Holder of Lightning

Aithne sighed. "It's not a decision any of us need to make yet. Jenna, the High Road to the townland of Ingean na nUan is still two days' ride from here, and that's the road you'd need to travel to An Ceann Ramhar and eventually Thall Coill. We'll ride together at least that far, then we'll see." She looked at Moister Cleurach warningly. "And we'll speak of this no more today. A few days of thinking might do us all some good."

Chapter 50: Roads Taken

THERE were barrows where their path met the High Road, which was little more than an unmarked trail heading vaguely northeast down from the hills. In the storm and rain, Jenna had noticed neither the High Road nor the barrows when they'd passed before. The mounds were over-grown, appearing as stony, weed-infested hillocks in the field alongside the path, the low sun draping long shadows behind them.

"They're old Bunus Muintir graves," Banrion Aithne said, noticing Jenna's attention. "There are a few barrows here in Rubha na Scarbh, and more in the northern townlands. As children, we were told they were haunted. We were warned to stay away from them or the wights would rise from their slumber and come for us. No more than tales, I'm sure. I know that I was shooed away from them more than once, and Aron as well. They say there are still Bunus living in the hills and people still saw them occasionally, though I never did." She inclined her head to Jenna. "There's only another hour or two of light. There's an inn we could reach in that time and stay in dry and warm rooms."

"On the road to Dun Kill?"

A nod.

"I'm staying here tonight," Jenna said. Moister Cleurach groaned au-dibly.

"I don't care to sleep another night with rocks digging into my back, he said. "I'm an old man and I've been too many days away."

"Then go on," Jenna told him. "Leave me here.

I'm going no farther today."

Moister Cleurach looked at the Banrion. "Rocks," he said. "In her head,

too."

"If we stay out here, anyone can see our fire from the hills around us," the Banrion said to Jenna. "I know those with my brother will have eyes out there, reporting to him where we are. I doubt he would dare attack after the last time, but I don't know that for certain. He'd be less likely to do so if we're in a village, where others might be more inclined to side with the Ri in Dun Kill."

Jenna said nothing, sitting on her horse and staring down to where the High Road led off through the heather. She felt more than heard the Banrion's sigh.

"We'll stay here," Aithne told the attendants. "Make the camp ready."

The mage-lights that night were faint and weak, soft filaments that glowed fitfully and vanished. Jenna watched them while sitting between the bar-rows, away from the encampment and the fire, a blanket around her shoulders. Both the Banrion and Moister Cleurach had come to her ear-lier-Moister Cleurach demanding and gruff, Aithne soothing and under-standing, but both attempting to convince her to return to Dun Kiil. To both of them she gave the same reply: "I'll decide by morning."

She didn't know what she expected to happen during the night to ease the conflict within herself. The thoughts chased themselves, ephemeral and changing, impossible to hold or examine. She felt the conflict deep in her soul; when she tried to muddle through the choices in front of her, Ennis' face rose before her and the grief welled up again, overcoming her.

Once, she opened Lamh Shabhala, but there was only more confusion and contradiction in the voices of the old Holders and she closed it again quickly, returning to the near-silence of the night.

In the darkness there was the rustling of dark wings. A form appeared on the barrow to her left, a particle of night with black eyes that stared at her. A yellow beak opened. The creature cawed once.

"Denmark?" At the name, the crow cawed again and spread wide wings, gliding down to land in the grass in front of her. Its head cocked inquiringly at her. "Denmark, is that really you?"

The crow cawed once more as she reached out toward it. It didn’t move, but let her touch the soft, black feathers of its head and back. She glanced about her. "Seancoim, is he here, too?"