Holder of Lightning

The rider smiled. His hair was flaming red-a deeper red than that of Ard, what a surprise. I haven't seen you since our cousin's wedding feast a year ago last summer." Pale eyes swept over Maeve and Jenna. Jenna wanted to leap at the man, but Maeve's arms held her tightly, and Jenna clutched at her skirts in frustration and anger. In the folds caught in her left fist, she felt a small, cold hardness beneath the wool. "And what inter-esting company you keep. Is this the Aoire family the village Ald told me about before she died, the Inishlander's wife and daughter?"

"These people are formally under R1 Mallaghan of Tuath Gabair's pro-tection. That's all you need to know."

De Derga smiled. He lifted himself in his saddle with a creak of leather and looked about ostentatiously. "And where is R1 Mallaghan? I don't

seem to see him at the moment, or any royal decree in your hand." His gaze came back to Mac Ard. "I only see you, Padraic. If I’d known that, I’d have left my companions with the rest of my men." The three men behind De Derga laughed as he tsked. "One lone tiarna is all R1 Gabair sends when mage-lights fill the sky? I find that incredibly foolish. When word came to R1 Connachta that people on our eastern borders had seen mage-lights, he sent out over two dozen to follow them. And last night. . well, you saw them better than us, didn’t you, up on that hilltop?"

Jenna let her hand slip into the pocket of her skirt. The stone pulsed against her fingertips, as frigid as glacial ice.

"You would always rather talk a man to death than use your sword, Fiacra."

De Derga spread his hands. "It’s my gift. Now, step aside, as I’ll be taking the women back to Thiar."

Mac Ard unsheathed his sword, the iron ringing. Jenna heard her mam’s intake of breath. "Be careful, Tiarna," she said, one hand extended to Mac Ard, the other still around Jenna’s shoulders. Jenna slipped from her mam’s grasp, a step away; she took her hand from her pocket, her hand fisted. De Derga laughed.

’"Be careful,’" he repeated, mocking Maeve’s tone. He shook his head at Mac Ard. "Your taste was always common, Padraic."

"Get off your horse, Fiacra, so I can separate your babbling head from your shoulders."

De Derga sat easily as his mount stamped a foot and shook its head at the smell of the weapon. "No.

I think not."

"You have no honor, De Derga. And I’m shamed that you’d let your men see that."

(Throbbing against her skin. . Searing cold rising up her arm, filling her. .)

"My men have seen me fight often enough, cousin, and they know that I could take you as easily as this woman you’re shielding. They also know that I won’t be goaded into doing something foolish when the battle’s already won." De Derga waved a hand, and Jenna noticed that the trio behind had drawn

bows. "So, Padraic, the choice is yours: sheathe that weapon and return to Lar Bhaile, or we'll simply cut you down where you stand."

This time it was Mac Ard who laughed. "Let's not lie to each other, Fiacra. You can't let me go back and tell my R1 that you were here in his land."

A muscle twitched in De Derga's mouth. "No," he said. "I suppose I can t." He waved a hand to his men as Mac Ard let out a scream of rage and charged toward De Derga, his sword swinging in a great arc. Bow-strings sang death.

"No!" Jenna screamed, and the fury seemed to burst through her skin, ripping and tearing through her soul, spilling from her open mouth.

She lifted her hand.

In one blinding instant, arrows flared and went to ash in mid-flight. The horses screamed and reared, and four jagged bolts of pure white erupted from Jenna's hand, the lightnings snapping and crackling as they impaled the riders, striking them from their saddles and arcing as they slammed the bodies to the ground. The discharge from the stone was blinding, overloading Jenna's eyes even as she saw the riders fall; the sound deafened her, a sinister crackling like the snapping of dry bones. Someone screamed in agony and terror, and Jenna screamed in sympathy, her voice lost in the chaos, her mind awhirl with the cold power until, swirling, it bore her down into oblivion and silence.

Chapter 6: Bog And Forest

SHE awoke with a start and a cry, and Maeve’s hand brushed her fore-head soothingly. "Hush, darling," she said, but her eyes were full of worry.

"Where are we?" Jenna asked. She sat up-they were sitting in the midst of bracken, and Tiarna Mac Ard was crouched a few feet away, his back to them. Jenna could smell the earthy, wet musk of bog, and water trickled brightly somewhere nearby. Two saddle packs were on the ground near them, and a bow with arrows fletched like those of the men who had attacked them. The memory came back to her then, awful and fierce: Kesh lying dead on the ground, the men from Connachta threaten-ing them, the cold, terrible lightning from the stone. "The riders. ." she breathed with a sob. "The man you called De Derga, your cousin. ."