Holder of Lightning tc-1

by S L Farrell Неизвестный Автор

  "Start with two in your right hand and toss one of them high over to your left hand."

  Ennis shook his head and started to hand the balls back, but Jenna laughed. "No, no, no," she told him. "You asked the question. Now you have to try."

  Ennis grimaced. Standing spread-legged, he tossed the balls up in the air-right, left, right-and they all plopped immediately to the ground. Jenna and several of the people watching applauded laughingly. The juggler grinned. "You just have to remember that the ground always wins, Tiarna, Bantiarna." He reached down, flipped the torch up and caught it. The Mother-Creator designed our world so that when you toss some-thing up, it comes back down. That makes juggling possible, but it also Cleans that no matter how good you are, eventually you’ll make a mis-take.". He pulled ax, dagger, and unlit torch from the log and started the cascade again: ax, dagger, torch, ax, dagger, torch, ax-but this time they saw the dagger spin a little faster, so that it turned over one and half time starting to come down into the juggler’s hand blade first. With a comic’ expression of horror, he snatched his hand back at the last instant. The dagger clattered on the cobblestones of the street. "You just have to know when something’s about to cut you and remember to let it go," he said

  The boy adroitly slipped his toes under the blade near the hilt and kicked the dagger back into the air-and suddenly he was juggling again Jenna and Ennis applauded once more, watching for a bit before tossing another coin in the boy’s hat and walking on. "I think you missed a career as a street performer," Jenna told Ennis.

  "I think you just enjoy seeing me make a fool of myself."

  Jenna laughed and pulled him close, hugging him. "I love being with you," she said. "I enjoy not having to think about anything for a few hours." She felt Ennis’ muscles tense under her hand. "What?" she asked.

  They stopped. Ennis pretended to look at the cloth hung at a weaver’s stall. "I can tell you want to say something," Jenna said. "What?"

  "I spoke to Moister Cleurach this morning, before we left."

  "And?"

  "He feels very strongly that you should come back to Inishfeirm. He believes that the more of the cloudmage discipline you can learn before the invasion comes-and we all know it’s coming-the better chance we’ll all have."

  "And what does he think of the Banrion’s plan?"

  A shoulder lifted his cloca. "He understands her position but doesn’t agree. No army’s ever come to Inish Thuaidh and conquered it. And no Inish army has ever left here to invade the Tuatha."

  "No army’s ever had this many Cloch Mor with them," Jenna answered. "And no Rl Ard has ever put together an alliance of all the Tuatha, and if this one has… "

  Another shrug. They moved away from the weaver's stall to the next, a potter's booth, bright with glazed mugs and bowls. Ennis picked up a bowl: golden brown swirled with blue. "So you agree with the Banrion. strike first before they strike us."

  Jenna sighed. "I don't know who I agree with," she said.

  "Attack first, or wait. You don't have any other options. At least none that I can see."

  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 o
ther 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."

  "It's a glimpse of maybe," Jenna insisted. "That's all. A warning."

  "I hope you're right, Holder," Thraisha answered. Her companions were chattering loudly behind, and she turned her head toward them, her tar glistening with the movement as she listened and then looked

  back to Jenna. "The sweetfish have started their evening run, and it’s time for us to feed," she told Jenna. "I will see you again, sister-kin, and I will help you any way I can." Her gaze went to Ennis. "And you, land-cousin, I bid you farewell."

  Thraisha waddled toward the water, moving awkwardly over the rocks and dropping into the water. One by one, her companions slipped into the water with her. Their heads regarded Jenna and Ennis for a moment then they ducked under the next swell and were gone.

  Chapter 45: Torn Apart

  THEY walked back to the square. Though Jenna tried to pretend that nothing had changed, the joy had been drained from the day. The gaiety and laughter around them only served as a contrast, making darker the shadows that wrapped around Jenna with Thraisha’s words. She real-ized now that there would be no escape from the burden of Lamh Shabhala, not until it was taken from her (and with the thought, a bolt of agony shot up her right arm as if it had been torn loose from its socket) or she was dead.

  She could not escape the world: not with love, not with festivals, not by turning her back on it and secluding herself. She must be the First Holder.

  "Come on," she told Ennis, taking his hand. She pulled him toward the square and for the next few stripes, she went from one vendor’s booth to another, watched all the performers, examined all the wares with a fierceness and energy that surprised Ennis. She plunged into the fair as if she could obliterate herself in its bright celebration. By the time torches Were lit along the square and the bonfires roared on the three hilltops around the city, Jenna was exhausted and certain that she knew what she must do.

  They took supper in one of the inns just off the square, and afterward strolled out toward the crowd gathering around a temporary stage at the north end for a performance by a group of

  mummers. They were stopped °y a page from the keep, who came running up to them. "Mages! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for over a stripe now…"

  Ennis laughed at the boy, panting, his hands on knees as he tried catch his breath. "What is it, Aidan? Is Moister Cleurach wondering where we got to?"

