Honor handed Dana a velvet purse bulging with coins.
“You need provisions for your journey. And buy yourself new clothes. A cloak to keep you warm in the mountains. You must haggle or they will cheat you, especially the cluricauns. They’re the ones with the red noses.”
“Haggle?”
Dana pulled a face. She hated shopping at the best of times; the thought of arguing over the price was a nightmare.
“You can do it,” the Lady assured her in a big-sisterly tone. “Now I must return to the Court to ensure they are still occupied. I’ll return as soon as I can. Shop till you drop!”
Despite her initial reluctance, Dana was soon wandering happily from booth to booth. It was nothing like a supermarket or shopping mall. She had never seen so many fascinating things. At one stall, a golden-haired seamstress offered to embroider a triskele on the leg of her jeans. Dana couldn’t resist. She did say no, however, to the blue-faced imps who wanted to paint her elbows and knees. But could she make use of a bracelet that turned her purple? Or a ball that bounced as high as the clouds? At the sweet stall, she was mesmerized by the array of candied lollipops, liquorice, toffee sticks, and old-fashioned fruit ices. She bought a stick of fresh strawberries to dip into the fountain of molten chocolate. And after that, she got a cinnamon bun and a cup of hot cider. There was a moment before she put the little cake into her mouth when someone passed behind her and muttered quick words.
“Má itheann tú ná má ólann tú aon ghreim istigh anseo, ní bhfaighidh tú amach as go bráth arís!”
Dana spun around, but whoever it was had disappeared into the crowd. She felt uneasy. Why the warning against eating and drinking? She had already done it more than once on the quest. And Honor hadn’t spoken of it. With a fatalistic shrug, Dana polished off the food. In for a penny, in for a pound. Then she got down to business.
“Out dancin’ under the moon with boggles, I see!” snorted the leprechaun manning the cobblers’ booth. “And bejaney mack, would ye look at the state o’ dem. Like somethin’ that died and was buried.”
She had brought him her running shoes, waterlogged and clotted with mud.
The fat little shoemaker was dressed all in green. He had an apple-shaped face with red hair and beard. The pockets of his leather apron were filled with nails of every size and description. Bunches of them also protruded from the corners of his mouth, like a pincushion. As he scraped, sewed, and buffed her shoes, he continually complained that she had ruined them beyond hope. But when he was finished, they looked brand-new.
Chastened, Dana handed him a gold coin and told him to keep the change. As he bit into it, the leprechaun’s face lit up. He looked not only mollified but hugely pleased. Just before he returned the shoes, he drove a tiny silver nail into the heel of each.
“That’ll give ye a bit of umph,” he said, winking. “But steer clear o’ dem bogs!”
Next, Dana outfitted herself in new clothes suitable for traveling outdoors. Keeping in mind the chill of the mountain peaks, she chose green trousers of strong cotton, a white cambric shirt, and a yellow knitted vest.
Her finest purchase was the long flowing cloak of golden-brown wool with a capacious hood. Finally, she bought a leather satchel to replace her lost knapsack, then stocked it with apples and oranges, curranty bread, chunks of cheese, fairy buns with icing, and a bottle of ginger beer.
It was time to find Honor. Dana wandered through the crowds, looking for the older girl. Had she disguised herself again? She might be hard to detect, seeing as she tended to change not only her appearance but her personality as well! At last Dana spotted her sitting alone on a rock beyond the fair green. But something was wrong. Honor’s head was buried in her hands, and her shoulders shook as she wept.
Dana hurried toward her, growing more alarmed as she got nearer. Honor was dressed in human clothes, but the faded jeans and T-shirt were soaking wet. Her hair was drenched, too, and plastered to her head. Her skin was deathly pale with a bluish tinge. Strands of seaweed clung to her arms and legs.
Dana reached out to touch her. The girl felt icy cold.
“What happened! What’s wrong?”
“I … I remembered … shopping with my sister … before … I died.”
A shudder ran through Dana.
“What do you mean? You’re scaring me!”
Her words had an instant effect on Honor. She jumped to her feet, and in a transformation so swift it was almost imperceptible, she was the Lady once more. A golden tint flushed her features, and she wore jewels and finery.
“There you are!” she said to Dana, beaming a smile. “I love the cloak! Did you enjoy the fair?”
“But … you …” For a moment Dana considered letting the incident pass, but then decided she couldn’t. There were too many mysteries. “You said something about your sister?”
“I did?”
