by J. M. Hofer
The thought of Seren in danger pushed Bran over the edge. He stiffened. “I assure you, I will not let that happen.”
“See that you do not. The Guardians have helped your mother send you a warning.” He gave Bran a solemn look. “You must return home at once.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The Isle
Lucia had gone to bed shortly before sundown, scarcely able to keep her eyes open. She had slept only a few hours when she felt herself being pulled between the worlds. She had come to recognize the call well, for it had been happening more and more as of late.
Images came to her in flashes. She relaxed, allowing them in.
A hooded man with a torch, her villa, the orchard—the images were like the threads on a loom she had to weave together. She remembered the incantation Aveta had taught her: “Sacred Guardians of Earth, power of bone, stone and soil, root this vision, plant it deep, so I may walk within it.” She repeated it over and over within her mind. Gradually, the threads materialized into one solid tapestry in time.
She found herself standing in her garden. The ground beneath her feet felt solid as if she had gotten up from her bed and walked outside. She watched in horror as a grotesque, hooded figure with a torch emerged from the trees, surrounded by pale figures crawling on all fours. They moved toward her, and terror gripped her throat. Although she knew they could not see her, she could not help but cower behind the small stone wall encircling the garden. She watched some of them go into the fields, sniffing like dogs. Others slunk along the ground to enter the house. Not finding what they were looking for, they became more agitated.
Where are Gwion and Aveta? She ran to their little cottage, afraid she would find them set upon. Luckily, the door was ajar. She looked inside, but no one was there. Next, she checked the stable. No horses.
Where are they?
She smelled smoke. The hooded man had set fire to the fields. She watched in horror as he threw his torch upon her rooftop. “No!” she cried. Soon clouds of smoke were billowing up into the night sky, pouring from the roof of the villa, blacking out her vision…
Desperately, she searched for clues. When will this happen?
It was still autumn. The apples they had picked earlier that day were still in baskets next to Aveta’s cottage, and her garden hoe was in the same place she had left it before going in for supper.
I must see one more thing. She breathed in deeply, focusing, and willed herself up, shooting her consciousness above the trees, out toward the lake, high above the smoke and flames. There, she found what she was looking for. The moon. It was full, its intense light shining down upon the lake.
She was about to force herself from the vision, but then spied something on the water far below. What is it? She willed herself closer. It was a small boat with three figures onboard, rowing toward the island in the middle of the lake. She tried to get closer, but the boat disappeared in the mist, as did the lake, then the house, then the orchard and finally, the horizon.
She became aware of her body, her bed, and her surroundings. She tried fighting for more time, but it was no use—the fabric was unraveling. She let it go.
She opened her eyes, her heart pounding. Sweat had drenched the bed linens. She lay there for some time, motionless, willing herself to memorize every detail, burning it into her memory.
Moments later, Aveta pushed her door open and whispered urgently into Lucia’s bedroom. “My lady? Are you alright? I heard you cry out in your sleep.”
“We need to leave,” Lucia sprang from her bed. “Something’s coming—and soon—the villa will burn, and nothing will be left!”
“Lucia, what did you see, exactly?” Aveta asked calmly.
“Aveta! Please, trust me—we must leave—I’m afraid they’ll come tonight!”
Aveta must have seen the terror in her eyes, because she did not ask any more questions. “Very well. I know a place we’ll be safe. I’ll go and tell Gwion.”
Lucia stuffed her warmest dress and cloak into a large leather bag, and pushed her fear as far back in her mind as possible. She ran past the library and her stomach seized up at the thought of it going up in flames. Tears clouded her vision as she grabbed an armful of her favorite books. She ran and buried them in the orchard, along with the coffer of gold her husband had left for her in case he had not returned. He had not, of course. She had never used any of it, having always been able to manage the land well. I’ll be damned if I suffer it to be stolen now.
She passed the stables, where Gwion came out to meet her. “I’ve spoken to the horses. They will go to pasture far from here until we come back.”
