The Light-Bearer's Daughter (31 page)

They were standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Irish Sea. Cold waters crashed on the rocks below.

This is where I died
.

Suddenly they were on a narrow shelf just below the cliff edge. Dana let out a cry as the wind whipped around the corner and made her teeter. A hang glider called out a warning from above. Now a whirring sound came behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. At first she wasn’t sure what she was looking at. There was a crack in the air itself. Then a fiery arrow shot through it! Beside her, Honor let out a death cry. The arrow had pierced her back and heart. For one awful second, she was impaled against the rock wall.

Then the arrow dissolved.

Honor jerked back in shock and surprise. That was when she lost her balance. Screaming, arms waving, she plummeted into the sea.

Dazed, Dana saw her friend’s body strike the water below. Yet she also saw a luminous imprint of Honor tumble through the rend in the air.

It was like trying to view a puzzle that contained two pictures at the same time. There was Honor sinking through the murky sea. But there she was, also, at the bottom of a well of blue light.

And in that blue well, she wasn’t dead; but lay fast asleep, like a pale flower, shining and innocent, a newborn soul.

“Oh,” said Dana softly.

Let me tell you what you see. While I died in the water, my soul fell through the crack into an in-between place. There I slept for a year and a day
.

Dana was glad that Honor explained what happened next, for the images were so startling and alien.

A great golden eagle dived into the blue well. Like a gull plucking a shell from the sea, it fished Honor out. Yet the eagle’s face was human and seemed to mirror Honor’s own.

That is my twin sister. She undertook a mission to save me
.

The eagle’s wings enfolded the sleeping girl like a shawl of golden feathers that were also tongues of flame. The whole scene exploded with fire. Now Honor stepped out of the conflagration, awake and reborn, with gold-tinted skin and hair crowned with flowers. She glided toward the rend in the air that hung over Bray Head like a fiery mouth.

Look closely! Do you see it?

Dana’s heart tightened. There was something caught in the crack. Red and segmented, a writhing shape, it burned in the flames. Dana recognized the thing that had pursued her through the mountains. It was dying in the fire.

But now as Honor stepped through the rend, the red shape broke free and dropped behind her. And when Honor disappeared through the crack just before it closed, the demon fell onto the summit of Bray Head.

The images faded. Dana and Honor were back on the dark plain in front of their campfire. Honor’s voice echoed with guilt and horror.

“The Midsummer Fire would have killed the demon except for me. The shadow of the Destroyer used
my
shadow to free itself. It’s all my fault. I am the one who brought this doom upon us; the thing that threatens both worlds! This truth I discovered when I came to
Dún Scáith
and I cannot bear it.”

She buried her face in her hands and wept.

Dana didn’t know what to say; but she was beginning to see how people got trapped in the Fort of the Shades.

“Don’t do this!” she said, at last. “You’re only one person. How can you blame yourself for something this big? You didn’t ask for the demon to come. And anyway, he’s been here before. You didn’t start this. You’re just one small part of it.”

As Dana spoke, she hurriedly roasted more hazelnuts and made Honor eat them. Though she wanted to take some herself, she didn’t. She needed to ensure there was enough for her mother.

It took a while for Honor to recover. She smiled at Dana with warmth and affection.

“Thanks,” she said softly. Her voice sounded abashed. “I came here to help you and instead you’ve helped me! Let’s go find your mother.”

Dana shook her head.

“No, you’ve done enough. You showed me what I need to know. You can’t stay here. You’ve got to go home.”

The golden tint seeped through Honor’s skin. Her eyes gleamed like blue stars. But even as the Lady reached out for Dana, her touch began to fade.

“Dear one,
a chroí
. Thou art a trueheart and a brave-heart. May you fare well on your own journey into the dark.”

Dana stood up slowly. She was alone on the burnt plain, surrounded by shadows. Reluctantly, she turned away from the fire. She knew what lay ahead. She understood. It wasn’t the demon that imprisoned the Queen in
Dún Scáith
.

Dana hoisted her satchel over her shoulder and drew her cloak around her. Then she set out.

To free her mother from the private hell she had made for herself.

ana trudged over the bleak plain. In the distance rose a jagged range of mountains. The sky was gray; the ground, ashen. Dread seeped into her bones along with the chill. The strength of the fairy food was leaving her, but she wouldn’t take more. She needed the hazelnuts for her mother who had been too long in that place. Would they be enough? Could they draw her from the shadows? And what if they didn’t?

Dana pushed the dark thoughts away. She knew they were part of
Dún Scáith
. It would try to attack her with doubts and fears.

She had decided to head for the mountains, though they seemed so far away. She couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. But with each step she took, she felt more drained and hopeless, more insubstantial. Would she end up like Honor? A lonely ghost, wandering lost? And if she did, who would call her from the shadows?

