The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

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  The sun had rose and set seven times when I encountered the first of many people that I would meet in my new life. The urge to settle down was growing stronger. My tired feet and my substantially reduced stores reminded me that my journey needed to end soon. I sought shelter in a small, dense thicket of trees after the skies opened and rained across the landscape. Drops fell intermittently from the heavens while I tried my best to get a fire started to keep from catching a chill. Once the fire was burning, I perched myself upon a large stone and spent the time formulating a plan for when I decided to stop for good.

  First, I needed to find shelter. Judging by the erratic temperature fluctuations and the ever-constant wind, I knew that the rainy season was here. To keep myself healthy, I needed someplace out of the driving winds and the heavy downpour that would come over the next two months. Back on the Island, the people depended on the rains to start the propagation of crops. It was the time of year when the Goddess brought forth the elements and the mixture of warm and cold, along with the golden sunlight that ultimately provided a bountiful harvest. I wondered many times why the Goddess had yet to punish me for ruining the Rites ceremony. Her demands were not met. Her dictates were corrupted, yet she had yet to exact her vengeance out on me. Unable to think of a reason why, I cast the thoughts aside for now. There were more important matters at hand.

  My second objective was to replenish my food supply and to begin preserving it for winter, even though that was several months away. Wherever I decided to live needed to be near a source of fresh water. I had been lucky so far that my chosen path passed by several small streams and creeks that provided ample water to keep myself clean and quenched my thirst. The nearby waters also provided an abundance of fish to fill my belly. I could survive on fish. I enjoyed it immensely, but I knew that it was not enough to round out my diet. My new home needed to provide me with the ability to gather berries, plants, nuts, fruits, and vegetables that would add to my fare. Lastly, I wanted to be near the forest because wooded areas contained resources in which I could make medicines likes salves, draughts, simples, and infusions. Medicines that I could sell or trade for other items if I was ever presented with the chance to do so.

  My thoughts consumed me to the point that I no longer felt the rain drops plonk down upon my head. A twig snapped close by and forced me to my feet. Before exiting my Mother’s house, I tucked the small knife that I used for cutting herbs into the belt that I wore. At the sound of the silence shattering, my hand reached for it and I wrapped my fingers around the bone handle. Leaves rustled across the forest floor. My heart pounded in my chest and whooshing sound of blood rushing through my ears was deafening.

  “Who’s there?” I called out, knowing that I was not alone. I shouted again, half-proud that my voice had not failed me but also instantly regretting my boldness. What if it was a band of marauders? What if it was someone who intended to rape me again? Or worse, what if it was Leena and a band of men coming to take me back to the Island? Shouting as I did could have alerted them to my presence and I could be dead within moments. Whoever it was could seize and slaughter me without hesitation. A hundred different scenarios ran through my head before a short, thin figure stepped out from behind a large mulberry bush. The sight of my foreign companion struck me immediately. He seemed familiar, but I knew that through the course of my life, I had never laid eyes on him before.

  “I do not mean thee any harm,” My sudden cohort announced and came further into the clearing, his hands raised to show that he was not armed. “Yours is a face that I have not yet seen before.” He said but remained in the spot where he stood. “Where is it that you come from, my girl?”

  From what I could see, he was older, very poor but immaculately clean. The clothes that he wore had several spots where they had been patched, sewn, and mended many times over. His hands and face were spotless as though he had just washed. His body was overly thin, and I wondered how long it had been since he had last eaten.

  “I don’t come from anywhere particular,” I answered, giving him the new truth of my situation. The Island no longer had any association to me. These woods, these lands beyond the mist-covered archipelago, was now my home.

  “Ah, I see,” My strange companion stepped closer to me once more. “Do you mind if I rest my bones upon that rock there? I have traveled a long time and need to sit a spell.” He said, pointing to the matching rock beside me. Wary of the stranger, I debated his request. The recent attack left me distrustful of people and for a moment, I believed that I would order him to go.

  “Please, take as long as you wish.” I relented, catching a whiff of his aura upon the air. The stranger smelled of freshly tilled garden dirt and honey. My senses set me at ease and confirmed that he didn’t pose any threat. Despite his benevolence, I didn’t lower my guard.

