Holder of Lightning

Truth or fable. . There was no way to know. All she knew was that the Creneach believed it, as Jenna believed in the Mother-Creator and Seed-Daughter, as Seancoim believed in the god he called Greatness, as Thraisha believed in her WaterMother. Perhaps they were all mingled, all shades of the same truth. Jenna looked around her at the Creneach, and inside each of them burned an undeniable cloch na thintri: that, at least, was truth.

"I hold the All-Heart that was inside Ceile," she said, and Terrain nod-ded with slow precision.

"I am Eldest here," it said. "This is my twelfth Awakening. I’ve seen the quick growth of soft-flesh things like you, who can change the very land. I have felt the All-Heart close by twice before: when I was Littlest, and also at the end of my last life." Jenna could hear the awe enter its voice, then, and its eyes were on the stone in her hand. "But this is the first time any of us here have actually seen it. It is a great gift for all of us, and for the Littlest."

". . my twelfth Awakening…" The import of that staggered Jenna-if true, the Creneach before her was unimaginably old. From Riata’s time to her own was thirteen centuries or more, and that would have encom-passed only a portion of two of Treorai’s "awakenings." Most of the voices within Lamh Shabhala were the more recent Holders; of the Bunus Muintir Holders, only Riata’s voice was easily heard, and he had been the last active Bunus Holder. There must be older, fainter voices buried deep within the cloch, going back and back to the dim mist of legend and myth.

And here, one of the legends walked.

Jenna glanced at Seancoim, who was leaning placidly on his staff, and then she bent down, looking at the smooth, shiny face of the Littlest in Treorai’s arms. She could feel the Cloch Mor shining in the chest of the infant, a jewel with a radiance stronger than the moon. She dangled Lamh Shabhala over it, as she might have with a child. It didn’t reach for the cloch, but its tongue darted from its mouth, sliding over the stone in its silver cage and withdrawing. The Littlest chirped then, birdlike, as if in satisfaction.

"It will remember," Terrain said. "We will all remember the taste of the All-Heart. Soon enough, when the Littlest has grown, we will leave here, each on our own, to search for Anchead while the First-Lights still glow in this land, but we will remember."

Terrain handed the Littlest to one of the other Creneach, and clapped his hands together again.

"But I forget that the soft-flesh things are always in a hurry, for your lives are short. We could stay here for several darknesses, remembering all the old tales of the All-Heart and our long search, but you would grow old in that time, so-" Terrain stopped, abruptly. He turned away from her, as if he'd forgotten she was there, and lifted his gaze toward the sky.

The first wisps of the mage-lights glimmered into existence, a feathery curtain dancing in the sky, and the Creneach responded, clapping their hands together once in unison. The resulting boom was deafening, and both Jenna and Seancoim put hands to ears as the Creneach clapped again, the explosion of sound repeating from the nearby peaks, each time fainter and more distant. The Creneach lifted their hands toward the sky and the brightening mage-lights, as Jenna felt the insistent pull of Lamh Shabhala and mirrored the gesture with her own right hand. The mage-lights curled and fused above the valley, lowering until their slow light-ning flowed around them in multicolored streamers. One stream wrapped itself around Lamh Shabhala, filling it eagerly; around her, Jenna saw the Creneach standing surrounded by the glow, their mouths open and the mage-lights swirling in as if they were swallowing them. The Creneach crooned, a twittering, musical sound almost like chimes stirring in a wind.

Lamh Shabhala filled quickly, and Jenna released it with a gasp of min-gled pleasure and pain. The Creneach paid no attention to them at all, their attention all on the bath of light in which they were immersed. Seancoim came up to her, his arm supporting Jenna as she slowly let the cloch-vision recede.

"We'll stay here tonight," he said. "Go on and rest, and I'll watch. ."

Chapter 52: The Protector

SHE was more exhausted than she’d thought. She fell asleep quickly and when she woke, it was dim morning, the sun lurking behind a thin smear of charcoal-gray cloud. The valley, in the daylight little more than a narrow canyon, was empty. Seancoim was poking at a tin pot boiling on a small campfire while Denmark pecked halfheartedly at the ground. Jenna’s right arm ached and throbbed. She grimaced as she sat up, rubbing at the scarred flesh.

"Where are the Creneach?" Jenna asked.