S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

"Jenna," he husked. "Don't-" He stopped with a gasping intake of breath as the man holding him jabbed the blade against his throat.

"Be quiet," Aron warned him. "You are to say nothing."

She wanted desperately to go to Ennis, to rip the bonds from his hands and kiss him, to hold him in her arms again. And yet… he gazed at her like a lost thing, with no hope or joy in his eyes at all. Is this the way Mac Ard was after I took the cloch from him? Is this what I would look like once Lamh Shabhala is gone-or worse, since it's woven itself so deeply into me. .? She started to urge her horse forward, but Aron lifted his hand and the man holding Ennis pressed the dagger tight. "Move this way, Holder, and he dies. You know what I want. Give it to my sister. Now!"

Jenna let her hood fall back, uncaring of the rain. She brought her hands up and touched the chain around her neck. Muscles jumped in her face; she tightened her mouth, closing her eyes.

She lifted the chain from around her neck, the stone swinging in its silver cage, and handed it into Aithne's waiting hands. She bowed her head, clutching herself around the waist and cradling her right arm to herself as she gave a sobbing cry. Aithne glanced at the stone in her hand. Her lips lifted slightly, and Jenna quickly dropped her gaze away from the Banrion's face.

Aron’s laughter came from up the hill. "Well, you are stronger than I thought possible, Holder. You should have heard your lover scream when I plucked the cloch from his hands," he called down to them. "Aithne, you may come forward now."

Moister Cleurach, alongside Jenna, leaned toward her. "She knows," he whispered.

"Maybe. It doesn't matter. Aron takes the stone, sends Ennis to us, and We g°>" Jenna replied.

"And after that?"

"We ride hard and fight if we must."

Jenna heard the Banrion slap her horse's neck with the reins, heard the animal take a few steps forward through the mud. Then she stopped halfway between the two groups. "It's not much of a jewel, Aron," she said. "But I wonder. . how it would look on me?"

"Aithne!" He shouted the name, a call of fury. Moister Cleurach hissed in irritation. Jenna glanced

up to see Aron’s horse rear in alarm, and nocked crossbows appeared from under the cloaks of his companions "Don’t be a fool, Sister. You’ll wear that cloch for no longer than a breath The moment you take it in your hand and try to claim it will be your last."

4

Aithne laughed. "Such glorious threats. What will you do with it, Brother? Use it to promote yourself? Such a banal and selfish "purpose."

"Aithne, I warn you. The blood we share won’t stop me from giving the order."

"Oh, I know it won’t." Jenna watched Aithne heft the stone in her palm, as if in thought. "In truth, I gave this almost no thought until just now, when I took it into my hand…" She lifted her head up. "The truth is, Aron, that I trust the Holder Jenna more than I trust you. But. ." She clucked at the horse, urging it forward again. As she came alongside Aron, she nodded her head to Ennis.

"Let him go now," Jenna heard her say. "That was the agreement."

"Give me Lamh Shabhala." He held his hand out, palm up.

"Let O’Deoradhain go," Aithne repeated.

"When I have Lamh Shabhala in my hand. Not before."

Aithne glanced over her shoulder toward Jenna, then placed the neck-lace in his hand. He stared at it, then his eyes lifted to find Jenna’s gaze and he raised his voice to her. "I’m sorry," he said. "This is still not suffi-cient payment for my poor Cianna."

He nodded to the man holding Ennis.

The knife moved, slashing deep, and blood fountained even as Jenna’s hand belatedly closed around the true cloch, hidden in a small pocket in her cloca. "Ennis!" she screamed. "Ennis!"

He was already falling, his eyes open and unseeing, a froth of red foam on his lips.

Jenna was sobbing as she ripped open Lamh Shabhala with her mind. Unthinking, she threw its power, wild and raw, toward Aron. He was still holding the necklace in his hand, not yet realizing that it was a false stone. He was defenseless, his own cloch still resting untouched at his breast. She wanted to see him crushed and smashed, wanted the lightnings of the cloch to snap and burn around his screaming, broken body. She saw the lightning flash and crackle, arcing toward him, then. .

Just before the fury struck Aron, Jenna saw another lightning strike her own, and the two exploded in a white fireball and thunder. Another bolt followed, and Jenna was forced to shove it aside.

That is Ennis' clock, she realized. They've given it to someone.

Chaos erupted. Her senses lost in the cloch's, Jenna was vaguely aware of shouts and curses. She tried to follow the cloch's energy back, to see who possessed it, to kill him because he had what should have been Ennis'.

". . Lamh Shabhala! Use it!"

". . she still has it!"

Jenna was vaguely aware of what was happening around her. Moister Cleurach’s hand convulsed around the stone about his neck; immediately the storm howled a thousand fold with Stormbringer's energy. A hurricane wind tossed men from their saddles and pounded against the walls of Glenn Aill. She saw Aron’s fist close around the false Lamh Shabhala, then his face convulsed with a curse as he tossed it aside. Aithne had turned her horse, galloping back toward them as Aron lifted his own cloch.

Jenna, though, kept her attention on the person using Ennis' cloch. You bastard. . I'm almost there… I can feel you. .

A stream of energy-sapphire and white streams hissed and snarled, reminding Jenna all too well of the ambush in Dun Kiil-flared from the Keep and struck Aithne, hurling the woman backward from her horse.

. . there! I can almost see your face. . The winged demon appeared in the air above them, shouting rage; the lava-creature spewed orange flame as the other two Clochs Mor that had attacked Jenna and Ennis in Dun Kiil now opened.

•. by the Mother-Creator!

Jenna saw the figure holding Ennis’ cloch, standing at one of the win-dows of the towers on the wall.

She saw his face and she nearly released Lamh Shabhala with the shock.

She knew now why the cloch was handled so well and easily. She knew now who had helped O Dochartaigh plan the ambush. She knew now that there was another reason Ennis had been taken.

The new Holder was also its old one: Padraic Mac Ard.

In the cloch-vision, it was as if they faced one another in the same room though a quarter mile or more separated them. His mouth moved, his eyes almost sad. "Jenna. ." The word was loud in her hearing, even through the clamor. She recoiled backward, the vision of Mac Ard receding as if she were falling away from him impossibly fast. She found herself back in her body, the roar of the battle around her.

"Jenna!" Moister Cleurach shouted. His face was grim and strained, his Nesh pale as he lashed out with Stormbringer against the other clochs. He pointed at Aithne, but even the gesture allowed an opening, and the lava beast threw globules of fire that the winds of Stormbringer hurled aside only barely in time. The field workers were running away in panic; the rows of wheat nearest Jenna and the others were now ablaze. The Dun Kiil gardai had gone to Aithne, swords drawn uselessly. One went down

with a crossbow quarrel in his breast.

The mage-demon flapped its dragon wings above Aithne, claws out as it stooped like a hawk and plummeted. At the same moment, blue light-ning erupted again from Aron’s hand. Jenna imagined a wall above the Banrion and she felt Lamh Shabhala shudder in her hand as the demon struck it, as the searing energy from Aron’s cloch battered at-the shielding force. The demon, growling in frustration, tore at the shield; Jenna could feel it as if the claws were gouging at her own flesh. Aithne rose groggily, and she touched her own cloch.