The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “Ranulf, enough,” Ralf shouted and Ranulf instantly obeyed, even though I knew he craved to see my assailant suffer. “Yvaine?” He peered into my eyes, asking me for answers. “What is all of this? What is going on?”

  “That’s Cal. The one who raped me,” I looked my rapist straight in the eye, confronting him without fear. My voice lost its bravado through the last word that I spoke. Ralf’s expression left me breathless as though I had been punched in the gut. His face morphed several times, transforming with each turn. Once, long ago, on the morning after we made love for the first time, Ralf had stalked the floor of our home like a wild animal.

  “If he was alive, I’d crush his skull with my bare hands.” Ralf seethed as he stormed across the expanse of the cave, furious and lusting for blood.

  “But he isn’t. I killed him.” I tried to reassure him that there was nothing to worry about, believing that Cal was long dead and gone.

  As I stood staring Cal down, I realized that I hadn’t really believed that he was dead. All the clues were there—the absence of a body, the abrupt end to the blood trail, everything that Aunt Leena and Ravene told me—all of it hinted that Cal had managed to survive. Tilme must have helped him escape through the misty veil into the outside world. Now that we were face-to-face once again, my anger gave way to pity. It had taken a lifetime for me to see him as he truly was, a weak, insecure, ignorant monster that would be forever denied what he truly wanted. I saw Cal for the sick, manipulative mastermind that was his own downfall. Glancing away momentarily, I stole a glance at my son. Ranulf’s face was pale with rage. I knew that he had put two and two together and realized what had happened between his captive and me. Ralf was a different story. The final expression that he wore back in the cave was here with us now. Rage. His body shook as he fought to keep himself controlled.

  “He is not worth it.” I rested a staying hand upon his arm. “My love, he is not worth it.” Ralf met my eyes and after several long, tense moments, nodded his head. Ralf squeezed my shoulder and focused on my face as he looked through me. Deep-seated fury had full possession of him.

  “Get the leader to his feet.” He ordered the men that flanked the captive’s sides. The men grabbed Cal and hauled him to his feet. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the blood coursing from his nose. Ranulf must have broken it the last time his boot connected with Cal’s face. Ralf let me go and began walking with a silent, deadly air about him. He stopped just before Cal. “What is your name?” He demanded as met Cal head-on, standing mere inches from the bleeding man. Cal refused to speak. Instead, he met Ralf’s stare and spit a full spray of blood into Ralf’s face. Unfazed by the action, Ralf stared unfazed and unblinking, standing several inches over Cal.

  “Why don’t you ask her?” Cal boasted and motioned towards me. “Did she tell you that I had her first?” Cal boasted loudly. A wave of nausea came soured my stomach. I felt a hand on my back and another on my arm. I turned to look and saw Gweneth standing beside me. “How sweet it was—tight, wet, and so innocent. Taking her was like stealing honey from a beehive.” Cal goaded him but Ralf remained unprovoked. “Did she tell you how she begged me to stop? That I took her over and over, from the front and the back? That I burned and seared her flesh. I bet she still bears the scar, doesn’t she?” Cal closed his eyes and licked his lips seductively. “How I loved raping her, and I’ll enjoy it even more the second time round. Just imagine the things that I will do to her after I stick my cock into her.” Cal crowed, fully intoxicated by his own madness.

  Ralf stood stone-faced; his face unreadable. “Take these men,” Ralf instructed the other four men that flanked Cal’s sides. “And dispose of them.” The guards immediately reacted to his orders. Only Ralf, Cal, Ranulf, Gweneth, and I remained after the others were escorted away. “Unless you want me to cut your tongue from your mouth, you will not say another word,” Ralf warned with a dark, primal growl. He reached grabbed Cal by the hair, pulling the shorter, leaner man’s head back to see his eyes better. Cal smiled a wide, vicious smile that was only enhanced from the blood that stained his teeth and covered the lower half of his face. I went cold remembering that repulsive sneer as he held that knife over me. Every instinct in me screamed to run away, to get as much distance between us as possible but my feet remained rooted to the ground. This time was different. I was no longer the young, naïve, insecure girl that I once was. I was a grown woman now. The lover and wife to the decent, honorable man standing before my attacker. Mother to the two magnificent spirits that we created. Cal would no longer have power over me from this day forward, I promised myself. Whatever he tried, would fail because I no longer gave him the power to affect me.

