Islands in the Mist (Islands in the Mist Series Book 1)

by J. M. Hofer

  “We are all anxious,” said Elayn. “Myself, included. We’re dealing with powerful magic, and as women of the Sisterhood, we know better than any the power Cerridwen commands as a sorceress. I, perhaps more than the rest of you. She and I are the same age, and were trained at the same time. She surpassed everyone in our group from the very beginning, and soon the elders had no more to teach her. I can offer you this comfort, though—if she hasn’t changed, she lacks patience, prudence, and humility—I’m hoping she is still as arrogant and stubborn as ever, and that we can work her faults to our advantage. However, for now, we must sleep. We’ll accomplish far less if we’re not rested tomorrow.”

  Lucia still had a million questions she wanted to ask, but willed herself to save them for the next day. Her world was a different place now, and her voracious mind was fighting for a foothold within it.

  ***

  Lucia was drifting in and out of consciousness, being brought back regularly by her stiff muscles and recurring anxious thoughts.

  She woke to see large snowflakes falling outside the umbrella of branches their oaken host provided. She gave up on sleep, and instead watched as the ground surrounding the tree became whiter and whiter, the flakes falling rapidly, covering the ground in an ever-thickening blanket that she found comforting.

  Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small greenish glow appear and then disappear from between the tree trunks in the distance. What’s that? She watched it approach, weaving in and out of the trees, until it stopped at the base of a large birch not far from where they slept and disappeared again. Where did it go? She kept her eyes on the place where it had been, not daring to blink. There! It appeared again--not one, but two round spheres of pale greenish light, like fairy baubles. Could they be fae? She was delighted by the thought, her mother’s stories jumping to life in her mind.

  As the lights drew nearer, her delight turned to dread. Those are no fae. Not at all. Those are eyes—the eyes of an animal, surely. Wolf? Fear swelled up in her stomach. There had been no howl to its brothers, however. Whatever it was, it moved closer, its eyes growing larger. She did not move, except to turn her head slowly and look toward the other women. They were all asleep, except for Elayn, who met her gaze and brought her finger to her lips, motioning for her to remain silent.

  Lucia looked back out into the darkness, watching as the animal slunk slowly out from behind a tree toward an open clearing. The moonlight on the snow provided a large pool of light, and her heart jumped into her throat as the creature moved fully into view.

  A man! He smelled the air tentatively, following a scent, moving ever nearer to their tree. His stained teeth were visible from a slightly open and deformed mouth, and all of his hair was gone, save a few stringy pieces that hung down in front of his limpid nocturnal eyes.

  His gaze shot toward them as he caught their scent. He rushed on contorted hands and feet toward the tree, circling the perimeter where the women had poured the salt, growing ever more agitated as he searched for a way to the blood he knew was there.

  Lucia kept her eyes locked on him. Elayn reached over and put the hilt of a dagger in her palm.

  The grotesque thing continued to pace around the tree. She did not know if it was the spell or the snow that kept it from getting in, but either way, she was grateful.

  To her horror, the living corpse began climbing the tree next to theirs.

  “It seeks a way around the spell. It will try and come down upon us from above,” Elayn whispered.

  Lucia gave her a calm nod, but inwardly swam in terror. She gripped her dagger.

  The half-man slunk from limb to limb, attempting to cross over from the branches of its tree into the branches of theirs, but to no avail. The falling snowflakes seemed to confuse it. It became more frustrated, strange sounds gurgling from its throat.

  Elayn nudged the others, who were all awake now, looking upwards to indicate where the half-man was. She motioned to Creirwy for a silent kill. Creirwy silently brought out her bow. She crept behind the oak where the creature could not see her. The rest of them sat in silence.

  Seconds later, Lucia heard the sound of an arrow being shot. Down from the treetop fell the hideous thing, an arrow lodged in its neck. The body lay but feet from them, twisted and partially decomposed. She dared not take her eyes off it, fearing it would rise again.

  They all breathed a sigh of relief, but Elayn quickly motioned for silence. “There could be more,” she warned. “They may hunt as a pack.”

