The screaming came again. The hair on the back of my neck stood up on edge. Sensing something was not right, I laid my hand on his chest and shook Ralf gently, alerting him to wake up. Something was most definitely wrong. I sensed it with every fiber of my being. Off in the distance, another high-pitched shriek pierced the quiet of the pre-dawn air. “Ralf,” I kept my eyes focused on the entrance to the cave and reached out for him again only to find him up and on his feet.
“Something is happening,” Ralf vocalized what I sensed as he got to his feet, dressed quickly, and strapped his belt across his waist. I was right on his heels as I threw my dress back on, leaving my shoes and headband on the floor. Ralf started towards the entrance and I shouted for him to wait for me. “No,” He said in a stern voice. “I want you to stay here.” He asked rather than commanded. “At least until I know that it is safe.”
“No, Ralf. I am going with you,” I said stubbornly, remembering all-too-well what led to our being separated for almost thirty years. “I will not stay. Our son and daughter are out there! I am going and that is final!” I challenged him and saw him want to argue back but quickly decided against it. He knew that once my mind was set on something, there was no swaying me from it. Ralf let out a short sigh and reluctantly conceded. He kicked some dirt over the embers of the dying fire and grabbed my hand. We exited the cave and ran swiftly across the forest floor.
As we grew closer to the tree line, a faint light grew brighter. People were screaming, the harsh ting of metal clanking against metal reverberated in the air, the sounds of frightened animals baying and the deafening, rushing sound of a large fire met our ears. A loud, blood-curdling scream shattered any ease that I still carried within me.
Gweneth! My knees weakened to the point of collapse. That scream belonged to Gweneth! Ralf recognized it too and caught me about my waist to stop me from running forward. My face was wild with panicked anger. I could see it on his face, too, as he glanced at me.
“I would ask you to stay here. Just so that I know that you are safe, but I know that you won’t listen to me,” He spoke quickly, drinking me in as he spoke. “So, I will ask you this. Whatever you do, stay alive.” He kissed the center of my forehead and then on my mouth. “Promise me.” He fixed his eyes on mine.
“I promise,” I vowed and touched his lips again with mine. Ralf left my side, charging ahead with the kind of courage that would never waiver. Ralf bellowed out the language of his people. Ralf called to his men that were camped in the field between the river and the Abbey. His cries charged the valiant men to protect and defend the innocent against attack.
I pushed the trees aside to get a better look at what was happening. Chaos. The peace of the abbey was now in chaos. Half of the complex was engulfed in flames while the surrounding area was brimming with people fighting. Nuns fled in every which way they could. Some ran straight into the arms of the enemy, confused and petrified by the sudden descent into madness. I bit my hand to silence my screams as they were chopped down one by one. A deep, pulling pain grew at the base of my throat. Both of my children were in the thick of that mayhem. If I lost them—I didn’t know what I would do if I lost them. My children were my whole existence. My love for them was beyond description. If any of them fell, could I survive? My eyes flooded with tears as I broke into a run, determined to reach them.
A man appeared from out of the woods and knocked me to the ground as he roughly brushed past me. I feared that he would turn back to kill me, but he charged forward, hell-bent on his course. I could see in the inferno’s glow that he was one of Ralf’s men. A war cry tore from his throat as he raged into the center of the fighting. Momentarily, I wondered if he was a berserker. A warrior Ralf told of me many years ago. The kind that went to war entranced with rage and a thirst for blood. I was suddenly grateful that the enchanted man was on our side. That knowledge did nothing to prevent the hollow that formed in the pit of my stomach. Ralf was out there. My children were out there. I couldn’t just stay here hiding. I needed to be with them whether I lived or died. My place was with them, not disguised amongst the trees.
I dashed out of the forest’s edge and ran as fast as my crippled knee would allow. I reached the kitchen’s entrance without being noticed. Smoke poured out through the blackened opening. The door had been shattered into several pieces, as if chopped down by an ax and laid scattered across the threshold. I didn’t think twice as I kicked the wood pieces aside and ventured inside. I started to cough as the thick smoke filled my lungs and stung my eyes. I blindly felt around for familiar things. I found Sister Amelia’s butcher table that stood in the center of the room. I felt along the table’s top until my fingers brushed against something resting in its center. Sister Amelia had left her cutting knife behind and I was fortunate to find it. With mine still in the grotto, I quickly took possession of it. I tucked it into the waistband of my dress, ready to defend myself if the need called for it. High-pitched voices and echoes of cruel men laughing surrounded me from all sides. Somewhere close by, the sound of masonry giving way sounded out and the floor shuddered with a heavy, dense vibration beneath my feet. All I could think was finding my children. Both were more than capable of defending themselves, but they were my babies. It was my job to love, protect, and nurture them until there was no longer life within my body. Nothing would stop me from finding them. With that in the forefront of my mind, I drew in a deep breath for courage and headed into the open-air cloister that led into the sanctuary.
The doorway was blocked with heavy stones that once formed the overhead archway. Immediately I knew the cause of the rumble. The stones had collapsed from the heat of the fire. Cursing under my breath, I turned back around and hurried towards the exit.
