Holder of Lightning

Jenna heard the faint clamor of battle as they crested the rise. The tri-towered ramparts of the keep were black outlines drawn on the sky, the town unseen past the cliffs of the Croc a Scroilm, but the wind off the bay sent to them the ringing of iron and bronze and the cries of the combat Jenna opened Lamh Shabhala as they reached the summit: aye, the Clochs Mor were awake now and fighting. So far at least, MacEagan’s tactics had been successful-the clochs were all intent on the two arms already attacking the town, perhaps waiting for Lamh Shabhala to appear in one place or the other. There were Clochs Mor awake in the keep and not yet engaged-Mac Ard’s among them-but she could feel their attention focused outward.

That could not last long, she knew. She wondered how close they would get before someone on the walls looked behind and saw them.

It wasn’t long. There was no outcry that Jenna heard, but she felt the shift in attention within Mac Ard. "Now!" she cried aloud to MacEagan and Aithne. "They know we’re here."

Gouts of too-red fire spat from the window of the northernmost tower, rushing toward the front ranks of the troops. Jenna stretched Lamh Shabhala’s fingers toward them, touching each with the cloch’s power: they exploded in brilliant flame a hundred yards short of the target. A cheer went up from the Inishlanders and they began to run toward the keep. Jenna heard the first ululations of the caointeoireacht na cogadh, shrieking from their throats as they charged toward the castle. .

. . she ran with them, half blind with the overlay of the cloch-vision. The rush carried her along, and she glimpsed MacEagan and Aithne near her. The air was loud with the keening and the rattling of mail and the thudding of feet on the earth. .

. . even as the last glare of the fireballs faded, Jenna ripped at the tower with the cloch as if tearing the stones apart with her own hand- great blocks tumbled away from the window where Mac Ard had been. He was a raging, throbbing scarlet in the cloch-vision, like a volcano spewing lava. Jenna could feel the heat of him, and she countered with the cold of the void, wrapping him in blue-white ice, placing more and more of it around him as he melted away each layer desperately. The glow was beginning to dim as he poured more energy from his Cloch Mor to keep her away, and for a moment, she dared to believe that she could end it here. .

. . they were close to the keep now, and arrows filled the air in a deadly rain. She saw the man beside her suddenly drop, a feathered shaft sprouting from his neck as blood spurted, but then he was gone under the rush. The main gates to the keep loomed ahead, but they were still shut. .

. . something snarled, and a whip of arcing yellow slapped down across her shoulders. Jenna whirled and saw a dragon's face, jaws open with needled teeth as it clamped down on her shoulder and coiled the rest of its body around her. Jenna howled, the teeth digging deep into her, the writhing scales flaying the skin from her body everywhere it touched. "MacEagan!" Jenna shouted, but even as she called, she realized that both MacEagan and Aithne were each struggling with a rival Cloch Mor and couldn't come to her aid. Mac Ard was nearly free of his confinement. Jenna imagined herself growing larger, her skin hard as stone, and energy flowed from Lamh Shabhala into her. The yellow coils of the dragon's body snapped and broke, and she followed fading energy back to its source-a young man, his face pale and frightened as he realized who he faced-but she saw him only for an instant as Lamh Shabhala tore at his Cloch Mor, draining it. She thought she could hear the young man whim-per, and Jenna wondered if she had killed him. .

. . The charge faltered with the sight of the closed gates, the front ranks spreading out along the walls as the arrows continued to arc down on them. "The doors were supposed to be opened!" someone shouted. "We can't go forward… "

. . furious now, Jenna swept the cloch-vision about, searching for Mac Ard, but she was given no chance to find him. The mage-demon landed just outside the keep, towering above the onrushing