Aenya’s cough started during a meeting on the state of the Island’s stores. The members had assembled to take inventory of what the Island had, what it lacked, and what would be needed for next winter. When she arrived home, Mother said that Aenya excused herself from the meetings, unable to control a cough that grew deeper and wetter with each attack. From the High Council, Aenya went home to rest but by nightfall, her cough had worsened, and a high fever burned her body.
Aenya’s family came seeking Eweln in the dark morning hours. They appeared at her threshold begging for help, anxious and frightened by Aenya’s labored struggle to breathe. Eweln assured them that she would attend Aenya immediately and sent them back home to wait. After grabbing her medicine bag, Eweln raced over to get me. I slept deeply before Eweln appeared at my bedside and urged me from my sleep.
“Yvaine, it is time to get up. We are needed.” She said quietly as she threw back the blankets that warmed me and tossed my clothes and shoes at me. “Get dressed quickly. We have no time to waste.” Sensing the urgency in her voice, I did as she said and within minutes, we were rushing down the pathway, headed in the direction of Aenya’s hut.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Aenya the Elder has fallen ill,” It was all Eweln said as we hurried along. We moved quickly. Moonlight illuminated the pathway as the cold, icy air blew against us. Eweln held my hand as we navigated the twists and the turns until we came upon Aenya’s family’s home. Light filled the windows and sage-scented smoke from burning medicinal herbs hung heavy in the outside air.
Eweln entered the dwelling without the customary knocking. Aenya’s family welcomed us graciously and directed us to where Aenya lied. Eweln ordered everyone from the small, putrid-smelling room as soon as we entered Aenya’s bedchamber, stating that we needed to work unencumbered. Upon entering the small, close-spaced room, my eyes caught sight of two small braziers that burned at the head of each side of the bed. I recognized the braziers as the source of the incense smoke that assaulted my nose just minutes before. The second thing that I noticed was that Aenya was dead. Eweln grasped my hand, signaling to me that she too knew that our patient had not been strong enough to see our arrival.
“Be careful to not draw attention,” Eweln whispered to me. “You need to go for the priests. You need to alert them of her death.” Eweln set her bag down and motioned for me to be on my way. I obeyed, pulling my own bag over my shoulder, letting it lay crosswise across my body. I left the bedroom only to be met with a small gathering of worried, anxious faces.
“Is anything the matter?” Aenya’s son, Gareth, stepped forward, blocking the way between me and the door. Gareth was a carpenter and possessed a body that bespoke of his trade. I had always found him handsome, but that innocent attraction was absent in that moment.
“I need to go to the herb shed,” I explained. “We are low on elderberry. We need more to attend to Aenya properly.” I was stunned at how easily the white lie came to me. Visibly satisfied with my answer, Gareth stepped back and allowed me to pass.
Once I was outside, I broke into a run and did not stop until I reached the Docking Shore. Even though the waters were empty when I arrived, I did not have to wait long for a boatman to appear. The tan-skinned man was dressed in heavy, dense animal skins to keep his body warm from the bracing, harsh wind that rose from off the water’s surface. I approached him and announced the reason for my errand. The boatman helped me climb into the boat and without protest, dipped the oar into the silver-topped waters and silently carried me to the Priests Island.
Women were forbidden to step foot upon the Priests Island. According to Island lore, the spells enchanting the island would be corrupted if a female dared step upon it. Any woman who dared break the centuries-long tradition faced the most extreme punishment. For that reason, I remained behind while my escort left to seek out one of the priests who called the tiny island home.
While I was alone, I listened attentively to the silent night air, noting that the chorus of wintertime insects, birds, and other animals was unexpectedly quiet. The quiet pause allowed me a moment to think.
This was the first time that I had been beyond the main Island’s shores. When I was younger, I yearned to go to the trades with Aunt Leena. I was curious yet apprehensive to see what awaited beyond our border but despite my desperate pleading, Reena strictly forbade it. Tonight, I relished in every second, despite the circumstance that brought me to this point. If Reena had known I was here, I would pay dearly.
