The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  “Brawyn’s alive?” The words crossed my lips before I realized I spoke them. Since leaving, I had feared that Ibira’s husband and children had met the same fate that she did. Hearing that they were alive and well left me overjoyed beyond expression. “

  “He and their children survived by hiding on one of the smaller, unused islands. Brawyn told me that once he knew the threat was gone, they came out of hiding only to a discover a world that they no longer recognized, as well as his wife dead, shot through the heart by a marauder’s arrow.” Desten said as my mind flashed back to that awful day when I had been forced to leave Ibira’s lifeless body behind and hide myself within the First Dwelling. Recalling the sight of her bloated body the few days later tightened my throat and unsettled me.

  “Yvaine?” Sensing my upset, Ralf came to me and wrapped his supportive arm around me.

  “Ibira’s husband,” I said softly. “My friend that was shot through the heart as we were fleeing across the water.” I managed to say as Ralf’s sympathetic arm grew tighter around me.

  “Ibira’s son is learning to be a boat maker,” Desten said in a way to lighten the sudden tension that was cast over us. “He and Benin, Ibira’s son, are building a new one for me. When I see them tomorrow, I can ask him to make one for you?” He said more to Ralf than to me. “The gardens are starting to produce again. A monk came to us from a nearby monastery that burned down. The monk is a gardener who brought with him a vast collection of seeds and roots. With his help, we replanted the gardens here and upon two of the small, unused islands. We turned them into fruit orchards. Father Alfred is a good man and because he lost his home, we invited him to establish a church just north of the Island of Men.” Dennen went on to explain and had my undivided attention.

  “A Christian Church? You’ve allowed Christians to live amongst the society?” I said bitterly, despite the change in my views towards Christ and his church. Instantly, I thought of Reena and how appalled she would be knowing that Christians now lived within the Island’s borders.

  “Yes,” Desten said solemnly. “Many people attend his services. I am one of the regulars because I am a Christian now.” My nephew confessed, and I was left wondering what it is was about this faith that made so many turn towards it. “Runa still follows the old ways, as do many of the inhabitants. For the few of us that follow the teachings of God, we built a chapel on the small island just west.”

  “What about the celebrations? Do you still observe the ceremonies and the solstices? And what about the Acolytes? Do they still live on the Island?” I asked, suddenly curious about their whereabouts.

  “Yes. The Choosing Ceremony is held there now. The community decided to keep the main Christian and pagan ceremonies separate on their respective islands. The people are still allowed to decorate their homes during the Choosing Ceremony, and they still parade the Goddess through the village. The Christians are free to decorate during their holy days. That is one of the conditions that our Council agreed upon two years ago.”

  “So much has changed. The Island isn’t the same place that I left.” I said, amazed and unsure if I was prepared for all the changes that had happened.

  “It’s a new world, Aunt,” Desten said confidently, reminding me of the wine-making priest back at the Abbey. “When the old one fell, a new one rose from its ashes.” He echoed the very phrase that repeated through my mind during our journey here. Once again, I found myself facing a place far different than the one I left for the second time. When I had come back, pregnant with the twins and vastly altered from to living outside of the Island’s borders, I saw the subtle differences that had taken root while I was gone. However, that change was nowhere near the same caliber as this one was. In my heart, I knew the Island of my birth was too isolated and too blind to remain forever. It reminded me of the current of a stream. Whatever couldn’t hold up against the current was swept away, never to return. That was how the old ways of living were. What had worked so well for centuries had been slowly disintegrating. Our society was an egg—safely tucked away inside a thin shell that eventually cracked wide open. Instead of falling into ruin, the Island had rallied, like a freshly hatched chick, that would live to see itself grow and change.

  I scoffed to myself, as I glanced around. Minor changes would have helped immensely but due to the stubbornness of the High Council, they were never implemented or considered.