Fire walls surrounded me on as I stepped out into the open grounds next to the Abbey. My skin stung from the intense heat that radiated off them. Bodies lay scattered across the path, all dead, some men, but mostly women. My heart stopped a beat at the sight of one in particular. Sister Eve, Gweneth’s most trusted friend here at the abbey, lay on her back before me, her sightless, lifeless eyes staring absently back at me. Her throat had been cut down to the bone and was nearly severed from her body. Her habit was soaked through with blood. My hand rose to my mouth to stifle the urge to scream.
Not again, I thought. Dear Blessed Goddess, not again. The horrors of the Island had followed me to this sanctuary of serenity. A malevolent force sought us out as its prey, and now, we were in for the battle of our lives. How could this happen again? I thought, but the answer was startlingly clear. Just like the Island, the abbey had grown complacent, falsely believing that its inhabitants were safe from attack.
When I first arrived, I was leery of the open landscape and lack of fortification. Over time, I also grew lax about risk and vulnerability. Now, the worst of our nightmares was upon us. How wrong we all had been. Suddenly, Ibira’s spirit shouted in my ear.
“You have to move, Yvaine!” She urged me from beyond the grave. “You need to hide!” Obeying her order, my mind willed my feet to move. At first my feet refused but once the relented, they took flight, albeit awkwardly. I stumbled over Sister Eve, shutting my eyes to avoid looking at her. I crossed over several other bodies—all people that I had known and shared dinner with just a few hours ago—until I reached the clearing.
Pandemonium rooted me to where I stood. Men were chasing, grabbing, fighting, and killing one another. Some attacked with swords, some with battle axes, while the rest had to resort to crude weapons looted from the Abbey. A few of the sisters stood valiantly in the face of fear, bravely standing up against those that had laid siege against us. Their valor made my heart soar as they defied those that dared to kill us. A large, brutish man ran past, knocking into me. I stumbled but managed to remain upright. The wind blew against the Abbey, stoking the fire that burned uncontrollably inside. I choked and coughed as heavy smoke blurred the air, leaving it difficult to see.
“Yvaine!” I heard my name call out fro
m nearby. I squinted due to the low visibility for whomever it was that shouted for me. “Yvaine, over here!” The voice called out again. I caught a flash of the dull gray, undyed wood of a nun’s habit. The fabric illuminated brightly in the strong light of the fire. One of the nuns, whose face I could not clearly see and whose voice I didn’t recognize, shouted for me. She stood behind a grain cart that had been left sitting in the field and had gone unmolested during the combat. I took off into a low run, moving as fast as I could until I reached her. Once there, she ordered me to help her move the cart. We struggled against its weight but managed to push it a few feet until it rested before several bodies of fallen men. The nun yanked me downwards. With an immaculate strength, she pulled me under the cart next to her. We lay flat on our bellies and stared helplessly at the chaos before us.
The open plain was saturated with those battling to the death. Others had already embraced it and lay scattered for as far as the eye could see. My viewpoint was far clearer than when I stood in the center of all the pandemonium. Dozens of men fought on both sides. One was dressed like Ralf. Instantly, I knew they were his men. The thick leathery fabrics they wore protected them from the damp and possessed a natural resistance against knife stabs. The other side were donned in a mixture of fabrics, animal pelts, and woolen shirts and pants of muted colors. Thick furs trimmed around the cuffs and collars. They reminded me of the wild men that drove the First People out of their ancestral home and led them to the Island.
My mind reeled with what was going on around us, yet my mind was focused on one thing. Somewhere out there amongst the thick, pulsing crowd of fighters was my family. I scanned the fields, desperately searching for their faces but I found nothing. The painful lump grew larger in the back of my throat. The nun beside me took my hand and squeezed it as if she could read my mind. Her fear reeked of dank water and salt. It’s acrid scent blazingly overpowered the onslaught of scents rising from the impromptu battlefield.
“How did this happen?” Her timid voice whispered so softly that I could barely hear her. “How are we going to survive?”
“I don’t know, but we will make it through. We just can’t stay here, though. We’re not safe exposed like this.” I whispered in return, as low as possible, hoping that she could hear my words amongst the disordered noise.
“Where can we go? There isn’t any place that is safe. If we try to move, we will be seen, and we will be killed.” She whispered back, angry at the suggestion of leaving.
I knew that being in the open like this even if we were disguised under a cart, left us vulnerable. I was not willing to risk my life for this false sense of security. I got to my knees and crawled out from under the cart. The nun hissed my name several times, urging me to come back but I paid her no attention. The desire to find my family was too strong to sit idly by. I was not going to be a spectator and hope to find them once this was all over. I was a fighter. It had taken surviving rape, going out into a strange world on my own, meeting Ralf, having my children, and surviving the destruction of my home to make me see that I possessed a warrior’s spirit too. I knew that if I had to die to protect those I loved, I would gladly meet my death.