“What do you mean you’ve spoken to the horses?” Lucia took him by the arms. “Where have they gone? We need the horses!”
“Don’t worry, Lady Lucia. We’re going home.” He smiled.
“Going home?”
“To the Isle.” He pointed to the cloud of mist far off in the middle of the moonlit lake.
Lucia heard a door slam. She turned to see Aveta walking toward them, emanating an authority that took her by surprise.
She looked Lucia in the eye. “Do you trust me?
“I do.”
“Good. Follow me.”
Aveta led the way down to the tiny dock on the lake where the rowboat was tied. Gwion dragged the fish nets aside and Aveta and Lucia climbed in, facing each other in the small boat. Gwion gave them a little push away from the dock and then jumped in, taking the oars. He was soon rowing in a steady, powerful rhythm out towards the island, far off in the center of the lake.
Are we really going to attempt to reach the island? Lucia’s heart pounded with the idea of finally landing upon the fabled island she had desired to see for so long.
“Lucia, this will be hard for you to believe, but it’s the truth. I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, but I simply couldn’t until now.”
“What?”
Aveta took a deep breath. “Your mother is my elder sister, and your grandmother is High Priestess of the Sisterhood on the island. We were born and grew up there.”
“What?” Lucia sat silently in the boat, shocked. “You’re my mother’s sister?
Aveta nodded.
“Aveta, how could you have kept this from me?
“I didn’t want to. Believe me. I promise you, when all is explained, you’ll see why it had to be this way.”
Lucia said nothing for a long while, in disbelief over Aveta’s deception. Finally, she resolved herself to it. If she says it had to be that way, then perhaps it did. She felt especially close to Aveta and Gwion—truly, she thought of them as family, so finding out they actually were was not so hard to believe. Her anger gave way to curiosity. Although her brash temper flared up regularly, it died down just as quickly. She was eager for answers.
“You truly grew up on the island?” She gaped at Aveta.
“Yes.”
“Why did you leave? Why did my mother leave?”
“Your mother left to be with your father. It happens, from time to time, that someone manages to reach the Isle—sometimes the spirits of the lake lead them there, and sometimes the mist is thin and they slip through. It so happened with your father. He washed up on the shore, and your mother found him. In the Sisterhood, we are taught from a very young age that any man who lands upon our shores is to be killed, but from what I understand, your mother claimed your father appeared to be dead already. She was fifteen at the time, had never been off the Isle, and had never seen a man before. Of course, he was not dead. I am not sure what he said to her to gain her trust, but she led him to the far side of the island and hid him there, quite well, for moons from what I understand. Nature took its course and they became lovers.” Aveta sighed. “They were discovered, of course, and then brought before the Sisterhood for judgment.”
“What do you mean, judgment?” Her stomach tightened.
“Unfortunately, there are only two choices for a woman of the Sisterhood in a situation such as your mother�
�s—either the man she loves is banished and she rejoins her sisters, or she chooses exile and leaves the Isle with him. Your mother chose the latter.”
Oh, Mother. Lucia felt a pang of compassion, realizing her mother gave up everything for a life of loneliness. Her father was rarely home while she was growing up. In fact, she scarcely knew him. She and her mother were nearly inseparable because of it. When the time came for her to marry, Lucia had suffered tremendous guilt. She did not want to leave her mother behind, but her father had insisted on it.
“Your grandmother was very unhappy about it. Daughters of the Isle have been known to leave for a man, but always for one of the Guardian clans. Marry a Roman? No. Our mother was heart-broken, and so was I—I was a small girl when your mother left. I missed her terribly.”
The more Lucia learned, the more questions popped up in her head. “Why did you leave? For Gwion’s father?”
“No.” Aveta smiled, her eyes tearing up. “Not for Gwion’s father, though if fate had been kinder, I would have.” She looked over at her son.
“What happened, then?”
