Page 37

The Island of Healing

Ronan’s crew anchored their sea-worthy ship at a wooden dock along a curved outcrop of craggy coast which jutted into the choppy sea.

Issylte now sat in a small boat, headed towards an island enshrouded in mists.

Her Avalonian escorts rowed toward the shore, where the princess glimpsed a sandy beach sheltered by the rocky coastline, with dense forests visible in the distance through the hazy sky.

Sea gulls squawked amongst the clouds, the salty air was crisp and fresh, and the summer sun was warm upon her grief-ravaged face.

The flat bottom of their boat slid easily onto the sand, and as Ronan jumped out of the vessel to help Issylte onto land, they were met by a woman with long black hair streaked with silver, adorned in a white, gracefully flowing robe with gossamer sleeves.

She wore an intricately scrolled silver necklace where three large white stones glimmered in the sunlight at the base of her throat.

Beside her stood two other women, dressed in similar robes, but of a deep blue; they were flanked by four enormous men, armed with swords at their waists and bows and arrows strapped to their broad backs.

The woman in white was smiling, as if to welcome Issylte to Avalon.

Ronan stood on the sandy beach before the woman in white. He removed his hat, inclined his silvery blond head, and placed his right arm across his stomach as he bowed in homage. “My lady, I have returned safely with the princess, at your request.”

Now that his head was bare, Issylte could see that Ronan’s ears were long and pointed, like the other members of her escort, who had also removed their hats in deference to the woman in white.

All of the Elves who had escorted her from Ireland were broad as oaks and tall as pines.

They exuded an aura of power that thrummed in Issylte’s veins.

They are otherworldly, like the Little Folk .

But, while the woodland creatures are small, the Elves of Avalon are enormous!

The Elven oarsmen carried the small boat up a path from the beach to a forested ledge where they stored it in a wooden cabin. Ronan turned to introduce Issylte to the woman in white. “Princess, may I present Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, High Priestess of Avalon.”

Viviane approached Issylte and said warmly, “Welcome, dear Princess.” She took Issylte’s two hands in her own and smiled sadly. “Our beloved Maiwenn would be most pleased to learn that you’d arrived safely to Avalon.”

At the mention of Tatie’s name, Issylte lowered her face in grief. Viviane murmured, “You will be safe here. Far from the reach of the wicked queen.”

She glanced up. Affection and concern shone in Viviane’s sparkling eyes, the same deep blue as the Narrow Sea which had brought Issylte to Avalon.

She, too, is sheltering me from my cruel stepmother.

Just as Tatie did in the Hazelwood Forest so many years ago.

Issylte swallowed the enormous lump in her throat.

The Lady of the Lake gestured to the women in blue who were standing just behind her on the shoreline.

“May I present two of my priestesses. This is Nyda,” she said, as a small woman with long, light brown hair and twinkling hazel eyes came forward to take Issylte’s hand.

“And this is Cléo,” Viviane continued, as the taller brunette priestess with expressive brown eyes greeted her with a kind smile.

Viviane’s expression became solemn. “Maiwenn sent you to Avalon for your protection. We must adopt a new name to keep your identity secret. So that the queen will never learn you are here.” Viviane stared pensively at the wild, savage ocean.

White froth sprayed high into the air as choppy waves crashed upon the rocky shore.

The Lady of the Lake cast her wise gaze back to Issylte.

The trio of moonstones sparkled in the sun, the flow of magic swirling at her pale throat.

“Maiwenn named you églantine, the wild rose. A flower of the sacred forest. Here in Avalon, you shall be Lilée, the waterlily. A flower of our curative waters. You’ll learn to wield its divine power. The healing essence of water—the sacred element of the Goddess we serve.”

The Lady of the Lake turned back to address Ronan and his men. “I am most pleased with the exemplary performance of your duty in safely escorting Lilée to me. You are my most trustworthy warriors, and I am sincerely grateful for your faithful service.”

The Avalonian Elves bowed their heads to the Lady of the Lake as she dismissed them with honor. “Return to your homes now, and rest after your long journey. Thank you, and may the Goddess bless you all.”

As the Elven warriors strode towards the forest where stable hands awaited with horses saddled for their departure, Vivian called out to Ronan, beckoning him to approach.

