Holder of Lightning

They followed after him down the narrow lane. Jenna could nearly touch the houses on either side and little light made its way here from the square, only the milky light of the moon providing illumination. There were few people here, all of whom pressed back to let the three well-dressed Riocha pass. Aidan was well ahead of Jenna and Ennis, stopping near an intersection and waving. "This way! Hurry!"

They heard the horns announcing the Ri from the square behind them. Ennis stopped, a hand on Jenna’s arm. The page was looking back toward the square with a puzzled expression. "I thought-"

Ennis began.

The page collapsed to his knees, his eyes widening as if startled. His mouth opened but no words came. He fell face-down into the mud of the lane. Three arrows protruded from his back.

"Jenna!" Ennis yelled. He pushed her into a doorway across the street as more arrows suddenly hissed past them. Ennis grunted, and Jenna saw a wooden shaft blossom in red at his shoulder. He staggered backward against the wall across the lane from her. His eyes on her, he shook his head as she started to run across to him. His hand closed around his cloch.

A moment later, she did the same, ripping open Lamh Shabhala so that its power roared out like a rogue wave.

She could sense Ennis and his cloch, along with a trio of Cloch Mor lurking just down the lane. Several

dozen people were moving toward them from the front as well as behind. She had no chance to identify any of the ambushers or judge their intentions: the three Cloch Mors arrayed against her struck.

They concentrated on Jenna. As she crouched in the doorway, a rush of heavy wings beat the air above her. She looked up to see a demonic horror above: twice as tall as herself, skin burnished like bronze over massive muscles, clawed fingers and feet, and a brick-red face scowling with anger under folds and horns. Leathery wings sprang from the crea-ture's back. Looking at the thing dredged an elemental feeling of revulsion and horror from her, as if this were a creature formed of ancient racial fears or memory. Jenna wondered at first if it was simply an illusion, the apparition slammed into the structure above her, its claws ripping deep into mortar and plaster. The mage-demon was real and physical enough. The house shuddered at the impact, and Jenna had to use part of Lamh Shabhala’s power to shield herself from falling stone and beams. The creature howled, roaring words in no tongue that she had ever heard before as it started to fall toward her, but she pushed it away. It snarled and spat, slamming again into the second story of the house as its great wings flailed the air.

In frustration, it ripped away at the house, pulling it apart as if it were made of paper and throwing pieces of the ruin down toward her.

Dust made her blink her eyes, but she kept the shield in place above her, pushing the splintered, hard rain away from her.

She could do little more than fend off the mage-demon. In her cloch-vision, she saw a stream of pure energy-a blue so brilliant it was nearly white-come snarling toward her. She threw up a wall of her own power barely in time, and the color broke against it, sizzling and burning.

Fire erupted in the street in front of her, molten gobs splattering against Lamh Shabhala’s wall. In the dust, Jenna saw a figure standing nearby, seemingly formed of lava and flame, glowing orange-red and covered with scabs of black, visible both to her eyes and the cloch-vision. The lava-creature lifted its hands and a glowing boulder erupted from them, arcing toward her. Jenna pushed back at the new assault, sending a blast of furious wind from Lamh Shabhala. The boulder went black and fell, shat-tering ten feet away in a

gout of fury. Jenna could feel the heat, searing and intense. The building was aflame above her.

The cloch-beast continued to tear at the structure, and she could sense the house starting to collapse around her. The roiling clouds of dust and smoke were so thick that she could see nothing as she flung herself back into the lane. Bowstrings sang from somewhere above and arrows arced toward her; with a flick of energy, she sent them to streaks of fire and ash. But some of them got through, hissing past or ricocheting from the door-way in which she now crouched.

I can’t keep this up… I can’t. .