  “You have no power over me, Cal,” I found my voice and faced him. “I am not the naive, scared little girl that you took advantage of long ago. I am here to tell others of how you murdered Canwyn and left his body to rot in the center of the Sacred Forest. I will not forget what you did to me, nor will I forget how you threatened the lives of those that I loved. I will continue as a living reminder of your failures while you will die and fade away into obscurity.” I shouted as Cal’s eyes flashed with resentment and hate. “Everyone knows that you killed Canwyn out of jealousy. That you did it all because it wasn’t your name picked during the Choosing Ceremony. You and Tilme thought that you could usurp power of the Island. Only a fool would think of something so stupid. The people would have stopped you dead in your tracks. I would have stopped you, even if it killed me. I cannot undo what you have done to me. I cannot undo the hurt and the pain that you’ve caused, but I can see that you are punished for your crimes. I can choose to rid myself of your memory and be done with you for good. Cal, I sentence you to death to pay for all the crimes that you’ve committed.” I said with a finality that resonated in the air around me. Cal listened as I spoke but laughed crudely in response.

  “Do you think that you can pass judgement on me? You stupid, ignorant cow! You’ll never be rid of me. Even if I die, I will live in your mind for all eternity.” He tried to provoke me. “The memories of that night will follow you to the funeral pyres, Yvaine. No matter how hard you try, you will never be rid of me.” Cal said mockingly. He stared straight at Ralf, but his words were directed towards me. I sensed his anxiety and frustration over knowing that his life was soon to end and that mine would continue. “Do you remember how you screamed when I slid myself into you, tight little virgin that you were? And how you cried and screamed for help, but no one cared enough to save you? Do you remember how I forced myself into that whorish little mouth of yours and threatened to cut your throat if you bit me? No one can give better head than you. And the sweetness of your tight ass.” He paused long enough to lick his lips. “How could I forget plundering a treasure like that? Did I make you bleed? Was that me that mingled with the blood smeared on the inside of your legs? I took what I wanted from you and I will have it once again before I die. I don’t regret a single thing that I’ve done, Yvaine. The only thing that I regret is not plunging that knife right into your heart—”

  Ralf punched Cal, sending spittle flying in the opposite direction. Cal clutched at the wounded side of his face but made no indication that betrayed whether he felt pain. Instead, he righted himself, still armed with his sadistic smile. A chill ran through my body. Somehow, we had all failed to notice through the onslaught of Cal’s taunting that he had used the time to undo the binds that tied his wrists together.

  Cal head-butted Ralf in the stomach, knocking him off-center, sending the giant man to his knees. Cal plucked the knife from Ralf’s belt with the quick, stealthy sleight of hand that had only improved since his youth. He flung it, striking Ranulf in the shoulder. Cal surged past my son, knocking him down as he zeroed in on me. Cal locked me in his sights while I stood. I refused to move, ready to tackle him face first, unafraid and ready to see an end to his reign of terror. Cal slammed into me, knocking me off my feet. We crashed together. Two forces locked in a constant battle
that had finally reached its climax. I fought against Cal as he tried to pin me to the ground. He tried to pin my arms down, but I managed to get one free. With a cat-like hiss, I scratched at his eyes as I bit his ear. Cal howled as I tried to knee him in the groin, but he blocked the attempt with a quick move of his leg. Angered, Cal scrambled to his feet and grabbed a fist of my hair.