  "Not Moister Cleurach," Aidan answered, gulping air. "It’s the RI. The procession to the square is ready to start and he wishes the two of you to be at his side when he enters." He nodded toward one of the side streets leading away from the square. "Follow me," he told them. "I was told to take you this way."

  They followed after him down the narrow lane. Jenna could nearly touch the houses on either side and little light made its way here from the square, only the milky light of the moon providing illumination. There were few people here, all of whom pressed back to let the three well-dressed Riocha pass. Aidan was well ahead of Jenna and Ennis, stopping near an intersection and waving. "This way! Hurry!"

  They heard the horns announcing the Ri from the square behind them. Ennis stopped, a hand on Jenna’s arm. The page was looking back toward the square with a puzzled expression. "I thought-"

  Ennis began.

  The page collapsed to his knees, his eyes widening as if startled. His mouth opened but no words came. He fell face-down into the mud of the lane. Three arrows protruded from his back.

  "Jenna!" Ennis yelled. He pushed her into a doorway across the street as more arrows suddenly hissed past them. Ennis grunted, and Jenna saw a wooden shaft blossom in red at his shoulder. He staggered backward against the wall across the lane from her. His eyes on her, he shook his head as she started to run across to him. His hand closed around his cloch.

  A moment later, she did the same, ripping open Lamh Shabhala so that its power roared out like a rogue wave.

  She could sense Ennis and his cloch, along with a trio of Cloch Mor lurking just down the lane. Several

  dozen people were moving toward them from the front as well as behind. She had no chance to identify any of the ambushers or judge their intentions: the three Cloch Mors arrayed against her struck.

  They concentrated on Jenna. As she crouched in the doorway, a rush of heavy wings beat the air above her. She looked up to see a demonic horror above: twice as tall as herself, skin burnished like bronze over massive muscles, clawed fingers and feet, and a brick-red face scowling with anger under folds and horns. Leathery wings sprang from the crea-ture's back. Looking at the thing dredged an elemental feeling of revulsion and horror from her, as if this were a creature formed of ancient racial fears or memory. Jenna wondered at first if it was simply an illusion, the apparition slammed into the structure above her, its claws ripping deep into mortar and plaster. The mage-demon was real and physical enough. The house shuddered at the impact, and Jenna had to use part of Lamh Shabhala’s power to shield herself from falling stone and beams. The creature howled, roaring words in no tongue that she had ever heard before as it started to fall toward her, but she pushed it away. It snarled and spat, slamming again into the second story of the house as its great wings flailed the air.

  In frustration, it ripped away at the house, pulling it apart as if it were made of paper and throwing pieces of the ruin down toward her.

  Dust made her blink her eyes, but she kept the shield in place above her, pushing the splintered, hard rain away from her.

  She could do little
more than fend off the mage-demon. In her cloch-vision, she saw a stream of pure energy-a blue so brilliant it was nearly white-come snarling toward her. She threw up a wall of her own power barely in time, and the color broke against it, sizzling and burning.

  Fire erupted in the street in front of her, molten gobs splattering against Lamh Shabhala’s wall. In the dust, Jenna saw a figure standing nearby, seemingly formed of lava and flame, glowing orange-red and covered with scabs of black, visible both to her eyes and the cloch-vision. The lava-creature lifted its hands and a glowing boulder erupted from them, arcing toward her. Jenna pushed back at the new assault, sending a blast of furious wind from Lamh Shabhala. The boulder went black and fell, shat-tering ten feet away in a

  gout of fury. Jenna could feel the heat, searing and intense. The building was aflame above her.

  The cloch-beast continued to tear at the structure, and she could sense the house starting to collapse around her. The roiling clouds of dust and smoke were so thick that she could see nothing as she flung herself back into the lane. Bowstrings sang from somewhere above and arrows arced toward her; with a flick of energy, she sent them to streaks of fire and ash. But some of them got through, hissing past or ricocheting from the door-way in which she now crouched.

  I can’t keep this up… I can’t. .

  A strobe of lightning illuminated the dust clouds as it streaked away: Ennis attacking. Down the lane, there was a cry of distress and the massive lava-creature grunted and shifted its attack to Ennis, though the blue-white beam still pounded at the defensive wall Jenna had erected. "Jenna! Back to the square!" she heard Ennis shout in the confusion. She thought she saw a glimpse of his figure, then the dust closed in again as the second story of the house fell in with a splintering, long crash. Someone screamed in the rubble. The mage-demon attacked directly once more, hovering above her with an audible whoomp-whoomp of wings before it plummeted down; Jenna formed the energy of Lamh Shabhala into hands and reached for it. The beast reared back as the hands caught and held it, fiery arcs of drool flying from its mouth and its wings flapping desperately, clawing at the unseen fingers that held it. Jenna could feel the claws, as if they were ripping into her own skin, and she screamed.