“Is that a bed I see?” He glanced over my shoulder, blatantly disregarding my warning. “Good. I will have a place to sleep after I’ve used you a few times and had some of whatever’s cooking in that pot. Then, if I’m not tired, I’ll have you some more. I guarantee that you’ll be a sore piece of ass come morning.” His voice was low, and I could tell he was running on pure lust. “But then again, you might not. Maybe I’ll let you live, maybe I won’t.” With breathless speed, Byron pulled a knife much like mine from a pocket sewn into his tunic.
The ghost of Cal’s assault lingered heavily close in the air. I expected the memory to paralyze me, but it did the opposite. Before I could react, Byron lunged towards me, closing the distance between us, grabbing me about the waist and knocking us both into my prep table. It smacked hard against the wall while its edge dug into my lower back. Byron tried to kiss me while fumbling with the strings of his pants and clawed at the hem of my skirt. I craned my neck, struggling to push myself away from him while trying to avoid his fetid mouth. Using both the table and his body, he pinned my arms to my sides. I struggled to liberate my hand that still firmly gripped my knife.
“Kiss me, you whore, or I’ll make you suffer. You will learn to submit to men whether you like it or not.” He struck me hard across the cheek. The force of the blow sent me reeling from his grasp, crashing onto the hard stone floor. Somehow, I managed to retain the hold on my knife, the same knife that had shed blood before. Byron made the fatal mistake of hesitating, prematurely gloating over his ‘win’, giving me the time that I needed to recover. The face of the men that I had killed before flashed before my eyes. The first was the monster that brutally raped me and destroyed life as I had known it. The second mortally wounded the best friend that I had in this world. Both were the same type of cretin as the one who stood before me now. I knew that I would either kill him or that I would die trying.
My heart beat wildly in my chest and deep, primal rage coursed through my veins. The ferocity of my fury both scared and exhilarated me. The moment to counter his attack was here. A loud, piercing scream tore from my mouth as I flew at the invader who dared to trespass in the sacred space of my home. It was clear that Byron hadn’t expected retaliation because my advance caught him off guard. I jumped on him, using the full weight of my body and knocked him to the ground. Without wasting a moment, I brought my knife down and plunged it deep into the fatty rolls of his neck. I stabbed him several times, feeling the blade scrape against the vertebrae of his neck. Byron gasped for breath. His hands clutched his severed jugular in a futile attempt to stop the hemorrhage. I got to my feet and stood over him. His desperate, panicked eyes met mine as he died. Before the last gleam of light went out, I kicked him as hard as I could.
“Let this be a lesson in your next life,” I spat, suppressing the urge to kick him again. “Don’t threaten or try to rape women unless you want to die.” The words flew from my lips and I was left cold and hollow. I stood unmoving, eyes fixed upon him until his chest stilled and a final bloody bubble formed and burst from between his parted lips. Despite the chill in my veins, I had no regret.
“Hello?” A strange voice spoke from just outside the door of my cave. I turned just in time to see a familiar face pull back the cover and squint into the light. “Goodness.” The Hermit stood in my home as he glanced from Byron’s dead body to me and back. “My dear girl, are you, all right?” He took another step in and I pointed my knife at him, warning him to stay back. The Hermit lifted both hands, showing me that he meant me no ill-will. “I was passing along the trail below and I heard a loud scream. I came up here because I thought you were injured.” He said as his eyes settled on the body at our feet. “Did this man attack you?” He glanced around my home, taking in the mess that Byron had caused.
I let my knife fall at my side. It had been months since I’d seen the Hermit. His beard had grown in and his hair had more silver since I had last seen him. “I am so sorry. I—”
“I can see that you’ve had a moment,” The Hermit said, moving further in and stopping just before Byron’s dead body.
“I met him earlier today when he was traveling with my friends,” I said flatly. “He followed me back here with the intention of raping me.”
