The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “Cherries,” I said evenly, wanting to give him some sort of relief. “Eating tart cherries will give you some ease to your joints,” I told him and pulled a satchel of them from my bag. “It’s better to eat them fresh but dried are good for travel. And if you ever have an abundance of them, crush them and drink the juice. That way is the most effective.” I handed the sack to him which he graciously took with gratitude.

  “For your kindness, and to honor Eweln, Leena and your father, I will lead you to your new home.” He promised and stood to wait for me to collect my things. Together, we banked the fire and waited until the smoke had died out. With my pack securely situated on my back, Valon and I made our way out of the forest and into the dewy fields, headed to where I would live for the next several years.

  EIGHT

  Our journey lasted six days. When I first left the Island, I hadn’t realized that I had been heading south towards territory that was dangerous and unpredictable. Territory that Valon claimed was dangerous for a young woman on her own. Fearing for our safety, Valon corrected our course and we headed north. On the third morning of our journey, we came to a clearing in the forest. The trip from where we had first met had taken us across stretches of green fields, dotted with rolling hills and clusters of foliage for as far as the eye could see. We passed by an immense, stone building in the process of being constructed. Valon and I stood a great distance away from the growing edifice.

  “What is that?” I asked him, amazed and curious at the structure.

  “That is Glastonbury. To the outside world, it’s called a church. It is a sacred place to the people that go there to worship.” He answered and suggested that we sit for a moment due the discomfort in his knee worsening from the oncoming storm. I took a seat in the grass beside him and stared at the awe-inspiring creation before us. The walls were high, ornate and unlike anything I had ever seen. Back on the island, we did not use stone in our constructions. Stone was left free-standing as it had been found, solely the centerpieces of celebrations or the meeting ground for the High Council. The only exception was the Scrying Well. The elders had cut and carved the stone to protect the mystical waters that rested inside. Seeing Glastonbury awed me further at what man could accomplish. The grand edifice reminded me just how primitive the Island’s ways were.

  “There are people in this world that believe in one male God and his Holy Son and worship them,” Valon explained. The concept was foreign to me, but I listened attentively while he spoke. “The people that worship them have built many churches. There is one that I have seen, set on a holy island on the opposite coast. Lindisfarne is what it was called. The monks there told me it was built by a holy man named Aidan. During my stay, I found the monks there were very devoted to their faith. They did their best to teach me their ways, but I am set in my beliefs. But this church, this one before us, is possibly the most beautiful that I’ve ever seen. Legend says that the man who raised the Holy Son was the one that founded this church after the son was killed by a nation of men and was subsequently resurrected.” Valon added. I shook my head with half-wonder, half disbelief.

  “That all sounds like a tall tale,” I said, not believing a word of it and casting it off as just that—a tall tale. As we sat there, Valon told me more of these people, Christians they called themselves, and their belief that the son of a male god, their savior, possessed the ability to turn water into wine. As he spoke, I could not take my eyes from the building. Even though I had no desire to convert to the faith that it supported, I admired the beauty of what man could build with just a collection of tools and a vision.

  ************

  The rest of the journey held many moments where I was left dumbstruck at the vastness and the complexity of this new realm. Several times I stood, unmoving and I felt like a woman of the world, an adventurer starting a journey. Valon took me through cities—places similar to the Forum back on the Island but built on a more magnificent scale. The sheer number of people that lived and worked with in them left me dizzy. The streets bustled with life. Even at night, the air was filled with people shouting, an animal crying, or a round of raucous laughter that came from a drinking establishment that they called a public house. The intensity of those towns, not to mention the assault from thousands of individual smells, was overwhelming. I was happy to leave them behind. Saying goodbye to the cities, we traipsed across the tall grasses, moving slowly so that I could get a good lay of the land.

  I entertained myself by watching as pheasant and gray partridges flew up in front of us as we disturbed their nesting. A pair of foxes frolicked and chased each other. There was even a slender, lithe grass snake that crossed my path as we journeyed towards our destination. For the most part, we traveled talking like old friends, rather than two people who had only known each other for just a collection of days. At night, Valon slept as soon as the fire was burning, and his bed was laid. I enjoyed the discourse through our days but appreciated the quiet of the night. This gave me time to think as my injuries to scab over. My body was grateful for the exercise because it helped me heal with each step that separated me from the island. My mind was grateful for the peace because it stilled the anger that lived within me.

  Valon and I had reached the end of our journey in the late afternoon. Our travel slowed over the course of the last day. I didn’t fail to notice the grimace that Valon wore with each step, nor the way that he groaned and whimpered while he slept. His body was giving out and my inner sense told me that he wasn’t long for this world. He had stopped just before a line of trees and motioned forward.

  “The cave is just ahead,” Valon said suddenly. I took the lead as we entered another dense forest, following a well-worn pathway that cut through the center. In a sudden burst of energy, he pushed on ahead of me. Together, we exited the forest and before me was the world that he had told me to expect. My breath caught as I stared at the natural beauty around us.