  I watched him hobble towards the boulder, supporting himself on a long, carved, blackened walking stick. As he came closer, I tried to read his thoughts but found that his mind refused to reveal its secrets to me.

  “The way that you speak tells me that you are from the Island of Mists.” My new companion groaned as he took a seat, allowing the rock to take the strain of his weight from him. He laid the walking stick across his lap. “You have the look of their people. You wear their dress—I would recognize its style anywhere. You wear your hair like them too, long and flowing. I do say, you do remind me of someone that I used to know. Are you sure that you’ve never been to the Island of Mists?” He watched me with soulful eyes, and I examined him back with curious regard. This stranger was perceptive. From what he had seen and from how he spoke, I knew that if I was to blend into my surroundings better, there were things that I would need to change.

  “How do you know about the Island?” I asked, intrigued at how he would know about its existence and thoroughly surprised at how I was warming up to him. “Did you trade with us? Perhaps you’ve met one my family’s friends.” I continued, realizing that I had confessed the truth of my origins, but I was curious and wanted to know more.

  “The Island rests about a week’s walk from here,” He said simply. “It is shrouded in a thick, opaque blanket of mist. It is a place of silvery, glass-topped waters and thick, lush green grass that stretches across the land and up into the hilltops.” He said, smiling. “Those that dwell there worship and honor the Mother Goddess. I know the place well. Pray tell me, isn’t this the time for the Spring Rites? Or has it already passed?”

  I could not answer him straight away but instead nodded a moment later. My body froze with the horrific memory of what I had been through. Images of Cal assaulted my mind with blinding speed that left me dizzy and nauseated. To his credit, the man remained silent, giving me ample time to recover before he spoke again.

  “So, it’s happened again, hasn’t it? The Rites failed and the people have once again leveled the blame at someone. When will they ever learn? Those damned ignorant fools!” My companion spat, visibly disgusted as rocked in his seat and let out a deep sigh of resignation. “Is that why you are here? You were the Huntress, weren’t you? And something went wrong, and those idiots have held you responsible.” His perception was astounding, and I found myself answering without hesitation.

  “Yes,” I lowered my eyes to my hands that rested together upon my lap. How could this stranger know? I stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief for several tense moments. “How do you know of the Rites?” I sniffed, immediately comforted by the softness of his brown eyes as they watched me, knowing all too well the war waging inside of me.

  “Many years ago, I lived there with my family. My name is Valon. I’m a descendant of Insem.” A proud smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Insem was Maren’s brother, the creator of the High Council, and was the wisest man the Island had ever known. Insem was my ancestor through Maren. The man beside me was my distant kin.

  “I know all too well what the people are capable of. And that bitch did nothing. A farce of a High P
riestess, if you ask me.” A bitterness settled into his voice. “I left the Island in the autumn after my sister was chosen to be the Huntress and the Rites failed.” He explained. “A boar attacked her while she was headed to meet her Hunter. The burning fires that line the pathway were not lit and yet the songs were still sung. Whether it was my sister’s movements, or the Acolytes raised voices, something provoked one of the boars that sometimes swim over from one of the uninhabited islands. Gweneth was killed before she realized what happened. Her Hunter found her dead body just outside of the First Dwelling. Gweneth had been disemboweled—gutted and partially eaten. When a search party was sent out, they came back to tell me that her body was not fit for me to see. They built her funeral pyre right there in the heart of the forest, just beyond the First Dwelling. It was impossible to bring her back to the Burning Grounds.” Valon told while I listened carefully. “As soon as they learned that the Rites weren’t completed, the Lady of the Isle, Hiberia, sent for the new High Priestess who stepped in and took the Hunter as her own. The following morning, everyone blamed Gweneth instead of placing blame where it belonged—on an acolyte named Tilme. That bitch fell asleep and failed to keep the braziers lit. That’s why they light them, did you know that? It keeps the beasts away from the path so that the Huntress can reach her destination safely. There’s no mystical reason, despite what anyone says.” His acrimonious voice deepened, and I shivered as I envisioned my own trip down that pathway.