  Creirwy returned to her spot and they sat in heavy silence, all peering into the woods, watching for any sign of others until the glow of morning began to grow.

  After the sun rose, Elayn took out her hunting knife and severed the half-man’s head. “Creirwy, go and bury this, far from here. The rest of you, help me with the body.”

  The stench of the freshly-opened corpse rose up and overwhelmed Lucia. She ran a few steps away and retched behind a tree, leaning against it for support. Once she was sure there was nothing left, she took a deep breath, wiped her mouth and strengthened her resolve. The others had already dragged the man’s body several feet away and were covering it with tree boughs and leaves.

  “Why did you sever the head?” Lucia asked Elayn.

  “So that this body may never rise again—a body without a head is of no use to anyone, alive or dead.”

  She grimaced. “Do you think he was one of those men Lady Rowan told us about?”

  Elayn raised her eyebrows, as if the answer were obvious. “Fairly certain.”

  Lucia nodded, feeling naïve. She shivered as she thought of the night before. Things were far worse than she imagined.

  Creirwy returned, dirt beneath her fingernails, and helped them cover what was left of her kill. Even with blood and dirt covering her, she was a shocking beauty. Her hair was the whitest blonde, almost like moonlight, and her eyes clearer than the crispest winter sky. She had no blemish or mark upon her skin, as if she were carved from marble, like the statues the Romans worshipped in their temples. She was so like her name—“a jewel.” She imagined her as a babe. She must have been exactly that—a tiny precious pearl to hold in your arms.

  After the corpse was dealt with, Elayn poured water into the palms of all the women, and then her own, washing away the blood and soil.

  “We must hurry. We cannot risk being found. If Cerridwen learns we have left the Isle and are moving south, she will know the Southerners suspect an attack. I hope the others have been able to cover their tracks. However, we have not eaten in some time, and we need something more substantial than berries before we move on. Ina, Ivy—seek out some meat. The rest of you, gather some wood and get a fire started.”

  The others seemed less affected by what had happened, so Lucia did her best to shake it off by focusing on the task at hand. She and Llygoden collected as much wood as they could carry. Most of the kindling they found was covered in snow, which Llygoden collected regardless. Lucia shook her head. That’ll never catch fire! The trees were heavy and thick, so luckily there were many lower branches that were sheltered and dry, which she collected instead. Once they had collected a large pile, they took it back to their camp. Lucia soon saw that her painstaking care was completely unnecessary. Elayn took all the wood and performed a spell which drew all the water out of it, and soon had a fire roaring. She smiled. It was a beautiful thing to be repeatedly astonished. The knowledge that her blood bound her to them filled her with pride.

  The twins were back within a half hour with three rabbits, and began skinning them.

  “You caught three that quickly?” Lucia exclaimed.

  “Yes, we hunt well together,” said Ina, proudly. Ivy just looked up at her and smiled. Lucia realized she had never heard Ivy utter a word. She wondered if she was mute or had taken a vow of silence, like the Christian nuns did.

  “Can Ivy not speak?”

  “She could, I suppose. She can make birdsong and animal sounds just fine, but words
she doesn’t care for.” She looked at her sister. “We have always known each other’s thoughts. I learned to speak, but she never did. Or as I said, maybe she chooses not to. I speak for her when she wishes to.”

  Ina put the skinned rabbits on a spit that Ivy had fashioned. Soon, the smell of roasting meat had Lucia’s mouth watering. It seemed the nausea of the morning had passed. They had all three of the rabbits eaten down to the barest of bones within minutes. When they were finished, Elayn moved close to the fire to brew some tea. “This will keep you alert today,” she said. “Licorice root.”

  The food, fire, and hot liquid put the women in better spirits. They paired up and set off, moving with swift focus. They emerged from the forest early in the afternoon, and then traveled across wide, open hills. Lucia was relieved to be out of the darkness of the trees and out in the open. She felt much safer out where she could see for miles around, with the sunlight on her face. The wind gusted as they crested the hills, whipping her hair and clothes about. She breathed it in deeply, exhilarated by it.

