She understood for the first time why the Bunus Muintir could worship a goddess whose earthly form was an oak tree.
They walked for hours, Toryn (deliberately, Jenna was certain) keeping a quick pace that made it difficult for Seancoim to stay with him. Jenna remained at Seancoim's side; Toryn would at times be so far ahead of them that he was barely visible in the moonlight filtering down through the trees. Each time, Seancoim sent Denmark angrily flying to the young man, screeching at him from a nearby branch until he stopped to wait hands on hips, while they caught up with him again. And each time, as they approached, he would start off once more without a word.
Jenna had decided she despised the man by the time false dawn tinted the horizon with rose and ocher.
The call of the Old Ones had faded; Jenna could hear the rhythmic pulse of the sea crashing against rock. The land was rising steeply under them, the trees thinning quickly until they gave way entirely to a grassy swath. Here, the bones of the land showed through the dirt: furrowed lines of bare gray limestone, the cracks sprouting a few weeds clinging to the thin film of earth at the bottom. At the top of the rise, the land simply stopped at a sheer cliff while-nearly a hundred feet below-waves gnawed at the feet of the island. The wind blew in steadily, cold and misty. And there. . where in her dream of Peria and Tadhg had been only the sense of a presence that would not allow itself to be seen.
It might have been a huge cat or, perhaps, a dragon. The statue stood a few strides from the cliff edge, gazing out to sea as if it were protecting the forest or the island from unseen invaders. The statue was carved of jet-black stone, glassy and volcanic in appearance and unlike any rock Jenna had seen in the area. The head was perched thirty feet above them on a massive four-legged body, sitting down on its haunches with its tail wrapping around its left side and curling away to end abruptly at the cliff edge. Along the sloping back, there were two ridges where wings might once have been, though there was no evidence of them having tumbled to the ground around them. The monument’s features were blurred by the weight of centuries, polished by wind and sand, eroded by rain until all that remained was the obscured outline of what the creature had once been.
"Bethiochnead," Seancoim said as Jenna gazed up at the creature, t was here when we Bunus Muintir came. No one knows who erected this or exactly what it is."
"The Greatness Herself put Bethiochnead here for the Bunus Muintir to find," Toryn said from the side of the statue. "It still holds Her power."
Seancoim shrugged. "That’s what some believe, aye," he told Jenna. He glanced at Toryn. "But not all. There may have been other races here before the Bunus and Daoine, and they may have made this. Some think it was the Creneach who sculpted it, that this is a representation of one of their gods.
Others think it may be a Creneach, solidified by some magic, or else a mythical creature snared by a spell, or. ." He stopped, tapping his staff on the rocks as if testing their stability. "Its origin doesn't matter. It only matters that it's here. This is the center. This is where the mage-lights are strongest."
"What do I do?" Jenna asked. She clutched her right arm to herself. It felt colder and more lifeless than ever, though there was no pain. She could only move the fingers with great effort. The scars on her flesh were pure white, as if etched with new snow.
"You rest," Seancoim told her. "And sleep if you can. When you're ready, I'll tell you all I know."
Chapter 53: Bethiochnead
SHE hadn't thought she could sleep, but she did.
In her dream, she was with Ennis in Ballintubber, entering Tara's Tavern. Coelin was there inside, and Ellia with several small children around her, all of whom looked like miniature Coelins. Everyone was singing and dancing, and Ennis and Jenna joined in with them. In the midst of the dancing, without warning, the door opened with a sudden crash like thunder. A form stood there in darkness, cloaked in black with its face hidden and sending a surge of unreasoning fear through Jenna. She grabbed Ennis by the hand and they ran-that agonizing, skin-crawling slow run of dreams where the legs refuse to cooperate no matter how hard you try. Somehow, she and Ennis retreated into the fireplace and through another door at the back of the chimney, which led them outside again. It was raining, and Kesh was barking and running circles around her. Mac Ard was shouting something from inside the cottage (for when Jenna looked about, they were back at the old house), only when she glanced up it was her father Niall whose face she saw at the window. Her mam was outside with Jenna, and Jenna felt a stab of jealousy because Ennis was so close to Maeve, his arm around her waist. .
