Holder of Lightning

already claimed you."

Jenna was near to crying. She could feel the tears starting in her eyes, the fear hammering at her heart. The cloch burned like fiery ice in her hand. "You called it a curse to its holder. What do you mean?"

"The power of the land is eternal, as is the power of the water. Their magics and spells, for those who know how to tap and use them, are slower and less energetic than that of the air, but more stable. They are always there, caught in the bones of the land itself, or in the depths of the water. The power within the sky ebbs and flows: slowly, over generations and generations of mortal lives. It has done so since before my people walked from Thall Mor-roinn to this land and found Lamh Shabhala here.

No one knows how often the slow, centuries-long cycle has repeated itself. There were no people here when we Bunus Muintir came to Talamh an Ghlas, but there were the standing stones and graves of other tribes who had once lived here, and we Holders could hear the voices in the stone, one tribe after another, back and back into a past none of us can see. The mage-lights vanished for the Bunus Muintir four times, the last time while I was still alive. The sky-power returned once for you Daoine, then van-ished again. Now the mage-lights want to return again."

Jenna glanced down the passage of the tomb. Multicolored light still touched the dolmen, brightening the valley. "The mage-lights have already returned," Jenna said, but Riata's denial boomed before she could finish.

"No!" he seemed to shout. "This is but the slightest hint of them, the first stirrings of Lamh Shabhala, the gathering of enough power within the stone to open the gates so that all the clochs na thintri may awaken and the mage-lights appear everywhere. For now, the lights follow Lamh Shabhala-and that is the danger. Those who know the true lore of the mage-lights also know that fact. They know that where the lights appear, Lamh Shabhala is also there. And they will follow, because they want to hold Lamh Shabhala themselves."

Jenna continued to shake her head, half understanding, half not want-ing to understand. "But why hold the stone if it's a curse?"

A bitter laugh. "The one who holds Lamh Shabhala gains power for their pain. Some believe that’s more than a fair barter-those who have never held the cloch itself. It’s the First who suffers the most, not those who come after, and you are the First, the one who will open the way. So watch, Jenna of the Daoine. Watch for those who follow the mage-lights, for they aren’t likely to be your friends."

Jenna thought of the riders from Connachta, and she also thought of Mac Ard. But before she could say more, Riata’s shape stirred. "The mage-lights beckon," he said. "They call the stone. Do you feel it?"

She did. The cloch was throbbing in her hand. "Go to them," Riata said. His shape was fading, as was his voice, now no more than a whisper. "Go. ." he said again, and the apparition was gone. She could feel its absence, could sense that the air of the tomb was now dead and empty. She called to him-"Riata!" — and only her own voice answered, mocking. The mage-lights sent waves of pure red and aching blue-white shimmer-ing down the passage, and Jenna felt the stone’s need, like a hunger deep within herself. She walked down the passage and out into cold fresh air again. The mage-lights wove their bright net above her, a spider’s web of color that stretched and bent down toward her, swirling. She raised her hand, opening her fingers, and the light shot down, surrounding her, enveloping her in its flowing folds. The whirlwind grabbed her hand in its frigid gasp, and she screamed with the pain of it: as the brilliance rose, a sun caught in her fingers, consuming her.

Hues of brilliance pulled at her. Knives of color cut into her flesh. She tried to pull away and could not, and she screamed again in terror and agony.

A flash blinded her. Thunder filled her ears.

Jenna screamed a final time, as the cold fire seemed to penetrate to her very core, her entire body quivering with torment, every nerve alive and quivering.

Then she was released, and she fell into blessed darkness.

Chapter 9: Through the Forest

"JENNA?"