“Then he deserved to die,” The Hermit was all frankness. “It is a terrible world where men think that women are merely instruments to be used for their sole pleasure.” He paused for a moment. “Would you like me to help you get rid of him?” He offered his assistance which I instantly accepted. I didn’t want his soon-to-be rotting corpse out of my living quarters, I would need aid in removing him.
“Thank you,” I said gratefully. Without another word spoken between us, the Hermit helped me drag Byron’s body down to a patch of flat earth located a fair distance from the cave and shielded from the road by a cluster of trees. Rain poured heavily down upon us, making the way slippery and burying him twice as hard.
“It’s better that we bury him at night. The soldiers won’t see us, nor will anyone who happens to pass by. This is a good spot. We’ll bury him here, even though he doesn’t deserve the decency of burial. He should be left for the crows and worms to eat his eyes.” The Hermit said before disappearing. He reappeared shortly holding a shovel that mirrored the ones used on the island. “Men like him are a disease. Having one less is better for all of mankind.” He again spit fully upon Byron’s corpse.
“Where did you get that?” My eyes widened with surprised as he began to dig.
“I traded this for a satchel of agrimony seeds that I carried over from Francia.”
“Francia? Where is that?”
“It’s across the sea,” He explained, seeing my ignorance. “I traveled back here, then went to Eire afterward. Upon my returned, I happened upon a bartering session with a secluded colony off the western coast. A woman there traded the shovel for the seeds, claiming that they were for a healer who was low on her supply. Fascinating people they were. A boy that was part of the trade group said that the colony is protected by a heavy blanket of mist that keeps outsiders from getting in. I don’t think they were supposed to mention it because a rather stern-looking man chastised the youth afterward. That anyone who dares to venture in is always unable to breach the barrier. Whether that is true, I do not know but I do know that they were lovely people—both inside and out.”
My eyes lit up, hearing the first mention of the Island since I had left. “That is where I was raised!” I blurted out excitedly. “That Island is where I am from!” I declared proudly, feeling something that I had not felt in a long time: pride in my origins.
“So, you are,” The hermit stopped his digging and gave me a thorough examination. His eyes moved down the length of me, not with Byron’s lasciviousness but with a solid appreciation for my people. “You look like them, and wear your hair like them. There was one woman there that you favor greatly. In fact, now that I think about it, she kept asking several of us if we knew anything about a young woman matching your description.” He paused, further studying my features with non-judgment.
I had no doubt that he spoke of Aunt Leena. I could feel her grief from the first days return with a vengeance. Feelings that I had built a barrier around, afraid that she would sense me and come after me. Tears mixed with the rain as I envisioned her asking anyone for the smallest bit of information about me. To know that she was still looking for me filled my heart with unexpected joy. “Did the woman happen to mention her name at all?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. I picked up my own shovel that I bartered for a brace of rabbits and a pouch of dried elderberries.
“Leena?” The Hermit said, then shrugged, and went back to work. “Am I to believe that you are the girl that she was looking for?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “Leena is my aunt. I left rather abruptly and did not have time to say goodbye.” My chest ached with the want to see her face one more time, to feel her protective, motherly arms around me as she lovingly kissed my flushed
cheeks.
“Say no more about it,” The Hermit raised his hand to show that any further explanation was not necessary. “I will not be traveling back that way. Hers is a face that I will never see again. When I was a younger man, I longed for adventure and went wherever my feet would take me. But this last journey has seen to it that my spirit has seen the end of its course. I believe I will settle my roots here until it is my turn to face the Almighty.” He said. “I will not betray your whereabouts if anyone should come looking for you.”
The Hermit and I finished burying Byron and flattened the earth on top of his grave. Neither of us left a marker to show where he was buried. Together, we made the separate decision to forget that this had ever happened. To show my gratitude, I invited the Hermit up for dinner, which to my surprise, he eagerly accepted.
