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

by J. M. Hofer

  “Gareth.”

  “Bran, light a torch.”

  Bran reached into his pack to find the flint, but it was gone. “Damn the gods! I’ve lost it.”

  “Should we go back?” someone asked.

  “No,” another said. “There’s light comin’ from up there. See it? My eyes are already adjustin’.”

  Must be Heilyn or Eurig. The Northerners were accustomed to working in mines and quarries. “Go ahead. I’ll move to the back in case we’re attacked.” Bran felt his way along the shoulders of the men— One, two, three, four, five—two thick and three fine. Heilyn and Eurig, he determined, followed by Neirin and his men, and then himself. The man directly in front of him was either Owain or Urien. He did not know their voices well enough to tell which one. Whoever he was, he handed Bran a length of rope, which he tied around his waist, binding him to his brothers.

  They walked along the stream until the passageway opened up into a large cavern with what sounded to be a deep pool of water in it. The men untied themselves to look around.

  After a few minutes, Neirin whispered, “Come look at this!” He was standing on the bank of the strange, underground lake. The others went over to see what he had found. “This must be their water source. All creatures must drink, be they man or beast. We could shoot arrows at them from above, through the clefts in the rock.”

  Owain agreed with him. “Yes, they come here daily—there are hundreds of hand and footprints at the edge of the water.”

  “Let’s go and find these clefts from the outside, then,” Bran suggested. “Then we can return with more men. I fear we don’t have much daylight left. I don’t want to be here when these things wake to hunt.”

  “Agreed,” Neirin said.

  They did not bother tying up again as there had been no steep or dangerous places, and the way back was clear. Eurig took the lead again, and Bran took the rear—same as before—and they followed the stream out of the cavern.

  I’ll have to ask Neirin how many cauldron-born he suspects are here. Or maybe Eurig will have an idea, based on the work in the corridors. If we can somehow drive them out of the caves into the daylight, perhaps we’ll have an advantage.

  His thoughts wandered to Lucia. I hope she’s recovered by now. He shivered as he thought of her warning, which now rang with eerie truth. He looked around, trying to make out the terrain around him, but there was no longer any light. He had to listen to the stream to know where to go.

  Where do all these corridors lead? How far back do they go? If Cerridwen is here, how long have she and her cauldron-born been working on them? Since she left the Isle? He could not remember exactly, but he was fairly sure Talhaiarn had said she fled the Isle with her son seven years ago. The idea of her being here creating seven years’ worth of cauldron-born was disturbing enough, but to think of them scraping out seven years’ worth of tunnels in all directions was even more disturbing.

  Something’s wrong. Bran stopped in his tracks. He grabbed his dagger, turning around vainly in the darkness. In an instant, the footsteps and voices ahead of him vanished, leaving only the sound of the stream flowing beside him.

  “Heilyn!” He whispered urgently. No one answered. “Eurig!” He reached out in front of him, but his hands found no one. He dared not call out too loudly for fear of awakening trouble and putting his companions in danger, so instead moved along the stream as quickly as he dared, holding his hand out in front of him to feel for low-hanging ledges or rock.

  He kept the stream on his left at all times, for it had been on their right when they had come in and found the pool. He followed it for what seemed like an hour, but, to his dismay, it led him nowhere.

  They must surely be looking for me by now. He felt his chest and throat seize up with frustration. He hated the thought of them endangering themselves on his account. We didn’t even venture in that far. It doesn’t make any sense!

  He knew the sun was surely down by now. It was only a matter of time before the enemy would wake to hunt. He hoped the men had left. Someone needed to make it back to the village so the clan would know where they were. They could return in the morning. He felt confident that Gareth knew him well enough to predict his wishes and keep the men and horses out of danger.

  Finally, he gave up and stopped walking, listening very closely to his surroundings, trying to figure out what it was that he had been missing. At first, he heard only the water, but then began to hear other noises, like the whistle of air through the tunnel. He felt around on the wall of the cave next to him, moving along it, seeking other passageways.

