The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” He slowly twisted the curved blade so that the firelight caught its edge. Like his arms, the blade was coated with dried blood. “I bought it from one of the traders,” He said in awe. “I killed Canwyn with this knife. I had thought about killing you too, but then how could you fulfill the Rites if you were dead? How could you bear my child?” I cowered. My stomach was empty and sour. Unable to stop myself, I vomited.

  Cal gazed at the dagger with a strange kind of worship. It was as if he had fallen under an enchantment. A shiver traveled up the length of my spine watching him. Cal walked over to one of the braziers. The flames had died down, leaving a pile of dark, orange-red embers. He thrust the blade into the glowing remnants and turned back to face me.

  “I want you to remember tonight,” He said in an even, almost sane tone. “I want you to carry something other than that child that I just planted in your belly. A token to remind you that for as long as you live, I own you. I had you first. That makes you mine to do what I want with, when I want, how I want, and there is not anything that you can ever do or say about it. I own you and you will sit submissive at my side when I become the first High Priest. Your will show all women of this world that they will finally come to know their place. They will realize that men are the true rulers of this land and that their time is over!”

  My blood ran cold as the words dripped sickeningly from his lips. If he wasn’t going to kill me, what were his plans with the now searing hot blade? A terrified sweat broke out across my body and my mind screamed.

  Get up and run! My mind screamed again but my body refused to respond. I watched in frozen horror as Cal extracted the knife from the fire, its blade glowing a bright yellowed orange. He turned slowly, his eyes focused on the blade as he drank in the fire living within the metal.

  “Stick out your leg,” He ordered me as his eyes quickly flicked back and forth between me and the blade. Once again, my body refused to obey its command. Cal’s face twisted with rage. “I said stick out your leg!” He roared but still I could not move. Our eyes locked. His chest heaved as his anger exploded. His fury reminded me of an unwatched pot boiling over. The deep, intense evil that dwelled in him contaminated this sacred space, filling it with an unbearable stench that was suffocating. A heartbeat passed between us. Without warning, Cal dove towards me, the knife raised over his head. His arm arced downward in an attempt to stab me. My body suddenly responded, and I narrowly missed being impaled. My broken body wasn’t fast enough to avoid the sting of the hot steel as it grazed my thigh, searing through my flesh. The pain temporarily blinded me, but I quickly recovered.

  My will to survive was in command. The instinct to fight, even if it meant death, assumed control. Furious, I kicked the knife from his grasp. The blade sailed across the room, crashing with a dense, tinny clang behind me. Cal stood stunned, shocked at what I had done. Taking advantage of his surprise, I scrambled over to the knife and claimed it.

  Cal’s eyes flashed as he charged once again. A fierce snarling growl ripped deep from his throat. The fight in my fight-or-flight instinct was ready as I met him head-on. From the stunned look in his eyes, I saw that he expected a chase, not a confrontation. We met in a hard, solid clash that knocked my breath from me. As my lungs desperately tried to pull in oxygen, I brought my knee up and rammed Cal hard in the groin. He went down to his knees, grabbing at his crotch, groaning and cursing my name. The force of us colliding knocked me backward. Scrambling to my feet, I charged toward where he writhed on the floor. I kicked him forcibly as he groaned, handing him a piece of his own brutality.

  “I am going to kill you. The Rites be damned.” He swore in between heavy gasps. Cal realized that I was no longer scared of him. He knew that I would stop him from hurting me or anyone else ever again.

  The blade rested within my grasp. I don’t remember thrusting the blade down, but I remember how it shuddered as it sank into the meat of his back. I will never forget the piercing, primal scream that tore from my throat as I thrust the knife downwards. I had never wielded a weapon before and in my ignorance, I thought the blade would just slice cleanly through. Instead, I had to put my strength behind it to penetrate deep into his flesh. I shoved as hard as I could until the tip hit something hard and dense.

