Across the Sea (Islands in the Mist Series Book 2)

by J. M. Hofer

  This horrid day’s finally here, she thought as she ran to the house, her stomach sinking. Please, Great Mother—spare the children, if you can.

  “Girls, I need you!” she called impatiently, filling a sack with food. They appeared moments later, their faces marked with worry.

  “We’re going out on the lake for awhile,” she told them as she wrapped their cloaks around their shoulders.

  “Why?” the youngest asked. “Are we going fishing?”

  “No, little sparrow.” Aveta bent down and picked her up. “Bad men are coming, but they can’t get us if we’re out on the lake. We need to hurry. Your brother is meeting us at the dock.”

  All the blood drained out of the older girl’s face.

  “We’ll be fine.” Aveta put an arm around her shoulder, guiding her out the door. “I promise.”

  They ran down to the dock, stopping only to open the paddock gates for the sheep and cattle along the way. Dylan was in the boat already, his hands on the oars.

  The small boat teetered as they jumped in.

  Aveta patted his knee once they were settled. “Row for the Isle, Dylan.”

  Dylan did as she asked. They glided out past the cattails and willow trees toward the center of the lake. Aveta noticed other boats leaving their docks as well, and breathed a sigh of relief. Colwyn had reached them. From what she could tell, most were filled with women and children. That meant the men had either refused to leave their farms or had chosen to help Colwyn warn the others. One thing was clear—none had disregarded their warning, and she felt honored by the trust their neighbors had in them.

  Over the past fifteen years, she and Colwyn had done much to earn themselves a respected position within the community. She had become the village midwife and healer, and had delivered nearly all of the children who lived in the village and surrounding farms. The men routinely turned to Colwyn for farming advice, as no one’s harvest could ever compare to his. He was also called upon whenever a dispute needed settling, for he was well-known for his calm and fair nature.

  The wife of a neighboring farmer rowed out to meet them, her three children in the boat with her. “Aveta! Is it true? Saxons, this far west?”

  Aveta nodded. “A close friend of mine rode here to warn me. If we’re lucky, they won’t pass through this way, but we can’t take that chance.” Aveta threw her the end of a rope. “Tie your boat to ours, so we don’t lose each other in the mist.”

  The woman nodded, taking the rope and tying her boat to theirs. One by one, more boats arrived and joined the chain. What Aveta told her neighbor was then passed down the line to each new arrival. The Saxons are coming.

  After an hour, the men rowed out to join them. Colwyn was nearly the last to row out. He spied Aveta and brought his boat up alongside hers. Everyone kept their eyes on the shore, watching and waiting.

  Soon, there was nothing but the sound of the boats knocking together and the water of the lake lapping against their sides. Some of the women whispered in worried tones, but that soon faded away as well.

  Hours passed. Everyone grew restless and started to grumble. Just when Aveta began to think that perhaps the Saxons had passed them by, she heard sounds of activity upon the shore. There was faraway yelling in a language she did not understand, and the sound of upset horses and things being broken.

  She glanced over at Colwyn with concern. Lucia’s warning had come so quickly, there were surely warm coals in kitchen hearths or other indications that they had all fled at a moment’s notice.

  “What’s stopping the bastards from simply waiting for us to return, and slaughtering us then?” Colwyn asked.

  Aveta shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s just hope they don’t. We can’t stay out here for more than a day.”

  A baby woke and began to cry, triggering a few more to cry as well. Aveta called out, “Keep them quiet!” but it was too late. The cries had carried out across the water, beckoning to the enemy.

  Aveta and Colwyn exchanged worried looks. She concentrated on the mist, bidding it thicken and hide them all from sight. It obeyed, swirling in close, and she did the only other thing she could—she prayed to the spirits of the lake and the Great Mother to protect them. Over and over, she repeated her prayer, but it did not stop the enemy from coming. The mist shifted about them, and as it did, she caught glimpses of giants, clad in fur, gliding through the water toward them. Each time the mist shifted to reveal them, they were closer.

  “We left boats behind?” Aveta whispered to Colwyn, wondering how any of them could have been so careless.