  If only I had a torch! He felt around, expecting to find some clue that would tell him where he was, but everything seemed the same. Feeling the stream, he realized he was quite thirsty. It was shallow, but in time he finally managed to fill his goatskin.

  He found other passages that led off to the left or right, but did not dare leave the water, so walked along it for what seemed like hours. He could tell the passage was gradually descending, hopefully toward another opening in the mountain, but though it turned and twisted, it did not lead him out.

  Finally, he could go no further. He found himself a place in the wall to lean into and slept.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Neirin

  The South had sent trackers to the caves every day for a week searching for Bran, but most did not come back. Aelhaearn, Seren, Einon, Gareth, Elayn and Neirin had gathered in the motherhouse to discuss what to do.

  “I insist we send no more,” Seren said. “We’ve lost too many men.

  Gareth frowned. “Well, I’m not giving up.” He set his jaw. “I can’t sleep at night knowing Bran might still be alive in there. I’m going in again—I’ll return with him by my side or die trying.”

  Neirin shook his head but kept quiet. He had tried earlier to sway Gareth from his decision, but he had refused to listen to reason. He’s loyal, but he’s a fool. If my men and I cannot find him, no one will.

  Seren let out a sigh of fatigue. “Fine, Gareth. I don’t like it, but it seems none of us can convince you otherwise.” She glanced over at Neirin. “Lord Neirin, regardless of what we may choose to do among ourselves, we certainly do not expect you to continue sending your men to their deaths in the caves. From what you’ve learned about the enemy, do you have any suggestions on how we can defeat them?”

  Neirin nodded. “I suggest we put our efforts into finding as many entrances into the caves as we can, and then post warriors in front of them to wait for them to emerge at night.“

  Aelhaearn sat up at his suggestion. “And then kill them! Where we have the advantage! I like it!”

  Seren also looked encouraged.

  “Unfortunately,” Neirin continued, “we’ve lost many of our best trackers in the caves—only Owain, Urien and I remain.”

  Aelhaearn put his hand on Neirin’s shoulder. “Go home and fetch a few more, if you’re willing—I’ll ensure your people are well-compensated for their efforts on our behalf.” He smiled magnanimously. “Tell Lord Belenus we’ll offer him new swords for all his warriors, and give him his choice of ten newborn foals come springtime.”

  Neirin nodded. “That is very generous of you, Lord Aelhaearn. I will leave first thing tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Seren gave him a grateful glance.

  Gareth was shaking his head. He leaned forward, and motioned to Seren. “May I say something else?”

  “Of course.”

  “We haven’t suffered another attack of any kind in the village since losing Priestess Agarah and the Pennaeth—” He looked back and forth between Seren and Aelhaearn. “The truth is, many in the clan doubt that the cauldron-born exist—they feel we’re squandering precious time and resources chasing after ghosts, when we should instead be preparing for the long winter ahead.”

  “It’s true,” Einon confirmed, giving Seren an apologetic glance. “And, cauldron-born or not, what good will victory do us if we end up starving this winter?”


  Neirin looked at Seren. She had bags under her beautiful blue eyes, and her skin was sallow. She is too young and beautiful for such responsibility.

  Aelhaearn answered for her. “We’re all aware of these tensions, Einon. We’ll have to manage the best we can.“

  With Bran gone, the Council looked to Aelhaearn for guidance. He led well, even in the midst of all the discord.

  Einon nodded and turned to Seren, saying what everyone in the room was thinking, but did not feel it was their place to say. “Lady Seren, our clan needs a strong leader, now, and Bran isn’t here. We’ve spoken, and we feel you should name Aelhaearn chieftain.”

  Seren stiffened at the suggestion. “No. Bran will return.”

  The council meeting quickly descended into a heated argument, so Neirin quietly stepped out of the hall and went to bed.

