“I never knew my mother,” she revealed. “She died just after giving birth to me.”
“She would’ve been mighty proud of you, love,” Hildabrand squeaked.
“I just wish I could’ve gotten to know her, at least a little bit. All of the maidens who raised me said she was the strongest woman they knew.” She sipped her tea. “They said that, after my father was killed, my mother’s heart was so broken that she just waited for me to be born so she could die.”
“That’s the kind of power love has on our hearts,” the Innkeeper said. “It can bring euphoria, and it can bring death.” She grabbed her mug of tea and shuffled over to a soft rocking chair sitting next to a fireplace constructed of the same brickwork as the cabin. Inside its stout mantel was a roaring fire.
Something inside Lythina told her to follow, so she got up and took a comfortable seat in another rocking chair adjacent the Innkeeper. For a moment, they both sat quietly sipping their tea, soaking in the warmth of the blaze.
“Can you tell me more about my mother?” Lythina asked.
“I can, dear, but what you really seek is knowledge about yourself. Your mother, Kari, was the same way. She would come and stay at my Inn whenever she had business out at sea.”
“At sea?” Lythina pulled her gaze from the fire to glance at the Innkeeper. “But the Forgotten Sea west of here is covered in fog.”
“No, no. The mist wasn’t always there,” Hildabrand clarified at Lythina’s confused expression. “It arrived about 20-some years ago. The Forgotten Sea is a name given to these parts of the ocean because the kingdom’s merchants started avoiding the fog altogether. And, as you know, the wind in Hyrendell always blows from west to east. They say it’s the earth between the shores that keeps the waters on the east side of the island calm. It was easier to navigate in every way, so the merchants basically forgot about these waters when they switched their trade routes to the Eastern coast of Hyrendell.
“But, every once in a while,” the innkeeper spoke, as if it were a secret, “far out at sea, there is a dancing light that shines through the mist, almost like a fire that burns on the water, but that is all that’s visible because the fog is so dense. I’ve been keeping track of it, and I’m very sure that it arrives with every full moon.”
By now, Lythina was leaning off her seat with curiosity, enough so that she coughed as a cover to readjust herself properly. “Hasn’t anyone gone to investigate it? I mean, just because the trade routes were switched doesn’t mean everyone lost interest in this side of the island. I’ve seen ships pass by the western cliffs on their way to the castle.”
“Yes, many have gone to investigate the light, but none have returned, dear,” the old woman informed. Lythina thought she saw fear reflected in the old woman’s eyes. “That’s what led to the neglect of our village. Flowerpatch was once a bustling community, positively glowing with life. But ever since that light showed up and people started leaving shore to find it, everyone became angry and scared because no one was coming home. Once the fear became too strong, everyone else abandoned this cursed place and moved to Hyrendell Village. I’m the only person left here.” She sighed with discontent. “I just never got the nerve to leave my home.”
Lythina’s mind was pounding with excitement, wonder, and fatigue. It was quite a headache. “What kind of business did my mother have out at sea? Was she a merchant also?”
“Yes, she was. She sold food and clothing to the folks out at the docks. She was quite a saleswoman, if you ask me,” Hildabrand testified. “It was her intellect that sold, not her merchandise. She knew just how to speak to the merchants. I would go with her on some occasions, and she was as kind to the captains as she was to the children. Quite a remarkable lady, she was.”
“Is that how my mother met my father,” Lythina inquired. “I always heard that he was a gifted sealad.”
Hildabrand looked at Lythina squarely. “How much do you know about your father, Marcus?”
“Just what I’ve heard from my Aunt and the maidens,” Lythina replied. “Why?” She was beginning to worry.
“Your father was a sealad, love, but that’s because he traveled with the king’s armada. Your father was a soldier of Hyrendell.” Lythina was stunned, but surprisingly, the news settled somewhere comfortably inside her. While she couldn’t imagine her own father associating with Hyrendell’s tyranny, she had a warm feeling that he would have been fiercely loyal to good virtues nonetheless.
“Your mother and him met on the docks one day,” Hildabrand continued. “I remember it because after that she would come back to stay here every full moon. That was when the king’s fleet would arrive to replenish their supplies. They would stay for a week at a time, then he would return to sea with the armada, and she would disappear for a month only to come back again. This went on for many years.”
“Were they in love?” Lythina asked longingly.
Hildabrand smiled. “Like you wouldn’t believe! Your father would bring her flowers from all over Hyrendell, and Kari would make him the nicest undershirts for him to wear under his armor. They would only stay here to plan their short excursions together. Then, they would go off to some secret place for days, and come back with the most outrageous things, things she could sell to the travelers. Their love was very inspirational.”
“It sounds wonderful. But it must have torn my mother’s heart every time my father had to leave,” Lythina said.
Hildabrand’s smile faded. “That’s what killed her. Every time your father left, it shattered your mother’s heart, little by little. And a person’s heart can only heal so many times. One day, he never returned. The captain met with your mother to tell him that Marcus had been killed in battle. He handed her his medallion, then went back on board.”
Lythina’s eyes swelled with tears as her ears burned with the news.
Hildabrand continued, “Your mother dropped to her knees right there on the dock. It was as if her broken heart broke her entire body. A friend and I had to help her back to the Inn. She was so distraught that, for months, she barely spoke a word, except ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. By the end of her stay, it was quite obvious why her pain dug so deep inside her. She was with child. We spoke of simple things, her and I, but never about your father, no matter how much I tried. She said she wanted to return to her home in Hyrendell Village to give birth. Then one day, she left on a carriage, and that was that last time I heard from her.”
Lythina was sobbing into her sleeves. Just then, she reached inside her shirt to pull out a thin silver necklace with a medallion attached. It was a multi-pointed star with Marcus’s name engraved in the center. Hildabrand stared at it in disbelief as all the memories from a lifetime ago came flooding back to her.
“I got it when I was a little girl,” Lythina clarified. “It was given to me by my Auntie Elisa. She told me that my mother wanted me to have it, and now I know why. This is all I have of my father.”
For some time, she cradled the medallion in her hands as if it was a timeless piece of treasure, while Hildabrand just looked on. Lythina’s tears gradually subsided, and she slid the medallion back underneath her shirt. She had to let her parents go, for their sake and hers. She eased her breathing, drank some more tea, and regained her voice.
“Now, about this mysterious light,” Lythina smiled. “You said that this village was very active once, but it was deserted soon after the light arrived.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Hildabrand confirmed. “I’d say the village emptied in about six months worth of time, from the first appearance of the light.”
“And you also said that my intuition serves me well, right?,” Lythina continued.
“Yes,