“Only Ravene may go,” Reena said sharply in a time long since passed. Her harshness shattered my hope with her cold, flat words. The echoes of long ago stuck with me. I stood disappointed each time my sister and aunt went ahead, and I was left behind.
I finally got my wish, I thought to myself and smiled. A secret joy filled me as I sat in the quiet darkness. Even when Reena became aware of my journey here, there was not much she could do. I had been directed by my elder, after all. In our world, one did not disobey the wish or command of an elder. It was simply not done. Every citizen of the Island understood it and obeyed. Even Reena observed it even though she was the only one immune from the rule. If she found out that I was here, she would hold her tongue until we got home. Once in the Grotto, though, her ire would sting quick, fresh and hot.
A loud, sharp crunching sound suddenly caught my attention. I caught sight of movement at the shore just as the clouds parted and a beam of moonlight illuminated the area.
“This man has said that there is a matter of urgency?” One of the priests, a tall, willowy, bald man appeared walking in the frost with the boatman flanking closely behind him. “What is so urgent that you come so early in the morning?”
“Aenya from the High Council is dead,” I said, suddenly anxious and slightly intimidated by the man before me. “Eweln the Healer has sent me to tell you. I must warn you, though,” I said, needing to explain more to him. “Aenya has died of the coughing sickness. She fell ill yesterday while at Council and died not more than two hours ago.” The priest acknowledged that he understood the reasons for the additional explanation.
“The coughing sickness has never taken life so quickly before. That it has taken her is both unfortunate and concerning.” The priest, with his face, neck, and hands adorned with woad-colored tattoos, dressed in his darkened robe, stood with his hands clasped before him. His bald head reflected in the silvery light. “Thank you for your warning. My brothers and I will begin our preparations and arrive shortly to attend to the funerary rites.” With nothing further to say, the priest turned his back to me and disappeared back into the shadows.
The boatman waited until the priest was gone before he sailed us back to the Main Island. The vessel slid up onto the shore smoothly but came to an abrupt, jarring stop. After he helped me out, I waved the boatman goodbye before heading up the embankment towards the entrance to the forum.
On my way back to Aenya's hut, I suddenly remembered what I had told Aenya’s family and veered from my course. I stopped briefly at the herb sheds and grabbed a few vials of thickened elderberry juice. With the tiny pottery bottles in my pack, I ran the full way back to Aenya’s family’s hut.
Sobbing and the heaviness of sorrow met me as I reached the door. Giving it one loud rap, I let myself in. Eweln stood in the center of the main room, packing her gear while the family was absent. Soft, shuddering sniffles echoed from Aenya’s room told me all that I needed to know.
“Did you do as I asked?” Eweln placed a collection of vials into her bag before drawing its string closed. I nodded and firmly shut the door behind me.
“The priests are coming,” I whispered as Eweln’s eyes lifted to meet mine. “When I left, I told the family that you sent me to the sheds. For this.” I handed her a bottle of the elderberry, which she gratefully took without hesitation.
Behind us, Gareth suddenly entered the room. He went to Eweln, touched her shoulder, and offered up his thanks. With a forced smile and genuine
appreciation, he laid his hands upon my shoulders and pulled me against his broad, muscular chest. Woodsmoke and sweat wafted into my nose as I was taken aback by the closeness of his body to mine.
“I thank you for your efforts, sweet girl, but I fear it is too late. My mother has gone to be with the Goddess now.” He released me and sniffed loudly. “It happened just after you left. Eweln said that there was nothing that anyone could do.”
“I am so very sorry,” I offered up my condolences, acutely aware of his sorrow. “I wish that there was more that we could have done,” I added, unsure of what else to say.
“Sing her songs. Place offerings to her spirit at your altar. Remember her life and celebrate the love you have for her,” Eweln said in a maternal way. “This life is just one of many. Don't worry, you will see her again.” Eweln’s words visibly comforted Aenya's son. Gareth nodded to Eweln and gently touched my cheek before he went back to rejoin the rest of his family. Eweln motioned that it was time to leave. Silently, I followed her as we exited the dwelling and stepped out onto the frosty footpath.