  He gripped his axe firmly and shrugged his shoulders. There was nothing that could be done about it now.

  Moments later, screams of terror and the horrible sound of wood crunching split the air, unleashing mayhem across the water. The boats lurched and slammed against each other as people were either thrown from their boats or jumped into the lake to try and swim to safety. The chaos continued to rise, as if hornets had been stirred from their nest. Dylan’s sisters began to cry, and even Dylan, who was afraid of nothing, looked terrified.

  The mist began to dissipate, and Aveta willed herself to focus, calling it back, praying incessantly for help. Great Mother, just this once, give us refuge on the Isle. Please—just this once.

  Colwyn reached across and took her hand, squeezing it in his. It calmed her, and she found the strength she needed. A short eternity later, she felt their boats lurch and slide upon sand.

  Confusion went rippling down the beach, for no one recognized the shore they were on. Colwyn eyed their surroundings warily, and shot her a quizzical glance. “Are we where I think we are?”

  Aveta nodded and stood up. “Everyone, calm down! We’re safe now.”

  Before she could say anything else, the mist disappeared, as if a strong wind had come up. Surprised, she looked out across the lake just in time to see the afanc rise out of the water. It seized two men with its jaws and plunged back under the water with them.

  Horrified, everyone began yelling and screaming again, scrambling out of their boats to take refuge on the shore. From there, they watched the afanc drag down every one of the men still in the water.

  Everyone huddled together, parents trying to calm their children, until the surface of the water was smooth and silent again.

  Colwyn looked at his wife. “What the hell was that?”

  “The afanc.” Aveta shivered. “Or its offspring.”

  Colwyn grimaced.

  “Where are we?” one of the men asked, looking around in confusion.

  “On the Isle,” Aveta told him, “but we can’t stay here.”

  The man’s face changed into one of alarm. The Isle was ever a source of mysterious and frightening tales, especially for men. Aveta consoled him with a kind glance. “I assure you, no harm will come to anyone here.”

  “You may stay until the threat is gone,” a woman’s voice said from behind them.

  All turned to see Elayn standing at the edge of the trees.

  Aveta smiled and rushed over to her. “Oh, Elayn!”

  Elayn embraced her. “I sent archers to take care of any that were left.” She walked down the shore, addressing everyone on the beach. “Do not leave this shore. This is the only part of the Isle where you will be safe. Should you choose to wander, I cannot protect you.”

  Elayn then returned to Aveta. “When the archers return, see them off, and then come to the motherhouse. There are many things I need to tell you.” Her tone was ominous, and the way she touched her shoulder in farewell made it worse.

  Aveta was exhausted, so Colwyn made her sit down and rest while he checked on each family in turn. She rested her head on her knees and had nearly fallen asleep by the time he came back. “Everyone’s fine.” He sat down behind her, put his arms around her, and kissed her cheek. “I can’t believe it. I’m actually here with you, on the Isle.”

  “I can’t believe it either. I thought I’d never be allowed back again.” My mother must have
forgiven me, at last. She looked forward to seeing her. She had missed her.

  The archers returned within a few hours and assured Aveta the enemy was gone.

  Colwyn took over for her, letting everyone know it was safe to go home. “They’ve moved off! Let’s get home and find our livestock before it gets dark. Men, we’ll organize a watch tonight. Come to the villa once you’ve taken care of things at home.”

  Everyone got back into their boats. Dylan was trying to get his sisters into the boat, but they were terrified of what they had seen. “Don’t worry,” Aveta told them. “The monster only eats bad men. He ate them to protect us. In you go.” She lifted them one by one into the boat, hoping they would not be afraid to swim in the lake now. They loved playing in the water.

  Soon, only Colwyn’s boat was left upon the shore. She kissed him. “Go on, now, don’t let the children get too far ahead of you,” Aveta said. “I’ll be home tomorrow morning. Let’s pray they didn’t destroy too much.”

  “We’ve survived worse.” Colwyn kissed her forehead, took one last look at the Isle, climbed in his boat and rowed off. Soon, he was alongside Dylan.