  A tall stretch of rolling, deep-green hills rose above me, dotting the length of the landscape and sloping down into open fields filled with a bouquet of different-colored, unfamiliar flowers. Another few minutes brought us to the edge of a large hill. I stood and stared upwards from the base of the high slanted mound. Spotting the mouth of the cave, I didn’t hesitate when Valon encouraged me to explore it. The way up was rugged and rough due to the uneven ground hidden by the dense grass that carpeted the area. It didn’t take me long to reach it, despite the hindrances I encountered.

  Standing just before the opening, I let out a satisfied breath. The entrance was covered by a sparse blanket of ivy. I reached out and pulled several vines aside and stepped inside the dark, cold space. My first plan was to grow the ivy thicker to disguise my new doorway from view until a stronger, more defensible barricade could be built. Light flooded through the gaps in the vines, allowing enough light for me to see clearly and for the setting Sun’s warmth to dispel the coldness of the space. Walking to one side, I laid my hands against the wall. It was something that the Acolytes had taught me during my training.

  “You can sense the aura of a place. Its energy is there in the vibrations. One just has to quiet their mind and listen to it and then feel it.”

  One of the acolytes, Leila, was the one to teach me. She stood beside me in their dwelling, her voice supportive in its instruction. As I stood repeating the actions she taught, I knew that this dwelling held good energy. It had seen no violence, only peace and held pleasant memories. I would be comfortable here, and safe. I felt grateful to be so lucky to have been led here. Filled with excitement, I rushed back to the mouth of the cave, eager to thank Valon. Reaching the mouth, I looked down to where I had left him and discovered him gone. The log that we passed was there, the grass, the trees from the edge of the forest, all of it was there except Valon. He was nowhere to be found. Knowing the stiff soreness of his leg and the deterioration of his joints, I knew he couldn’t have gone far. I ran down the hill searching for any sign of him.

  “Valon
?” I called out to him, hoping that he had wandered off temporarily and was on his way back. For a moment, I wondered if he had gone off to relieve himself but, I knew that it wasn’t so. I spent the next hour searching for him and each time came up emptyhanded. Valon had disappeared. As quickly as he had entered my life, he was gone, and I was alone once more. With an enormous amount of regret and sadness, I left the woods and walked up the incline to my new home, heartsick that my first friend outside the Island had disappeared without a trace.

  ************

  The cave was neither too big nor too small. I could see the back wall from the spots of sunshine that slipped through the thick tangle of vines. I moved to the circular ring that held the remains of a long, extinguished fire. For now, I would sleep next to the fire so that I would stay warm and that I might hear anyone who dared to intrude upon me. I stood with my hands on my hips while I plotted the interior design, seeing in my mind’s eye how its space could be laid out. At the front, I would have three tables. One for food preparation, one for producing medicines, the third to sit at and eat.

  I would move the fire pit back so that it could evenly distribute the heat. Where it sat now only warmed the front and left the back area frigid and damp. Someday, I would build shelves to house stored food and to store medicines that required steeping to reach their potency. With a plan formed firmly in my mind, I immediately set to work. Within the span of a half an hour, I had moved the ring of stones from its former location to its new one. After that, I went outside and collected sticks, twigs, and dried leaves for kindling, as well as several fallen branches to keep the fire going through the night. Once the fire had caught on, the flames licked up into the air tasting its flavor for the first time, I sat down and leaned against the nearby wall. I reached for my pack and began to empty out its contents to take stock of what I had and what I would need. I removed everything that I had brought with me, save for the pouch of dried cherries that I had given to Valon. Reaching into the bag one last time, my fingers brushed against something solid. Grasping it, I pulled it out and saw the teapot that Valon had carried with him.

  “How did you get in there?” I asked, confused as to how it got into my bag. Valon always kept it with him. Every time he made tea, he refused to let anyone touch his beloved clay pot. When had he had time to slip it into my pack? I thought. Without him present, it was the answer to a question that I would never know. Even though we’d been acquainted for a short time, I knew Valon wouldn’t have given the pot away unless it was for a good reason. Resolute in that knowledge, I sat in front of the small blaze, savoring the delicious heat against my skin while water heated up for the much-needed tea. With my belongings placed neatly all around me, I undid my bedroll and laid it at a safe distance to the fire. I sat comfortably on it while I feasted on sweet chestnuts and dried blackberries for my dinner, thinking of nothing and enjoying the quiet of the day as it ended.