  ***

  Neirin left early, glad to have a break from all the tension. If his father agreed to Aelhaearn’s proposal, Aelhaearn would be able to satisfy both believers and non-believers alike—they would have enough men to deal with the enemy threat without sacrificing any of the winter preparations. Neirin knew his people had enjoyed a bountiful harvest and had already finished their preparations for the winter, so he supposed his father would be more than pleased with the offer.

  He was but a half-day’s ride from the South when he came upon a young woman. She was running toward him and waving frantically. “Have you seen a chestnut mare?” she called to him from across the meadow.

  “I haven’t, my lady,” he yelled back.

  She looked about, wringing her hands. “I’ve been searching for hours, but on foot I can’t cover enough ground! Without that horse, I won’t survive out here.”

  Neirin was shocked. “Do you have no husband? No children?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “Where do you live?”

  “There.” She pointed across the field.

  He looked in the direction she indicated and spied a small house, not so very far away, but well hidden. Most travelers would not see it from the road.

  “Can you help me?” she asked. “There’s a hot meal and a bed for the night if you wish.”

  Neirin thought of the meager bit of food he had in his pack. A bed would be nice—not to mention safer.

  “You’re in luck.“ He smiled at her. “I happen to be quite a good tracker. Return home. I’ll find your horse and bring him to you.”

  “Oh, thank you so much. I’ll make it worth your while—I promise.” She made her way back toward the small house.

  He set himself to the task. It was not long before he found the mare, grazing a few miles away. That was easy! He returned to her house, beaming, her horse tied to his.

  “Thank you!” She smiled and sighed. “Oh, I’m in your debt!”

  She led the horse into the small stable at the back of the house and rushed back. “Please, come in and eat something!”

  “Gladly. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

  She fed him very well indeed, to the point where he could eat no more, and the bed she showed him to was clean and sweet-smelling.

  He rested well upon it with his full belly.

  ***

  Early the next morning, Neirin went out into the field, as usual, and waited for Eirlys to catch her breakfast. The sky was dark and cloudy, and snow flurries were beginning to fall.

  As soon as Eirlys returned, he went to the house to collect his belongings. To his dismay, the door nearly fell off its hinges when he entered. “Gods!”

  His hostess turned from the breakfast she was cooking over the fire. “Oh, no!”

  “I fear I’ve broken your door off its hinges.” He feebly attempted to right it.

  Her eyes widened. “Can it still be bolted?”

  He examined it. “I’m afraid not—it doesn’t sit well in its frame.”

  Knowing what roamed the countryside at night, Neirin’s conscience would not allow him to leave her alone without a secure door. Luckily, he was a skilled carpenter. He knew with the proper tools, he could fix it without too much trouble. “Let me mend it,” he said, not asking. “Do you have tools?”

  “I do,” she nodded, relieved by his response. “In the barn.”

  He made his way to her barn, admiring the thick holly bushes around her house. They were tall and wild, their red berries and deep green leaves standing out against the brown scrub and leafless trees of the surrounding forest.

  He found a decent set of tools and a few pieces of lumber. They’re not perfect, but they’ll do. He set to work. He removed the door completely and ripped out the rotted wood. She watched and asked him questions while he measured and cut the wood for the new frame.

  “Where did you learn such skills? Did you apprentice?”

  He tilted his head. “In a way. My father is an excellent carpenter. A great man. He started teaching me when I was a boy. Even now, we often build things together.”

  “What is your father’s name?”

  “The Lord Belenus,” Neirin answered. “Chieftain of our clan.”

  “I know his name well!” She smiled, clearly impressed. “You’re the son of not only a great carpenter, but a great leader and warrior!”

  “I am,” Neirin said, smiling, “and very proud of it.”

  “As you should be, my lord—I’m sorry I was unable to offer you better accommodations.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” he countered. “I’ve not slept so well in weeks!”

  She cocked her head, looking at him suspiciously.