  “It’s your turn to suffer, bitch,” He seethed through clenched teeth. Cal pulled his hand back to strike me but froze in mid-movement as a glint of silver zipped past my face. Cal’s eyes widened with unexpected surprise as Gweneth’s knife hit its mark, landing deep in the center of Cal’s throat. Cal staggered, clutching at the knife sticking out of his throat. Realizing what happened, he grabbed at my clothes, trying to pull me down as he went to his knees. His frightened eyes sought mine. I stared back into their malicious green depths and saw that he was afraid, livid, and vengeful. Even in death he sought to conquer those who did not bend to his will. His mouth moved but only silence came instead of words. His fingers dug deep into the flesh of my arms, but I wrenched myself free. I struck at him, trying to push him away from me as he tried to grab me again. Cal managed to grab my sleeve and refused to let go. I slapped at him, trying to release the sudden grasp me had on me but Cal’s fingers could not be budged. A sharp, acute pain burned in my side. I looked down and shuddered as Cal’s eyes bored into mine. I watched their light fade and he crumbled into a lifeless heap at my feet.

  Gaping down at Cal’s dead body, my side was on fire. I reached back and touched the source of my pain. Pulling my hand back, it was slick with a layer of warm blood. My knees buckled under my weight. Suddenly, my sight faded, and blackness overtook me. Cal’s last act in his disgusting miserable life was to deliver on his promise. He would finish what he started. He’d try to kill me before the last breath left his body.

  The feeling of arms lifting me up seemed like a dream. I could hear Ralf and Ranulf speaking but it was if they were far away or underwater.

  “Gweneth!” Ranulf’s panicked screams sounded and I could faintly hear the low thud of feet running in the distance.

  “No, no, no, my love,” Ralf clung fearfully to me, whispering in my ear. “Do not die on me.” He tried to keep his voice even and strong, but it shattered apart. “Yvaine, stay with me. Listen to my voice and focus on me.” He begged desperately.

  “What’s happened?” Gweneth said, retrieving the knife that ended Cal’s life. From her vantage point, she had been blind to the dagger that Cal plunged deep into my side. There was a chorus of voices that made it hard to hear clearly. My body attempted to fade into a sleep-like state, but I wrestled against it. I knew how deadly stab wounds could be. I also knew that if I succumbed to the darkness, I wouldn’t live to see another day.

  “That bastard stabbed Mama!” Ranulf screamed frantically close by. If I had the ability to cry at that moment, I would have. My strong, brave, valiant boy was frightened. My throat tightened unconsciously with the knowledge and I fought to remain aware of my surroundings.

  “Father?” Gweneth was suddenly at my side. Ralf protected me within the safety of his arms but moved to allow our daughter to examine me. “Let me see,” She demanded. I shifted in his hands as she adjusted me to see better. “The knife went clean through, entering here,” I felt her finger touch where the blade first pierced my skin. “And it exited out here.” She pointed to a spot just behind the entry point. It’s the kind of wound that bleeds a lot.” I felt her delicate fingers pull the fabric of my dress back down to cover my bare, exposed flesh from the eyes of others. “I think he meant to stab her in the kidney but missed. I need to get her onto a flat surface so that I can assess the damage.”

  Ralf rose to his feet and began to move. “No!” Gweneth bellowed with such ferocity that I had never heard from her before. “Do not take her to the animal sheds. I need a clean surface to inspect her. It has to be somewhere free from any dung or these infernal charred bits floating everywhere.” She added, speaking of the bits of the Abbey’s remains that floated through the air. Ralf motioned for the small entourage to follow him. I knew where he was taking me before anyone spoke of it. Ralf carried me back through the wooded area towards my sanctuary. He had been the only one that I had taken there. In the time that I had lived in the abbey, Gweneth had known of its presence but had never felt compelled to visit. What happened next, I learned through Gweneth when I came to, amazed that I was still alive.

  ************

  After Ralf carried me to my grotto, Gweneth followed with the few supplies she managed to salvage. Armed her knife, linens for bandages, my sewing kit from my cave, the cask of whisky I kept, and all the knowledge in her arsenal, my dear daughter set to work.