  Bone, I thought. I have struck bone. All my anger and my rage broke free at that moment. I pulled the knife out and struck him again, this time raising the blade high over my head as if offering a sacrifice. The blade landed in the area close to his spine. Cal’s howl only infuriated me more. Entranced with bloodlust, I brought the blade down repeatedly, fury guiding each strike. I stabbed him over and over and didn’t stop until he no longer moved, his breath stilled, and he laid in a growing pool of blood.

  Finding my feet, I contemplated slicing his throat, just as he had promised to do to Ravene and Eweln. That was not the way of our people and I knew that if I did, I would be no better. It took several minutes to catch my breath. Every muscle in my body revolted as I stood there. I glanced down and found my legs and thighs were smeared with a mixture of his blood and mine. The disgust of what he had done left my chest hollow. My eyes burned as they teared. I would need to gather the remnants of my strength if I was to make it back to the Island. Taking the knife with me, I dragged myself out of the now- defiled sanctuary.

  ************

  How I managed to crawl out of that cave, I will never know. My assaulted body protested with each step. My spirit was as broken and bruised as my body, and the pain went down to the bone. My lungs rebelled as I stepped outside into the forest. It had rained during Cal’s assault. I struggled to breathe in the thick, humid air. The ground was muddy, and it clung to the skin of my legs. I moved slowly, cautious of where I stepped, trying to avoid anything that would pierce the bottoms of my bare feet. While I struggled forward, my mind called for my grandmother. My heart willed her to come to me, to comfort me until the memory of what Cal had done was gone. A line of the Priests from the other island would be blocking the pathway and would prevent her from stepping foot into the forest. If I went to them, their backs would be turned to me and they would ignore me, no matter how much I plead or begged. The rules of the Rites would keep us apart. If I was to see her again, I would need permission from the High Priestess or the Council. I tried to call out to her once more but felt and heard nothing. Was she asleep in her bed, lost in her dreams? I could not hear her thoughts and it concerned me. Perhaps my leaving had been too much for her. Maybe the thought of my going was too difficult for her to face and she had taken a sedative to sleep through the remainder of it. Her silent voice was odd but in my heart of hearts, I believed that there was a valid reason for it.

  ************

  The air was silent, void of insects chirping or any sounds of night animals stalking through the foliage. Everything had gone, and I was alone. A stabbing pain surged through my womanhood. The angry, swollen mark where Cal branded me stung with a ferocity. Tears burned my eyes and I struggled to stay on my feet as I struggled down the trail that led to the boats.

  Eweln. I needed Eweln. I desperately needed her help and I would get to her if it killed me. No matter how I tried to avoid it, the debris that covered the earth beneath me cut and bit into the bottoms of my feet. Each twig that I stepped on, each rock that struck along my foot’s archway, made me wince but also gave me a distraction from the other aches and pains that coursed through my body. I was in poor shape. Blood repulsively trickled down my inner thighs. The gash over my right eye oozed and mixed with the sweat that rolled down my face. My head throbbed and ached, as did every other bone in my body. Despite the intense agony within me, I willed myself forward.

