S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

". . the All-Heart. ."

". . ahh, the taste. ."

"… it comes back to us…"

"… bring the Littlest to see…"

Jenna saw one of the Creneach push forward as the others made way It carried a small form in its arms: an infant Creneach, the tiny body smooth and marbled with color, its arms waving as each Creneach they passed touched it with its tongue.

There was a brilliance in the cloch-vision: the Cloch Mor was within the child.

"This is our Littlest," Terrain said. "Given to us in the return of the First-Lights. It carries a Great-Heart within it, so we know that the All-Heart is pleased with us and our long wait." Terrain took the infant from the other Creneach, cradling it close. "It will have life while the First-Lights stay, and when the lights return to their search, it will go with them."

"I don’t understand," Jenna said, shaking her head. "The All-Heart, the lights… I don’t know what you mean."

"Then listen," Terrain answered. Its tongue ran along the child’s face, like a caress, and the infant mewled in soft contentment. "You bear the All-Heart, so you should know…"

Back when there was only stone in the world and the First-Lights gleamed, before the coming of the soft-flesh things, there was Anchead, the First Thought. Anchead wanted a companion, and so took a pebble from Itself and let the First-Lights wrap around it. The First-Lights gave the pebble of Anchead life and awareness, and from this piece grew the god we call Ceile. Within Ceile, Anchead’s pebble grew, always pulling the First-Lights toward it. For a long time, Anchead and Ceile dwelled together, but Ciele found that Anchead still sometimes yearned for Its solitude and would often go wandering by itself, leaving Ceile alone for years at a time. So Ceile also became lonely, and like Anchead, broke away a pebble from Itself and held it out to the First-Lights, and they came and gave it life and shape also, though the fire of its life did not burn as deeply as Ceile’s. Each time that Anchead went wandering, Ceile would break off another part of Itself, until there were a dozen or more children of Ceile. Sometimes her children even broke oil fragments of themselves and made their own children, but their hearts were even weaker than their own and shone only dimly.

The children and grandchildren of Ceile were the first of the Creneach.

One day, though, Anchead went wandering and never returned, and Ceile sorrowed though the Creneach tried to give It comfort. The First-Lights felt the grief and loss of Ceile, and in sympathy they left and went to search for Anchead. As they faded,

so did Ceile's life and those of the Creneach. When the First-Lights had gone completely, Ceile and Its chil-dren and grandchildren fell down lifeless, and the wind and rain wore away the form of their bodies until all that was left were their gleaming hearts.

The soft-flesh things came, and they took away many of the hearts they found for themselves, for they loved the way the hearts looked-Ceile's heart was one of those that was taken.

And so it was until finally the First-Lights returned again from their unsuccessful search for the lost Anchead. The First-Lights found Ceile's heart and they went to it, filling it once more. But the soft-flesh things held the heart now and the First-Lights could not bring Ceile back, nor any of Its children or grandchildren who had also been taken. But the All-Heart that had been within Ceile was able to stir and waken the hearts of all Its children and grandchildren: those hearts the soft-flesh things pos-sessed could hold the power of the First-Lights, but only the few who had not been touched by the soft-flesh things could revive and have form and shape again as Creneach.

Without Ceile, though, none of the Creneach could take of themselves and make children. The First-Lights saw that and sorrowed, and so they gave a gift to the Creneach: they found a pebble that was like the heart of the Creneach and gave it life and form, and that one was the Littlest, and its light shone as bright as the first children of Ceile.

That is the way it has been ever since: the First-Lights go to search now and again for Anchead and we Creneach die. Our bodies crack and crum-ble to pebbles and dust, and the hearts within us fall away. Those hearts the soft-flesh things find and take will never live again as Creneach. When the First-Lights return from their search, they go first to the All-Heart and awaken it once more, and the All-Heart in turn awakens all of Its children and grandchildren. Then the First-Lights find the hearts that have not yet been touched and bring us back.

And they also wake a new Littlest or two. .

Jenna found herself staring at Lamh Shabhala as Terrain finished the tale, still cradling the infant in its arms. She tried to imagine her cloch burning with the mage-lights energy inside the god Ceile, only to be found after the long, slow erosion of her body.

She thought of all the clochs na thintri

Cloch Mor or clochmion-having first been born in the Creneach.

Truth or fable. . There was no way to know. All she knew was that the Creneach believed it, as Jenna believed in the Mother-Creator and Seed-Daughter, as Seancoim believed in the god he called Greatness, as Thraisha believed in her WaterMother. Perhaps they were all mingled, all shades of the same truth. Jenna looked around her at the Creneach, and inside each of them burned an undeniable cloch na thintri: that, at least, was truth.

"I hold the All-Heart that was inside Ceile," she said, and Terrain nod-ded with slow precision.

"I am Eldest here," it said. "This is my twelfth Awakening. I’ve seen the quick growth of soft-flesh things like you, who can change the very land. I have felt the All-Heart close by twice before: when I was Littlest, and also at the end of my last life." Jenna could hear the awe enter its voice, then, and its eyes were on the stone in her hand. "But this is the first time any of us here have actually seen it. It is a great gift for all of us, and for the Littlest."

". . my twelfth Awakening…" The import of that staggered Jenna-if true, the Creneach before her was unimaginably old. From Riata’s time to her own was thirteen centuries or more, and that would have encom-passed only a portion of two of Treorai’s "awakenings." Most of the voices within Lamh Shabhala were the more recent Holders; of the Bunus Muintir Holders, only Riata’s voice was easily heard, and he had been the last active Bunus Holder. There must be older, fainter voices buried deep within the cloch, going back and back to the dim mist of legend and myth.

And here, one of the legends walked.

Jenna glanced at Seancoim, who was leaning placidly on his staff, and then she bent down, looking at the smooth, shiny face of the Littlest in Treorai’s arms. She could feel the Cloch Mor shining in the chest of the infant, a jewel with a radiance stronger than the moon. She dangled Lamh Shabhala over it, as she might have with a child. It didn’t reach for the cloch, but its tongue darted from its mouth, sliding over the stone in its silver cage and withdrawing. The Littlest chirped then, birdlike, as if in satisfaction.

"It will remember," Terrain said. "We will all remember the taste of the All-Heart. Soon enough, when the Littlest has grown, we will leave here, each on our own, to search for Anchead while the First-Lights still glow in this land, but we will remember."

Terrain handed the Littlest to one of the other Creneach, and clapped his hands together again.

"But I forget that the soft-flesh things are always in a hurry, for your lives are short. We could stay here for several darknesses, remembering all the old tales of the All-Heart and our long search, but you would grow old in that time, so-" Terrain stopped, abruptly. He turned away from her, as if he'd forgotten she was there, and lifted his gaze toward the sky.