The Light-Bearer's Daughter (30 page)

he next morning, Dana didn’t stop to eat the breakfast that appeared in her bedroom. She dressed, grabbed her cloak, and ran downstairs to the hall. The first thing she noticed was the pervasive gloom. Some of the ladies were weeping. No one would meet her eyes
.

The harper came forward to give her the bad news
.

“The King has fought the demon throughout the night, yet still the battle rages.”

She felt sick, sensing that the harper hadn’t told her the worst
.

“Is he all right?” she whispered
.

“His wounds are great,” came the reluctant reply. “He is in peril.”

Dana bit back a cry. “I’ve got to find my mother! The message says she can fight the darkness. I need to go now!”

The harper blenched. It was obvious he was torn
.

“The King has commanded we keep you here until he sends word. We cannot gainsay him.”

“I’m not your prisoner!” she argued. “Look, the light is our only hope. All I need is someone to show me the way to
Dún Scáith.
If you can’t or won’t, how about finding me someone who will?”

The harper’s face cleared. He bowed to her
.

“My lady, you have wisdom beyond your years. This I can do. Return to your own world. I will send you a guide.”

As the harper waved his hand, Dana felt the slight push that sent her through the veil
.

The palace and gardens were gone. She was back on the broad summit of Lugnaquillia, surrounded by bog and windy mountains.

Moments later, the harper’s promise was fulfilled. A little gray mouse came scampering through the grass and up to Dana. Then it changed before her eyes into a little old lady with a whiskery face.

Dana could have hugged Mrs. Woodhouse, but the situation was urgent.

“Can you help me find my mother? I’ve got to hurry! For her sake and the King’s!”

“Yes, my pet,” Mrs. Woodhouse assured her. “I am here to show you the way.”

She led Dana to the western edge of the South Prison. It overlooked the bog between Lugnaquillia and the lower slopes of Slievemaan. Dana shuddered. This was the place where Lugh had lain buried and where he had risen up in his madness to cause the bog-burst.

“It is the path you must go,” the old woman said quietly, “the dark trail of your story which you must follow. Be of good courage. Do not fear your own ruin, for there is a treasure within you.”

“Are you coming with me?” Dana asked, though she already knew the answer.

“This is your quest,
a leanbh
. Your mission. When a girl goes to seek the Great Mother, no one may go with her. It is a sacred journey she undertakes alone.”

“Slievemaan,” Dana murmured to herself. “
Sliabh na mBan
. The Women’s Mountain.”

Mrs. Woodhouse handed Dana the leather satchel she had left behind in the palace.

“You will need this.”

Assuming it held provisions, Dana slung the satchel over her shoulder. And with her golden-brown cloak wrapped around her, she set off. Though she felt nervous and excited and almost dizzy with fear, one thought overrode all emotion:
I’m going to find my mother
.

She stopped only once to look back at Mrs. Woodhouse.

The old woman’s appearance had changed yet again. Half lost in the rising mist, draped in a gray mantle, a gigantic female figure stood against the sky.

Dana continued on her journey, making her way across boggy ground, past craters of black peat exposed by wind and rain. Clouds shrouded the morning sun. A cold mist streamed over the landscape. Soon she could see only a few feet in front of her. Banks of gray haze hemmed her in on all sides. Lone trees stood out like the masts of tall ships emerging from a fog at sea. Her face felt wet, as if with tears.

She was walking in the Wicklow Mountains and yet she wasn’t. To bolster her courage, she tried to imagine the wolf padding alongside her; tried to think of Saint Kevin and his quiet strength. But neither image held for long. Nothing could hold firm in this liminal space on the threshold of the unknown. Though her fear was growing, she didn’t think of turning back. Half fairy, half mortal, this was her birthright: to walk between the worlds.

It seemed like hours before the sun broke through the clouds to burn away the mist. She found herself walking in a green valley not unlike Glendalough. The sudden beauty of it made her smile.

Then they came.

At first she thought they were rain clouds speeding over the mountainside and into the vale. Then, as they drew nearer, she saw what they were: a swarm of black crows with their eyes sewn shut. As they poured into the glen, they attacked everything around them: ripping out plants and stripping trees, tearing apart animals, devouring birds and insects. The silence of the slaughter made it seem more terrible. A fog of blood obscured the scene.

When the demon birds departed, there was nothing left.

Dana stood on barren ground. Not a single blade of grass in sight. No bird sang. No creature stirred. A chill wind wailed around her. A gray light dimmed all. Was this
Dún Scáith
? The Fort of the Shades? Or was it
Dún Eadóchais
? The Fort of Despair?

She could sense the suffering of the land. With each step she took, it seeped into her body and withered her soul.
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod
. With a new and dawning horror, she realized she was not walking on solid earth, but over a cesspit of noxious substances. Her stomach heaved as the sweet sickly smells rose up.

And even as she recognized the worst of her nightmares, it began to happen.

