The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “Oh, Mama,” She wrapped me in her arms and held me close to her. “What you had to go through.” Her delicate voice shattered as she clung to me. “I want you to know,” She pulled back suddenly. “I want you to know that I think you are brave,” She said through a cascade of tears. “To face that, to fight against it, and to survive, takes immense strength. I’m glad that you told me. I’m honored that you have trusted me with this. I love you, Mama.” Gweneth hugged me again, holding me tighter than before. When we left the forest and the trickling water of the burn, the dynamic between us had changed. My daughter and I had been close but now that Gweneth knew my truth, we were closer than before. As we walked hand and hand back home, I knew that the strengthened bond would make it that much more difficult to watch her go.

  Telling Gweneth about my experience also provoked something that I would have never done if I hadn’t told her. Later on that evening as Gweneth slept peacefully in her bed, I snuck out and headed down to the shore. Calling one of the boatmen forth, I asked to be taken to the Sacred Island. The boatman took me to where I asked to be taken. Once we reached the shore, I thanked him and watched as he drifted away.

  Turning to face the Island alone, I started to walk through the tall grass and headed straight towards the First Dwelling. Before leaving, I had the hindsight to build a torch to keep the wild pigs at bay. Holding that blazing torch up high, it led the way as I walked through the Ancient Circle and down the pathway until I stood facing the First Dwelling. I recalled the moments leading up to the horrific events of that night. The night I came here, just after my return, pregnant and still wounded, I didn’t dare enter the cave. The experience was still too raw, even after ten years of separation. Tonight was different. Drawing in a deep breath, I stepped up and entered the cave for the second time in my life. Walking down the hallway, I sensed Cal’s presence lurking off somewhere in the darkness. With each step, I recalled everything that happened to me until I found myself standing in the dark cavern where the Hunter and Huntress joined as one. Refusing to reexperience everything that took place here, I forced the thoughts away, facing the one that dared to take my power away from me. I stood there for over an hour silently confronting Cal and his savagery upon me.

  “You no longer have the power to haunt me,” I whispered to his intrusive ghost, sensing it behind me. “You don’t have power over me. You never did. My life is mine and you no longer are a part of it. You are to leave me alone. What you did is unforgivable. Your mind was diseased and sick. For that, I take my power back and in doing so, I free myself from your binds. I hope that you have found peace. I hope that the hate that dwelt in your soul has gone and that you are now free from its shackles. Goddess bless you and may your next life be a happier one than this.” I spoke to his ghost one final time and then quickly left. I made my way back home that night.

  When I entered our home, Gweneth was still fast asleep and I noticed that the heavy weight I had been carrying had lifted. With peace in my heart, I went to bed that night contented and for the first time in years, I didn’t dream of Cal or the night that changed my life.

  ************

  Ranulf arrived back home the following day, bringing with him a large collection of goods that he had collected through his travels. For Gweneth, he brought a bound, blank-paged parchment book, a crock of ink, and a collection of fine, snow-white goose feather quills.

  “These are for you to write about your herbal knowledge,” He placed it in her hands and Gweneth’s eyes grew moist with gratitude. “I thought that you could keep record to help with your healing in the future.”

  “I am afraid that they may not let me keep it, but I will treasure it always.” She threw her arms around her brother’s neck and squeezed him tight. Once she let him loose, Ranulf handed out other gifts. To Runa, he gave a bundle of dyed threads for her embroidery. To her husband, he gave him a long, sleek-bladed knife that gave me chills at how similar it was to one that I had seen so long ago. To Desten, his cousin, he gave him another knife, smaller but with a blade just as fine. I was the last to receive a gift.

  “These are for you, Mama.” He handed me a basket woven from reeds that I had never seen before. The basket, round and small with a hinged lid that closed with a clasp at the front, was filled with at least a dozen small, frosted bottles, each filled with a different herb. “I traded one of my knives for these. The monk had no need of them and was in want of a knife. I hope that you like them.”