  “We have to stop the bleeding first,” Gweneth said, as she barked orders at the others in the cave. “Ranulf, you and one of your men build this fire up. You,” She pointed to one of her fellow sisters. “Find anyone who still has any kind of drinking alcohol in their canteen. Get as much as you can and don’t come back without it.” She turned to another nun that stood just behind her. “Bring me all the bottles from the top shelf in the herb shed.” She ordered, aware that the herb shed had gone untouched. Her fingers worked as Ralf laid me out on one of the mats that I had woven. “I need someone to light all of the torches. I need as much light in here as possible.” Many feet scrambled across the cave floor. Gweneth was in her element. “Father, I need you to hold her still. Do you have anything for her to bite down on, just in case if she wakes up while I am treating her wound?”

  Ralf nodded, his unusually clumsy fingers fumbling to remove his belt. Once it was free from his body, he placed it at my side. “Good. That will work.” Gweneth nodded. Instructing her father to roll me over, she inspected the wound for a second time, despite the lack of light in the cave. Her fingers searched for any signs of debris or foreign matter that could help spread infection. While she swabbed the area with a piece of linen, the others that she sent off returned. Within the span of a couple of minutes, the fire was lit, torches burned brightly on the walls, and the stash of herbs that she needed was at her fingertips.

  Ordering everybody back, Gweneth took hold of a flask of untouched mead. Uncorking it with her teeth, she doused the stab wound in my side with the fresh alcohol and then wiped the area clean. Handing her knife over to her brother, she told him to heat the blade until it glowed. Ranulf did exactly as he was told and heated the metal blade until it glowed. Handing it over to Gweneth, she held it with a cloth to protect her hands. With a graceful dexterity, she swiftly brought the knife down and held it against the flesh of my side. Ralf paled at the sound of my flesh sizzling. Ranulf, she said, couldn’t handle what was happening and fled the cave. The others watched as Gweneth skillfully and confidently continued to cauterize my wound until it was properly sealed up and no longer bled.

  With deep concentration, Gweneth crafted a poultice that she then applied to my freshly cauterized wound. “We have to check her frequently to make sure that she doesn’t develop a fever.” She told everyone in attendance. “I’m going to need all of your help in keeping watch over her.”

  “Will she die?” Ralf’s voice came out shaky and fearful. Gweneth looked to reassure her father.

  “No. Not if I can help it.” She said with succinct determination. As she worked and sat patiently at my side, she silently asked her God, as well as the Goddess, to look over me as I recovered. She prayed that I would go on to live out the rest of my days. Everyone took turns watching over me as I slept for the next two days. Gweneth said that many times during those long, tense hours, that Ralf and Ranulf joined her, all three sought strength in one another while they waited for me to open my eyes. I cried out as I woke up. The memory of Cal’s soulless, emotionless eyes staring into mine was fresh as if it just happened. I started to scream, thrashing about, trying to fight him off as his nightmarish shade tried to stab me again and again. The feeling of a strong hand holding mine brought me from out
of the nightmare.

  “Yvaine?” Ralf’s beautiful, rugged face was close to mine while his other gentle, calloused hand stroked my hair back from my face. “Gweneth, she’s awake.” The sound of rustling, followed by the sudden appearance of my daughters smiling face framed by her unruly, loose hair brought me joy.

  “Gwennie,” I said, finding my throat hoarse and dry. Gweneth held her hand out and one of her fellow nuns handed her a cup made from animal horn. Gweneth brought the cup to my lips. I drank the cool, fresh water slowly, taking small sips like I had encouraged her to do when she was sick. “How bad was it?” I croaked but she quickly shushed me.

  “Don’t try to talk too much, Mama.” She scolded me. “Save your strength and focus on healing.” I couldn’t help but smile hearing my own words come from her lips. She fed me another few sips of water and then glanced over at her brother’s sleeping form close by. She must have seen me look in his direction. “He fell asleep just a little over an hour ago.” She rested the back of her hand against my brow, checking for fever. Finding nothing, she then moved to check my wound.

  “How is it?” I asked, trying to crane my neck to get a view of my injury.

  “It looks far worse than it is. The surrounding skin is angry, swollen, and red but already showing signs of healing.” She viewed the wound with the same look of awe that came over me when I was first learning the practice.

  “And you’ve been washing it out? Keeping the poultice fresh?”

  “I’ve been cleaning it with alcohol. You were right. Wounds are less prone to infection when alcohol is used.”