Jenna woke up, feeling a sense of incredible loss sitting heavy on her chest as the remnants of the dream faded quickly in the light of reality-It was late afternoon, and the clouds had cleared. The statue cast a long shadow that reached the cliff edge and disappeared. She seemed to alone, though Seancoim's pack was next to hers. She sat up, the blanket around her shoulders, and saw Denmark come flapping out of the woods. The crow circled the statue once but didn't land on it, coming instead to rest on a nearby boulder. The bird cocked its head at her; a moment later, she saw Seancoim and Toryn walking up the slope from under the emerald cave of the oaks. She stood, shivering a bit despite the warm sun, as they approached. Toryn was staring at her; she ignored him. Seancoim handed her an apple. "Here, you should eat something. Did you sleep?"
Jenna took a bite of the apple, letting its tart sweetness awaken her, and shrugged. "A bit." She glanced at the statue. "What do we do now?" she asked.
"That depends on you. You're still resolved to try? You realize that only a few times has anyone gone through the Scrudu and survived?"
"And none of those were Daoine," Toryn added. When she glanced at him, he smiled.
"I don't care about me," she told them. "If I die, I can be with Ennis. If I don't, then maybe his death will mean. . will. ." She stopped. The heaviness returned to her chest, not allowing the words out. Seancoim nodded as Denmark hopped up into the air and, with a flap of black wings, landed on the old man's shoulder.
"All right," he said. He came over to her and hugged her. She let herself fall into his herb-scented embrace, her arms going around him. "You can do this," he whispered to her. "You can."
He released her, his blind gaze looking past her out to the sea. "Stand in front of Bethiochnead, Jenna," he said. "Take Lamh Shabhala in your hand, and open the cloch. That's all you need to do. The rest. ." He patted her cheek, smiling gap-toothed at her. "You'll have to tell us, after-ward."
He walked with Jenna around to the front of the statue. She could hear the waves roaring against the rocks; she could feel the wind tousling her hair and
the sun warming her face; she could smell the salt breeze mixed with mint and loam. The colors of the landscape seemed impossibly satu-rated, the green of the grass like glowing emerald, the limestone ribs of the land speckled with white and red and soft pink. She wondered if she would ever see them again. She wondered how much it would hurt.
Her hand closed around Lamh Shabhala. She willed the cloch na thintri to open, and felt the power go surging forth. one was still standing near the cliffside, but the land now ended several ’feet farther out. And the statue. .
It was no longer ruined and half missing. The legs and chest rippled with carved tendons; the feet were cat-clawed, seeming to tear into the rock on which the creature sat. The body was scaled, feathered and brightly painted: the red of new-shed blood and the blue of a child’s eyes the simmering yellow of the yolk of a hen’s egg. The expanse of wines spread majestically from its back, ribbed and fingered like some gigantic bat’s, with black, leathery skin pouched like sails between the ribs. The tail was complete, with a barbed, bulging tip at its end.
The head had a long muzzle, the mouth partially open to reveal twin rows of daggered white teeth. The ears were like a cat’s also, though be-tween them were scales like staggered rows of painted shields; its eye-brows were two fans of spines, meeting above the muzzle and running back over the m
iddle of the skull. The eyes were frighteningly human; the large, expressive eyes of a child, and as Jenna gazed at the statue, the eyes blinked and opened. Though the mouth didn’t move, a low, stentorian voice purred.
"So. Another one comes after all these years."
Jenna could feel the power flooding from the statue; above, the mage-lights curled, visible even in the bright sunlight. The trees of the forest beyond writhed and swayed as if they, too, were alive and capable of pulling roots from ground and capering about. "Who are you?" Jenna asked. Her voice sounded thin and weak in this charged atmosphere.
The eyes blinked once more. A shimmering change rippled through the body from spiny crest to curled-claw feet and when it passed, the thing was no longer painted stone but living flesh. It stretched
like a cat waking from a nap, the wings snapping and sending a rush of wind past Jenna. "I am An Phionos," it said. "I am the First, and you are now in my world."
Its voice was Ennis'.
"Stop that!" Jenna shouted at the creature, and it reared its great head, the mouth curling in a near-laugh, the eyes flashing.
