Dana scrambled up the steep ridge, past warning signs staked in the earth. DANGER. DO NOT CLIMB. ABSEILING PROHIBITED. Didn't Gabe say these cliffs claimed at least one life a year? She found a trail too narrow for human traffic, most likely forged by the sika deer that ran wild on the upper slopes. The way was rough going. She had to push through bracken taller than herself, and the ground was wet and slippery. Higher up, she stumbled over knotted roots and patches of gorse that pricked her. Whenever she slowed down, the invisible hands hauled her upward. She was now glad of their help. She would never have made it without them.
The silvery mist had begun to recede from the valley, but the deathly silence remained, unnerving her. On her right, the waterfall hung eerily still, as if made of glass. Alert for any sound, she instantly heard the small stone that fell behind her as it clattered over the rock. She looked back quickly. Some distance below, the green sea of bracken wavered, though no wind blew. Her heart skipped a beat. Was something following her? For a moment she thought of running back to her father, but she knew he couldn't help.
A voice called from above.
"Hurry, Dana! Hurry!"
The Lady sounded distressed.
The invisible hands were more insistent now, dragging her over rock and through nettles and briar. As she crashed through a clump of fraughan bushes the bilberries burst, staining her clothes and skin red. Dana didn't object. Panic coursed through her. She had to get to the top. She had to reach safety.
She was almost at the summit when life returned to the park. Like the roar of a wave, the sounds broke over her—the rush of the waterfall, the chatter of birds, the cries of children playing. The invisible hands were gone. The Lady stood above her, extending a slender arm to help her onto the ledge.
"Something's after me!" Dana said, gasping for breath.
The Lady peered down the slope with a frown. "I feel I know this thing and yet I do not. What can this import?"
Despite her manner of speech, she looked like a normal young woman in khaki shorts and a halter top, with leather sandals on her feet. A blond ponytail jutted from the back of her white baseball cap, and she wore stylish sunglasses.
"I have sent the others to investigate," she continued, "but it has already taken flight."
Though her voice was calm, she looked worried.
"What—?" Dana began, but stopped when a cry rang out below.
"Dana! Where are you?"
It was Gabe. He sounded surprised.
"That's me Da," she said with a pang.
The Lady drew her quickly away from the ridge and into the woods beyond the waterfall. Her grip was firm, reminding Dana of the invisible hands.
Gabriel's shouts were coming faster now, echoing that mix of concern and annoyance peculiar to parents.
Dana stopped to look back.
The Lady's grasp loosened as she, too, stopped to listen. A wistfulness came over her features. "I had a father once…" Then she bit her lip. "This is all wrong." She shook her head. "What am I doing? How can I send you into the mountains alone? How can I put you in peril?"
Now Dana was the one who was doing the pulling. She clutched the young woman's arm and hurried her through the trees. Behind them, Aradhana had begun to call too and Gabriel's cries were growing more frantic. She had to escape them. It wouldn't be long before they tried to climb the ridge. Any misgivings Dana had were dissolved by the Lady's wavering. The fear of losing her wish made her all the more adamant.
"You can't back out now! This was your idea! You got me into this!"
Deeper in the woods, beyond earshot of Gabe's cries, Dana slowed down.
"Yes, it is my fault." The Lady's sigh was like a breeze in the branches overhead. "I have lured you to this. And when I'm like… Them… I don't have a problem with it. That's just the way things are done. They use mortals for their own ends without thinking about it. Yet I have human feelings sometimes."
They had come to the heart of the wood. The Lady linked arms with Dana in a more casual manner. Dana noticed how the briars and brambles gave way before them. Deer peeked shyly from behind the trees. An otter slid from the riverbank and into the water. The air was filled with trills as songbirds swooped around them in arabesques of flight. When they passed a clump of wild rose, a flurry of pink petals showered their path.
At first her companion seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Then Dana glimpsed something different at the corner of her eye: a vision of the Lady in a flowing green gown and a crown of white flowers, waving graciously to all around her.
But it was an ordinary young woman who argued with her.
"Look, you're just a kid. I should find someone else to do the job. Someone older. It's usually teenagers who go on these missions."
