Islands in the Mist (Islands in the Mist Series Book 1)

by J. M. Hofer

  A flood of purpose flowed into his veins as he surmised the truth of what had happened to his mother. He strengthened his focus and waited, calmly, for the beast to come to him. When it did, he attacked with renewed fury against the black abomination, hungry to avenge his mother.

  The wolf easily overpowered him, this time picking him up and hurling him toward the mouth of the Cauldron. Bran managed to avoid the Cauldron’s milky maw, but came dangerously close to falling into the lake.

  He thought out his next move carefully. He was weary of darkness and hungry for revenge. He knew this would perhaps be his only chance to rid himself of both.

  He ran toward where he had seen the beast emerge from the darkness, trading positions with it, and putting it in the compromised position out on the peninsula.

  The beast surprised him by leaping over the water up onto the cavern wall, high above where he stood, snatching the advantage back. Its long claw-like fingers held it securely to the jagged crystals.

  I won’t win this battle with strength. He looked desperately around him for anything or any place he could use to secure his victory.

  The beast attacked again, jumping down on him from above to try and knock him back toward the Cauldron once more. Bran maneuvered out of the way, quickly delivering a blow which sent the wolf into a rage.

  It attacked yet again, within seconds. Bran tried repeatedly to get his sword into the beast’s vulnerable neck or underbelly, but to no avail. Dyrnwyn was too big and too long to thrust up into its belly. He realized he would need to use a dagger, and that meant he would need to let himself be pinned.

  He pulled out Gareth’s dagger, staring into the creature’s face as they circled one another. He knew the passage behind him might possibly lead to a way out, but he refused to trade the possibility of escape for the guarantee of it. He had seen the stars through that gap in the cavern, and he would get himself through it. I’ll be damned if I return to darkness without stars.

  He waited patiently for the wolf to attack again, and this time, allowed it to pin him. He seized his one small opportunity to thrust the dagger of his fallen brother deep into the heart of the black beast. The creature let forth an eerily human-sounding cry of pain, letting Bran know he had hit his mark. Unfortunately, the beast still managed to sink its teeth into Bran’s shoulder before it died. Bran heard his own howl of agony reverberate through the cavern.

  Still pinned beneath the beast, Bran felt his adversary twisting and shrinking. What the hell? He pushed away from it in shock and disgust and leapt to his feet.

  He unsheathed Dyrnwyn, and watched in amazement as its blade once again burst into blue flames. He inspected his kill by the light of his sword. What he saw was nothing more than a severely deformed man, Gareth’s dagger plunged deep within his breast.

  After catching his breath, he reclaimed his dagger and dragged the hideous thing to the edge of the pool where he hewed off its deformed head and then heaved both head and body into the water. The eel-fish swarmed around the body, feasting.

  He stood over the horrific scene. By morning, there would be nothing left of it but bones.

  He looked down at the blood pouring from the wound on his shoulder. He was covered in it—its rusty, metallic smell filling his nostrils. I’ll bleed to death in this hellhole if I don’t get out soon.

  He rinsed the wound as best he could, and then cauterized the three deep gashes left behind by the wolf’s claws with the flames of Dyrnwyn.

  He stumbled out to the end of the peninsula. He tied his rope to the hilt of his sword and sent it sailing up into the pale light above. It took him quite a few tries, but he succeeded in getting it through the crevice. He maneuvered it into position, wedging the blade securely against the rock overhead.

  He wrapped himself around the rope and climbed up toward the surface, using his good arm and legs. His injured shoulder burned as if it branded by a hot iron, but it was nothing compared to his frantic desperation for freedom.

  He reached the top, but, to his dismay, the opening was not quite wide enough for him. He worked to fashion himself a sling with his rope, and then chipped away at the rock and soil. He focused on the sight of the moon and stars, refusing to look away until the hole he had carved was big enough for him to crawl through.