  “I love them,” I said genuinely as I hugged him tightly, kissed his cheek, and took my treasure back to my seat to examine them further. Together, we spent the evening laughing, eating and reveling in pleasant memories.

  When the dawn came, the merriment from the night before was gone. Today was the day that Gweneth was leaving. Her brother had only come home to escort his sister to the convent where she would go through a trial period before taking her vows. I allowed both of my children to sleep in, knowing that this was the last time that I would have them both with me here, safe in this house.

  A rooster crowed as the sun peaked just over the horizon and the sound of Ranulf’s soft snores sounded through the quiet air. Using the time before they woke, I made a large batch of oatcakes and loaded several into each of their packs, along with a large assortment of dried fruit, nuts, and berries. I went to the drinking well and filled two water bladders so that they would have water to satisfy their thirst during their journey.

  One of my worries was that the Christians would starve my daughter. I knew about their rules of chastity, poverty, and obedience and thought them ridiculous but pushed it from my mind. That was not something that I would waste time over when it came to my daughter. People would do what they naturally were inclined to do. And if she made that choice, she would not do it lightly. The church’s rules regarding charity and poverty concerned me deeply because Gweneth had never known the hardship of starvation. I did. The first winter on my own, when food was lean, I managed. Finding my feet in the world was the best lesson that I could have ever received. The thought of her belly going empty caused me deep anxiety, but I reminded myself that I could not do anything more than what I was doing now. This was what Gweneth wanted and if it meant starvation, I would not stop her. She would never forgive me for it.

  The twins woke within minutes of each other. Ranulf lay for a moment, luxuriating in the comfort of his bed. Gweneth was on her feet without delay, getting herself ready and packing the few things that she wanted to take with her. I placed breakfast on the table and watched them both eat heartily, their fingers sticky with honey until the time came for us to say goodbye. I stood at the table, kneading dough for dinner when I felt Gweneth beside me. Without words, she embraced me and told me that she loved me. I didn’t hesitate to tell her that I loved her too.

  “I will miss you, Mama,” She told me. “Ranulf has promised that he will find a way to check in on me and will keep you updated.” She added, with the hopes that it would help ease the sorrow and the reluctance that I felt. I hugged her back, not wanting to let go. It was Gweneth who broke our embrace and withdrew herself from me with a raised hand and a single goodbye. Ranulf kissed me on each of my cheeks, picking me up and squeezing me tightly before setting me back down on my feet.

  “She will be safe, Mama,” He promised with a wink. “I will come back home once I get her to the convent. I’ve decided that I will stay here through winter, if that is all right with you?” My son promised to stay with me through three seasons. I was so happy that I didn’t think I could bear it.

  “Of course, it’s all right!” I patted his shoulder appreciatively. “I’ll see you when you get back,” I added. “And make sure that she’s happy before you leave her,” I called out as Ranulf left me and followed his sister.

  Once again, I was on my own but this time I was not in the middle of some foreign place with no idea of what to do or where to go. This time, I was surrounded by friends and loved ones that would support me and would keep t
he loneliness at bay. I moved to the door and watched my two favorite human beings walk down the pathway that led to the shores. I stayed there until I could no longer make them out and closed my eyes, offering up a silent prayer to the Goddess to keep them both safe. I went back into my house, not wanting to face its newfound emptiness but pushed myself on.

  ************

  Gweneth had been gone for just over five years when our life on the Island was forever altered. Ranulf kept his promise to stay through winter. He surprised me by staying through spring as well, leaving just after the Rites. During his time here, he held everyone in his sway, especially the young women. At night, he would build a bonfire outside of our home and tell of his adventures, enthralling the Island’s children, filling their heads with dreams of their own adventures. Like his father, he had a way for storytelling and in those moments, it was apparent that he had inherited Ralf’s gift.

  After a short absence, Ranulf came back just as autumn was starting. He brought word that Gweneth had been sent to another abbey in the North. He also brought a letter from Gweneth herself, addressed to me.

