Darkest Hour (Age of Misrule, Book 2)

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Authors: Mark Chadbourn
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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

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