  He climbed victoriously out of his prison, pulling his body out of the crevice with the last bit of strength he had left. Thank the gods, thank the gods! Tears came to his eyes as the full glory of the sky and the smell of fresh air greeted him.

  More exhausted than he had ever been in his life, he rolled over on his back and lay under the open sky gazing up at the moon, filled with boundless gratitude.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ula

  Bran woke to the blush of the dawn on his sensitive eyes, and a soothing sound in the distance. He sat up and found himself in a completely foreign terrain. The mountains he was used to seeing no longer sat on the horizon. He stood up and looked all around, finding himself upon a wide bluff, but recognized nothing in any direction. He looked down at the ground, where he had dug himself out of the cavern only a few hours before, but found there was nothing there but earth and grass.

  He explored the land and eventually came to the edge of a tremendous cliff covered in yellow gorse bushes. The vast blue expanse of the sea greeted him from far below. Impossible, he thought, trying to grasp how this could be. The sea is miles from the village. Yet, he could not deny what he saw. Regardless of the seeming impossibility of it, Bran felt immense joy at the majestic sight. From the time he had first seen the sea, he had longed to return to it, like a lover from his past he could never forget.

  One day, when I can no longer lift a sword, I’ll come and live quietly by the sea with a few horses and a small forge, and a woman to keep my bed warm. He pictured Lucia sitting with him by the hearth of the seaside house he had conjured in his mind, and smiled.

  His shoulder suddenly throbbed with pain, pulling him from his thoughts and reminding him that it badly needed attention. He winced. He would need to make a paste from ashes or mud for the wound, as there were few herbs that could be found growing or blooming that time of year. Winter had taken most all of them beneath her blanket.

  He happened across some witch hazel shrubs. The bark and leaves mashed into a poultice would curb the bleeding and keep the wound from becoming infected. He found a small stream running nearby and removed his tunic. He rinsed the wound clean, which allowed him to examine it well for the first time. Ugh. Horrible. It was far worse than he had imagined. He found some flat rocks and worked the bark and leaves into a paste. He mixed it with mud and smeared the mixture into his wound, nearly crying out at the pain. He tore the bottom of his tunic off and soaked it in the stream, and then tied it around his shoulder, bandaging the poultice in place. It was certainly not the best job, but it would have to do.

  Looking back toward the sea, he felt overcome by the urge to run. He took off toward the edge of the cliffs, exhilarated by the space around him, his blood running freely through his veins. He watched the birds sail on the winds gusting up from the sea far below. He had never seen such stunning landscape before. Finally, free! To see the sky, breathe fresh air, and feel the wind upon my face! Great Mother, thank you!

  He ran along the cliffs for the entire length of the day, tasting the salty air upon his lips and watching the sunlight glint upon the water, until the sun began to dip down toward the horizon.

  The sea beckoned, and he searched until he found a place where he could climb down to the beach below. There, he collected driftwood and lit a fire, feeding it slowly until it blazed, warming his hands and face.

  Seren came to his mind. If she yet lived, she would be lighting the nightly bonfire in the motherhouse. She was the only family left to him. Guilt seized him as he thought of the oath he took before the clan to protect her. Who knew what sort of misfortune had befallen his people while he had been away?

  Please, Great Mother—protect my sister. He
knew he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her before he made it home. He had accepted the title of Protector and then disappeared, leaving her and the rest of the clan to fend for themselves. Gareth, for one, had paid for it with his life. He imagined many others had as well.

  Perhaps Aelhaearn was right the day they nearly came to blows—maybe he could not resist a battle call, even if duty demanded he stay behind. Maybe I can’t stand the thought of another warrior bringing home a victory that could have been mine.

  It was his selfish pride that had prodded him to lead the search party to the caves, he had to admit it. He had convinced himself he needed to go, but truly, he went because he could not stand the thought of staying behind with the women and children.