  “It still feels like it did,” Desten said, sensing my growing apprehension. “The faces aren’t all the same, but the spirit is still there. Don’t worry, Aunt, there’s nothing to fear.” With that, Desten took my hand and led the way up the footpath that opened up into the forum square.

  ************

  Moments later, our group stood at the tree line, facing a world that was foreign to both the old and the new. If I am to be honest, I expected the forum of my youth when we reached the point where it the trail opened up into the wide, heart of our society. What I found was desolation. Nothing was as it once was. Even though there were signs of progress, the forum that I had known was irreparably changed.

  Despite all the advancements, the stalls, the various crafts, the decorations, and the life, had all faded. The unfamiliarity pained me, and I struggled to keep myself from crying. Ralf placed a heavy hand on my shoulder but did not speak. He sensed the depth of my shock at seeing such a once vibrant place—one I had spoken of many times—reduced, bare, abandoned, and forgotten.

  Another flash of memory passed over my eyes as I stood in place. The morning of the attack, the marketplace had been bustling. Stall attendants hocked their wares, the delicious scent of freshly baked bread hung deliciously in the air and most of all, the square was brimming with people having conversations, tasting foods, testing the drape and the craft of woven cloth, tending animals, and living their lives to the fullest. What once was thriving and abundant was now dead.

  A strangled cry sounded behind me. We all turned to see Gweneth standing, stunned speechless. Seeing her anguish, I tried to keep strong for her. Gweneth had left when there was still vibrancy, energy, and vitality and was not prepared for this. When she made the decision to leave the Church and come home, she expected to find what she had left but didn’t. I could see in her face that the drastic changes hit her hard. After all, the forum was her favorite place when she was a child. I remembered how she would beg me to go to the marketplace alone. Even as a shy, solitary child, she liked being alone in the center of such activity. On the few occasions that I relented, she would return as the sun was going down brimming with numerous details of how she would just walk and watch, fascinated by the variety of life around her.

  “Should I go to her?” Ranulf said softly at my shoulder. We both looked over as one of the men, a tall, blonde-haired man with a gentle soul named Sigurd, approach her. The tender way he touched her back as he helped her step over a fallen collection of stones was reminiscent of Ralf and me. Even though Gweneth tried to push him away, Sigurd refused to abandon her side and the sight stirred a certain knowing inside of me. This kind-natured young man was in love with our daughter. For a moment, I felt sorry for him. Even though Gweneth had left the Church, she intended to stay true to her vows and remain dedicated to God. Just as much, she stated adamantly that her sole purpose in coming back was to heal and help spread her faith to others. When I was still healing and confined to bed, she boldly announced that the likelihood of her ever marrying was non-existent.

  “No.” I said as I pulled Ralf closer to me. “Gwennie will be fine. She just needs some time to adjust. And Sigurd is with her. He won’t let anything happen to her. We just need to give her time to process everything.” I reassured my darling husband who had so quickly become protective of his daughter. Ralf’s muscles relaxed under my fingertips as he let out a long, even-paced sigh of acceptance.

  ************

  After giving us adequate time to adjust, Desten once again resumed his tour. We crossed quickly through the forum, leaving Gweneth behind
along with Sigurd who insisted on staying close to her. As we crossed through the mostly empty square, Dennen raised his hands to the few that worked along the edge.

  “Hello there!” Desten called out to a man who stood with his back turned towards us. I watched as the man stopped, set down his blacksmithing tools, and turned around. My heartbeat paused momentarily as I saw Brawyn for the first time in years.

  “Greetings, Desten,” He boomed, his still-happy voice carrying across the way to meet our ears. “Who do you have with you?” He asked as he deftly picked up a woolen rag, wiped his hands, and started to walk in our direction. Brawyn was less than ten feet from me when our eyes met, and we looked at one another in an uncomfortable pause.

