It was enough. All Tom’s hatred of Jack and his love for Zita and Kit and his parents burst through him into a torrent of fiery power. He towered over Young Jack, feeling the strength grow within him. It was like lava. Young Jack smirked.

Then Tom struck.

This time the blow knocked Young Jack to the far side of the room, sapping Tom so much that his knees weakened and he had to grab on to the door handle for support.

The edges of his enemy began to blur. As if he were made from nothing but smoke, Young Jack began to dissolve into atoms.

But still he laughed, and the laughter rang in Tom’s ears.

‘You will be nothing.’

It was the last thing Tom heard before he struggled with the golden handle to the next room and pushed through.

And there, without even time to draw breath, he saw what he had been fearing.

The deck of his parents’ boat. The Wanderer. Storm clouds were swiftly gathering overhead, spilling out from the centre of the sky, spreading across the blue expanse.

No land in sight. No ship in sight.

His father, bent over a map. His mother, trying the dials on the radio. It was 2.47pm, a mere two minutes before they drowned.

He would have to face it.

The day of the storm.

He closed the door firmly behind him and went onto the deck, the cold saltwater stinging his cheeks.

Chapter 18

A stone will fall through water. A flame will burn a tree.

— From the Sayings of the Samdhya, transcribed by Margaret Ravenswood

A large white-tipped wave loomed from the darkening swell and crashed over the bows. It retreated, leaving behind three or four tiny silver fish struggling on the deck and a piece of seaweed that dragged a freezing tendril over Tom’s face.

Tom clutched at the nearest rope for support. The cold air enveloped him, the rain, pelting down now, flattening his hair, seeping into his mouth. A great fork of lightning slashed right through the sky and was followed almost immediately by an infernal rumbling of thunder.

His parents were tough, lean and wiry, having eaten only ship’s rations for a week. Yet suddenly they looked small and vulnerable.

‘I don’t understand it!’ His mother was shouting. ‘It’s come from nowhere!’

‘Nothing on the radar? Nothing on the reports?’

‘Nothing! It’s like it just came from above.’

‘Like an act of God.’

Another vast, gloomy wave poured over the deck, drenching them in saltwater.

When it washed away, they were hanging on grimly, Tom’s mother to the side of the boat, his father to the boom, which he’d managed somehow to grab.

‘Take in the sails!’

They righted themselves, and struggled to do so, as the ship tossed from side to side. Tom watched in horror, wishing he could help.

‘We’ll get through this.’