  Again, his thoughts were interrupted by his shoulder, which ached terribly. He had been so busy he had paid it no mind, but now, sitting quietly, it had begun to rebel, insisting he pay it some attention. He removed his bandage to examine it. Ghastly! The salt water would do it some good, he hoped. He needed to catch some dinner.

  After a few moments of searching, he found a long slim piece of driftwood and whittled it to a sharp point. He undressed and walked into the surf, bracing himself against the icy water. He rubbed the old mud poultice off and waded deep enough to soak the wound. It burned fiercely, reassuring him the salt was doing its job. He then set himself to the task of spearing some fish, which he accomplished quickly. He had become quite skilled at spear-fishing in the caves.

  Soon, he was drying off and roasting his dinner over a fire. His mouth watered at the thought of finally having a proper meal. He ate his catch, watching the sun set for the first time in over a month, and then curled up and slept more soundly than an infant in his mother’s arms.

  ***

  Bran woke to the sound of the gulls crying overhead, hunting for their breakfast. He would do the same before setting out. He put more wood on the coals which were still hot from the night before, and ventured out on the rocks.

  He was patient and clever, and eventually fortune granted him a few crabs. After cooking and breaking them open, he had the gulls to fight off, as they were eager to take his breakfast rather than hunt for their own. He would normally be irritated, but it delighted him to interact with any living creature after what he had been through.

  While enjoying the sunrise and sucking the last bit of meat out of his first crab, he noticed something bobbing out in the surf and watched it intently. After some time, he determined it must be a head, but too small to belong to a person. It came closer, disappeared, and then reappeared again, close enough for him to realize he had been watching a seal playing in the waves.

  He broke open the second crab with his dagger and went to sit on the rocks where he had caught it. The seal stayed bobbing in the water, watching. She was obviously curious about him.

  “Come closer!” he called, holding out a meat-filled claw. When the little seal was close enough that the gulls couldn’t intercept it, he tossed it to her.

  She munched eagerly on the claw and came closer, hoping to receive another gift.

  He smiled. “I worked hard for that. I hope you enjoyed it.” He tossed her another piece and took one for himself. After sharing the rest of the crab with her, he rose to leave.

  “Farewell, little friend. I must find my way home somehow.” His time underground had made certain things abundantly clear. He was eager to be surrounded by his people again, and to see Lucia. The seal looked at him expectantly, and he smiled at her innocence as he returned to his small camp.

  After putting out the fire and collecting his things from the beach, he looked out to sea for her, but she had disappeared.

  He had seen a herd of wild ponies grazing on a distant bluff the day before. With any luck, he would be able to use his skills to rope one and eventually ride it. He missed Gethen. What a glorious time they would have had, galloping along those cliffs.

  As he started climbing up the cliff toward the bluff, he heard a strange call. He turned around, and to his shock, saw a woman below him on the beach. She was naked, with long black hair and dark eyes, holding her wet clothes.

  “Gods, woman!” he yelled, startled.

  She ran into the surf, clothes and all, ready to dive into the ocean.

  “No! Wait! Don’t go!” He scrambled down the cliff, elated to have encountered another person, but she was already in the water, staring at him with fear in her eyes.

  “Are you hurt?” Bran spoke softly, wading slowly to where she was, but the closer he came, the farther out she swam. “No, please! Come back! Can you understand me? Is your village nearby?”

  He made his hands visible, trying to make himself look less threatening. “I won’t hurt you.”

  By now, he was fairly sure she did not understand him. Could she be from across the sea? One of the invaders women? If so, he would have trouble soon, as she would surely go and tell her husband—or master, if she were a slave—about him. He waded further out, extending his hand. “Please.” She was darker than the Saxon women, and smaller. Where could she have come from?

  She would not come any closer, but at least she wasn’t swimming away from him anymore. In a desperate act, he saw a fish swimming by, and caught it with his bare hands.

  “Are you hungry?” He held the fish up.

  She looked interested.

  “Come!” He beckoned, encouraging her to come ashore.

  He slowly backed out of the sea, keeping his eyes on her.