The blond Elf came up to the High Priestess, who stood beside Issylte.

“Ronan, we must keep Lilée safe. I would like you to be her escort while she remains in our care.” Viviane turned back to Issylte.

“Ronan is not only our master blacksmith,” she said, grinning proudly at him, “but he is also our Master of Horse. His stables house many magnificent animals, some of which you see today.”

Her eyes twinkling, Viviane added, “Maiwenn informed me of your love for horses.” The Lady of the Lake locked eyes with the massive Elf. “I am sure Ronan will be delighted to accompany you whenever you wish to ride.”

A glimmer of hope fluttered in Issylte’s fragile heart. Horses! I can ride again!

Viviane seemed to notice the spark of light in Issylte’s eyes.

She spoke again to Ronan. “Please take Lilée to ride frequently. Show her our island. Where we harvest shellfish, where the farmers raise our fruits and vegetables, where the sacred springs are located. Where she may ride through the forest that is so dear to her heart.”

Ronan nodded, accepting orders as a dutiful knight.

The Lady of the Lake graced them both with a kind smile. “Nature is at the heart of all healing. And that is precisely what our dear Lilée needs right now.”

Ronan replied, “It will be my honor, Lady Viviane.” To Issylte, he offered, “I will come tomorrow afternoon so that we may ride together through the forest. I’ll take you on a tour of the island and introduce you to some of the villagers.

” With a hint of a smile, his deep green eyes beheld hers briefly.

“And to my horses.” With a nod of his head, Ronan bid the two women good day and returned to his awaiting men.

As the Elves rode off through the forest, Viviane and Issylte watched the blond warrior disappear into the trees.

“Your outings will be as good for Ronan as they are for you, Lilée,” Viviane murmured sagely.

“He, too, has a great need for healing.” Turning away from the retreating escort, Viviane led Issylte toward the two priestesses and four guards who were waiting for them at the edge of the forest, horses in hand.

An additional mount had been brought for Issylte, and as she stroked the dark brown muzzle of the beautiful animal, the memory of Luna washed over her in a sudden wave of grief.

“Good girl,” she murmured to the horse, as she had done countless times into the ears of her beloved mare.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she hoisted herself into the saddle, reined her horse, and followed the priestesses, flanked by the protective knights, into the forest and away from the rocky beach.

Viviane rode up beside her and indicated a path leading off to the left, deeper into the forest. “That road leads west, to the village, mainly populated by the Avalonian Elves. However, many humans live there as well, having decided to remain among us, often after seeking treatment for an illness or injury. We all live together in harmony with nature, blessed by the bounty of the Goddess.” She flashed Issylte a cheerful smile.

As their horses trotted at a gentle pace, the Lady of the Lake pointed to a second path, leading off to the right.

“To the east lies another village, where fishermen live with their families in stone cottages all along the coast. There are dozens of boats, and the sailors frequently travel to the many islands in our realm.” With a conspiratorial grin, she chortled, “Perhaps Ronan can take you to an island or two. Not only is he our master blacksmith, but an excellent boatsman as well.”

Vivian’s bright smile lit up her beautiful face.

In many ways, the Lady of the Lake reminded Issylte of Tatie and the warmth with which she’d welcomed her—the frightened princess—at the door of the ivy-covered cottage.

Now in Avalon, as in the Hazelwood Forest, Issylte shuddered at the thought of her stepmother’s icy fingers, leeching her strength with a chilling numbness.

The queen’s royal guards hunting her. Killing Tatie , Bran and Dee.

She took a deep breath, shook her head, and furiously rubbed the dreadful tingle from her arms as they rode through the dense trees along the forested path.

“Beyond this forest,” Viviane continued, “lie fertile plains where farmers raise animals and produce the fruits and vegetables for our island. The fishermen share their harvest, the farmers share their crop, the villagers produce many of our necessities, and we trade with other islands to import the goods we cannot produce here.”

She gestured to the forest around them with a slender white hand.

“The Little Folk —the forest denizens—live in the woods throughout our entire realm.” Viviane pointed to a nearby wooden hut with a thatched roof.

“That is one of their cottages. The woodland creatures collect berries, mushrooms, and nuts for all of us to enjoy; many of them are skilled in woodworking, construction, and cabinet making as well.”