“It has been two days since I last ate anything substantial. I’ve been eating berries from the forest to sustain myself.” He confessed. To my humiliation, I felt awful not having something more comfortable for him to rest his old bones upon. I offered him the ease of the chair, but he refused, insisting that the floor would suffice. “I am more comfortable down here anyway.” He tried to spare my feelings but didn’t fully succeed. To put us on a more equal level, I sat on the floor beside him. We ate in companionable silence. The Hermit ate three bowls full of the stew and thanked me profusely as a large burp escaped his lips. “I will admit, you are a far better cook than I am.” He laughed scraping the bowl after his last helping. “I normally do not eat this well.”
“It is the least I can do to thank you,” I said, pleased that he had enjoyed himself and now sat comfortably beside the fire. “Although, I would have preferred to just let him rot.”
“You can’t leave a body out for the soldiers to find,” The Hermit was right. The soldiers that often trekked down the roads were increasingly violent, despite their proclaimed roles as defenders and peacekeepers. So far, I had managed to have very limited contact with them, and I intended to keep it that way. “He’s burning in Hell for his misdeeds. You can be sure of that.” The Hermit said suddenly. His tone was unemotional, severe, and flat. My senses told me that someone like Byron had once impacted the Hermits life, explaining his reaction both now and when I had first met him. The Hermit said no more from that point. He stayed at my fire for another quarter hour before pointing out the winds were picking up and a storm was blowing in. I walked him to the door and watched as he disappeared into the darkness. I stood at the mouth of my cave until he was completely out of sight. A rumble of thunder sounded as I turned and went back inside.
I spent the rest of the evening trying to reconcile the fact that I had taken yet another life—a life that had intended to do me harm. I felt no guilt from killing him. Instead, I wondered what the Goddess would think of me now. I had broken so many of the rules she commanded us to obey. No killing, unless it was directed by the High Council as punishment for a crime. No leaving the island unless it was for the purpose of trade. I had not only broken those tenements but shattered them. I knew now, having been gone for so many years, if I wanted to go back, I would not be welcome. I turned my back on my former home, and in doing that, turned my back on its ways. I was no longer of the Island folk. I was an outsider, self-exiled and alone. The knowledge resided within me, leaving a hollow space and bringing my loved ones more and more to mind. I continued with my trading but the encounter with Byron left me distrustful and afraid. It would be a while before I learned to fully trust again.
TEN
One year later, I found myself in an unexpected place. I stood in the center of a bustling town, surrounded by townsfolk, selling simples and offering healing advice. The Market Faire, where the surrounding communities gathered to buy and sell the product of their work, had been the perfect place to start exploring the world around me.
At first, the townspeople eyed me with suspicion. I had taken to wearing their clothes when not at home to better assimilate into their world. I pinned my hair up but refused to wear anything on my head. The first market was quite an experience. Most people passed me by, distrustful of a strange face and not afraid to show it. The day passed slowly and despite my best attempts, I was fully discouraged. But one by one, curiosity got the better of them, especially after my two friends helped me gain the people’s trust. If it hadn’t been for Daffyd and Sibbe, I would have never known what it was like to once again belong to a community.
************
Sibbe and Daffyd were instrumental in my coming to the towns. We happened upon one another two days after Byron’s attempted assault.
“Good morning, Yvaine!” Daffyd called out as I spotted them moving down the road in my direction.
“Hello, all,” I waved back, happy to know that these kind people had not met any harm due to Byron’s greed.
“How are you?” Sibbe shouted as she sped up and passed her husband. When she reached me, I could see a heaviness in her face. The lines retched at the corners of her eyes and her mouth were deeper. Her eyelids were dark from lack of sleep. Worry. I knew the cause instantly and asked about it.
“I am fine but you, what is troubling you, Sibbe?” I asked, instantly sensing that my friend needed to unload the burden she bore.