  He had but recently left the fire, so had it going again quickly and sat upon the beach. He roasted the fish and watched her, hoping his plan would work. It was the only thing left he could think of. He began eating the fish off the spear, making satisfied noises and scrunching his face up in delight.

  She watched him, and gradually swam a little closer. Good. At least she’s curious.

  After a few moments, she came out of the water. She was still holding her clothes, which appeared to be made from sealskin. She set them down carefully on a rock very far from him, slowly approached, and took ahold of his spear.

  He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, letting her take it.

  She pulled the fish carefully off the spear, and then moved away to the rocks and began eating it.

  “Do you have a name?”

  Silence.

  “Can you take me to your village?

  Silence.

  To his dismay, she did not appear to understand a word he was saying. He sighed. The morning would soon be gone. Beauty or not, I can’t afford to waste any more time here.

  “I must go now.” He rose slowly to stand, so as not to startle her. She was very young, and looked as if she might be a shipwreck victim, living on this tiny beach alone.

  He could not bring himself to leave her there. Again, he held his hand out. “Please. Come with me.”

  She looked at him a long time. He was just about to give up, when, suddenly, she slung her garment around her shoulders, picked up the spear, and came to him.

  “Good! Come!” He motioned toward the top of the cliff and began climbing to the top. To his delight, she followed him.

  “Can you help me find the horses? Do you know where they run?” He made a few horse sounds, hoping she would know what he meant, but she just smiled at him.

  She must think I’m not right in the head. He tried drawing a picture of a horse in the dirt with a stick. Still, she looked at him blankly. Finally, he gave up and headed off toward the open pasture, where he would likely find them himself.

  As they walked inland, the landscape slowly undulated from jagged cliffs into rolling hills. Their path occasionally crossed over a brook where they stopped to drink. Bran noticed his companion slowly becoming more relaxed, even playful with him, as the day wore on.

  By late afternoon, Bran spied the horses he had been looking for. He smiled and pointed them out to her. “Horses!”

  She looked at him with understanding and followed him across the hills t
oward where the herd was grazing.

  Bran looked at all of them, making his choice carefully. They looked strong, albeit a little small for his taste. Any of them would be perfect for her, although he was not sure if she could ride or not. If she could not, they would have a problem. Being the size and weight that he was, they most certainly would not be able to ride together.

  The girl ran to a mottled gray mare, shaggy with its winter coat. To Bran’s shock, the horse did not stop grazing. He slowly approached the mare, but she smelled him and looked up, ears pricked.

  The girl, however, walked right up and stroked the mare’s muzzle.

  “Do these horses belong to your people?” He motioned around them. “I must ask to borrow one, to return to my village.” He hoped she could understand at least the urgency of his plea.

  She got on the mare’s back as if she owned it, and then rode to where one of the larger mares was grazing. She reached over and touched her. The horse shook its head and laid its ears back when Bran approached. His new companion again reached over and touched the beast with a soothing hand, calming the animal.

  He fashioned a bridle from his rope, thinking back to when his mother had first taught him to tie one so many years ago. He had been only a small boy at the time. He then walked up very slowly toward the side of the horse’s head, speaking in low tones. He wooed the horse with all the skills of his tribe, and finally found himself upon her back, the bridle about her head.

  “Let’s go.” He pointed the mare toward the East. “I must get back to my village.”

  The woman looked blankly at him, reminding him of how useless his words were. He simply pointed again and started on is way. To his surprise, she continued to follow him.

  “You want to come along?” She was welcome to. She was obviously able enough to care for herself. Besides, he liked her. Her innocence was refreshing to him after so much darkness.

  His plan was to ride inland, away from the sea. If all went well, he would begin recognizing the horizon within the next three days. From there, he would be able to navigate his way back to his village. Hopefully, he would find it still standing—or at least everyone he loved still alive. He prayed the warriors were successful in keeping the cauldron-born at bay, and that the men from the other clans had arrived as promised.