Holder of Lightning

"Is the cloch evil, then?"

Eilis laughed, a sound like trickling water. "Lamh Shabhala-or any of the clochs na thintri, for that matter-don’t know good or evil, child. They simply are. They give power, and power can be put to whatever use a Holder wishes. Lamh Shabhala is First and Last, and so the power it can lend is also greatest. As to evil. ."A smile. "You bring to the stone what you have inside you, that’s all. In any case, evil depends on which side you stand-what one person calls evil, another calls justice. Let me see it " she said. "Let me see Lamh Shabhala again."

Jenna felt reluctant. She shook her head, the barest motion, and Eilis frowned, taking a step forward. "I mean you no harm, Jenna," she said. "Let me see the cloch I once wielded myself."

Jenna felt for the stone, closing her fingers around it through the cloth that hid it. "If Lamh Shabhala has the greatest power of all the clochs, how was it taken from you?"

Eilis’ laugh was bitter now. "I said its power was greatest, but even the strongest can be overpowered by numbers or make a fatal mistake. Lamh Shabhala is chief among the Clochs Mor, the major clochs, but there are others that are nearly as

powerful. Three of the Clochs Mor were arrayed against me, and I was isolated. Betrayed by. ." She scowled, her face harsh.". . my own stupidity. By listening to my heart, as Riata said it would be. And so I died. He laid me here, the new Holder, the one who had betrayed me: Aodhfin O Liathain. My lover. He placed me here after he killed me and took Lamh Shabhala for himself. He kissed my cold lips with tears in his eyes. If you should happen to meet him through the cloch, tell him that I still curse his name and the night I first gave myself to him." Another step, and Eilis' hand reached out toward Jenna. "My cloch. Let me see it once more."

Shaking her head, Jenna backed up again. She wasn't certain why she felt this reluctance-perhaps the harsh eagerness in Eilis' features, or the way she had referred to the stone as hers. But Jenna felt a compulsion to keep the stone hidden-too many people had asked to see it already. Eilis took another step closer, and again Jenna retreated. There was a strange yet familiar roaring behind her. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, but there was nothing there, only the white-lit, ethereal fog. She could feel Eilis touching her memories again, and she tried to close her mind to the intrusion. The ghost laughed at her effort. "You're indeed young and unpracticed," she said. "So much to learn. ." Her voice was honey and perfume. "I know your mind. You showed Riata the stone, didn't you? And Seancoim and that tiarna with you. Why not me?"

Jenna, reluctantly, reached beneath her clothing and pulled out the stone. "Here," she said to Eilis. "Here it is."

Eilis stared at the cloch, a hand at her breast as if she were having difficulty breathing. "Aye," she whispered. "That is Lamh Shabhala. And you don't know yet how to use it."

Jenna shook her head. "No. Can you tell me?"

"I can't," she answered, but then her eyes narrowed. "Or perhaps I can. Let me hold it. Give it to me. ." She stretched her arm out.

"No." Jenna closed her fingers around the cloch, fisting it in her right hand.

"Give it to me. ." Eilis said again. Her hand came closer, and Jenna took a final step backward.

Cold water hammered at Jenna's head and

shoulders, driving her back-ward. The falls tore her away from the ledge and bore her under even as she screamed. She felt herself flung downward with the water, and she knew she was dead.

In that instant, the cloch burned in her hand, and she felt it open to her, as if she became part of the stone itself, her mind whirling with the patterns on her hand, with the identical patterns of the cloch, with the energy locked within it borrowed from the mage-lights. This was different than when she had unleashed lightning on Knobtop or when she had killed the soldiers. Then, there had been no conscious thought involved. This time, she felt herself will the cloch to release its energy, and it an-swered. The water of the Duan still pounded at her, unrelenting and mer-ciless, but she was no longer falling. .

Now you know. . Eilis’ voice whispered in her head.

Now you know. .

Somehow, impossibly, Jenna was standing on the grass above the falls, in the sunlight. The cloch was no longer in her hand. There was no ring on her ringer. She felt at the waist of her skirt: there it was, the familiar lump of cloch, and circular hardness alongside it: Eilis’ ring.

Someone was crying, weeping in pain, and she realized it was her.

"Jenna! There you are! We’ve been calling… By the Mother-Creator, girl, you’re soaked through! What’s the matter?" Maeve came running up to her. Jenna sank into her embrace.