  My daughter wrote of how she relished her life as a nun, but I could sense the unhappiness that she tried so hard not to convey. Without her saying it, I knew that my girl was miserable and was finding the monastic life harder than she’d expected. In the letters that followed, carried to the island by one of the monks that traded with us, she told me of how the abbey allowed her to continue to practice the healing arts, as well as teach her to read in Latin. She wrote of how each of her ‘sisters’ found it remarkable that she could read and write. Gweneth wrote of what I already knew, that many people—both men and women—in the outside world were illiterate. That only those that served the church or were wealthy had the luxury of literacy. Despite the sense of uneasiness that came through with such startling clarity, it was clear that she had found her calling. I prayed to the Goddess that her life would fulfill her, enrich her, and give her a sense of pride. Knowing that she was content made me happy. It was that happiness that sustained me through the horrors that were soon to come.

  ************

  The end to what we had built for over a thousand years started with a soft, low rumble. The day began just like any other at first. The scent of flowers for the Summer Solstice hung sweetly in the air but there was something lying underneath it, something that I could not quite place. I was sitting in front of one of the sheds grinding herbs for the upcoming winter. The familiar sounds of the Island filled my ears as I worked steadily. I found it soothing and relaxing, and allowed it to clear my mind so that I didn’t focus solely on my children. I had been working steadily through the afternoon. The village was quiet as I used my pestle and mortar to grind the tender leaves until the oils that I sought separated from the organic matter.

  The calm shattered into dust when a loud, terrified scream pierced the air. Bodies stopped and heads popped up across my line of vision. I watched as everyone halted in their work to look up from what they were doing to see what happened. Quickly, people abandoned what they were doing and fled in all directions. Something was wrong. The hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck rose with alarm. I dropped the stone pestle into the mortar and got to my feet. The sun was in my eyes and I raised my arm to shield them from the harsh light to see the marketplace below me. Everything moved slowly until a figure came from out behind one of the stalls. A tall, scraggly man charged into the crowd and attacked anyone who fell across his path. I stood frozen, watching helplessly as he hacked and stabbed his way through the crowd. The people of the Island ran without rhyme or reason. Others fell where they stood, unmoving once their bodies hit the ground. Death cries and fear-filled screams combined with blood-curdling roars came from our offenders. Chaos swept the landscape, sending the citizens directly into the hands of those whose sole intention was to slaughter us. How did they get in here? How had this band of misfits managed to get past the veil of mist? I thought as panic started to rise inside of me. There was a sudden tug on my shoulder, and I turned finding Ibira calling my name.

  “Yvaine!” She screamed, her eyes wide with confusion and terror, her finger grasping at the fabric of my dress. “Everyone’s dying! We have to hide before they find us!” My feet found their will to move just at that moment. I grabbed Ibira’s hand and pulled her behind me. I ran as fast as my damaged knee would let me. “Who are they? What do they want with us?” Ibira cried out from behind me as we made our way down the hillside, using the long, unused hidden trails that lead to the outer islands. With my free hand, I reached for the sash I wore tied around my waist. My cutting knife, the one that I had carried since I first went out on my own, was there safely tethered, ready to help me defend myself if it needed to. “Where are we going?” Ibira called out again, her voice high-pitched with fear.

  “Shh,” I hissed at her. “Keep your voice down or they will hear you.” I hated to be harsh, but this was a matter of survival. Taking the life of Talen’s murder and Byron, as well as surviving the attack with Ralf, taught me the importance of hiding and the importance of being ready when threatened. If your enemy wasn’t aware of your existence, it was near impossible for them to find you. It also gave you ample time to plot your attack. “We’re going to the Sacred Island,” I whispered, hoping the sound of the forest muffled our voices from the ears of anyone that meant us harm. “We can hide there or disguise ourselves in the tall reeds near the pool. You yourself once said that there are hundreds of places to hide. We can use that to our advantage.”

