The Island of Mists

by Wendy Nelson-Sinclair

  As we went about our daily work, we came upon strangers and travelers who had yet to learn of the tragedy that had befallen the town they had coined Porthfoist, or Faith’s Port, in Talen’s language. Each face we crossed was the image of horror and sadness. For months, we continued to be the bearers of ill-news until the numbers started to dwindle off and eventually stopped altogether. Ralf didn’t seem to mind the solitude, but it left me fearful of the moment when he chose to leave.

  ************

  The autumn was alit with color when Ralf approached me with the idea of chronicling the stories of our friends’ lives. Immediately, I encouraged him to do so, even though I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it myself. For many nights, Ralf sat at his table writing furiously until his hand cramped and his fingers were stained with ink. I tried to keep my own mind by throwing myself into my work. Even though there were few buyers, I vigorously made my medicinal remedies, eventually lining the shelves to the brim with numerous quantities. When not working on my herb craft, I spent a great deal of time outside, foraging through the forest, sitting by the creek as the water bubbled and rushed over the rocks in the burn. I frequented Talen’s gravesite, telling him of the remarkable people that he had led me to. All of it was too much at times for me to bear but somehow, I found the strength to bear what would come. Ralf became aware of the change in my behavior, taking note of the remorse that dwelled in me. He remained unaware that my despair would only intensify once he decided to go back to his people, leaving me behind. One night, it was so suffocating that I thought I would explode.

  The rain started falling. The grown vibrated underfoot as thunder boomed overhead. I sat in my chair, mending a shirt that I had made for Ralf months before. Somehow, he had managed to tear a hole in it while chopping wood and stubbornly tried to mend it himself. With a sigh of disgust, I took it from him, irritated at the terrible hash he made of the repair. Ralf sat beside me, stacks of parchment piled on the table before him. By this time, he had written several pages but tonight his goose feather pen and homemade iron-gall ink sat silently beside him.

  “What is it?” I asked him without looking up from my needlework. Ralf let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind him, his clasped hands against the back of his head.

  “Something has been bothering me.” He watched me from out of the corner of his eye. I stopped what I was doing and returned his gaze.

  “What is that?” I said uncertainly.

  “Why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you? I ask you how you are, and you just brush it off and say you’re fine. I know that you are not being truthful with me, Yvaine. I know that something is wrong. Something more than just the loss of our friends and each time I try to get you to speak about it, you shut me out. No more discussion, the topic becomes off limits. Why is it that you can’t trust me as I trust you?”

  There it was. After months of avoiding and skipping around his inquiries, he caught me in an unguarded moment.

  “Ralf, I just can’t.” I set my needlework down and rose from my seat, with the intention to start grinding herbs. He was out of his seat before I had cleared my chair and blocked my way. He let out a deep breath and tenderly laid his wide palms across my shoulders.

  “Yvaine, I know that something terrible has happened. I can see it in your face. I see it in when you freeze as I speak of it and how you constantly trying to push whatever it is away. I know that it was something bad. I can sense it. You wouldn’t go through the lengths to avoid it if it wasn’t. I wish that you would trust me enough to tell me. Whatever it is, we can get through it together.”

  It was the ‘we can get through it together’ that gave me the courage to share my story with him and not spare any of the harsh, bitter truth. This stranger that I had invited into my home, one that had become my friend, gave me something that I had lost when Talen had died. The care that I desperately needed and craved. In just a few precious words, he showed me that I didn’t have to walk this lonely, solitary road by myself. That he was willing to be there alongside me every step of the way. I removed his hands from my shoulders and went back to the seat where I had been only moments before. Picking up a charred branch, I stoked the fire in the hearth and watched the fire grow, sending out much-needed heat into the empty space. Ralf moved his chair closer to mine and sat beside me but far enough away to give me much-needed space.

  “In my culture, back on the Island,” I felt strange as the words flowed from my lips and spun into the air around us. “With the coming of Spring, we celebrate the Goddess through the Spring Rites.”