“When I went to the Priests Island,” I said once we were out of earshot. “I warned them that the coughing sickness has returned but I feel terrible that I lied to her family.” My voice fell low as the guilt from what I had done finally hit me.
“Your assessment may be correct,” She said proudly but solemnly. “And I have a feeling that many more will fall ill before this is over. That means that we have to be ready.” Eweln drew me to her and kissed the top of my head. “As for the untruth, you will learn that sometimes untruths are harmless when they give comfort to those who could never accept reality. I am not sure if you noticed it, but when we first went into her room there was a sizable mass in Aenya’s stomach. I have suspected for weeks that she had been ill but that she refused to accept it. It explains why she’s been wearing loose flowing gowns for months. Especially after a lifetime of wearing form-fitting ones. She always favored clothing that accented her figure.” Eweln said knowingly. “Even though the coughing sickness ultimately sent her on towards her next lifetime, that large lump protruding from her stomach was killing her. She would have died a matter of weeks. Sickness is never easy but, in my experience, those who lose loved ones like this tend to mourn easier and aren’t haunted by shadows as those forced to watch their loved ones die an agonizing death.”
“The wasting sickness?” I said shocked and horrified. The wasting sickness was a brutal, excruciatingly painful death. It robbed people of their appetites and ate away at their vitality until those who had it were left emaciated, a skeleton heavily draped in a sheet of loose skin and weak as a newborn lamb. My maternal grandmother, Raenna, died from it. No one deserved to die in such a savage manner, save perhaps Cal. There was nothing within our knowledge that could cure it. The only option was to treat the pain until the last breath passed over the dying’s lips.
“Yes, my child. Aenya’s family are not strong emotionally. So many people are so fragile when it comes to suffering. When Aenya’s husband passed two winters ago, I was sure that Gareth and his sister, Gerys, would follow their father to the pyre. Judging from how badly they took their father’s death, there was no way that they would ever be able to handle knowing Aenya was in constant pain and suffered greatly. Now that I think about it, I don’t think her silence was her refusal to accept her fate, but rather a choice to protect her children. Aenya was always a selfless woman. She was of great comfort to me when my own mother died. She is the one that told me that kindness comes in many forms. Truth is always best, but sometimes the truth has to make sacrifices for the sake of others.”
Eweln was right. Mourning was hard enough—even though it was an emotion that I had yet to taste. To have Aenya’s family suffer needlessly was cruel and I now understood that by choosing to lie, I was protecting the great lady’s family rather than deceiving them.
“I am still certain that this one instance is going to turn into many. We will need to be ready for it when it does. Let’s go start preparing for it.”
Eweln kept hold of my hand as we reached the fork in the pathway. One direction led to the left, headed to the gardens. The right led to our homes. The middle would take us to our workplaces. Eweln and I headed in unison towards our destination. Neither of us slept for the remainder of the night. Instead, we worked tirelessly through the rest of the nocturnal hours and well into the long hours of the following day with the hopes that the onslaught of sickness would be fewer than expected. Our expectations went unmet. The sickness moved rampantly through the populace like wildfire.
************
As we worked, calls for help flooded in. Person after person was struck down with the tell-tale deep, wet cough, and complained of thick, suffocating congestion. Body aches and weakness confined them to their beds. Each person we visited complained of a bone-deep cold so exacting that no amount of heat soothed it. Eweln and I attended our patients until we were both too exhausted to continue. By the time the moon hung high over our heads four days later, my back, neck, and shoulders ached from the strenuous, constant movement. I wanted to protest but kept silent knowing that others suffered far worse than me.
“The other healers will take over for the time being,” Eweln said, leaning back in a sturdy, single chair that stood in the corner of the workshop. “Neither of us will be any use if we don't take care of ourselves, too.” She was right. If either of us fell ill due to exhaustion, the sick would be sentenced to die. As healers, we were responsible for their health and care. Seeing that she was right, I agreed with her and moved to collect my things to go.