Aveta sighed. “Your mother and I have another sister. Her name is Cerridwen. We all have our faults, and hers are immense pride and a terrible temper. She felt Gwion had stolen something from her son.”
“What?” Lucia back at Gwion, but he said nothing.
“I’ll tell you another time. Let’s just say that we needed to flee the Isle—you only have to witness my sister’s anger once to know you never want to witness it again. She’s dangerous and irrational when she’s angry, and her son takes after her.”
“So she’s why you left?” Lucia thought of her own inability to hold a grudge. “She can’t have stayed angry with you for that long.”
Aveta clucked her tongue. “You underestimate her wrath. There’s more to the story.”
“Where did you go, then?”
“To find your mother. I always wondered what had happened to her. Luckily, Talhaiarn had kept himself apprised of where she was—a daughter of the Order is always a daughter of the Order, whether she chooses to live as one or not. The journey to find her took me a nearly a week. I remember arriving at her door—my heart was pounding. At first, she didn’t recognize me. Once I told her who I was, she embraced me and we both sobbed for a long time. She told me everything that had happened to her since she’d left the Isle—that your father took her to his city and married her, as he promised to do, and that, nine moons later, she gave birth to a baby girl and named her Lucia – a name in her new tongue, meaning ‘light.’ She told me your father had recently accepted a marriage proposal for you. She also confided in me that you had the Sight, and that she did not know what to do about it.”
Aveta reached over to put her hand on Lucia’s knee. “Lucia, you need to know that you have been given one of the Great Mother’s most precious gifts, though at times, I know it can feel like a curse. This is only because you don’t understand it yet. The Sisters on the Isle pray and pray for their daughters to be blessed with the Sight—but it happens very rarely.
Lucia did not know what to say.
“As your mother could no longer help you, I came up with a plan. I suggested that she offer me as a household servant to Lord Camulos, as a wedding present. That way, I could stay close to you while I waited for Gwion to finish his apprenticeship.”
Lucia though about the sacrifices that had been made on her behalf. “You gave up your freedom for me? What if Camulos had been a brute? Or had treated you poorly?”
“Then we would have suffered by his hand together, I imagine. I would have been there for you, either way. In fact, if such a thing had been the case, I would have been even more grateful that I was there for you.”
Lucia shook her head.
“I know this is a lot to bear.” Aveta looked her in the eye. “I wish I could have told you sooner. I’m sorry. I hate secrets, but they’re necessary sometimes.”
After a moment, Lucia said, “My mother left her home and family behind for a man who was never there for her. She was so lonely, Aveta. I would sleep in her bed when my father wasn’t home, and that was almost every night I can remember. Now, I’ve learned the way things should have been. None of us are where we should be.”
Aveta smiled at her final comment. “That’s where I think you’re wrong, Lucia. I believe the Great Mother puts us exactly where we need to be, exactly when we need to be there. I don’t think that it was by accident that Gwion ended up with the blessings of Cerridwen’s potion, nor do I think it was by chance that your father found his way to our shores, or that you were born away from them. Life is ever-unfolding, and the path the Great Mother sets us upon has a purpose. Have faith that you are where you are supposed to be. All will be revealed in time.”
Aveta’s words rang true, but Lucia still felt lost. “I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it.”
“Lucia, your mother has chosen her life. She loves your father, absent or not, and would never leave him. Even though she sees him rarely, she truly loves him.”
“You’re right, but I don’t think he realizes what she gave up for him.”
“Perhaps—perhaps not. Love cannot be measured by those watching from the outside. Only your mother and father know what they mean to each other. Have faith that your mother is a stronger woman than you are giving her credit for. No Daughter of the Isle is ever a victim. Remember that.”
Aveta was right. Her mother would never leave her father, until the day she buried him. Even then, Lucia was not sure she would leave her home. She changed the subject.
“Why is the island so difficult to reach?”