  They came to the ridge of yet another hill, and the landscape opened up into a vast meadow of long grass. Far off in the distance, the meadow met a serpentine tree line, which she knew marked the river’s edge.

  Elayn turned to them. “We won’t reach the village by nightfall, but we can at least reach the safety of the river.”

  Lucia suddenly felt sick. Another night out here? She looked at Creirwy, and must have looked worried, because Creirwy put her graceful arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry—it’ll be fine. Our Guardians rule the rivers. We’ll be safe there.”

  Lucia forced a smile and nodded weakly. What if there are more of them this time? And isn’t Cerridwen of the Isle as well? Won’t she have just as much of an advantage along the river?

  As they traversed the meadow, Lucia resolved herself to another encounter with them. In the process, she became angry, which she found a welcome replacement for fear. She had grown fiercely attached to these women, and her blood boiled at the thought of anything hurting any of them.

  Ina called out. “Stop! Ivy sees something.”

  Everyone turned to look toward the small girl. She was pointing toward the horizon, pieces of loose hair blowing across her face.

  “Help is coming.” Ina reported. “We must wait here, where they can see us.”

  Lucia did not see anything, but kept peering in the direction Ivy was pointing. Minutes passed, and still nothing, until small specks appeared on the horizon, moving quickly toward them and taking form.

  “Southern riders!” Elayn exclaimed with a smile. “Thank the gods.” She took out a long red scarf and held it above her head. The wind grabbed it, flying her crimson banner high and strong.

  The riders galloped across the meadow to meet them. There were four of them, men dressed like Bran, in heavy wool tunics of bright colors, leather gauntlets and boots lined with fox fur. They wore thick bronze torcs around their necks beneath full beards and long hair.

  They dismounted and bowed their heads toward Elayn, then turned and acknowledged the rest of them. Lucia’s companions bowed their heads in return, and Lucia did the same.

  A man with dark hair and a gloomy expression spoke first. “Sisters, we’re honored you have made the journey south. We’ve come to escort you the rest of the way.”

  “Thank you,” Elayn replied. “We are glad you reached us before nightfall. We encountered one of the enemy last night.”

  The man’s brows shot up. “Is that so? The clan will want to hear of this. Let’s lose no time. Please—“ He motioned toward two horses without riders.

  Elayn mounted one and pulled Llygoden up behind her, and the twins climbed upon the second. One of the riders was quick to offer an arm to Creirwy, clearly stunned by her beauty, and so it was left to the man who had spoken to Elayn to offer Lucia his arm. She took it, swinging her leg over the horse and settling in behind him.

  They took off across the meadow toward the river, and a wave of relief washed over Lucia. She noticed her rider was almost hot to the touch, as if he were suffering from a fever. Perhaps he’s ill—I hope not. However, she found herself grateful for his heat as the sun went down and the air grew colder.

  “What’s your name, Sister?” He had been silent for an hour, and his question startled her.

  “Lucia, my lord.”

  “Lucia?” His tone was not complimentary. “Isn’t that a Roman name?”

  She hesitated a moment. “It is.”

  “How is it that a Roman woman travels with the Sisters?”

  Lucia thought of Aveta and Gwion, and everything that had happened over the past few weeks. She was not sure how much she should share with this man. “It’s a long story,” she said, hoping to stall any further questions until she spoke with Elayn.

  “Yes, I’m sure it is—one I’d like to hear.”

  Lucia could not tell what his motives were, and it made her uncomfortable. She changed the subject. “Has Lord Bran returned home?”

  She felt her host stiffen at her question.

  “How is it that you know Lord Bran?”

  “He was a guest of mine not long ago,” she ventured carefully.

  “A guest?”

  “Yes, he needed a place to rest for a few days. His horse was wounded.”

  “I see. ” His words were dry. “He’s ridden out with another scout party looking for the rest of you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Why couldn’t Bran’s party have found us instead of this man’s? she lamented. However, she was safe and warm, and reminded herself to be grateful.