Dana almost choked. She recognized the tone in the older girl's voice, the same one her father had used when he told her they were going to Canada. The finality of the adult who held all the power; the certainty that they knew best. A rebellious fury surged through her.
"You made a pact! You promised! I want my wish and I'll do anything to get it. I'm nearly thirteen. I'm as good as any teenager. You can't take this away from me!"
The Lady hesitated. It was obvious she wanted to be convinced. "The High King says you are the one… He says mortals always underestimate their young."
"He's right!" Dana insisted. "We can always do more, just no one lets us. I can do this! I know I can!"
The Lady looked no happier. They had reached the edge of the forest. As they stepped from the trees, they looked out over a landscape of heathered hills that swelled into the distance like a green grassy ocean. They had arrived at the threshold of the Wicklow Mountains.
And the way was barred.
A great gray standing stone blocked their path. The monolith was scored with a hieroglyphic script that curved like the hills themselves.
The Lady rested her hand upon the stone.
"It declares the borders of the Mountain Kingdom closed. There are more around the perimeter. How long they have stood here we do not know. The mountain folk are a solitary people and rarely mingle with the High Court or the rest of fairy-kind. There are spells on the stones to keep intruders out, but even if there weren't, we would defer to their wishes. Every kingdom in Faerie sets its own laws."
She gazed into the distance.
"Do you know of the mountain called Lugnaquillia?"
"The highest in the chain," Dana said, nodding. "Da and I climbed it last summer."
The Lady looked pleased, and a little relieved.
"Lugnaquillia is the site of the palace of our Tánaiste, Lugh of the Mountain, Lugh of the Wood."
Dana blenched. From where they stood, Lugnaquillia was at the farthest point of the range, beyond many peaks and valleys. It would take days to get there. And that meant she would have to spend nights in the mountains alone. A hard task for anyone, never mind a twelve-year-old who didn't have a tent or enough provisions.
"Right, I'm off to Lugnaquillia," she said, with forced heartiness. She couldn't let the Lady see her fear. The mission was already hanging on a knife-edge. "To find Lugh of the Mountain, Lugh of the Wood. What's the message?"
Looking anxious again, the Lady frowned at Dana.
Dana held her breath, doing her best to appear relaxed and unconcerned.
The Lady spoke carefully.
"A shadow of the Destroyer has entered the land. Where is the light to bridge the darkness?"
Dana was baffled.
"What does it mean?" she asked, a quaver in her voice.
"The Tánaiste will know. The message is for him. Your mission is simply to carry it to him."
But the Lady's unease was peaking. Her eyes were dark with concern.
Dana shivered, feeling suddenly cold. Slipping off her knapsack, she took out her anorak and pulled it on.
The older girl began to fuss over her, tightening the hood on Dana's head and tucking in stray strands of hair.
"Keep your ears covered. The winds will be colder out in the open. Have you brought food and drink? Travel always westward. Into the setting sun."
"I know what to do," Dana said, backing away from her. "I'm all right."
She wanted to leave immediately, before the other could change her mind.
The Lady brightened suddenly.
"Wait, I almost forgot! I can give you something! It's tradition. A special gift. To help you on your way."
Dana half expected her to produce a Swiss Army knife from the pockets of her khaki shorts; but instead it was a little golden box with a jeweled clasp. Inside was a red pomade that smelled of apples.
"Close your eyes," the Lady said. As she dabbed the sweet-smelling balm onto Dana's eyelids, she explained its use. "This will let you see what mortals cannot. Your eyes will pierce the veil that cloaks our world. You will know that Faerie is all around you. And those who think they are hidden will be made visible, yet they will assume you are blind. This will give you time to judge friend from foe."
A chill ran through Dana. There would be other enemies besides the shadow she had spoken of? It wasn't a question Dana could raise, for fear that the older girl would get upset again. She was clutching Dana's hands, reluctant to let her go.
"Okay, I'm off!" said Dana, breaking away. "Goodbye!"
And hurrying down the trail that led into the mountains, she didn't stop to look back till she was some distance away.
There stood the Lady in the shade of the forest with boughs of oak leaves overhead like a green canopy. Her gown shimmered with dappled light. Her long fair hair was wreathed in white hawthorn.
"My blessings go with you," she called out in a silvery voice. "May you be of good courage as you follow the greenway."
