'And what of me?' Aithne asked. A wry smile touched her lips. 'Holder, I'd tell you that I was sorry, but that would be false. I made my choice, too.'
Jenna's eyes were still closed from the effort of releasing Moister Cleurach. Wearily, she forced them open. 'Would you make it again?'
The smile wavered, then steadied. 'I tell you 'no' as I stand here and I mean it. But I don't expect you to believe that. And if the moment came again, in a different time and place, who knows?'
'That, at least, is honest,' Jenna answered. She took a long breath, considering. 'The Comhairle must elect a new Rl,' she said finally. 'Once I would have said that you should take your husband's place and simply be Banrion. But not anymore. I ask for your pledge that the Comhairle elect someone more suited to the task.'
Aithne glanced at MacEagan before answering. 'I give you my word,' she said.
Jenna turned to MacEagan, holding out her left hand to him. She hugged him once, fiercely. 'Husband,' she said, smiling. 'I would send you back with the Banrion, with my thanks for your help.'
MacEagan grinned. 'It was my duty,' he answered. 'And my desire.' He nodded to Mac Ard, going somber. 'But I don't want to leave you with
'I hold him,' Jenna answered, 'and you’re needed more in Dun Kiil. Alby will be worried.'
'Then send me there, and I’ll do what should be done.'
Again, Jenna submerged herself in the cloch-vision, finding Aithne and Kyle and loosing them from Lamh Shabhala’s grasp. Their departure burned her with its swiftness. Now the mage-energy no longer filled her, and she could feel the pain of her body: the wounds, the ravagements of wielding Lamh Shabhala, the weariness from lack of sleep and worry, the loss and grief.
She opened her eyes. Mac Ard stared at her. 'So it’s just the two of us ' he said. 'What do you ask of me, Holder? What is my punishment?'
'Be my mam’s husband,' Jenna answered. Exhaustion throbbed in her voice. The gift given to her was almost gone, and Jenna felt only relief. 'Marry her.'
'That’s all?'
Jenna nodded. It was too much effort to speak.
She couldn’t hold Mac Ard’s cloch much longer; it shivered in her mind, struggling.
'Then I will do that. I give you my word.' Mac Ard sniffed, wiping his bloodied lips with his sleeve. He shook his head. 'You should not be the Holder, Jenna,' he said. 'Everything you do tells me that. You’re weak.'
Jenna’s cheeks colored. Her lips tightened. 'Leave me, then,' she said. She started to release him, to send him back as she had the others. But where the rest had departed willingly, Mac Ard did not. His cloch re-mained, burning red before her, the glow growing rather than diminishing. 'You’re too weak,' she heard his voice repeat, almost sadly. 'Especially right now. But I will keep my word to you, Jenna. Take that with you to the Mother-Creator as some comfort. I will marry your mam, afterward.'
She felt his cloch open and turn its power toward her. 'No!' she screamed at him, but an inferno had already erupted. The mage-energy licked hungrily at her, the heat taking her breath. Mac Ard was sending everything toward her, emptying his cloch. She tried to throw up shields but they were weak
and late, the fire burning through them in an instant. There was little left in Lamh Shabhala, and Jenna knew that if she miscal-culated here, if she did not use enough of what remained to her, then Mac Ard would win. He would take Lamh Shabhala from her-he would kill her.
He would kill the life inside her. He would kill all that was left of Ennis.
'No!' Jenna screamed into the assault. She sent herself spiraling deep into the cloch, gathering all that she could of the mage-energy. There was no subtlety or finesse to her response; it was a blunt weapon, wielded with all the remaining strength she had. Even as the fires surrounded her, she sent it out, hurtling multicolored lightnings into the red center of Mac Ard.
They struck, blinding her. She heard him scream as the fire of his cloch vanished.
For several seconds, there was no sound but the wind and the faint crash of the waves far below, though her ears still rang with the furious sound of the clochs. Jenna blinked into the starlight above Bethiochnead. Mac Ard was lying on the ground a few feet away. She went to him, looking down into the open, staring, sightless eyes. His mouth was open, his chest still. Kneeling beside the body, she closed his eyes and took the Cloch Mor from his fisted hand.
'This,' she said, 'was never yours.'
Jenna straightened. The movement made her momentarily dizzy, and she had to close her eyes to stop the world from spinning around her. She wanted nothing more than to collapse. But she couldn't. Not yet. Not here.
Only the dregs of the mage-energy were left. Lamh Shabhala couldn't take her back to Dun Kiil or return Mac Ard's corpse. She lifted her head, looking toward the moonlit oaks ringing the cliffside. 'Protector Loman!' she called. 'I know you're there watching. Step out!' There was no answer for several breaths and she started to call again. Then two figures emerged from the shadows and began walking slowly toward her, one of them leaning on an oaken staff. The Bunus Muintir stopped several feet from her.
'Holder,' Loman said, but Jenna's eyes were on the boy with him, who would not look at her directly though she saw him glance with fright at the broken statue before sending his gaze back to the ground. She had expected Toryn to be with the old Protector, but this boy was blond and no more than fourteen, far younger than Toryn.
'Where’s your apprentice?' Jenna asked Loman.
'Toryn is… gone,' Loman answered. His scraggly beard sagged as he frowned, and the boy with him shuddered. 'When I learned what he had done to Seancoim Crow-Eye and you, I sent him to the oaks, the Old Ones. He feeds their roots now. I’m sorry, Holder. Seancoim was right; I chose poorly and taught badly for Toryn to do such a thing. Aye, I would gladly have allowed him take Lamh Shabhala if you’d failed in the Scrudu, but to kill Seancoim and to try to take the cloch by force…' He shook his head, grimacing. 'I’m sorry if I’ve cheated you out of the revenge you might have wanted for that.'
Jenna gave a laugh that sounded more like a cough. She gestured at the body between them. 'I think, Protector, that I’ve had my fill of revenge.'
The apprentice visibly brightened at that statement, venturing a small smile. Loman hummed, clearing his throat; his breath wheezed asthmatically. 'Holder,' he said. 'How can I help you?'
'You know the way to the nearest Daoine village?'
A nod.
Jenna pointed again to Mac Ard. 'Good. I know that you also know herb lore: I want you to treat this body so that it can make a long journey then take it to that village. Tell them there that the Comhairle wishes the tiarna’s body returned safely to Dun Kiil. That’s all. Consider it a partial payment for your poor choice of apprentice.'
His eyes glared, a flash of irritation that he hid almost immediately 'it will take several days to do as you ask,' Loman answered.
'I don’t care,' Jenna told him. 'Do it.' Neither of the Bunus Muintir moved. Neither of them seemed to want to be near her. Jenna lifted the cloch.
'Now,' she said.
For an instant, she wondered if Loman, like Toryn, might try to use the slow magic against her.
But the ancient Bunus snarled something to his apprentice in their own language and the younger man moved quickly over to Mac Ard's corpse. He picked it up, draping the tiarna's body over his shoulder. His back bowed under the burden, he walked away toward the trees. 'This will be good for the young one here. He has much to learn, and I… well, I don't have a great deal of time left to teach him.' Loman bowed to Jenna, bending stiffly from the waist. 'There is a cavern nearby where you can stay, Holder, until the body's prepared.'
'I have my own way home,' she told him. 'Just do as I've asked.' Loman nodded silently at that and turned to follow his new apprentice into the forest. Jenna watched until they had gone.
She wanted to sleep, to give in to the exhaustion and pain. But she forced herself to walk down the slope, away from Bethiochnead to where the cliffs lowered and she could find a way down to the water. She clam-bered down over the slippery rocks until the salt spray of the waves touched her face, refreshing her. The moon dappled the ocean as she stood on the rocks at the water's edge.
Not far out from the shore, a dark body lifted its head above the waves. Jenna heard the grunting cough of a seal. She brushed her fingers against Lamh Shabhala. There was barely enough power remaining. 'Thraisha. .?' Jenna whispered hopefully into the wind, feeling the presence of Bradan an Chumhacht there.
