Holder of Lightning

Denmark hopped backward, then flapped away again to the barrow, alighting there and cawing again. When Jenna got to her feet, the crow flew up again and landed just past the end of the grave, moving away from the fire and the encampment. Another caw. Jenna glanced back to where the Banrion and Moister Cleurach were sleeping, then followed after the bird. Fly several feet and wait; fly several feet and wait. The pattern went on for some time, until Jenna was well away from the camp moving steadily down and east into a wooded valley. Denmark led her along the bed of a stream tinkling merrily as it descended the slopes until it finally merged with a river wending southward through a stand of sycamores. Denmark cawed again, loudly this time, and flew off with a great flapping of wings, circling high and disappearing into the leaves of the trees.

"Jenna!"

The call was soft in the darkness, the voice familiar. She saw a flickering gleam of white beard in the shadows, and Seancoim stepped out toward her, leaning on his staff of oak.

"Seancoim!" She rushed to him, enveloping him in her arms and taking in the familiar smell of spices and herbs that exuded from his body and clothing.

"I can’t believe you’re here. How did you know, how did you get here. .?"

The old Bunus Muintir seemed to gaze past her with his cataract-white eyes, his hand holding hers. Denmark came flapping down from the branches above to land on his shoulder in a flurry. "You still overlook the slow magics," he told her. "It was always the fault with most of you Daoine. You’ll likely ignore them entirely now, with the power you

wield with the clochs na thintri." He took a long, slow breath and let it out again. "I saw, I heard," he said. "Once this was Bunus Muintir land, and some of us still live here, hidden." His blind eyes looked aside, but Denmark regarded her with steady, bright eyes. "I came as quickly as I could. But it seems I've come late. I saw the pyre two nights ago, and I felt your anguish. I'm sorry, Jenna. I knew that there was to be love between the two of you. Even when you denied it back in Doire Coill, I knew.

I m sorry."

The tears came again then, sudden and hot, pushing from deep within her. She'd thought that she cried away all the pain, but it returned now, redoubled, and she realized how much she'd been holding away, hiding it from Aithne and Moister Cleurach and herself.

"You'll always feel this pain," Seancoim murmured in her ear as he held her. "It will always be with you. You'll hear a sound or smell something, and it will remind you of him and you'll feel the loss all over again. But 1 will stop hurting you so much. You'll get used to carrying the grief, as you're starting to carry the pain of Lamh Shabhala without thinking about it."

"I was there. I saw them kill him and I couldn't do anything to stop it."

"I know. And that's not your fault. You need to mourn, but you also need to move past the grief. You're still here, Jenna, and while you are, you can't forget this world. If you're going to Thall Coill, I knew I should be with you."

"Thall Coill. ." She repeated the name, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. "That's what some of the Holders told me. Riata. ."

"I know. I saw his spirit, wandering restless from his grave and looking north. Come with me; we have a long way to travel and night is the best time." He hugged her again, then started to move away into the trees. Jenna began to follow, then glanced back up into the hills, where the campfire glimmered like a yellow-orange star. "You can choose only one path, Jenna," Seancoim said.

"How do I know which is the right one?" Jenna asked him.

"You don't," he answered. "And you never will

know. Not until the Seed-Daughter calls your soul back to Her and whispers the tale of your life in your ear. But you need to choose now. Go with them, or with me."

"I’ll go with you," Jenna answered, and with the words she could feel the doubt dissolve within her. She gave a final glance back at the campfire, wondering whether the Banrion or Moister Cleurach realized yet that she was gone. Soon they would, but Jenna felt certain that she knew what the Banrion’s decision would be: We can’t waste time searching for the Holder. She’s made me a promise, and she’ll keep it if she can. We return to Dim Kiil. .

Jenna turned to Seancoim, and followed his shuffling steps into the deep shadows of the sycamores, Denmark flitting ahead above them.

As Seancoim had indicated, they moved by night and rested by day, slip-ping through the landscape while the people in the villages and farms slept.