  ************

  Night fell fast. The sunlight, once yellow and tinged with pink, turned dark orange, stained with red and quickly gave way to a hazy blue, then to a majestic purple, and finally to black as the sun set beyond the horizon. The vines that served as a makeshift door rustled in the wind. I jumped each time they shook. Just after the sun set, I caught the scent of rain in the air and it confirmed that the rainy season had arrived. Outside, owls screeching and other night birds calling sang in through the door. I lay on my pallet, listening while waiting for the dawn to come. Even though I was sheltered, warm, and fed, I could not sleep. Being alone was terrifying. Whatever happened to me from this point on rested upon my shoulders. I couldn’t solely depend on the kindness of strangers like Valon. I would never survive if I did. To think that everyone that I encountered would be friendly was foolish. From Valon’s stories of his travels, many cultures lived beyond the Island’s shores. Some could be trusted. Others could not. This new life was one that I was going to have to navigate by trial and error. That realization came at daybreak when a hint of shadowed light peeped through the green tapestry at the mouth of the cave.

  ************

  My body complained as I rose and prepared to start my day. As I dressed, I went over the mental list that I had compiled the night before. There were so many things that I needed to do before I was settled. First, I needed to seek out the stream that would supply me with fresh water. Next was finding more kindling and fallen logs for my hearth. Once those tasks were finished, I would forage through the forest to begin replenishing my food and medicinal supplies.

  I left my new home armed with my pack, my knife, and a cautious sense of adventure. Walking down the pathway, I was delighted to find a small touch of my former home. With a smile, I reached down and plucked a thin, tender chive and tossed it in my mouth. The flavor was earthy, zesty, and fresh. It reminded me of the fish breakfast that I shared with my grandmother on the first day of my training. A pang of regret created an ache within my chest, but I cast it off and reminded myself I could not dwell on such things. Yet my heart screamed at me, demanding to know why I wanted to forget but the sensible part of me explained it wasn’t about forgetting. This was about survival. There was time for grief, for sadness, and to think about what I had lost but now was not that time. My grief would have to wait patiently for the right moment. When that time came, I would sing Grandmother the funeral prayers her spirit deserved and give thanks for the time I had with her. I knew that she would encourage me to stay on my present course.

  “You are a survivor,” I said to myself, hearing Grandmother’s voice echoed on the edge of those words. “You can get through anything if you try.” The words empowered me and gave me fuel to get on with what I needed to do. I am a survivor. I will survive.

  I entered the woods. The smell of dew hung heavy in the air. The morning songbirds chirped overhead, sitting high up on branches warming themselves as they greeted the coming day. The path led me deeper into the forest. The sound of running water caught my attention and I craned my head, trying to decipher from where the sound was coming. I stepped off the path and walked to my left. As I crossed a short distance, the sunlight brightened, and the sound of the water was stronger. Within moments, I found myself at the edge of the tree line, standing in front of a slender, strong-moving creek heavily lined with the sweet, tender water reeds that Eweln loved. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I dropped to my knees to collect the roots and fill the water bladder that I brought with me.

  A loud splash startled me as I reached for a thick clump of greenery. I saw the silver glimmer of a long, slender body just at the creeks’ edge. Hunkering down, I watched the fish as it darted in and out of the tall greens, waiting for its next meal to happen by. My stomach rumbled hungrily. I quickly glanced to see if the water dweller had heard it. Setting my things down in the soft grass, hidden by a large shrub, I removed my shoes that I had been wearing and slowly entered the water. I kept my eyes directly on the silver body as I crept out into the water, making sure that my movements were measured to not spook it and chase it away. I was within a couple of feet of the fish when I stopped and tried to recall exactly what the Acolytes had done when harvesting fish for their dinner.

  My first move was to slowly sink my hands into the water, well up past the elbows. The next was to wiggle my fingers in such a fashion that it fooled the fish into thinking they were a natural part of the aquatic atmosphere. The last was to wait until a fish came within my grasp and once it was there, to swiftly fling it out of the water and toss it up on the shoreline. I had watched them do it countless times during my time with the Acolytes. I had wanted to try it but was forbidden to do so because I lived on the main island. One of the Women, a mute named Mira, broke the rules and tried to teach me but each attempt had resulted in failure.

  “Keep practicing,” Mira spoke in a language of signs that didn’t take me long to pick up. Mira was one of the Acolytes that I shared a strong bond with. A bond similar to the one that I shared with Ibira. From what Ibira told me,
Mira was found as a small child, near dead along the banks of the water with one ear missing and her tongue cut away. Because of it, she was rendered mute, but it did not hinder her progress or her life.

  “They cut my tongue out, not my brain,” She once signed with a serious face that quickly turned into a playful smile. We had shared a hearty laugh at her joke until it was time to go to dinner.

  “I will catch a fish,” I encouraged myself, remembering her as I stood there in the cold water, my hands and feet starting to go numb. For all the times Mira tried to teach me, I would do this. I would be lying if I said that I caught a fish right off. The truth is that it took me over an hour to get the motion right and wait for the fish that I’d chased off to return. The midday sun was directly overhead when I finally clasped hands around a lithe, slippery body and successfully achieved my first catch. I moved quickly back to the bank and found my catch flipping and flopping against the short grass. Our society believed to never let anything suffer. Copying what I had seen Mira do, I took hold of the fish’s tail and slapped its body against a nearby stone, killing it instantly.