"Ah, my dear Jenna. Do you think you're so strong that you can com-mand my obedience?" it asked with seeming mirth, still with Ennis in-flection and tone. Then the mocking amusement left, along with the memory of Ennis' voice. An Phionos hissed, steam venting from its nos-trils. Mage-lights flickered around it in a bright storm. "Are you stronger than me, Jenna? Do you remember Peria's fate? Do you remember how she screamed as I crushed the life from her? I give you this boon: release Lamh Shabhala now, before it's too late."
Jenna's fisted hand trembled around the cloch.
She could feel An Phionos bending its will to her, insinuating itself into her muscles and prying at her fingers, loosening them. Yet with the intrusion she also caught a glimmer of the entity's mind, and she realized that, despite its fury and insolence, An Phionos didn't actively seek her death. It had no choice as to how it must act. "Why do you do this?" she asked, gasping as she fought to keep hold of the cloch.
An Phionos laughed, a bitter and wild sound. "One should never offend a god," it answered. "Their revenge is swift and eternal, and that's why I sit here forever waiting. You, at least, have a choice-let go of the cloch and live, Jenna, or continue to hold it and die."
"And if I hold it and don't die?"
"That won't happen. But if you do… there are depths within Lamh Shabhala that you have only glimpsed, and the shaping of this entire age could be yours." Again the laugh. "I hope you don't think that's a gift. It would be the greatest burden of all." An Phionos bent down close to her. The scent of rotting meat drifted from its mouth. "Release the cloch, Jenna. I have nothing for you but pain." An Phionos' hold on her hand vanished; it sat back on its haunches again. "Make your choice now."
Jenna glanced wildly about her and An Phionos snorted. "Your friend can’t help you. Look. ." The air shimmered, and for a moment Jenna caught a glimpse of Seancoim, his mouth open in a shout, trying to push forward toward her as the mage-lights threw him back. Then he was gone again. "He doesn’t see what you see. He sees only your struggle, not me." An Phionos’ front paws kneaded the earth, tearing at the limestone. His voice was Ennis’ again, and now Ennis’ eyes gazed down at her from An Phionos’ face, a single tear rising and sliding down a scaled cheek to splash on the rocks. "I don’t want you to die, my love. Don’t do this."
"Stop.’" Jenna screamed again. She raised the cloch, pulling the chain from around her neck and lifting it high. Her fist tightened around it. "Here! Here’s your answer."
An Phionos bared its teeth. The wings spread wide; the claws gouged new furrows in the stone. Mage-lights snapped and shattered around it. Then we begin," it said. It drew in a great breath, pulling in the mage-lights as if they were smoke. Its neck arced, the head reared back and it exhaled in a roar, blinding light rushing from its mouth. Jenna reflexively interposed a wall with Lamh Shabhala; the mage-lights crashed upon it like a furious tidal wave. Jenna stumbled back against the assault, the Pressure of it driving her to her knees as An Phionos vomited forth an lending stream of raw power. Jenna’s hand tightened around Lamh Shabhala, wrenching the cloch fully open. She imagined the wall growing, expanding, pushing back: slowly, she stood. She thought of the wall as a Mirror-smooth lake, reflecting back what came to it as the Banrion’s cloch had done. The wall shifted with the thought and she found herself wielding a weapon as the shield gathered in the energy thrown at her hurled it back at An Phionos. The beast staggered back at the first impact, roaring in wordless pain.
Then it nodded to her, as if in satisfaction. "So it won’t be simple. Good. You would have disappointed me if it had, Holder. After so many years, to be awakened only for a moment. ."
It was pacing now, the scale-armored body striding back and forth before the hoary, vine-laden oaks: fifty feet long without the enormous barbed tail, half again as high to the crown of the head, the wings folded against its back. Then the wings
opened, and a hurricane wind lashed Jenna as it took to the air, rising high above. The mage-lights encircled it like arms, burning like a second sun so that An Phionos was silhouetted against the glare.
Jenna waited for the inevitable attack: fireballs; thunderbolts of bright power; burning thickets of spears and swords; blasts of winds; demons or giants or a flight of angry dragons. None of it came.