Honor’s smile faded. She looked shaken.
“Is she a fairy too?” Dana persisted.
“No. She lives in your world.” There was a sad echo in her voice, then she quickly apologized. “I don’t mean to be like this. I’m being pushed and pulled betwixt and between. And it’s my own fault, really. I yearn for my old life sometimes, the way there are those in your world who long for Faerie.” She shook her head ruefully. “It’s not good to pine for one place when you belong to another. It can cause soul sickness, even unto death.” Now Honor drew herself up. “I do not wish to speak of this further.” She brightened visibly, and her smile was warm. “Show me what you have bought!”
Dana frowned. It was as if a door had closed. She felt uneasy, sensing something tragic on the other side. But it was Honor’s business, not hers, and she had no right to pry. Shrugging off her disquiet, Dana gave back the purse, which was almost empty, and produced her purchases. The older girl approved of everything, but was shocked by the prices.
“You were robbed!” she cried. “The bold things! And will these supplies last the trip? There are miles to go yet.”
“They should be enough,” Dana said. “I ate as well.” She hesitated, remembering the warning at the booth. “But is it okay for me to eat fairy food? All the stories say you shouldn’t, and that if you do, you can never go home again.”
Honor laughed as she linked Dana’s arm.
“Oh, you need not worry about that, my dear. You are already ours.”
Dana felt a chill run up her back. What did she mean? The words were ominous, yet Honor spoke them so lightly, as if they meant nothing. Was Dana wrong to trust her? The Lady was so changeable. Could she be wicked as well as good? Dana knew she ought to demand an explanation, but she kept silent. Was that fairy magic too? Or was it simply that she didn’t want to loose her wish?
The merry sounds of the fair faded behind them, as they strolled away from the green and down a winding road. There on the path before them rose a giant archway made of two great standing stones with a capstone overhead. Dana knew what it was. There were dolmens and cromlechs all over Ireland. It was generally believed that they were portals to the other world.
But now a gloom was settling over Dana. She had enjoyed the fair and Honor’s company. The prospect of returning to the mountains to wander alone was not a happy one.
The Lady regarded her pensively. There was pity in her eyes.
“You do not have to do this,” she said suddenly. “If you want to go home, just say the word and I will send you back.”
Honor sounded defiant, trembling with emotion. Dana wondered if she was thinking of her own situation. The offer itself was tempting. The quest had turned out to be much harder and more terrifying than she could have imagined. And what about Murta and the red thing on the cliff? She had said nothing about them, fearing that the mission might be canceled. And on top of everything, Dana was worried about Gabe and missing him badly.
But she wouldn’t go back. Not until she found her mother. And for all that the quest was scary, it was also the greatest adventure anyone could hav
e! After enduring so much, she felt stronger and more confident than she had ever been. Only now did she truly believe that her dream was possible and that she might succeed.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said finally. “I want my wish.”
Honor looked thoughtful. “The longing for home is the hero’s greatest obstacle. It can keep us from the true path we must take.”
It was time for Dana to go.
The older girl started to fuss as usual, tightening Dana’s cloak and pulling up her hood.
“Will the doorway bring me to Lugnaquillia?” Dana asked.
“Alas, no,” was the answer. “There are some rules that cannot be subverted. This is your journey, not mine. Though I may assist you, I cannot bring you to your goal. Listen carefully, dear heart. When you pass through the dolmen, call on the gods of your people. Ask for guidance and aid. This is the right of every traveler.”
There was one last sisterly hug, then Dana broke away.
Stepping into the shadow of the dolmen, she found herself standing at a fork in the road. Two paths confronted her. The one on the right led straight into her bedroom in Wolfe Tone Square. There stood her wooden wardrobe with the cracked mirror, the scuffed walls covered with posters of the Irish World Cup team, the chest of drawers with her jeans and T-shirts, and the high bed in the corner built by Gabe. He was sitting on it, on the yellow duvet, holding her pillow and weeping out loud.
“Da!” she called, without thinking.
He looked up, startled, but couldn’t see her.
The path on the left led into the mountains. It was nighttime and she could feel the icy breath of the wind on her face.
Some part of Dana turned to go into the warm light, to lie on the duvet, to hug her poor dad … But she was already taking the harder path, the road less traveled, shivering as she stepped into the cold and the dark.
s Dana passed through the arch of the dolmen, she did as the Lady told her. She called out with all her heart and soul for help on her journey. When she reached the other side, she found herself returned to her own height and back in the Wicklow Mountains.