  “What about the rest of the people?” Her voice was thick with tears and I sensed just how scared she was through our connected hands. “What about my husband and my children?” Ibira’s panic was tangible. Their safety was paramount for her. If Gweneth and Ranulf were here, they would be my only concern. For the first time, I was thankful that both were gone. Using that, I did my best to ease Ibira’s worry.

  “Brawyn is a smart man. I have no doubt that he’s hidden your children away and is helping to defend the Island. Right now, we must worry about ourselves and our safety. Once this is over, we can go back for the others.” I urged her along, knowing that there was absolutely no time to waste.

  The pathway down the hillside was steep and overgrown with thick shrubs. Tender shoots whipped against the skin of our legs, stinging our skin and leaving small, red welts behind. Several tree roots had grown up out of the soil, making the way more treacherous and forcing us to slow down. As I ran, my lungs burned, and the soles of my feet were torn up by rocks and other debris. Our bodies drenched in sweat, Ibira and I reached the bottom of the hill and took temporary shelter under a large tree covered in hanging moss. When we came to the rarely used dock where a few of the boats were moored, there was no sign of the boatmen. Whether they had been killed, were fighting, or had fled, I didn’t know. All I knew was that there was no one to guide us across the waters. If we wanted to make it, we had to do it on our own.

  Cautiously, I stepped into the boat and grabbed one of the oars. My throat ached with unshed tears and I smelled the smoldering remains of the life I was leaving behind. I continued to paddle through the water, feeling my back muscles ache under the strain of an unfamiliar yet urgent task. How had those soulless beings snuck in to attack us? I crossed the distance quickly and shortly, the boat slid up onto the shore. I tried to climb out, but my leg decided to cooperate, making the task harder than it should be. All the running had left my leg weak and as I tried to place that foot upon the solid ground, I fell. Getting to my feet, I noticed that Ibira was not right behind me. Turning back, I discovered her lying upwards in the bottom of the boat, her dead eyes sightlessly staring at the sky above our heads.

  “Ibira!” I screamed, ignoring the possibility of danger. “Ibira, get out of the boat!” I yelled as I moved to shake her but froze in mid-step as my eyes lighted upon the arrow sticking out of her chest. Blood soaked the front of her tunic and her round brown unseeing eyes were still open. Th
e arrow had caught her straight through the heart. I could only hope that her death was instantaneous and that she didn’t suffer. As much as it tore at me, I had to leave her behind. I continued up the shore. Once I was a safe distance from the water’s edge, I hesitated momentarily, deciding on a direction to follow. I could take shelter in my grandmother’s former home and hope that they wouldn’t find me. Knowing that this put me at too great of a risk, I took the right fork and moved as quickly as I could towards where the Acolytes lived.

  The island was quiet as I entered their village. There was no sign of life anywhere. The inhabitants wouldn’t have gone to help the Main Island. Their societal edicts forbade them from crossing over, even if the others were in danger. They were to keep our holy sites safe no matter what menace threatened them. As I moved through the tall grass, pushing myself, despite the weakness and pain that grew with each step, I prayed that they were safe.

  It wasn’t until I reached the edge of the Sacred Forest that I knew where I was headed. The First Dwelling was a short distance away. A powerful urge to turn around, to head somewhere else came over me as I speedily decided on the path to take. I hadn’t been inside the First Dwelling since the night that I faced Cal’s ghost. Suddenly I felt nauseated, but I pushed myself forward. Unless you have walked the path before, the First Dwelling was hard to find. The forest where it was located was not large by any means but the point where the mouth resided was dense and protected by a heavy, dense copse of foliage. If I could make it there, I could wait this siege out and then make my way to safety once the worst of it was over. The thought that the raiders would never leave didn’t cross my mind at all. With as much determination as I could muster, I pushed myself on. Without the braziers to light the path, the route was difficult to follow, relying on my memory from all those years ago when I had walked this path at least a dozen times. I tripped, stumbled, and fell several times but each time that I went down, I got back up and continued on, determined to reach my destination.