  They arrived at the Southerners village and stopped within a circle of low huts, one very large and round, like the Sisters had, with elaborate arched doors. Lucia’s host dismounted and helped her off his horse, and many people came out to greet them. Some of them Elayn or her other companions recognized, and many embraces and greetings were exchanged.

  Lucia noticed a tall young woman striding out of the motherhouse in their direction. She wore a sword girded about her waist over a long blood-red tunic, and her blonde wavy hair flowed unbound to her waist.

  She approached the man Lucia had ridden behind. “Well done, Aelhaearn.” She smiled at him and then turned to Elayn. “The South welcomes the Sisterhood most gratefully.” She bowed her head. “For those who do not know me, I’m Seren, priestess here. We’re honored you’ve come to help. Please, follow me.”

  Seren walked to the motherhouse and led them through the doors Lucia had noticed earlier. They were built of heavy oak, fashioned with iron handles, and intricately carved with a woven pattern of fierce dragonheads breathing fire. Inside the hall, large beams carved in the same fashion held up the roof. A fire burned in the center of the great structure, smoke rising up through a hole above it.

  “There’s plenty of food. Please eat,” Seren motioned to a long table.

  Elayn looked around, searching for something. “Thank you, but I am concerned that I do not see any more of us here. Have none of the others arrived?”

  “A dozen or so of you arrived earlier today. They’ve gone out to help deliver goods and weapons to the posts for the watch tonight. They’ll return in the morning.”

  “Only a dozen?” Elayn exclaimed. “We set out numbering almost thirty. With us, that means almost half have still not arrived.”

  “We’ve not found all of you yet, true, but I am confident we will—the fastest riders from the East arrived this morning, and they’re the shrewdest trackers in the Great Circle. We’ll find your sisters before nightfall.”

  Lucia couldn’t help but stare at the firelight dancing off Seren’s cheekbones. She reminds me of someone. She instantly liked her. Her voice inspired confidence—resonant and calm.

  It was obvious Elayn was not as comforted by it, however.

  “Please, eat something,” Seren offered in a softer voice, seeing Elayn’s dismay.

  “Come, Lady Elayn. They’ll find them,” Creirwy took her b
y the arm.

  Elayn allowed her to lead her to the table with the others. She ate quickly, and then left to speak with Seren privately. Lucia could not hear their conversation. What does she not want us to hear?

  Lucia and her companions met many women of the Southern clan, learning their names and helping however they could with the tasks at hand. They were strong and capable, and quick to laugh and smile. She liked them.

  Hours passed, and Elayn grew ever more restless. She glanced constantly toward the door, until at last they heard the sound of horses bursting into the village. Elayn rushed outside, and Lucia and the other girls followed close behind.

  Many horsemen were dismounting and lifting women wearing the same brown traveling robes off the backs of their horses.

  A girl came running toward Elayn and they embraced. “Thank the Great Mother!”

  “Mother, please,” The girl gave Elayn a consoling smile. “I’m fine.”

  “I was so worried.” Elayn looked as if she might cry, which surprised Lucia. She had been so stern since they had left the Isle.

  No wonder she’s been so preoccupied—why didn’t her daughter just travel with us in the first place? Lucia walked over to meet her, but was cut off by another group of horsemen arriving. She glanced over, and a bolt of lightning shot through her.

  Out in front, on a black horse that Lucia knew all too well, rode Bran. Oh, gods. She was seized by a desire to run to him, but felt paralyzed by a sudden shyness—He looks so different!

  He was no longer the sad, travel-weary man in torn clothes who had come so humbly to her door—his mane of thick blonde hair was oiled and pulled back, revealing his broad forehead and the same high cheekbones as Seren. He wore a gold torc about his neck with dragon’s heads on its ends that faced each other fiercely beneath his strong jaw. An elaborate bronze brooch held a fur cloak around his broad shoulders, and both of his great wrists bore gold cuffs. He seemed a foot taller to her.

  He dismounted and helped a woman off his horse, and then began giving orders to the men in his company. Seren ran to him and they were soon in serious conversation. By the time they finished, a large crowd of people had gathered, impatient for news.