“Daffyd was unable to find work,” She attempted to hide her face and the tears that soon slid down her cheeks. “There is no room in town for us either. No work and no room meant that we must move on. Daffyd wants to go south. He heard a rumor that there is work to be had building churches.” Sibbe’s voice began to break up. “And that scoundrel Byron!” She hissed, her despair quickly morphed to hate. “We’ve got nothing left because of him! That bastard made off like a thief in the night. He took our food. Stole our money purse! He even took Daffyd’s tools. Everything is gone. We were lucky that had we had paid for a few nights at a stable before the owner kicked us out.”
I glanced from Sibbe to her husband and back again. I debated telling them the truth. That Byron was dead and paid the ultimate price for his crimes. Looking deep into their eyes, I decided to give them an altered version of the truth. If they knew the truth of it, I had no doubt that their opinion of me would change and I most likely would never see them again.
“Byron is dead,” I said suddenly. Sibbe gasped at my pronouncement while Daffyd let out a long, ragged sigh. “The hermit that lives near me found him dead in the woods and asked me to help bury him. He’d been attacked. Stabbed.” The lie came easily to me. Too easily for my comfort. “Whoever killed him must have taken his possessions as well. There was nothing with him when the Hermit found him.”
Sibbe genuflected and whispered a prayer while Daffyd sniffed loudly. “I wish I could say that I was sorry, but I would be lying,” He said, kicking the ground in frustration. “I should have never trusted him. Everyone told me that I was foolish for doing exactly what my God tells me to do.”
“Your kindness does you credit,” I said sensing Daffyd’s growing frustration. “You did as your faith called you to do. Byron’s misdeeds are not your fault. They are his. He chose to live a vicious life and he has paid for his choices. There is no need for you to worry. I have full confidence that what you have lost will come back to you. In the meantime, you are more than welcome to stay with me. I’ve had a profitable day at the creek.” I held up a collection of fish tied together, enough to feed all of us for several day, as further enticement to stay.
Daffyd and Sibbe shared a look between themselves. With a smile, Daffyd happily accepted my offer. “You must let me repay you for allowing us to stay.” He said. Even though repayment was not necessary, the request was for the matter of his pride, rather than courtesy.
“I have a rickety table that needs leveling and I would be very grateful if you could construct a better door to protect my home,” I said with a nod and turned on my heel to lead the way. “I fear what I have now is just no longer adequate for my needs.”
“Then lead the way and I will get to work!” My friends foll
owed close behind as I led the way to my home.
************
Daffyd’s family spent three weeks with me. With the few tools that I possessed, Daffyd set to repairing what was in need of fixing and fashioned a sturdy, weatherproof door to keep the interior protected from the heavy rains. Sibbe and the children helped me in my gardens and assisted me with the fish baskets at the creek. They even lent an eager hand when I went foraging in the woods for herbs, flowers, and other greenery that went into my remedies. Their constant presence reminded me of what life was like amongst a family. Their smiles and laughter made me miss my own family. It had been a while since I longed for them.
In the quiet moments, I would get a glimpse of Ravene sitting atop the mountain where I once sat, staring out across the sky as the white, billowy clouds overhead. She’d stare upwards, eyes alert with her lips moving as if lost in prayer. Each time the vision came, there’d be no sound. Whether she was speaking to me, or speaking to the Goddess, I would never know. The image was so real that at times, I could feel the heavy caress of the wind and the strong fragrance of lavender that rested at the hill’s edge.
“Daffyd and I want to thank you for your kindness, and your hospitality,” Sibbe said gratefully, carrying Samuel on her hip.
“Think nothing of it. You are welcome to stay any time you find yourselves back this way.” I said honestly. I would miss them, I thought, knowing they were headed south in search of their livelihood.
“Mama!” Their eldest child, Eva, shouted suddenly and pointed towards the sky. The three of us turned to see what had captured her interest. A large, dark plume of smoke billowed in the far distance, marring the beautiful cloudless, cerulean sky. “What is that?” Eva asked with childish innocence. None of us spoke, each one of us transfixed by what was happening.
The Island of Mists Page 21