  “Yvaine?” His eyes widened with a kind of surprise that I couldn’t yet name. “Yvaine, is that really you?” Before I could respond, Brawyn covered the distance and swept me up in his arms. “Praise be to the Goddess, you’re alive!” He repeated his words as he hugged me tightly. “We thought you were dead. How did you manage to survive and where have you been all this time?” He set me back down on my feet, realizing that we weren’t alone. Ralf’s eyes bored into my back, not with jealousy but rather, a fierce need to protect.

  “When the Island was attacked, Ibira and I fled to the Sacred Island,” I said after drawing in a long, steadying breath. “I don’t need to tell you what happened as we were paddling our way across.” I looked at him and my eyes began to burn with a threat of tears. “I’m so sorry that I just left her there when I hid inside the First Dwelling.” I apologized, suddenly needing to say the words, even though I knew Brawyn would assure me that no apologies were necessary.

  “It’s all right, Yvaine,” Brawyn reached out and laid a brief, gentle hand upon my shoulder. “Ibira died instantly from the arrow strike. She wouldn’t have wanted you to endanger yourself further by trying to take her with you. There’s no need to apologize. You did what you had to do. It’s what anyone else would do if they were in your shoes.” Brawyn paused as he glanced back towards the others. “None of that matters now,” He acknowledged Ralf who took a step forward. “You’ve returned to us, and with others. Brawyn Blacksmith,” He said. Ralf shook his hand and introduced himself to all the others with us.

  “It’s a pleasure, Ralf,” Brawyn added. “We’re glad to have you. The Island welcomes you.”

  Leaving Brawyn to get back to his work, Desten escorted across the remaining portion of the forum and stopped at the fork.

  “This leads us to my family’s former home,” I told Ralf, who stood at my side, hand in hand. “This is where I was raised and where my family lived for centuries.” I said proudly. Ralf silently reassured the growing anxious anticipation that was now ready to burst wide open.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go back to check on Gweneth,” My love said not more than a second later. “Why don’t you go ahead and Ranulf and I will catch up.” Ralf caressed my cheek before motioning to Ranulf and turning on his heel. With Desten at my side, I watched as they traveled back down the pathway and headed to the point where we left Gweneth.

  “Aunt,” Desten’s hand suddenly rested upon my shoulder. “I think I’ll go help Uncle and Ranulf,” He said, silently understanding that returning to my former home was something that I needed to do alone. Signaling that it was okay, Desten bade me farewell before heading down to catch up with Ralf and Ranulf.

  Looking upwards, I steadied myself. The rise up to the cave where I was born and raised was daunting. My knee had been bothering me over the last two days and it troubled me greatly as I stood staring upwards. Ignoring the irritation, I took a step and then another, stepping slowly until I conquered the obstacle and stood before the place I had once called home.

  Memories and visions flooded my brain as I stood at the entrance, smelling the earthy fragrance of damp earth, mingled with the memory of Aunt Leena’s cooking, as well as the dried herbs and flowers that littered the ceiling. Towards the back, I sensed Ravene in a fleeting moment. A flash of disappointment and anger, none of it directed towards me. The rush of breath that I had been holding escaped from between my lips as I felt her spirit dart back to the beyond. Harnessing all my courage, I stepped across the threshold and immediately, Reena was there before me. Her specter sat beside the long-cold hearth, staring at the pit as if a raging fire roared within it.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” She said, her voice weaved in and out of both realms but remained clear and concise. “We’ve all been waiting for you.” She gestured towards a chair that was no longer there.

  “Why have you been waiting?” I asked her ghost, keenly sensing the myriad of emotions that Reena still carried.

  “To ask for your forgiveness,” The ethereal image of her spoke, then turned and met my eye. To see her after so much time struck me to my core. Even in spirit form, she was lovely. Her long, wavy hair hung down past her waist, loose as it cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. Her face had not aged. Instead, she chose to be seen as I remembered her, young, breathtakingly beautiful, and powerful. The quintessential High Priestess admired by all.

  “Forgiveness?”