  The path through the forest was rugged, far more rugged than the one that brought me here. I came to a clearing and stopped suddenly. In the short distance, a small mound appeared that did not naturally belong in this space. I took a step closer and a scream formed in the back of my throat but died before it could
come to life. The foreign mound was the fallen body of my Hunter. I was sobbing as I approached Canwyn’s dead body and fell to my knees on the ground beside him. Cal had butchered him without mercy. Canwyn’s tongue had been cut out and lay in his open hand. His murderer hadn’t exaggerated about what he had done to Canwyn’s body. Cal viciously carved Canwyn’s heart out, leaving a large, bloody hole in his bare chest. His cold, lifeless green eyes stared straight blankly towards the skies above. Cal had slit his throat from ear to ear, cutting down to the vertebrae. A rush of sickness filled my stomach and I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to keep from retching. This was an act of pure evil. Cal had savagely butchered the body, carving it like wood. Despite the horrific wounds, Cal had left the rest of Canwyn’s face intact. His beautiful, flawless features was still pure and pristine, untouched as they were on the day we were chosen. My heart ached for this young man who lay dead at my feet. His life was cut short in unimaginable violence. I took his hand and held it in mine as I whispered a short prayer to the Goddess, asking her to protect his soul. I couldn’t help but think about what Canwyn’s future would have been. What were his plans for after the ceremony? Did he love my sister? Would he marry her? Or would his heart change if we had created a child during our coupling? This young man had had a world of possibilities open to him. He could have done anything but now, all of that was gone. It was stolen by a heartless, malicious creature driven by greed and selfishness. The last prayer died on my lips and I took in his beautiful, pure face one last time. I placed a gentle kiss on his lips, trying to fulfill the promise we made. I reached out and closed his eyes. Finding two small stones, I drew the funerary symbols upon them with the wet earth and placed them on his eyes. Cal had not shown him mercy or respect when he had taken his life. In death, I made sure that Canwyn was given what was due to him as a citizen of this world.

  “I will send them back for you,” I promised him, barely able to form the words. “I will make sure that you are given the funeral rites.”

  More tears flowed from my raw, heavy, itchy eyes as I sat with my Hunter. As I sat alongside his body, I thought of my sister. Ravene had been sweet on Canwyn. I was positive that she loved him. Everyone who possessed eyes could see it. I wondered if that was why she was so disgusted and had thrown me off when my name was called. Now, I had the unfortunate job of telling her love was dead, slaughtered by a soulless madman. I fought back a sudden wave of guilt. I hadn’t been able to prevent Canwyn’s death, but I had saved theirs. Cal had promised to kill both my sister and Eweln if I spoke the truth but for them, Canwyn and myself, I would not stay silent. My Hunter would not have died in vain. By afternoon, the Island would know what happened and Cal’s lifeless form lying back there on the floor of the First Dwelling could do nothing to stop me. When I finally rose from Canwyn’s side, my knees were muddy, and my hands were covered with a mixture of blood and earth. I pushed myself forward, leaving Canwyn where he lay. I was certain that the others would find him and once found, his body would go to the funeral pyres and his soul would once again be reunited with the Goddess.

  ************

  The last part of the journey across the dense forest was the most trying. My body tired quickly with each step. With each bramble that snagged me, I pushed onwards. Each thorn that tore my skin ordered me to stop but I stubbornly refused. It was only when I reached the shoreline that I collapsed upon the sand. I tried to call the boatmen, asking them to come to me but my voice shattered, and I could not continue. I lay on the damp sand, body wracked with shuddering sobs as grief bubbled up and poured over.

  Why did this happen to me? Why was I chosen if it meant that I had had to go through this? I was angry at the Goddess for not interfering, but I knew that sometimes, things happened outside of her will. Cal had been the one to defy her edict, choosing to murder someone who we all thought to be his friend before he savagely raped me. My skin burned as fury mixed with shame and sorrow. I do not know how long I laid there, mourning the destruction of my innocence and grieving for the life that was unnecessarily cut short before I heard the boat coming across the water. The boat slid up on the land with a loud thud and I saw the boatman’s feet step onto the sand just before my eyes.

  A strong pair of hands grasped my shoulders for the second time that night. This time, instead of rugged and savage grasping paws, the hands were tender, considerate, and sympathetic. There were no words spoken between us, only the promise that he would get me across to the other side. Expressionless, the boatman picked me up, carried me in his arms and set me down in the rear of the vessel. He climbed into the front and swept me swiftly across the water. We landed on the opposite coast moments later. The boatmen helped me from my seat and made sure my legs could support me before leaving me to travel back home.