It was almost dawn. The first rays of sunrise were seeping into the sky. She stood on a grassy slope overlooking a narrow glen, quilted with woods and farmland. A river wound across the valley floor. She knew where she was: on the western side of Brown Mountain, above the Glenmacnass Waterfall. Friends of Gabriel’s owned a nearby farm. Their sheep, daubed with red paint, grazed the lower pastures. Though it was very early in the morning, she worried that she might be seen. She needed to reach the trees on the other side of the river.
Dana was making her way down the hillside when something caught her eye in the distance. There again she could see the sleeping giant in the mountains. Now that she knew for certain he was King Lugh, she studied him more carefully. Why did the boggles want to keep him asleep? Was he a cruel tyrant? They had talked of floods and drowning. Was that how he punished them? And did she really want to meet someone like that? She was trying to discern his character from the outline of his features when a jolt ran through her. His head had begun to turn toward her, as if to face the rising sun. And his eyes were open! Was he waking up? She caught her breath. Was it her imagination? The pain in those eyes looked like madness. But the impression was too brief, for the eyes closed again and he slept once more.
Haunted by what she had seen, Dana made her way off Brown Mountain and across the road. Thoughts circled in her mind. Was the King dangerous? Would she have to wake him to give him the message? How could she do that? And what would happen if she did? She shook her head, mystified. These were things she knew nothing about. But didn’t the Lady promise to investigate the matter?
When Dana came to the river above the waterfall, she forged it by jumping across the stones. Expecting to get wet, she was surprised to reach the other side dry as a bone. Pleased with her progress, she plunged into the woods.
It was an old spinney, mostly oak in full leaf. A pale-green lichen furred bole and branch. The undergrowth was matted with fiddlehead fern. As the sun rose beyond the treetops, a mellow light fell through the leaves. It was a perfect place for breakfast. Sitting down on a mossy stump, Dana took out an apple and some bread and cheese. Munching happily, she looked around her.
They were everywhere. Trails of color with wings and tresses flitted over wildflowers. A man in a black cloak rode past on a dark mare. From his saddlebag he tossed glittering dust into the air. Wherever the dust landed, mushrooms sprang up: elf-caps, yellow fairy clubs, plump boletus, powdery puffballs, and the red-and-white parasols of amanita muscaria.
The more she saw, the more Dana understood how thin was the veil between the two worlds, and how closely nature was entwined with the supernatural. She found herself wondering, if the countryside disappeared would Faerie die too? Honor’s words in the Glen of the Downs came back to haunt her. The destruction of the forest is the beginning of the end of our world. Then she remembered something Big Bob once said to a panel of politicians and businessmen who argued in the name of economic progress. For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Was Faerie the soul of Ireland?
Dana was more eager than ever to resume her mission. In her heart she acknowledged that it involved much more than the gaining of a wish. Along with her dream of finding her mother, she now wanted to succeed for the Lady’s sake and for the good of Faerie and her own world as well. Come hell or high water, the King of Wicklow would get his message.
Her route was straightforward. She had traced it on the map. She would continue through the woods and over the peak of Brockagh, through Glendalough and on to Lugduff, then across Glenmalure on the last lap heading westward to Lugnaquillia. Could she do it in two days? She would have to push herself to the limit.
Her meal finished, Dana set off through the forest. After a while she noticed that the leaves on the trees were hissing like green tongues. Listening closely, she began to understand what they were saying.
Elm do grieve,
Oak do hate,
Willow do walk,
If you travel late.
She shivered. It was an ominous whisper, cold and unfriendly. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a tree move. A slender willow. Its roots seemed to wade through the earth as if it were water.
Willow do walk,
If you travel late.
“It’s not late!” she called out nervously.
The willow promptly planted itself down, but something about its offended air made Dana wonder if it weren’t trying to warn her.
Moments later, she knew it was.
Oak do hate.
She was hemmed in by oak trees on every side. Then she saw they weren’t trees at all, but arboreal giants. They had leafy clusters for hair and twisted knots for eyes. Their skin was ridged and knobbled like bark. Each carried a huge club that he swung in the air as he tramped toward her.
Oakmen do hate.
Their malevolence was palpable. They hated humans. Humans killed trees. An image flashed through Dana’s mind. The tree trunks at the Glen of the Downs splattered with the white crosses that tagged them for felling; that marked them for execution.
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 aro
und 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.
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