S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

She knew what she had to do and yet she hesitated-in that hesitation, she could feel the other two clochs searching for her in the landscape of Lamh Shabhala. There was no doubt as to their intentions; she could feel the hostility, especially from the sea-colored stone. For the moment, though, she ignored them. She looked instead for the four riders and she released more of the stored energy within her cloch, gathering it in her mind and shaping it, then releasing it with a savage mental thrust.

With her eyes, she saw lightnings arc from her scarred right arm, flash-ing outward in jagged white-hot streaks toward the riders. Two of the riders were torn from their saddles and their mounts killed as bolts shot through them: shredding flesh, shattering bones, and boiling their blood. Thunder boomed and crackled. Jenna heard the screams of both men and horses, short and cut off as the force of the cloch ripped the life from them. She felt them die.

But in that same instant, the remaining two bolts were turned aside before they struck their targets: one meeting a similar bolt from the red cloch; the other shoved aside as if by an invisible hand from the other stone. The two colliding bolts exploded in a ball of blinding fireworks between the two groups; the one shoved aside gouged a crater from the earth just to the left of its intended target, whose horse reared and bucked. She saw O'Deoradhain break from cover with a cry, kicking his horse into a gallop and charging back up the slope toward the remaining riders. The one who had nearly been struck broke and fled; the other pulled his sword from its sheath and came for O'Deoradhain.

The two cloch Holders ignored O'Deoradhain and instead turned their attention to Jenna and Lamh Shabhala. Their clochs were now open; in mental view, she could see them, twin expanding ripples in the white of Lamh Shabhala. The sea-foam color of one moved more rapidly, urging for the center that was Jenna. "Don't let it reach you. Go toward " The voice spoke in her head: Riata, she realized, come to her on his own. The other voices were there as well, the voices of all the Holders, a babble of contradictory advice: one telling her to flee, another to make the first strike now, yet another insisting that it was too late already. . She ignored them and found Riata's voice again. She moved toward it, not physi-cally but with the cloch…" She let her awareness slide forward. .

The impact nearly stunned her. She was surrounded by howling winds and a hand that seemed to grasp at her, squeezing the very breath from her lungs. Jenna gasped and struggled. She could feel more and more energy pouring from the attacking cloch, then-in support-lightning arced

from its partner. Jenna screamed with the pain, the electricity arcing through her, her body convulsing as all her muscles contracted and the burning spear coursed through her. The aqua light continued to pummel her like a gigantic fist as she felt the other cloch gathering itself again.

Yet she could also sense that with each attack, the clochs, including Lamh Shabhala, grew weaker, that there was less force left for them to use. "You are stronger. . You can hold more of the mage-light’s power than they can…" She thrust back at the blue-green constriction that had wrapped about her, unwrapping it like a sticky rope laced around her body. She could feel energy draining from Lamh Shabhala as she fought back, but the crushing pressure was easing. She pushed, and the cloch fell back. She lifted an ethereal arm and slammed it down; waves of pain and alarm radiated from the center of the cloch’s influence. The red cloch released another bolt of lightning; shifting her attention, she sent her own to intercept it and a momentary sun flared between them. The aqua cloch was pushing back now, the two of them grappling mentally like wrestlers searching for a hold. The ruddy one held back, and Jenna realized that Mac Ard was waiting, deliberately allowing the other cloch to drain as much of Lamh Shabhala’s power as it could.

He s planning to wait until I weaken myself dealing with the other cloch, then strike… I wonder. . She sent her awareness racing to the center of the other cloch: she could see a face, strained and hurting as it fought her: Damhlaic Gairbith, the Ris commander. He tried to push her away; she would not let him. She shouted at him, feeling her throat go raw with the near-scream. "Mac Ard’s using you, Gairbith! He intends to let you die fighting

Gairbith didn’t reply-couldn’t reply, she knew, for handling the cloch was taking all his concentration. But his eyes went wide with fear and suspicion, and he looked away toward where the other cloch pulsed blood red, watching and waiting.

The truth was enough. Jenna felt Gairbith’s focus shift and with that the defenses he’d set around himself weakened. Jenna cried out, releasing a new flood of energy from Lamh Shabhala. It raged forward, overwhelm-ing Gairbith. The mental connection between himself and his cloch snapped. Through her true eyes, she saw one of the men sway in his saddle and fall. In the middle of the field,

O'Deoradhain and another man were fighting, steel clashing as a sword rang against the Inishlander's long dagger.

Jenna nearly fell with Gairbith. The sudden release of pressure made her gasp and Lamh Shabhala was nearly drained. Weary, she turned her attention to Mac Ard.

"We don't have to do this, Jenna." She heard Mac Ard's voice as if he whispered in her ear. "I don't want to hurt you. Give up the cloch. Let me take it and I'll let you go or take you back to your mam. Whatever you want. I swear it."

The thought of losing the cloch was worse than contemplating death. "No," she answered. "Lamh Shabhala is mine. It stays mine."

She heard no more words, but she felt his sadness.

Jenna could feel Mac Ard's cloch opening and knew he was readying a strike. She didn't wait for it; she grasped at the dregs of power within Lamh Shabhala and flung them at him. The energy shattered against his cloch, absorbing the lightning he hurled toward her. As it crackled around him, she could feel Lamh Shabhala sucking the rest of the life from his cloch until there was nothing left. She saw Mac Ard's face go suddenly wide-eyed with fear.

Mac Ard's horse reared up as he yanked at the reins. Faintly, she heard his cry of pain and frustration as he fled, galloping into the trees and over the rise. Within Lamh Shabhala, there was still power left, enough that she could feel Mac Ard's cloch moving away until she could no longer sense it at all.

She let go of the cloch. It was a mistake, she realized immediately, for it was only the residual energy within Lamh Shabhala that was keeping her upright. With the release of contact, a doubled wave of severe pain and exhaustion swept over her. She could still see O'Deoradhain fighting close by, but the edges of her vision had gone black, the scene before her shrinking and condensing until it was only a pinpoint. Thunder roared in her ears, and the drumbeat of her blood. Her right arm felt as if it were on fire. She tried to lift it, tried to call out, but the darkness closed in around her and she felt herself falling.

She didn’t feel the impact of the ground at all.

Chapter 34: The Gifting

"YOU see, she’s weak and stupid. She doesn’t deserve to be Holder…" I "You can’t be seriously thinking she could survive the Scrudu…"

"Next time they come after her, she’ll die. The only thing that saved her was the inexperience of the others, and they’ll learn… "

"She doesn’t have the discipline… "

"Lamh Shabhala has chosen poorly this time…"

"Be quiet, all of you. She will learn, she may take the Scrudu in time, and she is stronger than you think… "

"Riata?" With the word, the voices faded. She could see nothing. Her eyes refused to focus though there was a whiteness all around her, and she was being jostled. She tried to move her hands or her legs and could not-something held her. She remembered the last thing she’d seen: