She could think of nothing to say. I'm not your salvation, she wanted to say. Don't look at me as if I were. She felt ill, nauseous. She placed her hand on her stomach, pressing it tightly.
"We'll meet them as they land," Kianna said. "I need to go speak with those who will be fighting with steel. Banrion, I leave the strategies for the cloudmages to you. Ri MacBradaigh, will you go with me? Our people would like to see their leader."
"I… I don't know what to tell them," the Ri stammered, looking frightened, and Kianna exchanged glances with Aithne.
"I'll tell you what to say," she told the man. "All you'll need to do is keep a brave face on." She gestured toward the keep; the Ri, with a final look back at the sails on the horizon, shuffled slowly toward the archway to the balcony, with Kianna following.
Banrion Aithne sighed. "We shouldn’t stay here, that’s for certain," she said. "The keep will be an obvious target for the clochs. Better that they not know where we are. Jenna, where do you want to make a stand?’
"Down at the harbor," Jenna answered. "We’ll need to be close as they come in so they’re within range of our clochs; if we must, we can retreat back up toward the keep and the mountains with the rest of the troops.
Aithne, Jenna knew, could have blamed her for this. Maybe she was right, all along. Perhaps if I’d listened to her, if we’d made the attack on Falcarragh first before the Ri Ard was ready as she and the Comhairle wanted…She could say that it’s my fault, that the Ri Ard wouldn’t come here at all except for me… But there was no accusation in Aithne’s voice or face, only a solemn acceptance of their task. "Then that’s where I’ll stand as well. I’ll tell Moister Cleurach to meet us there." With that, she swept away toward the keep, leaving Jenna and MacEagan alone.
"We’ll get through this," MacEagan told her. "The tuatha have never been able to conquer Inish Thuaidh. The Ri Ard will suffer the same fate as the rest, and fifty years from now, the bards will be singing the Song of Kiernan o Liathain the way they sing of Mael Armagh now, and laughing at the man’s foolishness."
"I hope you’re right."
"I am. We might lose this battle, but we’ll prevail. Inish Thuaidh is a hard land, and the Tuathians are soft. They will break here, as they always have." He stopped. His hand lifted as if he were about to touch her shoul-der, then dropped back to his side. "You’ll live, Jenna," he said. "And so will your child."
Jenna nodded. On a pole on the keep’s tower, the blue-and-white flag of Inish Thuaidh snapped in the wind. Far out to sea, she could see the banners fluttering above the sails: the colors of the Tuatha: green and brown, blue and gold, green and gold. She could see the oars churning the water as the sun glinted on mail and steel.
"They’ll be here soon," she said. "Then we’ll know."
The battle for Dun Kiil began with a single sound:
the k-thunk as the arm of a catapult was released out on Harbor Head and a flaming ball went hurtling across the late afternoon sky. It splashed into the water in an eruption of water and steam a dozen yards short of the lead boat just entering between the inner bay's arms. Four more fireballs followed; two of them struck the ship and burning oil and grease splattered over the deck. Faint screams could be heard from the crew, and the oars splintered and fell as those on the ship leaped into the water, some of them aflame. Jenna, standing next to MacEagan near the end of the dock, heard a rag-ged cheer go up from the troops assembled close by.
The cheer nearly immediately went silent. The catapult nearest the fleet erupted in a gout of black smoke, pieces of shattered timber flying through the air. There were more screams, but this time it came from the Inishlanders manning the catapult.
The Clochs Mor had entered the battle.
The sky near the entrance to the inner bay darkened and swirled with storm clouds as a gale force wind blew out to sea, howling and shrieking and laden with blinding curtains of rain: Stormbringer awakened. Jenna could see the ships gathered near the harbor entrance and already trying to avoid the flaming hulk of the lead craft, suddenly heel over. Sails went down-cut or torn, she didn't know-and oars lashed the water, pushing the boats forward against the tempest. Two more catapults fired, and an- other ship was bathed in a gushing inferno; a moment later, fireball hissed away from the incoming ship, and both catapults exploded The ships pushed on.
The Inner Harbor had been closed off with chains and nets hung just under the water between Little Head and Harbor Head. The first few ships hit the barriers and were stopped, but only for minutes before they were cleared. The first ships moved into the Inner Harbor
Smoke was beginning to drift over Dun Kiil, laden with the scent of charred wood and the burning oil; curtains of driving rain obscured the bay. A constant roar dinned in her ears, the wordless cry of the massed thousands. Kianna Ciomhsog raised her sword a hundred yards away, her mouth opened as she shouted something to the troops; Ri MacBradaigh was with her, a sword clutched in his hand also, though its point dragged the ground at
"Jenna, it’s time." MacEagan’s hand closed around his Cloch Mor. He nodded to her. "I’ll be with you."
Jenna took Lamh Shabhala in her right hand.
She sent her mind into the cloch.
The world faded about her for a moment, then the doubled vision of the cloch-world came to her, brilliant and saturated. Jenna gasped in won-der and terror-so many clochs, so many points of brilliance set like burning suns about her: at least twenty of the Clochs Mor, and dozen upon dozens of the clochmion as well, faint pinpricks against the glory of their powerful cousins.
Some of them she knew, their colors and shapes familiar: Ennis’ cloch wielded by Mac Ard; Aron O Dochartaigh, the nameless tiarna with the Cloch of the mage-demon. Nevan O Liathain was out there, and other tiarna she had met at Lar Bhaile. They were out there, and they were aware of her as well-she could feel their minds turn as the greater sun of Lamh Shabhala rose.
They saw her. The first attack came before she could draw breath.
A wave seemed to tower in front of her, a surging surf of green whose crest glowed white. It loomed high, ready to fall like an immense tower down on her. She could feel the inexperience of the Holder behind the cloch’s attack-there were holes in the wall of energy before her. With near contempt, Jenna shaped Lamh Shabhala’s power, gathered up the wave, and threw it back to its source. The emerald wave crashed over one of the ships just entering the Inner Harbor; a thin, single scream cut through the noise of the rising battle. The Mage had squandered all the energy in the cloch in one flurry, and Lamh Shabhala greedily sucked it out, emptying the cloch utterly and spitting it back over the ship. More screams came, this time from the people around the Holder; the lumines-cence that had marked the cloch’s position vanished like a snuffed candle.
One. .
The Clochs Mor of Inish Thuaidh were alive now, attacking on their own, and Jenna realized that no matter how much she might have disliked Moister Cleurach’s tutelage, the quality of the Order’s
teaching showed. The Inishlander cloudmages were superior to any of the Tuathian Mages-she saw Mundy Kirwan's cloch open and tendrils of blue-green death streak outward across the water, thrusting aside the defenses of two Clochs Mor and smashing into one of the ships, its touch setting the hull afire as the boat capsized. Most of the Tuathian Mages were inexperienced, their handling of the mage-light's power awkward and tentative. For the first time, Jenna began to have some hope.
Sudden flights of arrows arced from the bay, a thousand barbs streaking down through the smoke, surprising Jenna with their suddenness, and Jenna barely managed to throw a shadow of Lamh Shabhala’s power toward them. The arrows closest to her burst into flame and went to drifting ash, but those to either side did not and soldiers fell, screaming in pain or silent in death. The assault brought back to Jenna the realization that it would not be the clochs only that won this battle. Even Lamh Shabhala couldn't stand alone against an army.