Stop it
.

Sometimes she cried out for her mother.

“EDANE LASAIR! WHERE ARE YOU? CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

Her words never traveled far, but fell around her like stones.

Sometimes she whispered.

“Mum? You there? Mum?”

Yet she did not falter, nor did she turn back. And as she pushed on, drawing nearer to the uplands, she felt herself turning into a thing of steel and stone; a creature that neither weariness nor despair nor endless miles could defeat. And she began to know in her heart that she would prevail.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
.

At last she reached the mountains and the path that led through them. Soon she found herself on a narrow road that wound along the side of a cliff. The bare rock was dark-red, sheering miles above her and plunging miles below. The air had grown dimmer. Was night falling? Could she continue in the dark?

She was just beginning to wonder if she should turn back, when a light bobbed on the trail ahead of her. It appeared to be swaying back and forth. As it approached her, she saw the hooded figure carrying a lantern, and the donkey behind it, laden with baskets.

By the time the stranger reached her, Dana had given up trying to discern its gender. The features inside the hood kept wavering; one minute, male, the next, female. To further confuse her, the masculine face was sometimes soft and gentle, while the feminine could be cruel and fierce. In the end, Dana accepted that this person was both man and woman, and somehow neither.

“Who are you?” she asked in wonder.

She was glad to hear her own voice. A good solid sound. Not a ghost yet.

“I am the Singer of Tales.”

The voice was melodic, yet again lacked the distinction of gender. What followed next had the same bizarre logic of a dream. The Singer pointed to the panniers on either side of the donkey. They were filled with books.

“Choose one.”

Dana searched through them tentatively: paper scrolls and Egyptian papyri; tablets of wax and clay; manuscripts of vellum; hand-sewn texts bound in calfskin; even thin sheets of gold with letters worked into the metal. As well as illustrated tomes and glossy paperbacks, there were talking books, computer disks, and videotapes. A metallic box glowed and hummed with laser, electronic, and holographic devices that she guessed were books yet to be invented.

A few volumes she recognized from Gabriel’s collection, but most were a mystery to her.
The Book of Time. The Book of Names. The Red Book of Westmarch. The Yellow Book of Leccan. The Book of the Dun Cow. The Book of Lindisfarne. The Books of Mica Schist. The Mahabharata. The Mabinogion. The Book of the Dead. The Book of the Living
.

She picked one whose title caught her eye.
The Book of Childhood
. The cover showed a wide river flowing through a green countryside. There were hundreds, no thousands, maybe millions of children gathered on the riverbanks. All were drinking the water. Some scooped it up with cracked cups, while others used their bare hands.

Dana was mesmerized by the image.

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“The river is the inexhaustible Source of Life,” said the Singer. “The children who drink from cracked cups were loved from birth. Though the cup is flawed, as with all human love, still it is a gift that serves them. The children who drink from their own hands were not given love. They must help themselves to the water of life.”

“That’s sad,” murmured Dana.

“The saddest tale of all,” the Singer agreed.

Dana thought of Gabe. Though things hadn’t been perfect, she had definitely got a cup.

She noticed a book under the Singer’s arm and peered at the title.

The Book of Dreams
.

“What about that one?”

“You may not see it. It is a tale to be told in your future.”

Dana returned to the baskets, digging further. Here was the world at her fingertips! Everything she ever wanted to know at a glance. She rummaged through books on dragons, ancient stones, and the creation of the universe. She was about to grab another pile, when she stopped. She could be there forever, lost in thoughts and ideas. Was this the test? A trick or a trap? She tossed the books back.

“You must choose one,” the Singer of Tales insisted.

Exasperated, Dana closed her eyes and grabbed the first thing at hand. It was bound in white leather and stamped with gold.

The Book of Obscured Memories
.

“How about this one?”

Inside the Singer’s cowl, the face changed. Saint Kevin’s gray eyes gazed out at her.

“‘Obscured’ means secret or hidden away, little sister. Memories may be obscured for good reason. Before you look, take heed and take care.
No one can save you from this. None of us may be kept from the truth; it is an appointment we meet either in life or at death
.”

Dana was suddenly afraid. More afraid than she had been throughout the quest. She wasn’t expecting it to come so suddenly and without warning, yet here it was: the challenge of her own dark truth in the Fort of the Shades.

Something stirred inside her, deep in the abyss. Some monstrous memory she had buried long ago. Every part of her screamed.
Put the book down! Leave it shut! Don’t look!

She was shaking so hard, she thought she might faint. Like a small child waking alone in the dead of night, she faced the terror of the unknown. She wanted to hide in the covers. She wanted to call for her dad.

Dana steadied herself. She had no choice. If this was what she had to do to find her mother, then so be it.

She opened the book.