Mark Chadbourn - Darkest hour

"Any luck so far?"

"I haven't really tried. I'm a little nervous."

"I read sex helps with magic." He didn't look at her, but she could sense his grin.

"Don't go down that road. You're still on probation."

"Okay. Just offering my services if you need me."

"Thanks, but I'd rather put my eyes out."

For a brief moment the wind shifted and the omnipresent stink of burning was replaced by the salty aroma of the sea and the heady tang of green hills. They both stopped and breathed deeply.

The fire roared as Tom threw on another broken dining chair, the glow painting a dull red over his wire-rimmed spectacles. Shavi sat cross-legged in front of his tent, staring deep into the flames. His long hair hung limp around his face, his perfect Asian features so still he could have been a mannequin. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Tom eyed him surreptitiously as he turned from the blaze.

"It was a terrible experience, but you gained wisdom from it." He adjusted the elastic band holding his grey ponytail in place.

Shavi's eyes flickered, as if he were waking from a dream. "At the moment that seems little consolation."

"There's always a price to pay for knowledge. What you did was a great leap forward in your abilities." Tom sat next to him, but far enough away so as not to encroach on the invisible barrier Shavi had placed around himself.

"I feel something has broken inside, deep in my head. Only I cannot tell exactly what. I simply feel different, damaged."

"You projected your consciousness, your very self, out of your body and into an unthinking beast. It was a triumph of your shamanistic abilities. Unfortunately there will be short-term repercussions-"

"I have no wish to talk about it further." Shavi fell silent for a few minutes, then said, "I am sorry. I am being very insensitive. What I have experienced is nothing compared to your suffering over the centuries in Otherworld."

"It wasn't centuries when I was there." Tom paused. "Although it felt like it."

"And was the wisdom you gained from your experience worthwhile?"

Tom looked away into the night.

"What does your power of prophecy say for us, True Thomas?" Shavi lay back so he could watch the stars twinkling through the gaps in the smoke. He felt a twinge of deep regret that his experience with the serpent on the crossing to Skye had left him with such a black depression that he could no longer truly appreciate them.

"There are hard times ahead."

"Even Ryan could have predicted that."

"It's not as if I see the future rolled out before me like a map. There are flashes, glimpses through different windows on a winding staircase. I prefer not to say too much. Guessing at the meaning of a future image can alter the way one would react in the present."

"Do you know who will live and who will die?" Shavi's voice floated up hollowly.

Tom remained silent.

A second later they heard the sound of the others approaching up the road from Kyleakin. Church had his arm around Laura's shoulders, while Ruth and Witch carried the bags of provisions. They were all laughing at a joke.

"Come on, you old git. It won't ruin your image if you smile. It's not as if you're going to get any more wrinkles," Laura shouted to Tom. He looked away haughtily.

Shavi forced a smile. "Any fine food for dinner?"

Ruth upended her bin bag. "Beans, fruit salad, muesli, pasta or any combination of the above."

"Better get your cauldron on then," Laura said to her tartly.

"There's meat for those who eat it." Tom motioned to a brace of pheasants that lay on the outskirts of the camp.

"How the hell did you get those?" Veitch asked in amazement. He picked up one by the claws and searched for any kind of injury.

"Don't ask him that," Church said. "It'll just give him a chance to put on his mysterious-but-wise Yoda routine."

"Well, meat for me." Veitch threw the bird down. Laura wrinkled her nose in distaste.

While Tom set about preparing the birds, Ruth got out the cooking utensils they had picked up from the camping shop where they'd also, in Laura's words, liberated the tents. Tom jointed the pheasants with his Swiss Army Knife and they cooked quickly over the campfire, while Veitch prepared pasta and beans to accompany them.

After they'd eaten, they all sat back listening to the crackle of the fire. It was Church who spoke first, and from the way they turned to him as one he realised they had been waiting for him. "I think," he began, "it's time to decide what we're going to do next."

"Let's weigh up the options." Church watched Ruth's face grow serious as she turned her sharp lawyer's mind to the mountainous problems that faced them.

"Rolling over and doing nothing, always a popular favourite. That's my number one." Laura began to count off on her fingers. "Driving off until we find a nice, secluded beach somewhere. Taking a boat and getting away across the Channel. Taking a shedload of drugs and spending whatever time we've got left blissed out." She paused thoughtfully. "Um. Burying our heads in the sand-"

"Or," Veitch interrupted, "we could do the right thing."

"And what's that?" Laura sneered. "Rob a building society?"

Shavi leaned forward, his eyes pools of darkness despite the firelight. "We are Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. After all that has happened, there is no denying it. For better or worse, we, of all the people in the world, have had responsibility thrust upon us. We can no more turn our back on what is expected of us than we could on life itself."

"Speak for yourself," Laura sulked.

"And what is expected of us?" Church said, although the answer was obvious.

Shavi moistened his lips. "To oppose the powers that threaten to drive humanity into the shadows. To shine a beacon of hope in the night. Whatever the cost."

"Plain English," Veitch interjected. "To overthrow the bastards or die trying."

Ruth raised her eyes and muttered, "Thank you, John Wayne."

They all fell silent for a long moment, and it was Laura who gave voice to the thought on all their minds. "Look at us. What can we do?"

"I can give you all the cliches," Church began. "David and Goliath. The ant that moved several times its own weight-"

"Okay." Laura smiled falsely. "Now let's talk about the real world."

"There's some way out there," Veitch said adamantly. "We don't have to go out in a blaze of glory like the Wild Bunch. There's guerrilla warfare. There's-"

"— different rules now," Church said. "Powers out there we can use. Like the artefacts we uncovered." He still felt troubled that objects of such great power were in the hands of such an unpredictable race as the Tuatha De Danann.

"Guerrilla warfare," Ruth said. "I like that. We turn our weakness into a strength. Move fast, strike hard and be away before they can respond."

"Excuse me? Are we living in the same world?" Laura said. "These are things that can crush us faster than you can get on a high horse."

"Get a spine." Ruth turned to the others. "We all know what's going to happen next."

Every head dropped as one.

"Somebody's got to say it-"

"Let's not, and say we did." Laura tried to make out it was more sour humour, but they all heard the faint undertone in her voice: fear.

Ruth looked around the circle slowly. "They're going to try to bring Balor back. If we don't try to stop them-"

"Why us?" Laura no longer made any pretence of humour.

"But that is why we have been brought together," Shavi said quietly. "That is the reason why we contain this nebulous thing called the Pendragon Spirit, this thing that none of us truly understands. But it has been gifted to us so we can defend the land against this overwhelming threat."

Laura winced. "If you can believe all that-"

"You don't believe it?" Veitch asked sharply.