“Yvaine,” Eweln said as I picked up my bag. “It would not be wise of you to go home.” Eweln was slumped over in her chair but righted herself as she spoke. “There is a chance that you could carry the sickness home to your family. I do not worry about the Twins. Both have strong constitutions and so far, the weaker ones have been falling ill. Ravene, as delicate as she is, weighs heavily on my mind. She’s never had the coughing sickness before. Her constitution is not as robust as yours, so we must take care. It is our job to protect her and those like her. We must do everything that we can to keep this contained and quarantined. Do you understand what I'm saying?”
I studied Eweln for a minute as I mulled over her words. That was when I knew that I was truly a healer. Healers remained where they were needed during times of illness. Staying put meant that I would be useful to my best ability. By going home, I would endanger my sister. Despite the divide between us, there was nothing that I wouldn’t do for her.
“I understand,” I said honestly. “My home is where I am needed.” The sheds would be my home until my work was done.
“Spoken like a true healer.” With her words still lingering in the quiet, green-scented air, I laid down upon the pallet and slept until I was required again.
************
For two weeks, Eweln and I worked doggedly, preparing, treating, even praying that our administrations would result in some success. There were few that we could effectively nurse, but the majority died as we were helpless to watch. The small band of priests responsible for the funeral pyres had taken up temporary residence in an abandoned garden shack on the edge of the Burning Grounds, where we cremated our dead. Every day they built the platforms and prayed over the flaming infernos, working tirelessly as they struggled to keep up with the ever-rising death toll. Each whiff of incinerated putrescence and the thick smoke from burning flesh knotted my stomach. Being aware of the limits in one’s power is an exacting, defeating truth. Especially now because the current bout was unlike any we had experienced before.
I watched people struggle to breathe and suffocate. People that I had known my entire life. Unable to vocalize what I felt, I broke down. Tears were the one thing that I could not hold back. The consuming powerlessness of watching someone die cannot be fully described. Despite my best attempts, I was forced to watch both the young and the old wither and die, suffocated by the build-
up in their chests and the high fevers that torched their bodies. I was powerless in stopping it.
That helplessness stoked my desire to make a difference. Eweln and I worked relentlessly, doing the best that we could. Dose after dose, we administered the remedies that had been so effective in the past but were now useless. Each failure spurred me to seek and find a cure that would stop all the unnecessary death.
“I just don’t understand,” I growled, frustrated and fuming at myself after we left a home where a young child of three had died. “I do not understand why nothing is working. The treatments are useless! There must be something that we’re missing. There must be something else that we can do that will help!”
“Perhaps this isn’t the coughing sickness?” Eweln said as we turned onto the path that led to our temporary camp. “All of the symptoms are the same, but you know as well as I do that sickness alters each season. They change over time. What works once may not work again.” She added, trying to give me hope even though I resisted it.
“This is the coughing sickness. All the symptoms are there. The high fevers, the complaints of being cold, the sweating, the congestion, the coughing, and the labored breath. If it’s not the coughing sickness, then what else could it be?” I sucked in a ragged breath. “No. I will not second guess myself. I know what this is. My gut says so.” I declared, confident of the diagnosis.
Eweln fell silent as we eventually reached the herb sheds. Once we reached our destination, Eweln went inside to sleep while I remained outside, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh, frigid air.
Sweat from constant work soaked my body. My clothes clung uncomfortably to me and I longed for a bath and the coziness of my own bed. Even though I knew it was risky, I luxuriated in the crisp coolness as it contacted with my balmy skin. Glancing up at the sky, I saw that night was quickly falling. The last of the sun’s light stained the edge of the horizon, tinting the edge with hues of pink, red and orange, with purple. The first of the stars would peek out within the hour. I sat on the ground and propped my back up against the wall. The beautiful colors across the horizon provided a temporary escape as I tried not to dwell on my lack of success. I had failed my people. Eweln tried to stress many times that the most unfortunate part of a healer’s job was the loss of life, but I couldn’t accept it. It wasn’t that I was afraid of failure. It was that I believed in life. I believed wholeheartedly that those who died deserved to live happily rather than die horrifically.
The Island of Mists Page 2