I stood behind the cart as I got to my feet. Quickly, I hid behind its support and scanned the area around me. All the fighting had moved further across the field, close to the river and the garden plots. The increased distance allowed me time to move—if I moved quickly. I tore off all my unnecessary clothing, stripping myself down to my underdress. It resembled the ones Ravene once wore. Touching it, I spoke to her across the divide.
“Watch over me, Sister,” I whispered to her spirit. “See me through this.” I kicked the excess clothes into pile behind the nun that still sheltered under the hay wagon. My former companion seized upon the pile and quickly buried herself inside of it.
I bolted across the fields while keeping a good distance from the growing inferno that blazed within the now ruined Abbey. I dodged many obstacles, weaving in and out of fighting men. One individual attempted to grab my hair as I swept past him. A quick jab of my elbow to his windpipe left him gasping for air. A large crackle boomed out from the front of the complex. The ground quaked again as the walls before me tremored and slowly gave way. Shocked, I watched as what remained of the roof collapsed, bringing down what remained of the walls underneath its extreme force. The ground cried out the stones crashed against the earth.
I sent a quick prayer to the Goddess, asking that neither Ralf nor our children were inside. I stood frozen, watching it all burn, fully aware that I was exposed and vulnerable. I looked glanced around, feeling my heart pound in a furious rhythm inside my chest. My shift clung to my sweat-covered body as I stood helpless. I didn’t know what to do. I had to find my loved ones, but I didn’t know where to start. I couldn’t go into the abbey to search for them but almost of all it was now gone. Elsewhere, visibility was nil and the intense heat that emanated off the still-burning ruins was unbearable. Black smoke billowed upwards and the strong, pungent smell of incense suffocated the air.
A ripple of dread shuddered through me. The fire had reached the storeroom, the only structure left standing. The storeroom where we housed the sacramental wine and the medicinal grain alcohol. A jolt chilled me down to the marrow. The contents of that small, musty-smelling room were highly flammable. An unprotected, combustible source could blow the stones apart, instantly killing in the vicinity from the force of the blast. The knowledge of what was about to happen hit me with tremendous force. I spun on my heel and ran in the opposite direction, moving as fast as my legs could carry me. I had to get as much distance between me and the storeroom before the fire first licked the liquor-filled barrels.
The deafening boom sounded out seconds later and rocked the countryside. Missiles whizzed over my head as bits of mortar, broken stones, and wood fell like rain all around me. The blast leveled everything in proximity. Men, women, everything in the short radius of the blast was obliterated. The force sent me sprawling face first into the dirt, instantly knocking the air from me. I gasped like a fish out of water, desperately trying to force air into my empty lungs while struggling to keep my panic from rising. I clawed at the ground, struggling to get back to my feet as the first rush of air found its way back into my body.
A pair of hands took hold of me unexpectedly. I struggled as a hand gripped my hair and pulled me upwards. Infuriated, I kicked at my assailant, blindly flailing my arms out until my elbow connected with their face, sending a hard, reverberating crunch shuddering up the length of my arm.
“You, fucking bitch!” My assailant cursed as he lost his grip. I fell back down to the hard ground. Wasting no time, I scrambled away on my hands and knees. Loud thuds of heavy footsteps pursued me. Knowing that physically I was no match for him, I pushed myself faster, but my knee weakened by the arrow bolt, suddenly gave out.
“NO!” I screamed as my arms collapsed under my weight. I landed chin first. Suddenly prone, I rolled to my back and fought to get up. I looked up as I desperately tried to command my knee into action. I saw a bulky, towering man pursuing me. His eyes were wide with a bloodlust rage. The sight of his uncontrollable fury terrified me. I knew that look all too well from having seen it before many years ago in the low light of the First Dwelling. He smiled a wide, wicked smile that exposed the few blackened teeth still left in his mouth. Involuntarily, I grimaced in response.
“Would you like a taste of this before you meet your maker, cunt?” He rubbed his crotch as he approached me. The thought of this ruffian taking sickened and infuriated me. I tapped into my own rage as I vowed to never let anyone ever touch me against my will again.
“Try to touch me and I will kill you!” I seethed through my teeth as my fingers struggled to find the knife I had tucked away. Dread swept through me as I realized my grievous error. When I had disrobed, I had left any hope of defending myself behind. As if he could read my mind, my assailant bristled with the promise of sating his conquest. The hand he h
ad used to stimulate himself reached across his body to the belt that hung at his hip. He pulled at the hilt of his long, curved knife that he intended to kill me with.
I only had a few seconds to react. If I ran, he would chase me. If I remained, I would die. There was no choice left. I had to fight him and win. The man reached me quicker than I expected. His knife rose over his head and arced down towards me. Halfway through the motion, he lurched violently, his eyes widened in surprise. His body jerked again. The muscles in his face went slack. The brief glint of a sword’s tip sticking out through his stomach caught my eye before my would-be-assailant slumped forward and landed in a lifeless heap at my feet. My head shot up and a cry tore from my mouth.
“Ralf!” I scrambled to my feet and threw myself into his arms. I clung to him, seeking the protection of his body while breathing in the smoky smell that clung to his hair. His arm went around my waist and pressed me close to him.
The Island of Mists Page 47
