The Light-Bearer's Daughter (19 page)

An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth
.

She tried to protest that she was young and powerless and had done her best, but they weren’t interested. Or perhaps they couldn’t hear her. They had begun to roar. Or was it a war song? Great hawing sounds that grew in volume.

She had to get away. Spying a weak spot in their advance, she ran wildly toward it and ducked under their arms. A loose branch whacked her ears. She let out a yell. But she managed to avoid the club that came swinging at her. To her amazement, she discovered she could move with lightning speed. The silver nails in her shoes! The gift of the leprechaun! Without them she would have been crushed, as the blows rained down like missiles. The ground shuddered with the thuds. But no matter how fast she was and how deftly she evaded them, the Oakmen kept forming new circles around her. And each circle was closer and tighter.

They were too near. Dana knew it. One of them was sure to hit her. She needed to get out of that murderous ring. In a last hopeless dash, expecting to be struck at any moment, she charged forward with a screech and attempted a jump.

She made it!

With a flying leap!

Legs pedaling the air as if she were on a bicycle, she cleared the Oakmen.

And even as they missed their target, they crashed into each other, many of them toppling like timber.

Dana sped away through the forest, dodging and darting around the trees. Some seemed to block her path. Others thwacked her with their branches. But the forest was thinning out ahead of her. Would the Oakmen pursue her into the open?

But now as she neared what she thought was safety, Dana choked with new terror. There before her, barring her way, stood a new foe, fierce and ravenous, with fangs bared in a snarl.

A huge gray wolf.

The great shaggy beast seemed as tall as she. Its eyes glared like yellow agate. Rising on its haunches, it leaped toward her.

There was no time to think. No time to run. No time even to cry out. Yet the moment itself slowed down and stretched into infinity. The gray streak of animal drew an arc in the air. The yellow eyes narrowed like two golden scimitars. The red jaw gaped.

A strange calm came over Dana, somehow inspired by the wolf itself. The splendor of that vault! The wild freedom! The beauty of the beast! Despite the threat of her own extinction, some part of her thrilled. A thought crossed her mind, perhaps her last: if she must die, let such a noble creature be the cause.

She didn’t die.

The wolf continued to soar through the air, right over Dana’s head.

And landed in front of the Oakmen.

Stunned, Dana turned to see the giants strike out at the beast. But they were too slow. Their blows pounded the ground. The wolf bit and clawed. The Oakmen roared.

Dana knew she should run while both her enemies were busy, yet she hesitated. Though she suspected the wolf was just guarding its dinner, she couldn’t be sure. Was it possible that it was trying to save her? She knew a little about wolves from a television program. They rarely attacked humans. And she was vaguely aware of something else, some bond with the animal that she couldn’t explain. To run away seemed cowardly. Looking around for a weapon, she found a hefty rock and heaved it at the Oakman nearest to the wolf.

Good shot! It landed with a
whump
. The giant howled with fury and lurched toward her. The wolf cut off his charge. Dana continued to hurl rocks, but it was soon obvious that the wolf didn’t need her help. Snapping and snarling, dashing around at great speed, it appeared to grow in size the more it fought. As it mangled and tore, gnawed and clawed, it drove the giants back. Other than forming defensive circles, the Oakmen had no tactics to fend off their foe. In the end, they thundered away, dragging their clubs behind them.

The wolf stood alone, jaws open, tongue lolling, great fangs dripping. Now it turned its yellow gaze to Dana.

Rooted to the spot, Dana could only stare back.

he wolf was still panting from its exertions and kept its jaws open. Paralyzed with fear, Dana stared into the dark-red maw. Her legs felt so weak, she thought they might buckle. In the bizarre way that shock affects the mind, she found herself remembering a time when she was six years old. A mad dog had wandered into her street, foaming at the mouth. When it went straight for her, one of her many canine friends broke its charge. The speed and ferocity of the fight had been horrific. The tearing and mauling. The snarling and biting.

Her father had come running from the house to snatch her up.

“It’s killing Prince!” she screamed, as the dreadful sounds continued behind her. “Do something, Da! Save him!”

She had struggled wildly to get out of Gabe’s arms, to go back and help, but he had bundled her into the house and slammed the door. Outside, a siren wailed as a police car sped into the square. Too late, Prince lay dead on the ground. But not before he had torn out the other dog’s throat.

Now Dana’s hand went to her own throat. The memory of the blood and the awful sounds told her what to expect. It would hurt. A lot.

She was wrong.

“Prince died to save you,” came a female voice, deep and husky. “A noble deed. Praise his name.”

The wolf was speaking to her! Of all the strange things that had happened, this was surely the strangest.

“H-h-how do you know …?”

“I was there.” The wolf moved closer. “Do you not know yet?”

Child and beast gazed at each other.

What a beautiful face
, Dana thought. The sleek snout was that of a thoroughbred. The eyes were pure gold, and the ears, elegant. Despite her fear, Dana didn’t back away.

Again came the voice, as rich as wild honey.

“Do you not know who I am?”

Dana felt a thrill at the core of her being, but her mouth was dry. She couldn’t speak.

The wolf’s eyes shone with a warm yellow light.