  A second shiver ran down my spine. Tilme. The thought of the haughty, self-possessed Acolyte left a sour taste in my mouth. “That doesn’t surprise me. Tilme is self-centered and smells of rot.” I exhaled, disgusted that I now knew the secret that she hid.

  “She’s still alive?” Valon asked, not hiding the disgust that he too felt for her.

  “Unfortunately. She was expected to be named Lady of the Island and Keeper of the Women before I left. I can’t stomach the thought of her following after my grandmother. Something tells me that she killed her, even though I have no proof. It’s just something that I know but can’t explain why.” I spat, suddenly certain that Tilme had done something to my grandmother in order to gain position and prestige. We sat silent before he began to speak again, picking up where he left off.

  “What utter shit. Tilme is a murderer. I have long suspected that Gweneth’s death wasn’t an accident. Tilme was always so jealous of her. We knew her when she was a child, and she was always nasty-natured.”

  “Is that what forced you to leave the Island?” I asked, steering the conversation away from Tilme who didn’t deserve our time or our words.

  “Yes. With Gweneth gone and the crops failed, people started to grow unrestful about the lack of food. Ignorantly, they sought out a scapegoat. Of course, they couldn’t see that the blight was due to the lack of rain. There was no rain for months the year before and there was no irrigation system in place. The people refused to see it, though. They believed that the blight was Gweneth’s fault but since she was dead, they turned their anger towards me. Her failure became mine.”

  Valon echoed exactly what I knew would have happened to me if I had stayed. This moment justified my decision even further. Seeing the understanding clearly written on my face, he sighed again and carried on. “Few people showed me any kindness in the months between my sister’s death and when I finally left. No one would allow me to procure food from their stalls or trade with me. Only three people showed me any decency. The kindest of them was Eweln, the healer. She would come to my home in the darkest part of the night, bringing food from her own garden. She believed that it was cruel to let someone starve. Out of everyone that helped me, Eweln knew what it was like to be a pariah. She had been outcast because of the incident with her mother, Gwellen. Because she knew what it was like, she helped me survive and later, aided in my escape. For that, I will be forever grateful to her.”

  Valon stretched out again. The sound of his tendons and ligaments popping accompanied the sounds of our fire.

  “And then there was my best friend. He was a young man who worked in the gardens, raising vegetables, and tending to the orchards. He also snuck me food. And then there was Leena. Leena is a beautiful soul. I wanted to marry her, but her heart secretly belonged to another.”

  “I know Leena!” I said proudly. “And Eweln was my teacher!” I didn’t fail to notice how his eyebrows raised at the mention of my aunt. “Your sister’s Rites. That was the Rites when I was conceived.”

  “You’re Reena’s daughter?” Valon peered at me across the close distance. “That is surprising. If I had to guess, I would have bet that Leena was your mother. You favor her quite a lot, but I must say, I see nothing of Reena within you.”

  “Leena is my aunt. I am the child of Reena and her Consort. Reena may have given birth to me, but she is not my mother. No mother would willingly send their child to the Rites knowing that they would be raped.”

  “Reena saw what happened to you?” Valon said incredulously. “Reena sent her own child to the Rites, knowing that you were going to be assaulted?” He let out a disgusted hiss before continuing. “That’s despicable. I hope that you know that what happened to you is not your fault. If there is anyone to blame, it’s that bitch, Reena.”

  “My name is Yvaine,” I said unexpectedly, running from the emotions suddenly swirling beneath my surface.

  “Yvaine?” Valon gaped open-mouthed at me as if he was seeing me for the first time as his lips silently repeated my name. “Your name is Yvaine?”

  “Why do you keep saying my name?” I questioned his odd behavior.

  “My greatest friend—the one who snuck food from the gardens—was named Yvan. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You look like Leanan, Yvan’s mother! Leanan and my mother were the best of friends. Yvan and I spent every moment together when we were children. As we grew into men, we remained close although our duties no longer allowed us the freedoms that we once had.”

