S Farrell - Holder of Lightning

There's Thall Coill… she thought, but didn't voice it, forcing the thought away. The day was bright and warm, and the festival atmosphere filled Dun Kiil, and she wanted nothing more than to forget for a few stripes the decision ahead of her and just enjoy herself. Her hand brushed Ennis', and she tangled her fingers in his. "Shut up," she said.

He looked at her, startled, and saw her smile gentle the words. "We don't have to talk about this now," she said. "Tomorrow is soon enough."

"gut-" he began, then stopped himself. He took her hand and put it behind his back, pulling her close and kissing her. Jenna leaned into him, reveling in his presence, in the affection that radiated from him. He had, all unexpected, become her sanity in this. When she was with him, she felt complete, as if he been designed to sustain a part of her, as Lamh Shabhala had fulfilled another part.

It was never like this with Coelin. Never. This is what my mam must have felt for my da. . With that thought came its corollary: And what she feels now for Mac Ard, also. She recalled her last sight of Mac Ard, screaming with the pain of his loss as they left Banshaigh and Lough Glas. Jenna's fingers convulsed around Ennis'. He returned the press of fingers, his other hand trailing down Jenna's spine as he held her, and she let the memory go.

"Let's not talk about anything but ourselves today," she whispered to him. "Let's just enjoy this."

He grinned at her. "That sounds wonderful to me," he answered. He took a long, appreciative sniff of the air. "Smell that?" he said. "Someone's making milaran."

Ennis grinned. "You don’t know what a milaran is? Well, it’s time you found out."

Jenna would find that a milaran was a griddle cake made with honeyed batter and drizzled with molasses and spices. It was both sticky and deli-cious, and part of the fun of eating one was to lick the clinging syrup from each other’s fingers and mouth. They watched a street magician make scarves appear from empty boxes and coins vanish and reappear seem-ingly at will. They laughed and shouted encouragement to a pair of dwarves fighting a mock battle with wooden swords and groaned with feigned disappointment as their chosen champion fell. They listened to the start of a storyteller’s tale and helped fill his bowl with coins so he’d finish the story. They ate a midday meal at an inn near the waterfront, and in the afternoon went walking along the harbor way.

"Look!" Jenna said. "Aren’t those Saimhoir?" She pointed to a trio of dark shapes in the water, moving steadily toward the shore. The glint of blue highlights shimmered in their black fur. Jenna brushed Lamh Shabhala with her right hand and laughed. "Thraisha!" she called happily, then tugged at Ennis’ hand. "Come on!"

They ran down the wharf to where the harbor ended in a jumble of dark rocks. The seals were just hauling out of the water as they arrived, and Thraisha gave a warble and huff of greeting. Jenna held Lamh Shabhala in her hand, opening the cloch so that the cloch-vision overlaid her own and Thraisha’s words came to her. Thraisha glowed brightly in the flow of the mage-lights’ energy.

"May the currents bring you fish, sister-kin," Thraisha called. "A fore-telling came to me that you would be walking here today. I came to tell you first that the stone-walker you gave to Garrentha was saved. The stone-walkers in their islands-of-dead-wood-that-move. . what is the word you use for them?" Jenna felt the touch of Thraisha’s mind on her own, and she allowed the intrusion, let the seal rummage through her thoughts. "Ah. ’Ship’-that’s it. Garrentha kept the stone-walker afloat until the ships came. The stone-walkers in those ships pulled the stone-walker from the water, then the ships moved away from Nesting "Land to Winter Home."

Jenna nodded. "Good," Jenna told her. "Tell them that I thank Garren-tha for doing that." She glanced at Ennis. "And perhaps the captain was reunited with his son. I would like to believe that."

Ennis shrugged, and she saw that he held no such hope.

Thraisha turned to the other seals, moaning and panting in their own tongue for a few moments. Then she turned her head back toward Jenna, the blue-white pulse of Bradan an Chumhacht rising within the seal. "I came also to tell you another foretelling. I dreamed last night, and in that dream I saw several ships coming from Winter Home to Nesting Land." Thraisha lowered her head, her black eyes looking mournful and sad. "These ships were full of stone-walkers in hard shells that gleamed in the sunlight, and they had sticks of bright stone in their hands. They came to Nesting Land at this very place and hauled out onto the rocks and the stone-walkers who lived here swarmed from the dry hills to meet them. I saw smoke and fire. I smelled the scent of stone-walker blood. I heard cries of pain and screams of rage. And I saw you, sister-kin."

Thraisha paused before she continued, as if she didn't want to say more. "I could feel something incomplete inside you, as if you'd failed to do something you were expected to do. I could feel it like a hollowness in the fire of your soul. You stood there alone and called lightning down from the skies with Lamh Shabhala, but other sky-stones were there also, held by the hard-shelled ones, and they gathered against you. I was here, too, but I was too far away and others clochs were set again me and couldn't reach you. You looked for help but even though those with you held sky-stones of their own, they were beset themselves and none came to your aid. I saw you fall."

She stopped, and Ennis shook his head. "Your dream is wrong, water-cousin," he told her. "My cloch will stand with Jenna as will any others held by the Order."

Thraisha gave a coughing pant. "I did not see you in my dream, land-cousin," she said. "I'll admit that surprised me. I know you would be there, if you could."

"Then the dream is wrong," Ennis insisted. "It was a dream and nothing else."

The seal wriggled in what Jenna decided was the equivalent of a shrug. "That may be," she said. "I only tell you what came to me. But it had the feeling of a foretelling."

"Do you see what will be, or only what might be?" Jenna asked.

"I see what I see," Thraisha answered. "I don't know more than that." Another cough: "I'm sorry, Holder. When I came, I could see joy in your face and I have destroyed that with my words. I wish I could give it back to you."

Jenna glanced back at the town. They could hear the sound of laughter and see the tops of the banners fluttering from the roofs of Market Square, just past the warehouses and fisheries that flanked the harbor front. The gaiety struck a false note now, like a song sung just off-key. Jenna could look at the harbor and imagine it filled with the warships of the tuatha, could practically see the smoke of burning houses while below the streets of Dun Kiil were chaotic with battle. As she stared, her right arm throbbed, her fist convulsing with the pain as if she were already there, the power of Lamh Shabhala arcing through her and breaking against the massed might of the Cloch Mor.

"It's only a possible future you see," Jenna said.

"It must be. The Water-Mother sent you a vision in warning. After all, Thraisha, if what you see must happen, then what use is there in telling me? If it's destiny, then there's nothing I could do to change it. Any action I take would still inevitably lead to the same point."

Thraisha wriggled again. "I don't know the way of gods, yours or mine. I see what I see," she repeated. "If it's destiny, then I know I'll soon be here with you again. I saw more, sister-kin. When you fell, the clochs turned to me and I could not swim against that current. Their magic drowned me and Bradan an Chumhacht swam from my mouth. So if it's destiny, then it's not only your death. It's also mine."