The silver bands holding Lamh Shabhala dug into her palm. The land-scape shifted around her again: she floated in a featureless void with An Phionos. The forest, the cliff, the sound of the seas, even the mage-lights-all of them were gone, though she could feel their energy support-ing her. An Phionos swept its wings leisurely, circling slowly around her, and she waved her arms to follow its movement as if swimming in the emptiness.
"It's just the two of us, Jenna," it said, still circling. "That's all it's ever been. The shape of the energy doesn't matter. Each cloch na thintri bonds to its Holder in a different manner, in the form that a long sequence of Holders has worn into it like grooves in a road. Most Holders follow that same path because it's easiest to see and hold to, and that's why the clochs na thintri tend to be used in the same way each time a new cloudmage uses them. Very few have the strength to shape the power of their cloch na thintri in a new way, to give it a new form that might suit them better. It's no different with Lamh Shabhala."
"Are you intending to talk me to death?" Jenna asked.
An Phionos laughed. It stopped, hovering in front of her with slow beats of its leathery wings. "Perhaps. Do you die that easily?"
"No," Jenna answered. "I don't plan on dying at all."
The teeth bared again. "No? Even to be with him?"
Now Ennis stood before her. He smiled, almost shyly, holding out hand. "Jenna," he said. "I wish.
There was so much I wanted to you, just to say one last time that I loved you. ."
She wanted to take that hand, wanted desperately to take him in her arms, to bruise her lips with his kisses. She started to lift her left hand, then forced
it back to her side. She looked at An Phionos, not Ennis. "You can’t seduce me with false images," she told it.
The huge, scaled head lifted. "Not false," it said. "That is Ennis, or the spirit that was once him. I brought him here. He awaits you, Jenna, on the other side of death."
"It didn’t hurt," Ennis said to her, his familiar voice awakening a deep longing in her. "You should know that. I felt the knife move and the heat of my blood pouring out, then… I don’t know. It was as if I were outside myself. There was no pain, just a slow fading and a feeling of regret, and
I was gone. I watched you cry over the body, Jenna, and I tried to touch you and comfort you. I tried to tell you that I was still with you, but I
couldn’t. I am with you, Jenna, each day. And we’ll be together again."
She listened to him, shaking her head in denial and disbelief, and Ennis glanced over at An Phionos. "Death doesn’t hurt, Jenna. All you have to do is
accept it."
"I will make it easy and quick," An Phionos told her. A forepaw lifted, the scythes of its claws scissoring in the air. "One stroke. One quick flash… "
"Ennis. ." The word was a sigh, a plea. Jenna closed her eyes, letting Lamh Shabhala’s force flow out to him. Where it touched the body, she felt strings leading back to An Phionos. She could feel An Phionos trying to push her away with its own power, but she concentrated, letting more power flow from the cloch. She formed the energy into hands and ripped away the strands of connection even as An Phionos tried to stop her. Ennis wailed, his body went pinwheeling away like a rag in a storm, finally vanishing in a point of white light that made Jenna squint and throw her hand in front of her face. A wave of intense cold flew past her.
"It’s just us," Jenna told An Phionos. "No ghosts. No lies. No tricks."
"There’s no trick in what I said," it told her. "I can make this painless and fast for you. You simply have to allow it."
"No."
She could hear the shrug in its voice. "Then it will be the other way." Muscles bunched and wings flexed. An Phionos stooped like a hawk about to swoop down on a helpless field mouse. The wings folded in and the apparition fell in a rush, plummeting toward her. Jenna raised her cloch, concentrating its force on the onrushing creature, pushing back at
II Jenna grunted with the impact as An Phionos seemed to dissolve, slipping through the web of force like water through a sieve. Jenna searched for it with the eyes of the cloch: there! She hurled lightning at the m glow that was An Phionos, but it swept the bolts aside.
Frantically, she created a creature like An Phionos, molding it from mage-stuff and launching it at the creature. They collided in a snarl f talons and wings and teeth, and Jenna felt the concussion as if it were her own body that smashed into her opponent. She was flung backward, her eyes rolling back in her head, a red-shot blackness threat-ening to drown her-and she fought to hold onto consciousness. Her own fingers curled and slashed as she gouged at An Phionos, and for a mo-ment, the creature retreated. Jenna breathed, gulping and tasting blood
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