Holder of Lightning

His smile was lopsided. "I won't ask you to give it to me. I know that's something Holders can't do. But I will take it from you. It took me a full day to create the spells to hold the slow magic so I could use it at will, but I made two of them. Seancoim could have deflected the spell if he'd been awake-even old and decrepit, he was strong in the slow magic. But you don't have the slow magic, do you? All you have is a cloch na thintri that's been exhausted. I don't think a bit of fire will hurt Lamh Shabhala."

Jenna continued to back away. She was alongside the statue as Toryn glanced back at Seancoim. The fire was already dying. Jenna could glimpse a blackened, withered skeleton through the smoke.

"At least he was unconscious when it happened," Toryn remarked. "Can you imagine what it would feel like to be consumed while alive and awake?

Your flesh crackling and turning black like bacon too long in the fire; the fat of your body hissing and sputtering as it boils, the flames feeding on your face. Flesh gone, muscle and tissue seared and crisped as you scream and shriek in agony. ." Jenna continued to back away; Toryn stalking her, step for step. She could sense the air at her back, could hear the crumbling edge of the cliff under her feet. Toryn stopped. "Are you sure you don't want

to give me the cloch?" he asked, his hand held out to her.

"No," Jenna answered. She touched her stomach. "I’m sorry," she said.

Toryn seemed to shrug. He lifted his hands again, speaking a phrase in his own language. She saw the flames appear before him.

Jenna turned away. The cliff edge was two steps away. She ran toward it, and leaped.

She expected death.

The wind rushed past her, roaring. And she felt her body changing altering as she plummeted toward the water. Her cloca and leine slipped away, torn from her new, sleek shape by the rushing of air, and she fell naked to the waves.

She had almost no time to contemplate the alteration of her body.

Jenna hit the water with a stunning impact that ripped the breath from her lungs. She expected to feel the shock of the frigid ocean, but somehow the water felt impossibly warm and pleasant. Still, the shock of striking the surface nearly made her lose consciousness; she was disoriented, her sense of direction lost underwater. Her body, already sore and battered, screamed with abuse; her vision seemed sharper yet somehow distorted. She could see the wavering light of the waves well above her and her lungs yearned for air. She reached out with her arms and kicked with her legs to stroke for the surface. They responded though the feel was strange, and she could not see hands or arms even though the light came quickly closer. She broke the surface with a gasp, swallowing spray along with the wonderful cold air. She almost immediately went under again.

Something, someone was under her, lifting her. .

She emerged into the air once more, coughing and spitting water, and she was held up as she retched and spluttered and finally took another shuddering breath. A head emerged from the waves.

Jenna started to speak in surprise and relief-"Thraisha!" — but what emerged was a croak and moan. She looked back along the length of her own body.

The chain of Lamh Shabhala gleamed against black fur touched with blue highlights, the caged stone still with her. Jenna barked in surprise; Thraisha’s eyes gleamed; she almost seemed to laugh. High above them, at the cliff edge, Jenna saw Toryn staring down, his face pale. Thraisha followed the direction of Jenna’s gaze, her body rolling easily in the white surf. She spoke, but with the emptiness within Lamh Shabhala Jenna understood none of it. Thraisha started swimming, pushing Jenna’s body

in front of her, moving away from the rocks and outward. Toryn shouted something, his voice faint against the roar of wind and waves. Jenna tenta-tively tried to help Thraisha and swim on her own-the body ached and complained, but she managed a few strokes. They swam out beyond where the waves broke, and Jenna realized that Thraisha was making for the blue-gray hint of coastline to the south, where a tongue of land curved outward.

She could not swim long and had to stop, exhausted. Thraisha stayed with her, patiently keeping Jenna afloat on the waves. Swim and rest; swim and rest.

The journey took hours. The sun was nearly setting when they came to a table of low, wet rocks and could crawl out of the water.

"You threw yourself from the cliff a stone-walker and landed a Saimhoir." Thraisha seemed amused by what she'd seen. "Welcome to the sea, land-cousin."