  Aveta waved until she could not see their faces anymore, and then turned toward the village. She took her time walking through the woods, breathing deeply, for the Isle smelled like no other place in the world. She touched the tree trunks tenderly as she passed, greeting them with her hands, until the path left the trees and she arrived in the village.

  One of the sisters spotted her and came running. “Aveta!”

  Aveta squinted, trying to figure out who it was. “Llygoden!” Overjoyed, she grabbed her and squeezed her tight. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” Llygoden smiled, took her hand, and led her to the motherhouse. “She’s inside, waiting for you.”

  Aveta entered, and felt surprised to see Elayn seated in her mother’s place. Then, as if she had been jolted awake in the middle of the night, she realized the source of the ominous feeling she had felt earlier, and the true reason she had been allowed on the Isle again. It was not because her mother had forgiven her. It was because she was no longer there.

  “Oh, no…Oh, no, no, no.” She began to sob.

  Elayn came over and embraced her. “I’m so sorry, Aveta. She passed a few moons ago.”

  “What?” Aveta felt sick.

  “I wanted to send for you, but she forbade it—I could not go against her wishes.”

  “But why?” Aveta felt tears welling up in her eyes.

  Elayn clearly did not want to tell her, but Aveta insisted.

  “She felt all her daughters had forsaken her—that she had failed as a mother, or at least one of you would have stayed to carry on in her place.”

  Aveta felt terrible hearing this, as Elayn knew she would.

  Elayn gave her a compassionate look. “I’m sorry.”

  “How did she die?”

  “She chose the hour of her death. Her body was frail, and had begun to falter. She summoned us all to the motherhouse, where she spent her last days, and expressed her wish that I be her successor. We discussed it, and, eventually, all of us agreed. Once it was decided, she said her farewells and left us.”

  Aveta was surprised to find her sorrow quickly turned to pity, and even found herself feeling a bit angry. “I can’t believe a woman so wise could possibly have believed her daughters had forsaken her.” She shook her head. “It wasn’t her we left behind, but life here on the Isle.”

  “That is perhaps where you misunderstood her,” Elayn offered with a compassionate gaze. “She considered herself and the Isle to be one and the same. She was its voice, as I am endeavoring to be now. I do not agree with the choice she made, but I understand it.”

  Aveta put her face in her hands, overcome with grief, knowing she, too, would have to learn to accept it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The Battle for Mynyth Aur

  Lucia clung to the trunk of the tree she stood in, watching the Saxons move toward Mynyth Aur like a giant serpent covered with scales of battle shields. As expected, they planned to attack at first light, assuming all of them would be asleep. All marched on foot, with the exception of Camulos and Aelhaearn, who led the way on fine horses. Seeing the two of them in the flesh made Lucia’s blood rise with a churning mix of loathing and rage. Soon, she told herself.

  She and her archers were nearly invisible, perched high in the canopy of the forest. They had smeared their bodies with honey and rolled in the leaves upon the forest floor. The leaves clung to their skin, creating a perfect camouflage.

  It was not long before the sound of heavy footsteps sharpened her concentration.

  To her dismay, Aelhaearn and Camulos were no longer among the warriors beneath them on the road. She cursed under her breath, wondering where they had gone. She had been hungering for the chance to pierce their throats with her arrows. She signaled to the others and took aim at the ugly beast beneath her, closest to her tree.

  Though a hundred bows were aimed at their breasts, the enemy suspected nothing until the whirring sound of raining arrows filled the air.

  Her target let out a fierce cry as her arrow dove deep into his heart. He looked up in vain before crashing to the ground on top of his shield.

  Though most of her archers hit their targets, she knew they would not get the same chance twice. They had broken the hornet’s nest, and had only moments to flee. They jumped down from their perches into the safety of the forest where they knew every hollow, every tree, and every hiding place for miles. Over the years, they had hidden dozens of arrows in the woods and knew where they all were. They fled to their second position and disappeared back up into the canopy like ghosts.

  Panting, she surveyed the valley from her perch. To her disappointment, very few had pursued them. Instead, they had fled and advanced beyond bowshot, racing like a dark storm toward the walls of the village. It was then that she saw Camulos again, leading the charge.