The noisome mud gurgled like a throat. Now the ground opened up to swallow her. She fell into a stinking pit. Like a wild thing she tried to claw her way back up; but not even the silver nails in her shoes could help her climb the slimy walls.

She screamed for help.

Her screams fell like stones into a bottomless well.

She screamed again.

And again.

A sudden thought struck her. This was not only her nightmare, but her mother’s too! The hellish dream of a light being trapped in matter. It could only mean one thing. Her mother was near!

Dana started to shout at the top of her lungs.

“MAMA! MAMA!”

A noise sounded at the top of the pit. Dana gulped back her cries as a white face peered over the edge.

It wasn’t her mother.

onor!
A slender white arm reached down toward Dana. Jumping to catch it, she hung on for dear life. As she scrambled up the wall, she felt as if she were being dragged from the grave.

“Oh, thank you!” she cried as she clambered out of the pit. “I’m so—”

Her words died as she stared at the older girl.

Honor was shivering uncontrollably. Drenched to the skin, she was deathly pale, almost blue. The jeans and T-shirt were those she had worn briefly at the fair, and once again they were wet and strewn with seaweed.

“Do y-y-you … know … wh-wh-o I am?” she asked Dana.

Her eyes were dark and empty; her voice, lifeless. “Oh God,” Dana whispered.

Worse was to come. Even as Dana watched, a red stain appeared on the girl’s T-shirt, as if she were bleeding from the heart.

“You’re wounded!”

Honor shrugged indifferently.

“It c-c-comes and g-g-goes.”

Dana could bear it no longer. As the waves of horror washed over her, she backed away from her friend.

“
Help me
,” Dana whispered, pulling her fairy cloak around her.

Only then did she remember her satchel, still strapped over her shoulder. Acting on instinct, she opened it. There inside was a little bronze pan, some pieces of kindling, a tinderbox, and a handful of hazelnuts. She looked around her. She was standing on an empty plain that had been blasted by fire. The stubble of vegetation was burned and blackened. The air was ashen.

Honor followed her look and shuddered.

“N-n-nothing l-l-lives here.”

Dana could feel the horror trying to reclaim her, but she fought it off. Removing her cloak, she threw it over Honor’s shoulders. The other girl stood straighter as the golden-brown folds enveloped her. Now Dana trembled in the bitter cold, but she knew what to do.

There was enough kindling to start a small fire with the tinderbox. Just as she had hoped, the fairy wood burned without being consumed. The two girls hunkered down in front of the flames. Both kept their eyes on the fire, as if to ward off the shadows that hovered beyond. Dana was silently thanking Mrs. Woodhouse as she placed the pan over the fire and roasted a few hazelnuts. The moment she popped one into her mouth, she felt strengthened; but when she offered the pan to Honor, she was met with a blank stare.

Dana took a hazelnut and put it to the girl’s lips.

“
Eat
,” she commanded.

Honor obeyed. Moments later, a faint flush entered her cheeks.

“More,” Honor whispered.

Between them, they finished what was in the pan.

Dana could feel the courage surging through her veins. Her mind grew calm and lucid, ready to deal with the situation. Honor was clearly restored. When the older girl insisted on returning the cloak, Dana saw that the red wound had disappeared and her clothes were dry. Yet it wasn’t the blue-eyed Lady who crouched opposite her, but the human girl Honor sometimes became.

“Dana?” she said at last, her voice shaking with emotion.

“Yes, it’s me!” Dana almost cried with relief. “What happened? What are you doing here?”

“This is
Dún Scáith
. The Fort of the Shades.” Honor glanced at the desolate plain around them. “I came into the Mountain Kingdom, as I said I would, to find out why Lugh was asleep, and maybe discover what the demon was doing here. I wanted to protect you but …

I … fell into darkness.”

“Did the demon capture you?” Dana thought of her mother. “Did he bring you here?”

“Yes and no.” Honor gave her an odd look. “I’m only beginning to understand the nature of this place. It’s not the monster outside that holds us here, but the monster within. Yet, for me, these two are the same. I can’t explain it, Dana, but I can show you: the nightmare I was reliving before you called me from the shadows. If you will, take my hand.”

Dana hesitated, balking at the prospect of another nightmarish experience. But she needed to know more about
Dún Scáith
if she was going to free her mother. She reached out for Honor.

As soon as they clasped hands, the landscape changed. The sudden shock of color made Dana’s head spin. Instead of the dreary gray, there was blue sky, green trees, and sunlit rock. She knew at once where she was. On the hillside of Bray Head, the small mountain by the seashore of the town where she lived.

Honor was beside her; but when she spoke, her voice echoed in Dana’s mind.

Because of the spell on the marker stones, I could not stay long in the Kingdom as a fairy. I donned my human guise. But since that part of me is dead …

Dana shuddered, remembering Honor as the ghost of a drowned girl. Was that how her friend had died? But what about the wound? The blood? Where did that come from?