The Light-Bearer's Daughter (25 page)

Then Ivy grabbed her.

“Thanks!” Dana choked.

“You be’s welcome,” said her friend, grinning.

In that short distance, the view had changed completely. Carved into the rock was a great stairway that ran downward for hundreds of steps, arching under the tunnel they had left. Carefully making their way down it, they were ushered from darkness into a dusky glow. At the bottom, they discovered the source of the brightness.

They stood on a shore of sand that glistened with its own light, like stars ground to dust. But it was the river that truly sparkled, as its waters flowed with the same scintillating crystals.

Several wooden skiffs lay upturned on the beach. Dana looked around for their owners, but Ivy was already pushing one into the water. They both clambered aboard. Too small to row, Ivy sat in the stern to give directions while Dana struggled with the oars. As it turned out, her job wasn’t difficult, for the current carried them like a leaf; she had only to keep the boat in midstream.

The voyage was thrilling, despite all their worries about the mission and the passage of time. With breathtaking speed, they raced past walls of white granite and quartz that towered on each side. It wasn’t long before they reached the river’s own destination: a subterranean sea.

The surface lay still and dark like black ice, as the shining crystals sank to the depths below. Overhead, a vast rocky vault disappeared into shadow. The air was dim and heavy. Silence hung like a shroud over all, broken only by the splash of the oars in the water as Dana began to row. She was barely breathing. Ivy’s eyes shone gold in the gloom.

They both heard it.

The sound of other oars dipping into the sea.

Peering through the murk, they saw nothing. Was it an echo of their own oars?

Dana stopped rowing. There it was! A dip and a splash! Then silence.

Another boat was following them
.

Too terrified to even think of bluffing, Dana began to row frantically. The paddles smacked the water. The other boat increased its speed also. That their pursuer no longer tried to mask the sound was even more ominous. Yet they could see nothing in the deep shadows.

Dana felt the sweat break out on her body. Her hands were raw. The sea felt as if it had turned to mud and she was dragging the oars through it. She kept straining to peer through the dimness, both wanting and dreading to know what was there. Her stomach churned. It was like one of her nightmares; where she couldn’t flee fast enough from the thing that chased her.

At last, the pale glimmer of a shore in the distance! Despite her exhaustion, Dana doubled her efforts. Soon they were moving through the shallows and onto the beach.

Now Dana’s heart leaped into her mouth. The glowing light of the sand allowed her to see the other boat as it approached. There was no doubt about the figure who rowed furiously toward them.

Murta!

wo petrified children, the girls held hands as they raced across the sand and into another tunnel. It was dim and narrow but had a high roof overhead. They knew they were nearing Lugnaquillia. Rain streamed down the walls from the storm above. Their feet splashed through puddles and flooded gullies. Fear drove them on. Behind came the sounds of pursuit: a heavy body displacing water.

“Do you … know … where to go?”

Dana panted as she ran. As always the silver nails gave her speed, but she had a stitch in her side and was gulping air. She felt faint with terror. What would they do if Murta caught up with them? There was only one solution: stay ahead.

Ivy’s breathing was also labored.

“
Om … phalos
,” she gasped. “The … center.”

It was only when they arrived at the core of Lugnaquillia that Dana had any understanding of what Ivy meant.

White and gold were the colors of the immense circular chamber. The walls sheered for miles above, pale granite streaked with veins of golden ore. At the heart of the cavern was a great white saucer of burnished stone. Was it some kind of altar? Covering the vast floor was a luminous layer of gold and white sand that swirled in patterns like a giant mandala. The designs were in a state of constant flux: spirals, fractals, and figures of eight forming and re-forming before their eyes. Who changed them? Whose breath blew over them? For a moment Dana stood enthralled; then she heard the footsteps in the tunnel behind her.

“How do we get out of here?” she cried to Ivy.

“The bowl be’s the way!”

Still holding Dana’s hand, the boggle pulled her into the glittering dust.

There was no time for questions. As they raced across the floor, the shining sands rippled and eddied around them. It was like splashing through the sunlit shallows of the sea.

They had almost reached the bowl when Murta arrived.

A blood-curdling screech erupted behind them.

They didn’t turn or slow down.

Dana felt a rock strike the back of her knee. She let out a cry and almost buckled. But she recovered and kept going.

Now Ivy screamed as the next rock hit her and knocked her to the ground. The sands went into a frenzy around her.

Dana tried to pick the boggle up. Ivy was still conscious, but blood trickled from the back of her head. Her eyes widened as she stared past Dana, and when Dana followed her gaze, she too quailed.

Murta looked hideous. His skin was red and blistered, his clothes soiled and torn. He looked as if he had been dragged through the tunnels. Worst of all, a thin red vapor oozed from the corner of his eyes, like blood.

With a terrified whimper, Ivy scurried on her hands and knees to hide in the folds of Dana’s cloak.

That made Dana braver. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a wolf howl. Straightening up, she turned to face Murta. She would protect her friend. She would be her guardian.

The shining sands withdrew from Murta as he stepped through them. He himself acted strangely. Walking slowly, as if in a dream, he gazed around the chamber like someone delirious. His face worked with emotion. One was naked greed.

