Holder of Lightning

Through half-opened eyes, she could see Seancoim hurrying to her, and Denmark cawing in alarm at her side as she rolled and pushed herself up on one side with her left arm. Scrapes and cuts oozed blood along her body; the smell of ozone hung in the air like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. She was still clutching Lamh Shabhala, but the cloch was empty and drained. Her world swayed around her and she steadied her-self, trying to keep from falling back into unconsciousness. Her head pulsed with a ferocious headache; her right arm, now that she released Lamh Shabhala, fell dead and useless at her side.

She felt as if her body had been placed on the anvil of the gods and pounded.

The spice of Seancoim's presence was at her side. His hands cradled her. "Jenna. . You're alive! I thought. ."

"So did I," Jenna answered. The rocks dug into her side, her legs, her elbow. "Help me up, Seancoim."

"Can you stand?"

"I think so. Probably." Toryn had come over to her as well, and she felt both of them lifting her.

'You passed the Scrudu," Toryn said, his voice awed. "You met the beast and defeated it. We saw the mage-lights, we heard your cries, saw you fighting with something unseen… "

Jenna shook her head. The movement sent the world dancing again and she would have fallen if not for the hands holding her. "No," she said when the land settled once more. She glanced at the ruined visage of An Phionos. "No," she repeated. "I didn't win."

"But you're alive," Seancoim protested. "The Scrudu kills those who fail."

"Aye," Jenna answered. "But not me." She touched her abdomen. "Not us."

"Us?" Seancoim asked, but Toryn interrupted before Jenna could ex-plain.

"But you’ve found the full power of Lamh Shabhala," he said. "You wrestled with the beast and were given that gift."

Again, Jenna shook her head. "No. I used every bit of energy within Lamh Shabhala. And I thought, for a moment. ." She tried to lift her right hand to the cloch and couldn’t. "Mother-Creator, it hurts. It hurts so much… "

"Jenna, here. Sit." Seancoim lowered her to one of the rocks. "I’ll start a fire, mix some anduilleaf…"

He hurried away. Toryn stayed with her, his gaze appraising and cold. "Lamh Shabhala is drained? The struggle must have been awful."

Jenna shuddered at the memory. "Aye," she answered. Toryn nodded. Seancoim had gone downhill a bit to the edge of the forest. They could see him gathering deadwood, Denmark fluttering around him.

"Let me help you," Toryn called. He walked down toward the old man, stooping to gather up branches. "Go on," Jenna heard Toryn say finally. "There’s a few more branches here. I’ll be right behind you."

Seancoim started up the hill, one arm around a bundle of dry sticks, the other around his staff. Toryn turned as if to follow. Jenna saw the intention in the younger man too late. "Sean-.’" she began as Toryn swung the heavy oaken limb he held. Jenna saw Seancoim fall an instant before the dull, sickening sound of the impact came to her.

Denmark screeched, diving at Toryn as Jenna tried to stand. She forced her right hand to move as Denmark raked its talons over Toryn’s cheek;

Toryn swung the crude club at the bird and missed. Jenna’s hand closed around Lamh Shabhala and she tried to open the cloch (the crow rising again in a fury of black wings, coming back to attack once more), but there was nothing there, no glittering store of mage-energy. Nothing.

The club swung again, striking Denmark down to earth in a heap of ebon feathers. Toryn lifted it again and pounded it back down on the small mound. As Jenna cried out, Toryn flung the club aside. He spread his hands: fire erupted between them.

He gestured toward the unmoving Seancoim.

"No!"

Small, tiny blue flames erupted over Seancoim's figure; thin tendrils of white smoke rose and began wafting away toward the forest. Jenna screamed again and started running toward Seancoim, even as the flames thickened and went to orange and yellow, as the smoke began to billow in earnest. Seancoim didn't move. Jenna could hear the flames crackling, burning as if Seancoim were made of paper and tinder. In the space of her first two limping strides, he was engulfed in an inferno. The impossible heat washed over her, and she knew no one could survive that. Toryn, already running up the hill, caught her before she could move again.

Jenna battered at Toryn with her fists, first trying to push past him to get to Seancoim, then tearing herself from his grasp and backing away from him. "Sometimes slow magic is quite effective," he said, grinning as she struggled. "Crow-Eye was a useless old man anyway, but he did make you quite a nice fire, don't you think?" She was still holding Lamh Shabhala in her hand, and she saw his gaze on it.

"No," she said in a voice that trembled. "It's mine."