  “Yes,” She paused. “Forgiveness for what I’ve done to you. Forgiveness for keeping you from your real mother, and,” Reena’s ghost paused once more. “For killing your father.”

  My blood rushed to my feet as my body went numb with cold. “What do you mean killing my father?” I demanded, suddenly angry and wishing she were flesh and blood so that I could strike her to the floor.

  “I killed Yvan,” Reena’s ghost admitted without emotion. “I wanted his love, but he refused to give it to me. He would always love Leena and that meant that there was no room in his heart for me. Yvan was the one thing that I wanted more than anything but the one thing that I could never have.” Reena’s ghost cast its gaze to her lap where she twiddled her fingers together. “When he told me that there was nothing that I could do to change his mind, I poisoned him. I boiled Fool’s Funnel mushrooms and had my maid add it to his food. I was determined that if I couldn’t have him, Leena couldn’t either and the only way that could happen was for him to die.” Reena continued to speak, void of emotion or empathy. “I didn’t know that when he died, part of me would die with him. I also didn’t plan on it nearly killing my sister, either. Despite what you might think, I loved Leena. We were as different as night and day but that didn’t mean that my heart was cold towards her. It also didn’t mean that I didn’t love you, either.” Her words caught in my throat and tightened it to the point that I was unable to speak. “I loved you as much as my earthly body could allow,” She explained. “Knowing that you weren’t my child placed a block between you and I and dammed up all the affection that I should have given you. That is why I chose to appear before you. I’ve been waiting to confess my ill deeds and to ask for your forgiveness for all the misery I’ve caused.” Reena sat unmoving, her eyes boring into mine as she waited for me to speak.

  As I faced her specter, a war waged inside of me. One side urged me to spit at her, to curse her, and to condemn her for all that she had done. The other whispered of forgiveness. It spoke softly in my ear, reminding me that our physical bodies are subject to our wills and desires. It told of how Reena’s selfishness and unquenchable thirst for power corrupted her brain and reduced her to a mean-spirited, vain, self-centered slave to her earthly wants. Several moments passed. Just outside, the echo of voices carried up the way and I knew my family would arrive within moments and my chance to face Reena would be gone.

  “I forgive you for what you’ve done,” I told her, announcing the forgiving side has won. “But that doesn’t mean that I will forget, or that my heart will change towards you. You weren’t there when I needed you the most. You abandoned me and turned your back on me when I was at my weakest and most vulnerable. I can only hope that you have come to see the error of your ways and that your future lives will be free from the corruption and the hatred that held you so tightly in t
his one. Yet, I know that without the decisions that you made, I would not be who I am today, nor would I have those that I love. I want you to know that I forgive you but that I want to be free of you. Go to your rest now, Reena,” I pointed towards the hearth, commanding her to take her leave. “Go to your rest until it is time to be reborn. Go and know that your worldly problems that you left behind no longer have power over anyone.”

  Reena’s ghost faded into mist before me and rushed up the chimney, never to be seen again. I drew in and let out a ragged, relieved breath as the weight I’d been carrying flew away behind her, leaving me unshackled and liberated.

  “Yvaine?” Ralf’s voice called out from behind me. I spun on my heel to find him, Gweneth, and Ranulf standing just outside the door. “Yvaine? Are you all right?” Ralf stormed through the doorway to my side.

  “I’m fine,” I said truthfully. “I’m just a little overwhelmed.” Ralf looked me over to reassure himself while Ranulf leisurely stepped across the threshold.

  “This place looks the same,” Our son said matter-of-factly. “Except there was a lot more furniture and it wasn’t so cold.”

  Gweneth followed her brother inside but stopped abruptly as soon as her foot hit the floor.

  “Was there someone in here with you, Mama?” She asked, glancing around the empty room, searching for the presence that she sensed.

  “No,” I looked past Ralf to where Gweneth was. “Just ghosts.” I met her eye and reassured her. Gweneth stared past me, her eyes focused on the hearth, no doubt sensing the lingering memories that Reena left behind.