S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

Jenna’s hand had gone to her throat as MacEagan spoke, imagining the horror of that scene. "We

remember," MacEagan finished. "We will always remember. It was Severii who began the construction of this keep after the Battle of Sliabh Mlchinniuint, where Rl Armagh met his fate. They say it's the tears of those who died here that drip inside the keep when it rains. I don't know if that's true. I do know that the roof's been repaired and rebuilt and redesigned a dozen or more times over the centuries, and still the tears fall. I think they remember, too."

Jenna turned away from the window, MacEagan closing it behind her. She saw that the stained glass depicted the scene he'd just described: a woman, her mouth open in a silent cry, tumbled over black, jagged rocks. "What is it you're asking of me?" she asked the trio.

Banrion Aithne answered. "Some of the tiarna advise us to wait, to prepare our armies for the inevitable. That's the advice my husband listens to, because it means he can sit in comfort and do nothing. But while we sit, the tuatha make their own preparations. We've learned that the Rl Ard has ended the conflict between Tuath Connachta and Tuath Gabair, and that he is actively working to have the tuatha join together. If they all come, fully prepared and allied, we can't stand."

"What does your brother say?" Jenna asked.

Aithne almost laughed. "So you've felt the knives in his glare? Aron will be against anything that involves you, I'm afraid. I'll deal with that when the time comes. But. ." She paused. "We here in this room believe the time must be soon."

The bright shattering of glass tore Jenna's gaze away from Aithne_

Kianna tossed her wineglass into the fireplace.

"The Banrion is right," she said. "We must strike first. Before the Tuatha are ready."

The mage-lights came, and Jenna wearily pulled herself front the bed to answer their call. As she lifted Lamh Shabhala to their glowing strands of energy, she could feel Ennis doing the same somewhere nearby, and also Moister Cleurach opening Stormbringer, which he had taken for himself after having given Gairbith's cloch to Brathair Mundy Kirwan. The mage-lights seethed and roiled above her, and Lamh Shabhala sucked greedily at them, filling itself. Afterward, her arm throbbed and ached, and it trem-bled as she released the cloch, the pain shooting deep into her joints.

She went to the small chest of drawers beside the bed. She pulled out the packet of fine, soft paper.

"I must consider this," she’d told them. "1 need to speak to Moister Cleurach and Ennis, for what you’re asking also concerns them. 1 need to think…"

The Banrion had nodded and given her that small, cold smile. "Then we’ll talk tomorrow evening," she said. "But there is only one answer, Holder. I think you already know that."

Jenna had said nothing. She’d walked quickly from the room, but on the way, without conscious thought, she’d taken the packet Banrion Aithne had given her. .

She put water over the hearth fire to boil, holding the packet on her lap and watching the steam start to curl from the small iron pot. When she heard the first chatter of the boil, she took two of the leaves, crushed them in her left hand, and sprinkled them into the pot. The bitter smell of anduilleaf filled the room and she sniffed it gratefully, already feeling the pain easing in her arm and shoulder. She poured some of the thicken-ing tea into a mug.

For a long time, she sat there, just holding it and inhaling the aroma. She could almost taste it. She felt her body yearning for the brew, her hands trembling around the mug, and yet she waited. She could hear the voices in her mind, the voices of all the old Holders.

… go ahead. I was a First Holder and it’s what I needed, too. .

. . aye, and you were mad with it a mere five years later, Caenneth-homicidal, fey, and insane, and hated by those around you. . I could take it or not. I was never in thrall to it. . that’s what you wanted to believe. . that’s not what they said after you were dead. . it was all that kept me from going crazy with the pain. .

The arguments echoed in her head, contradictory. Her arm throbbed and sent stabbing flashes through her shoulder and chest. Finally, she started to lifted the mug to her lips.

There was a harsh knock on her door. "Jenna! Please open the door. I need to talk with you."

"Go away, Ennis."

"Jenna, open the door. I'm not going away." Again, the knocking came. With a sigh, Jenna set the mug down and opened the door. Ennis walked in. His right arm was bare to the elbow, and she could see the markings of the mage-lights beginning to scar his flesh as it had hers-not as deep, not as defined, but they were there. Seeing her gaze, he rubbed at the arm.

"It aches and throbs when I use the cloch or call the mage-lights to me," he said. "But it's bearable. I don't hold Lamh Shabhala. I didn't have to open the clochs na thintri to the lights. I don't have to bear the power you wield." He glanced at the mug steaming on the table. "Is that what you need?" he asked softly.

"I don't know." She bit her lower lip. Her right hand was shaking, and she pressed it against her stomach. "I'm afraid, Ennis," she said. "It hurts so much, and the leaf. . the leaf keeps the pain away, at least for a little while, but I wonder… I wonder if I hadn't been taking it… the Banrion… I was so confused, so angry.." She stopped. Her breath was coming in short gasps, her chest tight. The room swam in unshed tears.

He was close to her, but he wouldn't touch her. "You can't change what happened, Jenna. You didn't have a choice then."

"But I did." Her voice was nearly a whisper. "And I have a choice now."

"About the anduilleaf?"

She shook her head. "No."

"The Comhairle, then?"

A nod. "I told Moister Cleurach. ."

"I know. And he told me. What do you think?"

Jenna lifted her head. "I think they're right. There will be war, no matter what we do, and if we strike first, we have the best chance of prevailing. I also I think it would be horrible and I don't want to be part of it. The clochs na thintri shouldn't be weapons of war, Ennis, but that seems to be all they're ever used for-to gain power."

"Then tell the Banrion and the Comhairle that your answer’s ’no.’"

"And there’s even more death as a result. Right here. For good or ill this is my home. This is where my ancestors came from, and Ballintubber’s lost to me now. The RI Ard and Tanaise Rig both stand against me There’s nowhere I can go in Talamh an Ghlas. This is my home, the only one I have. Shouldn’t I defend it?"

"You’re arguing against yourself, Jenna, and that’s an argument you can’t win." A gentle, sympathetic smile touched the corners of his mouth creasing his cheeks. His hand lifted, brushed her cheek, and fell away. "Listen to your heart. What does it say?"

Jenna gave a bitter laugh. "I don’t know. I can’t hear it through all the confusion." She picked up the mug of anduilleaf.

"Will that help you hear it, or just cloud your mind more?"

A shrug. "Right now, I need something to lean on. To help. This is what I have."

"You have me."

Jenna started to speak. Blood pounded at her temples. She took a breath. "Ennis. ."

His hand closed around hers on the mug, so tightly that she gasped. "If you need this, then fine. I trust your decision and won’t stop you. But I’ll be here, too. I’ll give you what I can, whatever you want to take from me. I’ll stand with you in whatever decision you make. I’ll. ." He stopped. He was very close, his green eyes not letting her look away.

"Let go of the mug, Ennis," she told him. For a moment, he continued to stare. Then he took a step back, letting go of her hand.

She looked down at the milky brew inside the cup, at the promise it held. Very softly, she set the mug down again. She walked over to Ennis, put her left hand around his neck and pulled his head down.