  She grew anxious. They had not taken out nearly the number of warriors she had hoped they would. Now, it would be up to Bran and his men. She watched the fields in anticipation as the invaders crossed. “Now!” she whispered. As if they had heard her, the Oak warriors burst out of the earth like demons, faces twisted in fury, hungry to claim retribution for their brothers and sisters captured or killed at Gwythno. For all their passion, however, she knew hand-to-hand combat was not the way they would win this battle.

  “Attack!” she cried. She and half her archers dropped from the trees to close in on them from behind, felling as many of the enemy as they could.

  Just as she was beginning to feel confident that they had succeeded in thwarting the attack, Aelhaearn reappeared. He came riding at a full gallop out of nowhere, torching the hay in the fields in his wake, and then rode toward the mountain. She smirked, knowing the doors to the fortress were impregnable, even to his flames. Let him try.

  While the battle raged on in the fields, Lucia spied Camulos leading a group of warriors to the village gates. The largest swung at them with his battle axe, ripping the wood from its hinges like a malicious child tearing the wings off a butterfly. The Saxons charged in like a herd of oxen, axes poised and shields bashing anything in their wake. Within moments, the roof of the motherhouse went up in flames. Then, as if they had been sucked back in by the mouth of a dragon, they disappeared. She smiled as Seren ran out of the motherhouse, engulfing the enemy with the flames they had foolishly given her to work with.

  Lucia took advantage of the chaos and sounded her horn, signaling the women who were posted in the village houses to flee for the forest. If their plan worked, the enemy would pursue them into a second ambush. Only the fastest runners had been chosen for this risky mission. They came leaping out of the houses like deer, bounding toward the trees with warriors in pursuit. Some carried dolls to make them look like easy prey—weak mothers with babes-in-arms—but within those bundles slept daggers, not babes. Lucia said a silent praye
r as she joined them in their race for cover, striding alongside them back toward the trees with all the power her thighs could muster, leaves flying off her body as she ran. Please be ready, she prayed.

  She felt a flood of relief as she neared the edge of the forest and heard the shower of arrows. She longed to see how many had met their mark, but dared not turn around.

  Just when she thought she had reached safety, a lone horseman burst into view. She glanced sideways and felt a bolt of terror seize her. Camulos. His eyes locked with hers as he leaned over with his arm extended to grab her. She changed direction and slipped into the trees where he could not ride after her.

  He was off his horse in seconds. Someone will shoot him, she assured herself, but none of her clan sisters’ arrows reached him. She could hear his relentless stride behind her, driving her deeper and deeper into the woods. The leaves providing her camouflage began to fall from her body.

  He laughed. “Did you think I’d not recognize you, with that flaming hair? It screams your name, woman!”

  The sound of his voice caused her stomach to curdle with fear. She darted through the trees until she lost him long enough to scramble up into their sheltering limbs. She climbed skyward until she heard his thundering footsteps approaching.

  “Damn it, Lucia, stop! I won’t hurt you! I’ve come to rescue you!”

  He scanned the canopy for her. She shifted carefully, moving around to the opposite side of the tree to hide behind its trunk. She could no longer see him, but she could still hear him.

  “I blame myself for what’s happened to you—these pagans have poisoned your mind. Look at you, running through these woods like a beast! Your father would weep if he knew this was what had become of his only child.”

  He would, if he were still alive. She flashed back to the day she had found out her father had passed. She and Aveta had taken the twins to meet their grandparents as soon as they were old enough to travel. It had been years since she had seen her mother, and she had longed to see her again. They arrived to find her father’s villa occupied by someone else. At first, she feared both her parents had passed away, but the new owner told her that her mother was still alive. She had moved to a smaller house near the lake. They had all spent the next few weeks together in that house. It had been crowded, but Lucia loved it. It comforted her to hear everyone’s breath as they slept. They had been apart for too long. Lucia had never seen her mother so happy. By the end of the visit, she had convinced her to come and live at Mynyth Aur. “Come for me in the fall,” she had said. Lucia swallowed a sob.