  “No, I’m quite serious,” he insisted, looking her in the eye.

  “Well, I’m glad I could please you, my lord.”

  She’s flirting with me. He could not help eyeing her full lips. I wonder what she tastes like.

  Just then, Eirlys flew down from the sky and perched next to him.

  She ventured closer, admiring his falcon. “What a beautiful creature! Does she hunt with you?”

  “Yes. She helps me track things.”

  “I see. So you can track more than lost horses, I take it?”

  He could not help but suppress a grin. “There is nothing I cannot track, my lady,” he boasted, hammering the new wood into place.

  “Is that so?”

  “Quite so.”

  She threw him a coy glance and put her hands on her hips. “Very well, Tracker. I’ll make you a wager.”

  Neirin could not resist challenges, wagers, or competitions of any kind. Aside from those that rewarded brute strength, he usually won.

  He put his hammer down and looked at her. “What kind of wager?”

  “If you can manage to track and capture me, I’ll give you anything you desire that’s mine to give. If you cannot, you must promise me anything that is yours.”

  He nodded his head, pretending to consider it seriously, and then gave her a playful wink. “I’ll take your wager.” I’ll demand her kiss when I win.

  She clapped her hands like a child. “Ha! This will be a lovely way to spend the day. How much time do I have?”

  “I could give you three days to run and still find you, but sadly, I do not have that kind of time. I’ll give you an hour, if you feel that’s time enough.”

  “Agreed!” She smiled.

  “Very well, then. I need that much time to finish your door, anyway.” He nodded. “You had best start running.”

  ***

  It had been just over an hour by the time Neirin finished the new frame to his satisfaction. The door itself was, luckily, quite hardy and well made, and now that it had a strong frame to rest within, it would take quite an effort to break it down.

  He set off in good spirits to find his beautiful hostess. He found her trail quickly and chuckled. I’ll be kissing those lips soon. Then I’ll carry her through that new doorframe to that sweet-smelling bed of hers.

  He had gone perhaps a mile or so, when her trail disappeared completely. Certain that he had simply become careless, he gave the search his full attention and examined th
e area in earnest but, to his utter amazement, he found nothing—no tracks, no broken branches, no earth disturbed—nothing. She must have backtracked.

  He turned around and scoured the area with his keen eyes for tracks or a fork in the trail. It must be here! Another hour passed. It was as if she had turned into a ghost and disappeared.

  It was now past the time he had intended to be on the road. He considered calling out for her, but his pride would not allow it. He continued to search until he had to admit to himself that he had lost the day and would need to spend another night under her roof. No matter, there are worse things than that. He pictured her pretty face. She had looked at him in a way he recognized well enough. I’ve not had a woman in some time. The South can manage on its own for one more day. After the inconvenience she had caused him, he would be sure to make it worth his while.

  As the sun began to set he discovered fresh wolf tracks—and more than a few of them. This is no longer a game. “My lady! Please! Come out! You win! There are wolves about!” And other evil things that hunt at night that I do not dare tell you of, my darling.

  He ran back along the tree line toward her house, calling out until darkness fell completely. He peered in the direction of her house and spied smoke rising from the chimney. “Damn the gods, woman!”

  He stomped toward her house, angry he had been made a fool of—but the guilt he would have felt if she had been attacked by a wolf helped temper his bruised ego. He pushed on her door, noting how smoothly it opened. Well, at least this is a job well done.

  She turned from the hearth and greeted him with a smile. He crossed his arms and glared at her as if she were a disobedient child.

  “I win,” she gloated. “You could not find me, Tracker.”

  Her smugness angered him even more. “I was worried about you, my lady! I found wolf tracks!” He could not hide the irritation in his tone. “And you cheated, I’m sure of it!” He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her. “The wager is forfeit.”

  “I did no such thing!” She stood up, indignant. “How do you think I survive out here, Tracker? A woman out on her own? Certainly not with my brute strength!” She laughed sarcastically.