“Look at all this gold! It must be worth a fortune!”

Then he focused on Dana.

“What the hell—? What are you doing here, kid? And how did
I
get here? Did we fall down a hole or something?”

She could hear the fear in his voice, and it only confused her more.

Then his features distorted and something else was there. Something that wasn’t Murta. Wasn’t human. It glared at her with such savage hatred that she recoiled. When it spoke, the voice was cold and heavy, like iron; but she heard an echo of doubt.

“I shot you dead, human child. Yet here you are. It seems you are more than you appear to be.” Suddenly the eyes flared like jets of fire. Rage and confusion threw him off balance. “
You!
I came to kill the King, but you—”

Before he could say more, a screech broke out behind Dana.

“You can’ts kill our king!”

And Ivy charged.

The fury of her attack caught him off guard. Flying at Murta like a miniature harpy, she aimed a swift kick to his groin. He staggered back with a screech. Leaping on top of him, Ivy punched and scratched. He recovered quickly. Seizing her with both hands, he began to throttle her.

It was all so fast and violent, Dana was slow to react; but the moment she registered Ivy’s peril, she moved. Grabbing the two rocks Murta had thrown at them earlier, she jumped toward him with the speed of her silver-nailed shoes.

And smashed the stones against his head.

He toppled to the ground, unconscious.

Coughing and choking, Ivy scrabbled away from him.

“Are you all right?” asked Dana, anxiously checking the little boggle.

Ivy nodded, but she was trembling all over.

“He be’s worse than the Bogeyman,” she whispered. “Be’s he the demon that stoles our Queen?”

“Could be,” said Dana, still in shock herself and studying Murta with alarm. “For sure he’s the shadow in my message. But he’s inside a creepy human. What’ll we do with him? He’s going to wake up.”

Even as she spoke, Murta’s limbs began to twitch.

They looked at each other, horrified.

“What about your gift?” Dana said suddenly. “Can you put him to sleep?”

“I can’ts!” Ivy said with dismay. “I needs another to help. There must be’s a word-weaver and a tune-maker.”

“What about me?” Dana said desperately.

Murta’s eyelids were fluttering. She couldn’t bear to think of those red eyes looking at her. She gripped the rocks in her hands, prepared to bash him again.

“We’s can try,” Ivy agreed, biting her lip. “You does the words, ’cause I knows the tune.”

“Right, let’s do it,” said Dana, taking a deep breath.

She had already chosen her song; the lullaby Gabe sang to her when she was little, and still used sometimes if she was sick or had a nightmare.

They both hunkered down near Murta, but not too close. Dana kept the rocks handy, just in case. She was jangling with nerves, but as soon as she heard Ivy’s tune, an unexpected peace came over her. The air was somehow familiar. Then she recognized the notes from the field of white pillars back in the first cavern.

Dana opened her mouth and began to sing.

Go to sleep, my baby
. Even as she sang the words, she heard her father’s voice in her mind, steadying her. Making her feel safe.
Close your pretty eyes
. As her voice echoed through the glittering chamber, she noticed that the sands danced in unison with her.
Angels up above you, peeping at you dearly from the sky
.

Then Murta’s eyes began to open. The heavy lids lifted slowly, like a dozing snake’s. Hatred burned through the slits.
The same old moon is shining
. His limbs twitched. He flexed his long fingers. Dana felt her throat constrict.
The stars …
she faltered over the words. Still crooning, Ivy reached out to take her hand. Nodding, Dana resumed her song …
begin to peep
. The demon was now glaring at her, open-eyed. She tried to look away, but found she couldn’t. Every part of her trembled with horror. She was singing a lullaby to something that wanted to murder her!
And now it’s time for you, pretty baby, to go … to … sleep
.

And it wasn’t working.

Murta’s arms and legs moved as he surfaced into consciousness. He tried to sit up.

“You gots to sing more!” Ivy urged her.

Dana was choking with panic. She didn’t know any other lullabies. And what was the point in repeating the one that failed? She gripped the stones, ready to use them again. Then her eyes fell on the sands that sparkled around her like sunshine on still water. Was she imagining winged forms inside the motes of light? A little sunburst exploded in her mind, as if in response to their dance.

She sang new words.

Seothó, a thoil, ná goil go fóill
,

Seothó, a thoil, ná goil aon deoir
,

Seothó, a linbh, a chumainn’s a stóir
.

Hush, dear heart, no need to cry
,

Hush, dear heart, no need for tears
,

Hush, my child, my love and treasure
.

And this time it worked.

For the most part.

Murta fell back as if pinned to the ground. But though he lay like a corpse, the eyes were alert, glinting with red rage.

“The demon’s still awake,” said Dana, shuddering.

Ivy had stopped crooning and was studying Murta with a mix of satisfaction and puzzlement.

“The sleep spell does be binding on all mortals and fairies. This demon be’s something else. But it can’ts move without the human.”

Dana suddenly thought of zombies and wished she hadn’t.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” she said to Ivy. “
Now!
”