“In the tongue of your ancestors, what is my name?”

After a moment’s confusion, Dana realized what she meant.

“You are the
faol
.”

The wolf butted her gently.

“Think, little cub. Why does the feeling of kinship conquer your fear?”

Dana caught her breath. A surge of joy rushed through her as she realized the truth.

“I am a
Faolán
. I belong to you!”

The wolf growled her approval.

“And I to you. For I am the totem of your tribe. The guardian of your clan.”

Dana understood. Didn’t her father often speak proudly of his roots? He had told her how, in the mists of time, the earliest peoples of Ireland were named for the animals from whom they believed they were descended. The oldest families still had those names, anglicized now as the Irish language declined. Whelans. Whalens. Phelans. Phalens. All were
Faoláns
: of the Clan of the Wolf.

“If you were fully grown,” the wolf continued, “I would savage your limbs and tear your throat. I would dismember you and then restore you. In doing this, I would take from you what makes you weak, what holds you back. You would be a daughter of the wolf. But since you are a cub, hard lessons are not called for.”

Dana straightened her back. She had cried out to the gods of her people, and the guardian of her clan had come to guide her. It was an honor beyond reckoning. She stared at the wide jaw and the sharp canine teeth.
Oh, Grandmother, what big teeth you have
. But she didn’t feel like Little Red Riding Hood. Nor did she want a forester to save her. Instead, she would have fought the forester to defend the wolf. Dana thought about her mission. How hard it was proving. All the setbacks. All the things she had done wrong. She made up her mind.

“I want to be a daughter of the wolf,” she said. “It’s not fair to count age. Go ahead. Tear me apart. Make me strong.”

Bracing herself, she closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

The wolf’s laugh began as a bark and ended on a howl. Dana opened her eyes, surprised. The beast loomed over her, massive in bulk. The great head hovered near. The fangs came so close it seemed she might grant Dana’s request. The gamey breath was hot.

But she didn’t bite.

Instead, she licked Dana’s face.

When she spoke again, her voice was gentle.

“Adults must be torn apart because life defeats them. They lose hope, they grow weak. They squander their inheritance. Children need not be torn, for they hold to their birthright. Their hearts are as wild as the hearts of birds. They have the courage of the wolf.”

Dana knew her words were true. Gabriel was wounded and weakened by the loss of his wife. He had given up hope, stopped searching for her. Dana was stronger. That was why she had taken up the mission. She had to do what her father had failed to do.

Once again the wolf breathed on Dana, a wild steamy breath.

“Time grows short. We must go west, young cub.”

Then she raced away, calling out behind her.

“Follow the greenway! Run wild, run free!”

For a moment, Dana hesitated. Would the nails in her shoes allow her to keep up? In her heart she knew they wouldn’t. Speed was not the question. It was a matter of being. When she ran with the deer, she had become one of them. Was she or wasn’t she a daughter of the wolf?

Her guardian had already disappeared through the trees. If Dana didn’t move fast, she would be left behind. She felt the cry of the wild inside her. It rose like a pressure against her ribs, propelling her forward. Before she knew it, she was running as if she had four legs. A lupine force had invaded her limbs, powering every sinew and muscle. It wasn’t long before she caught up with the wolf.

They sped together through the forest—a blur of leafy green—and headed upward for the ridge of Brockagh.

To run with the deer was a gentle union with nature, harmony and light, sweet grass and sunshine.
Blessed are the meek
. To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, merging with the dark pulse of life, the instinct for survival. A fierceness that was proud and lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst.
Blessed are they who hunger and thirst
. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn’t stop till the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to take one’s place in the world: to say
I am here
. To say
I am
.

They ran into the west. The terrain was chiefly blanket bog, damp mountain grasslands of sedge and heather. Over Brockagh’s windy summit they flew and along the peaty ridge that headed north for Tonelagee. They were already in sight of Lough Nahanagan, glistening in the midday sun. Traveling downward through swaths of purple heather, they crossed the Wicklow Gap and arrived at the lake. Cradled in its corrie below Turlough Hill, the lough was shadowed overhead by the reservoir that sat like a lid on top of the hill.

“We will rest here a while,” the wolf declared.

Dana stood on the stony shore, hot and sweaty. They had come many miles in a few short hours. The wolf was already in the water, leaping like a dolphin. With a quick look around to make sure no one was there, Dana stripped off her clothes and plunged in. The lake was icy cold. She shrieked with the shock. Turning to swim on her back, she felt something moving beneath her. Before she could react, the wolf had tossed her into the air! Shrieking again, she landed with a great splash.

They played for ages, wrestling and diving and darting around each other. Dana laughed like a child without a care in the world.

She was deep underwater when the memory came.
The two of them in a lake similar to this one. Mother and baby with their arms around each other. White bathing suits like water lilies, immersed in the green sunlit element. Her mother’s skin was soft. Strands of her red-gold hair flowed all around them. Now they rose up in a shower of spray, both of them laughing and squealing. On the shore, a younger Gabe with thick dark hair called out to them to have their picnic
. The perfection of the moment: a pearl found by chance inside an oyster. Her first full memory of her mother! The joy and the pain was overwhelming.