Holder of Lightning

"Dead." Mac Ard said the word gruffly, his voice low. "All dead. And by now their companions know it as well, and are hunting us." He glanced back at Jenna, and his expression was guarded. "They’ll also know that it wasn’t a sword that cut them down."

"I…"Jenna gulped. Her stomach lurched and she bent over, vomiting acid bile on the ground. She could feel her mam stroking her back as the spasms shook her, as her stomach heaved. When the sickness had passed, Jenna wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her coat. "I’m sorry," she said. They’re-" She couldn’t say the word. Mac Ard nodded, watching her as she leaned into the comforting arms of Maeve, as if she were a little child again.

"Jenna, the first time someone fell to my sword, I did the same thing you just did," he said. "I’ve seen men hacked to death during a battle, or crushed under their horses. Eventually, it bothers you less." He leaned over, as if he were going to stroke her hair as Maeve did, but pulled his hand back. He pursed his lips under the dark beard. "I’d be more worried about you if it didn’t bother you. But I have to tell you that what you did. . I’ve never seen the like."

The stone, cold in her hand… Jenna felt in her

skirt pocket, then glanced frantically around her on the damp ground.

"Would you be looking for this?" The stone glistened between Mac Ard's forefinger and thumb. He turned it carefully in front of them. "Not much to look at it, is it? Something you might miss entirely, if it was just lying there."

"That's mine," Jenna said loudly. "I found it."

"Jenna-" Maeve began, but Mac Ard snorted as if amused.

"A clock na thintri, it's called," he said. "A lightning stone. And you had it all along. When I asked you about the mage-lights, you must have forgotten to tell me about the cloch you found." He could have sounded angry. He didn't; he seemed more disappointed.

Jenna looked at the ground rather than at him.

"Your da would have known the term," Mac Ard continued. "I'll wager he brought the stone here himself, or knew that this one lay there on Knobtop, waiting for the mage-lights to return. And, aye, Jenna, now it's yours." He stretched out his hand, and dropped it in Jenna's palm. It was warm, an ordinary stone. "Keep it," he said. "It gave itself to you, not to me."

Jenna put it back in her skirt, feeling Mac Ard's eyes on her. "How. .?" she started to say, but Mac Ard lifted a finger to his lips. "Later, you'll know all you want to know, and more."

Jenna stared at the tiarna, trying to see past his dark gaze. He seemed calm enough, and not angry with her. After a few breaths, she looked away. "Mam, where are we?" she asked once more.

"In the bog on the other side of the bridge,"

Maeve said. "Tiarna Mac Ard carried you here when you collapsed, after-" Her mam stopped.

"Mam, what's happened? Why did those men come here?"

It was Mac Ard who answered. "They came for the same reason I came-because they saw the mage-lights. I didn't think R1 Connachta would be so foolhardy as to send his people here. I was the one who told R1 Mallaghan of Gabair that we didn't need to concern ourselves with the other Tuatha." He

scoffed angrily. "I was a damned fool, and damned lucky to be alive. Tara’s son Eliath came running into the tavern this morning, said that the Ald’s cottage was afire and that there were a dozen men on horseback there. I left the tavern then, and rode for your home. De Darga saw me as I brought Conhal out of the stable, and followed. The rest you know."

"Where’s Conhal?"

"With three of us, we couldn’t outrun the others with one horse, so I turned him loose. Hopefully he’ll find his own way home. As for the others, they’re scouring the countryside now, looking for us. We’ve seen them twice while we were here; once a pair of riders, then four more who crossed the bridge and went up on Knobtop. Look. ." He stopped, pulling brush aside so that Jenna could see the bog. They were on one of the grassy, overgrown hummocks that dotted the marsh. She could see the peat-stained open water of the Mill Creek a little bit away, and beyond the creek was the rise of the northern bank and the low hills that con-cealed their house. Beyond the hills, she could see a column of black smoke smeared across the sky. She knew what it was even as her mam spoke.

"They burned the cottage," Maeve said. Her voice was strangely calm. "Everything we had…"

"The R1 Gabair will give you all and more, once we get to Lar Bhaile. I promise you that."

Maeve’s eyes flashed, and Jenna heard the mingled anger and sorrow in her voice. "Will the R1 give me back the scarf that Niall gave me the night he first came to me? Will he give me the cups and plates that Niall made with his own hands, or the pot with blue glaze I fired for him? Will I see the first linen shirt I made for Jenna, when she was just a babe? The R1 can give me money and build a new cottage, but he can’t give me a tithe of what’s been destroyed."