  The pathway led through the small thicket of trees and a sloping expanse of green that separated the village center from the water. As I stepped into the forum, the normally lively space was empty. The fires were smoldering piles of ash and smoke. The floral decorations, garlands, bouquets of flowers and herbs hung limply over my head. Every Rites ceremony lasted well past dawn on the following day. From what I could see, the celebrations had gone on just as they had previously. The revelry hadn’t stopped because Cal had altered the course of events. The people knew no differently. Yet something was wrong; I sensed an altering presence in the coming dawn air. Pushing that feeling aside, I continued along the path until I reached the bottom of the hill that led the way up to the Grotto. My eyes smarted with the saltiness of my hot tears as I stood there, preparing myself for the last part of the journey. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I did not want to do this. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare and have someone tell me that none of it had happened. My battered and abused body, along with the wet, slickness on my inner thighs, were reminders that it had been all too real. This was now my reality and like it or not, I was going to have to face it. Gathering up what courage that I had left, I took the first step and prepared myself for whatever came next.

  SIX

  The mists formed slowly. I watched intensely as the curtain lowered back down, enshrouding the Island that had been my home. The boatman rowed me over obediently. From the stoic, tanned man whose body was covered in tattoos, there were no questions and no judgment. The boat-keepers were only responsible for carrying those back and forth across the waters. All that was required was for me to declare my intention and I was on my way. The boat keeper that dipped his oar into the metallic-sheened water emanated an empathetic aura. When we landed on the opposite shore, he stopped, met my eye and wished me a safe journey. Too stunned by my assault and spurred on by my hasty decision, I hadn’t noticed that it was the same man who carried me from the Sacred Island. The same one who took me to find mullein when our people needed it most. A man that I would later learn was Eweln’s uncle. I thanked him and watched as he left. Turning to face the barrier, I prepared myself for the next step of my journey. The veil lifted easily, thinning to an almost unperceivable mist as I stepped through it. Once I was beyond, I lowered it back into place. My eyes moistened as I watched my former life disappear in the growing haze. I had decided to leave in the middle of the night without any word of where I was going. My mother had betrayed me, society hated me, and I was no longer wanted or safe within its borders.

  ************

  As dawn peeked over the horizon the morning, I stumbled inside. Aunt Leena and Reena were both at the preparation tables when I collapsed across the threshold. Aunt Leena screamed, rushed over to me, and cradled me within the protection of her arms.

  “Yvaine?” Her panicked voice cried. Her hands swept over my face, brushing the sweat, blood and mud from my eyes. “Yvaine, what’s happened? Dear Goddess, Yvaine!” There was a harsh intake of breath as Leena took in my blood and mud soaked, shredded gown. “Reena, Yvaine has been attacked.” Leena cried, her voice filled with disbelief and horror. I sobbed as I clung to her, desperate to feel safe. I didn’t not
ice that Ravene had come out from her room but saw her clearly as she stood at Mothers side. They both stared down at me, blank-faced, emotionless, and punishing. I would soon realize why they looked at me so, and it still sickens me to think about it. They blamed me for what happened. I was the cause instead of the victim. Both refused to see that Cal had been the one to defile our holy spaces, the one who desecrated our traditions and corrupt the Rites, not me. When I had come home beaten, bruised, and barely able to speak, their selfishness killed any concern that they might have. Ravene refused to speak to me and stormed off back to her room, muttering under her breath. Reena peppered me with a string of questions that were difficult to answer.

  “It seems that you’ve been attacked.” Oddly, her voice held no surprise. “Who attacked you?” She asked calmly instead of an outraged mother.

  “Cal,” I managed to say.

  “Were you able to perform the Rites? Even if it was with Cal, did you perform your duty? Was there consummation? Did he spill seed inside of you? In a few weeks, we will know. Hopefully, we can salvage this disaster.” She asked me in quick succession, her voice teetering on panic.

  Leena and I stared at her in horrified disbelief. It became abundantly clear that all Reena cared about was the Rites failing and tarnishing her reign as High Priestess. She could not endure failure. Hers was a legacy of abundance and plenty, unblemished, and unmarred. What I had suffered was inconsequential. From that point on, I refused to speak to her, let alone answer any of her questions.