  “Do you mean Beltane?” He interrupted me briefly and I nodded my head.

  “Some of the non-Christians call it that but we have used its simpler name since the first settlers came to the Island,” I explained so that he could understand better. “Every Spring, there is a Choosing and at that time, one young woman and one young man are selected to perform the ritual of the Hunter and the Huntress.” I continued forcing myself to keep my voice steady even though a myriad of emotions swirled inside of me. “When I was sixteen, I was selected to play the Huntress.” I met his eye and saw a look of complete attention and sharp focus. “It was a role that I never wanted to play or thought that I would be selected for. The year that I was chosen, everyone believed that my sister, Ravene, would be selected instead of me. When my name was called, there was a wave of shock that went through the crowd, but there was no one more surprised or horrified than me.” While I spoke, I had kept my hands folded in my lap, fiddling with a piece of string that had come loose from the gown that I wore.

  “You have a sister?” He said softly and I met his eyes with a silent yes.

  “She’s older than me. Ravene is beautiful, like our mother. Her eyes are the color of lush, green meadows and her hair is the color of a raven’s wing,” I said seeing her clearly in my mind’s eye and felt the tug of longing for the days when we had been close. “When I was chosen, Ravene’s sweetheart, Canwyn, was picked to be the Hunter.” I paused, drew in a heavy breath and let it out slowly. “Even though she didn’t say anything, I knew that she was hurt I was chosen, and she wasn’t. And that I was selected alongside the boy she loved. Canwyn’s affections for my sister were as sincere as hers were for him. None of us suspected that our Rites was all a deception. The Goddess called for my sister, but my mother had foreseen that something would happen. Being the High Priestess, she sacrificed me without any thought.” The dread that overtook me whenever I dared to think about past events loomed just at the edge of my comfort.

  “Yvaine,” Ralf gave my hand a reassuring, comforting squeeze. I don’t know why, but that single gesture was much more than I could take, and I started to shut down.

  “I don’t think I can do this after all,” I said suddenly, wanting it all to just go away to a place where I didn’t have to look at it or feel it. I rushed from my chair and went out the cave door. Pushing the door back, I beheld the shadowed landscape and wished it all to just disappear. I stood alone before the sensation of Ralf’s body heat radiated behind me. His hands rested on the sturdy support of my shoulders. The warmth of his hands burned through the fabric of my gown, nearly searing the skin underneath.

  “Yvaine, your secret eats away at you.” He spoke gently. His closeness made me shiver. “In your unguarded moments, when you think I that I’m not looking, I can see it slicing away at you, piece by piece until it leaves you raw and vulnerable. It’s going to keep taking bites until it has completely consumed you.” He gave my shoulders a tender, comforting squeeze as the heat of his breath blew against the back of my neck. So many feelings played through my body and I fought against them. How could I love him like this if he did not feel the same in return? I wanted to share everything with this man, but I was afraid that if he had learned the truth, he would leave.

  The realization boomed through me like a clap of thunder. I did not want to tell him because I was afraid of what the consequences would be if
I did. Turning to face him, the wind ripped against my back, sending another chill through me. Ralf watched me with his kind, blue eyes, his long, dark hair fluttering in the wind, and spoke to me without words that what I said was not going to be used in judgment. That did nothing to quell the fear building inside me, though.

  “I don’t want to relive it,” My voice break with unspoken emotion. I started to tremble and before I knew it, tears streamed down my face. I cried harder as I was helpless to staunch the flow. Ralf released his hold on me as I cried, trying to gather my strength. A silent moment passed. He was still at my side as I turned back to look out over the darkened world. “But I need to say it,” I said finally, breaking the silence between us. I drew in a few more ragged breaths before I told myself that it needed to be done and that no matter what happened at the end of it, I had faced my demons and won.