“That’s not easy to explain, but I’ll try. For one, like water, it moves—drifting like a boat upon the sea of time, fading in and out. When the Sisters come and go, which they do rarely, they go in groups and ask the Great Mother and the spirits of the lake to guide them safely. The larger the group, the easier the passage. Alone, it’s much trickier.”
“How does it work?” Lucia murmured, staring into the mist.
“You’ll fail if you try to reach it using your senses. To your eyes and ears it will always seem to be just a few strokes away, but you’ll never reach it. Many have drowned or gone mad in this way. I have received much training, but to be honest, I doubt I would be able to do this alone. Luckily, we have Gwion with us. Between the two of us, I’m hoping we can manage.” She smiled at her son.
“The Great Mother expects us.” Gwion shrugged his shoulders. “She’ll raise her veil.”
A thick mist surrounded them, swallowing their boat. Nothing could be heard but the sound of water and the oars dipping in and out of the lake. Lucia did not have the faintest idea which way they were going.
“The Sisters have lived on the Isle for generations, keeping it safe from outsiders. We have sister clans that also worship the Great Mother, as we do. Up north are the people of Taranis, to the east live Belenus and his clan, and to the south are the Firefolk—Bran’s people.
Lucia’s heart jumped at the mention of their recent visitor’s name.
“Each clan has an ancient relic that its chieftain protects. Ours is the only clan without a chieftain. Instead, we have a High Priestess—your grandmother, Rowan—and our relic is a cauldron.”
No chieftain. Lucia thought back to the story of her parents. “Why are there no men permitted on the island?”
“We learned long ago at great cost that it must be this way. One day I’ll tell you the legend of Arthfael, and you’ll understand.”
Lucia wondered if she could be happy in such a place. “When a woman from the island takes a lover, does he wait for her?”
Aveta laughed. “Some do, but they’re rare. Most don’t. Nor do we expect them to. To make love to a woman only a few times a year is not enough for any man of a fathering age.”
“Or woman, I suspect,” Lucia remarked.
“And yet, you’ve gone without a man in your bed for two years.” Aveta pointed ou
t.
“Well, yes.” She had missed her husband’s touch, but had to admit that the freedom had been wonderful.
“If your life is fulfilling, you might be surprised how little this can matter. Perhaps it’s the idea of not having a lover that disturbs you more than the truth of it.”
“I don’t know.” She thought of Bran. “It seems like a lonely life.”
“That depends on many things.”
“I suppose so.”
Aveta patted her hand. “We’ll speak more about it later. Now, I must concentrate.” She turned toward the bow of the boat, her hands upturned upon her knees.
Much time passed. Lucia could not tell if they were getting closer to the island or not. The mist continued to rise from the surface of the water, keeping everything beyond their boat obscured.
What time is it? One moment, it seemed to be late at night, then, dawn or early evening. Occasionally, the nearly full moon would appear from between the clouds. Glimpses of the island would appear close, only to disappear within the mist a moment later.
She gave up trying to spot the shoreline. Instead, she closed her eyes and concentrated on Gwion’s rowing, listening to the oars leave and enter the water, over and over. It was consistent, and she found it soothing.
She had nearly fallen asleep when the oars hit land and the boat slid to an abrupt stop. Her eyes shot open and she let out a yelp. Out of nowhere came women dressed in blue wool, squealing with delight, running toward them and grasping the sides of the boat.
“Sister Aveta, you’ve come back!” Two women helped Aveta out of the bow. She stumbled a bit, but managed to splash her way to shore.
“And you’re Lucia,” one of them said to her, offering a hand. It was a statement, not a question. Lucia took her hand and nodded. She jumped out of the boat and plunked through the water to join Aveta, hands shaking with excitement.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, a beautiful young blonde ran out of the trees, like a fawn. Her hair was the color of a pearl, or a snowdrop. She ran right into the water and grabbed Gwion from over the side of the boat. With only him left in it, it quickly tipped and he fell in. They both disappeared beneath the water and emerged laughing.
