Holder of Lightning

Jenna screamed again. Her vision had gone dim, a red haze over every-thing, and she could see only what stood in front of her: Mac Ard. She lifted Lamh Shabhala, and it flared in her hand as her mam shouted be-hind her. Lightning crackled, wrapping around Mac Ard and lifting him. Jenna gestured and the man was flung across the room, his body slam-ming against the wall. He collapsed with a groan. Maeve ran to him, crouching down alongside him and cradling his head in her lap. He was moaning as blood poured from a cut along his forehead. Maeve wept, tears sliding down her face. "Jenna! Stop this. . Please, darling, you must!"

Jenna spoke with a strange calmness in the midst of the red fury. "I can't stop it, Mam. I can't. It's too late for that. I'm sorry. ." She tore her gaze away from Maeve, went to the door, and left the room.

She could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs. She sent lightning crack-down the long hall toward the sound and flames sprang up where bright fingers touched. She ran the other way, to the back stairs the keep's help used. She ran down winding stone steps, scattering the few servants who were on them, and emerged into the courtyard. A tiarna was

nearby, dismounting from his horse as two stable hands held the beast.

"Holder " he started to say in greeting. Jenna gave him no chance to go further she let a pulse of energy flow from the cloch, smashing him in the chest. The horse reared and Jenna snatched the reins from the boy who was holding them, his face a frozen mask of terror.

She leaped onto the horse, not caring that her cloca rode up leaving her legs bare to the cold. "Holder, stop!" the boy shouted, but she kicked the horse into motion. Gardai were pouring out from the keep and an arrow hissed past her ear. Jenna crouched low on her steed’s back, urging him into a gallop toward the gates.

There were men there, she saw, and the gates were closed. She reined up the horse, lifting Lamh Shabhala as the squad of men hesitated. She cried aloud, her hand alight with the power, the scars on her arm glowing. The squad scattered; brighter than the sun, a fist like that of a god arced out from the cloch and smashed into the gate. Metal screeched and wailed; stone cracked and fell.

"Now!" Jenna shouted to the horse, kicking him again with her heels. She moved him carefully through the rubble and dust as more arrows shattered on the stones around her, then she was through onto the winding path leading down the steep slope of Goat Fell toward the town. Over the pounding of her mount’s hooves, she could hear the commotion behind her. As she traversed the first of the switch-back turns, she glanced back at the keep. Black smoke was pouring from the windows of the main tower, and a cloud of dust hung over the main gates, but a dozen mailed gardai on warhorses were already in pursuit.

Jenna kicked the horse again, and the stallion’s nostrils snorted twin white clouds into the cold air as his hooves tossed clods of half-frozen mud in the air. She would make the bridge, she knew, but already her head threatened to explode and her arm felt as if it was made of frozen granite. Her vision had contracted so that she could see only what was directly in front of her, and that poorly. She clutched the horse’s reins with her left hand, the right hanging limp, her knees trying desperately to keep a grip on the saddle. She heard more than saw the horse reach the bridge and begin to gallop across, the hooves loud on the wooden planking. She halted the stallion on the other side, pulling him

around so that she faced the bridge. Wearily, she reached for Lamh Shabhala with a hand that felt as heavy as the stones that formed the bridge's arches. She could barely see. She squinted into her dimming sight, trying to see her pursuers, ready to open Lamh Shabhala again and take them and the bridge down. She swayed in the saddle, and forced herself erect again.

"Holder!"

Jenna grimaced, her fingers fumbling around the cloch. She could hear the riders approaching, but couldn't see them in the dusk of her sight.

"Holder! Jenna!" the voice shouted again, behind her and to the left, it sounded familiar, and she turned her head slowly, her eyes narrowing.

"O'Deoradhain. . You bastard…" She lifted Lamh Shabhala, ready to strike the man down. He ran toward her awkwardly, hampered by his sling-bound arm, as she wobbled in the saddle, nearly falling.

"Can you ride?" He seemed to be shouting in her ear. "Holder, listen to me! Can you ride?"

She nodded. It took all the effort she had.

"Then ride. Go to du Val's. The Apothecary. Go, and I'll meet you there."

"The men. ."Jenna muttered. "From the keep.

!!

"I will deal with them. Go!"