Holder of Lightning

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 middle 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.