger at their betrayal of the Covenant."

Church closed his eyes in relief, resting back against Veitch's arm. "But you came. We won. Now you can face up to them … drag them back …"

In the long silence that followed, Church knew there was something wrong. He opened his eyes to see Nuada smiling dangerously. "Now we are back," he said, "we will not be leaving."

"What do you mean?" Church levered himself upright, suddenly afraid.

"We always coveted a return to this place. We staked our claim upon it in the time before your race. But the pact prevented it and the doors remained closed. Now the Night Walkers have broken the pact. And the doors are open."

"But the Fomorii are your enemy!" Church protested.

"The fruits of this land are too succulent to ignore for unnecessary confrontation. We have co-existed before. Uneasily, certainly, but the pursuit of our will overrides all other concerns."

"But they are going to bring back Balor!" There were tears of frustration in Ruth's eyes.

"Perhaps they will succeed," he mused superciliously.

Tom knelt before Nuada and bowed his head in supplication. "The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons sacrificed a great deal to free you from your place of banishment, my Lord."

"And they have our thanks, True Thomas. But their work was not all as it seemed." Tom looked up at him quizzically. "We are not without foresight. The Fomorii betrayal was anticipated-after all, it was in their nature. We had our preparations. The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons were guided to this moment from the beginning."

"How?" Church thought he was going to be sick; suddenly he could see all the answers, but he was afraid to examine them.

"The alchemy of death was necessary to change you, to spark the Pendragon Spirit, to start you down the road that would lead to this moment."

They all looked blank. Tom turned to them, troubled, disorientated. "In all your lives, someone had to die-"

"You killed Marianne!" Church raged suddenly.

Nuada fixed such a dark expression on him Church was shocked into silence. "Our own hands were never raised. We set events in motion. We removed checks, moved balances." He pointed at Veitch. "He turned and used his weapon at the perfect moment, against his will. Other fragile creatures followed our guidance-"

"Then who killed her?" Church asked dismally.

Nuada turned from him; his smile was both patronising and frightening. "There are many games we can play with this world." Tom blanched at his words. "The prize has been well worth the rigours."

He began to walk back to the shimmering golden horde massed beyond the bridge. Church tried to scramble to his feet, but had to be helped up by Veitch. He choked back his emotion and said, as forcefully as he could muster, "At least help us remove the Fomorii. We need you."

Nuada turned coldly. "Your voice might have carried more weight if it were not polluted by the taint of the Night Walkers. In times before, the Pendragon Spirit would not have occupied such a weak host."

And then he had joined the rest of the Tuatha De Danann, and Church, Veitch, Tom and Ruth could only watch as the shining host swept out across the countryside like a tidal wave of terrifying, alien force.