  It was my turn to be stunned. The shock of his words weakened my knees and set my pulse to racing. Seeing that I was unsteady, Valon got to his feet and took a seat beside me. Gently, he reached out for my hand but didn’t recoil when I avoided his touch. Even though I knew he was benign, the closeness made me uneasy.

  “Yvan…was…my father.” I barely managed to get the words out. Valon peered into my face, taking in my features.

  “Yes, I can see that he is,” A great smile stretched across Valon’s face and his eyes glistened with memories. “You have his eyes. You also have his unruly hair.” Valon laughed heartily. “I should have known the moment that I saw you, but my eyesight is not what it used to be. I am afraid that I can no longer distinguish things as well as I once did.” He admitted his disadvantage to me and instantly I was compelled to help him.

  Valon’s eyes were rheumy, swollen, and reddened. “May I examine your eyes?” I asked him. Valon consented. His eyes were hard under the touch of my fingers. “You are too young to be losing your sight,” I said, pegging my newfound friend in his late thirties, around the same age as Leena. “I am sure that you know that there is nothing that I can do to stop this, but I have tea that can slow the progression.” I reached across for my bag. “I will gladly make you some if you are willing to take it.” I pulled out the mixed compound of carrot, garlic, and dried dark leafy greens. “I can also treat that open sore on your leg,” I motioned towards the source of his discomfort when he walked. Valon tried to hide the stain caused by the oozing sore. From the putrid smell, as well as the discoloration, I knew it was infected and required immediate treatment.

  Valon continued to sit while I went about gathering kindling to add to the dying fire. He remained silent as I brought the temporary hearth back to life with just a small spark that turned into a flame. Soon, a good-sized fire was going and a stone pot he carried with him was nestled close to the small inferno, so I could make good on my promise. Without me asking, Valon raised the leg of his pants and presented the wound festering on hi
s leg. I did my best to hide my horror at seeing the wicked gash that ran down the length of his upper thigh. The healer in me itched to treat him. Resting a hand against his forehead, I found Valon was running a low temperature. Turning my attention back to the injury, I told him that I would need to wash it before it could be treated but that it would hurt. Going back to my pack, I brought out a small bladder filled with willow tea and used it to wash the deeply infected gash. Once I was satisfied that most of the debris and pus was washed out, I applied a honeyed-garlic salve to it to aid the healing process. Once the bandage was wrapped around it, I gave him the tea for his eyesight and sat back down, feeling good from being able to utilize my skills. Valon sighed with relief.

  “That is the first time that my leg hasn’t ached or throbbed in several days.” His body visibly relaxed and he stretched his leg out now that it wasn’t bothering him as it had been just moments before. “Tell me, Yvaine,” He said gently after I had given him a share of my food and we had sat together in silence eating. “Do you have a plan for what you will do now that you have left?” I shook my head after a few moments of thinking.

  “No, not completely. My departure was hasty like yours was and I only took a few essentials with me. I’ve been traveling for nearly a week and just now have thought of settling. To be honest, I want to be a good distance away so that they will never find me.” I said with finality. “I was thinking about it when you came upon me earlier.” I picked up a nearby stick and prodded the flames while the embers underneath glowed a hot, orangish red.

  “I know where you can find shelter,” Valon announced. Suddenly, he took hold of his walking stick and slid off the rock. I heard him groan as his feet hit the ground. “There is a cave that is a decent walk from here. It will take several days to get there, and no one has lived in it for a very long time. Everything that you need to survive will be within a short distance. And it’s quite close to a popular road that many traders use when moving from town to town.” He explained and I found myself grateful, giving the Goddess thanks for putting this man in my path. “I’ve stayed there several times when I have come through this part of the land. There is a stream nearby and it sits on the edge of the forest, so you will be able to forage for food and gather what you need for your healing.” I saw that he was readying himself to leave. He stood before me, his staff in his hands and supporting most of his weight. Because of my unobstructed view, I now saw what else ailed him. His other leg was twisted and stuck out at an uncomfortable angle. The damage to his joints was very visible from the way they bowed, and it pained me deeply to know that he would continue to suffer.