  “When the sun set and the Rites began, I trekked across the forest floor to a cave where the first of our people was conceived. Once inside, I was to submit to my Hunter and with any luck, conceive a child. A child who is considered to be a blessing from the Goddess to our people and provide us with an abundance of prosperity and a fruitful harvest.” The words were uncomfortable in my mouth as I spoke of the First Dwelling and the ritual performed there. “I went willingly but I didn’t know what waited for me. Another young man—one who hounded me for years—murdered my Hunter so that he could take his place.” The words were weighted as my heart beat wildly against the inside of my chest. A thin veil of sweat covered my body despite the chill that hung bitterly in the air. “He cut Canwyn’s heart out and left him dead on the forest floor.” I dropped my eyes down to the ground at my feet as the image of his sightless eyes appeared in my mind’s eye. “With Canwyn out of the way, Cal met me in that sanctuary and raped me…”

  My heart stopped as a brief glimpse of Cal’s face appeared before me like a ghost reaching across the darkness. His hard-green eyes stared wickedly, trying to reignite his malice deep into the heart of me. I screamed and instantaneously, Ralf’s arms encircled me. Tenderly, he pulled my head safely against the solidness of his chest.

  “Shh,” He whispered, holding me protectively and rocking me in soothing manner. “You don’t have to say anything else, Yvaine.” The hum of his throat vibrated through his chest into my cheek. I closed my eyes and gripped him tightly as salty tears from my eyes.

  “He raped me,” I whispered so softly that I could barely hear myself. I clung to Ralf, afraid to let go of the security I found there in the closeness of his body. “He raped and tortured me,” I said as his grip grew tighter. “He ruined everything, and everyone blamed me. The people of the Island, my family—everybody said it was my fault. The worst of all,” My voice broke off with a strangled sob. “My mother saw that it would happen and did nothing to prevent it.” I shattered completely. When I had told Talen, it had been like applying balm to a raw wound. This confession was like lancing a festering pustule that had gone unattended for far too long. Ralf clasped me tightly and kissed the top of my head. I couldn’t let him go. I wouldn’t let him go. There was a safety in his arms that I so badly needed. This warrior that I had nursed now gave me succor in return.

  “Just let it out, Yvaine,” Ralf’s voice was muffled against my thick hair. “Let yourself grieve for what you’ve lost. You’ve held it in for too long. It’s time to let it all go because you don’t deserve to carry its burden any longer.” Ralf reassured me as he held me tightly. “I’m here to take care of you. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

  I sobbed hard against the solid support that Ralf’s chest provided. I clung to him as everything—all the hate, the resentment, the regret, and the terror—rushed out of me like water bursting through a collapsed beaver dam. Ralf consoled me through every painful moment, promising that he was there and that I whatever journey lied ahead, I wouldn’t have to go it alone. Despite the solace I found, I knew that sooner or later, he would leave, and I would be alone.

  “Let’s go back inside.” Ralf said suddenly as let me go and reluctantly, I stepped back from him. His arm slid around my waist as he led me back into the warmth of the cave. With his hand resting gently on the small of my back, Ralf escorted me to my bed. I sat down upon its comfort, feeling the strength of the rope that he had tied in a crisscross fashion to keep me and the mattress from crashing to the floor. Ralf sat down and pulled me to him once again. With one arm draped across my shoulders and the other holding my hand tightly in his, Ralf stroked my hair as I struggled to calm down.

  “No man has the right to force a woman,” He said with revulsion as I sniffed loudly and wiped my nose with a rag that I kept tucked in the sash tied at my waist. “Many men of my culture take women by force but that is not my way, nor was it the way of my father. My uncle, too, has decreed that no one should force themselves upon another.” He added as I listened quietly. “Women should decide what happens to them but so many men believe them to be inferior, lower than livestock.” Disgust thickened his voice and I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the morals of the man beside me.

  “Our people believe that, too. No man or woman should force themselves upon another but when it happened to me, no one cared.” I sniffed loudly as I wiped my nose and dabbed at my eyes that were still wet and sticky from crying. “But I fought him off,” I said suddenly, harnessing my own strength. “He rushed towards me one final time, holding a knife that had been resting in one of the burning braziers until the blade glowed orange. He meant to brand me. He meant to kill me, too. He was crazy, but I wasn’t going to let him hurt me again. That’s how I came to get this.” I raised the hem of my dress and exposed the scar that marred my leg. “I kicked him when he lunged at me. I managed to get hold of his knife and stabbed him with it until he lay dead in a pool of his own blood.”

  Ralf sat still, the only thing moving was the steady rhythm of his chest as he breathed. The weight of his arm remained secure and protective across my shoulders. I watched his face closely. His expressions were unreadable and entirely his own. “You are a very brave spirit, Yvaine.” He said, meeting my eyes. “We have women in our culture, skoldjmo, or shieldmaidens, that you are very reminiscent of. Women who are trained and fight as men do, warriors of battle who are magnificent in their courage and their determination. “You are a shield maiden, Yvaine,” He said in a heavy breath. I knew it to be the sincerest, most honorable compliment that he could give me. “You have fought well, and you have survived. Now, it is time for you to take your rest. There is work that is to be addressed tomorrow and you will need your strength if we are to get it done.” He coaxed me back, helped me climb under the covering of fur pelts and blankets, and snugly tucked them up just under my chin. “Thank you for trusting me with your story. I will keep it with me always.”

  Ralf kissed my forehead and left me sleep. I watched as he returned to the table where he sat every night. Taking up the goose feather pen, he scribbled the hours away as the veil of sleep fell over me, and dreams took the place of reality.

  ************

  Thin, fragile patches of ice floated upon the water when I went to check the traps the following morning. Ralf stayed home, insisting that he needed to repair a loose leg on the table, but promised to help me in the gardens later. I used our time apart time to reflect on what I had shared with him. I could not deny that I felt lighter, freer than it did before I had entrusted him with my tale. For the first time in years, I worked happily, emptying and resetting the traps and once I was through, took my time walking back to the cave.

  I was coming around the curve of the pathway when I heard a snap behind me. I froze and scanned the area while listening carefully to the common sounds that still rang out. Nothing seemed out of place. The first of the spring birds had just arrived and I could almost smell the smoke from the burnt remains of the Spring Rites bonfires spicing the air. I listened carefully while trying to read the space. Once I was certain that I wasn’t in danger, I leisurely stro
lled back. Ralf was sitting at the table when I walked into the warm space, leaving the last of the icy chill behind me.

  “It’s bitter out,” I told him happily. “Unusual for this time of year,” I added and my wares to the table. Setting my basket down, I removed my cloak and laid it across the back of my chair. Turning back around, I found Ralf silent, staring into the flames of the hearth. It was something he did when anything weighed upon his mind. The warm, orange light flickering shadows against his features, enhancing his beauty. “Is everything all right?” I asked curious as to what caused his silence.

  Ralf didn’t answer at first and continued to watch the flames. “I have decided that I want to return home.” He announced. The worlds hit me like I’d just been kicked in the stomach. I was speechless, stunned, and barely able to comprehend his announcement. With his back to me, I leaned the prep table’s sturdy frame, praying that my legs wouldn’t give out. “I will leave in mid-autumn to go to rejoin my people. I will stay with them until Spring comes again before heading back across the ocean.” His words hung heavy in the air between us. I closed my eyes, willing the words to disappear and wishing that I had not heard them.

  “Well,” I managed to say, using all my strength to keep my voice from cracking. “When you go, I wish you a safe journey.”

  What did you just say? My mind screamed at me in a shrieking shrill that reminded me of the owls back on the Island.

  “Do you, Yvaine?” He asked, and the question took me by surprise. “Do you honestly wish me a safe journey? Do you really want to see me go?” I forced myself to turn around and meet his eye. I found him still hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, but his head was raised to see my face clearly.

  “You deserve to be happy, Ralf,” I spoke in half-truth as I stole a glance at his back. “If that’s what you really want, you should go.” I added and halted momentarily before turning back around. My hot eyes burned, and I was on the verge of tears. Suddenly in need of escape, I mumbled that I was going to the gardens and rushed out the door.