Finblood

By Lucie Howorth

At the end of the world lies the mysterious forgotten Isle of Eynhallow. Home to Finola and her strange family. After a deadly disease wipes out the other inhabitants all that remains is a growing sense of isolation and secrets that fight to reveal themselves.

 

Finola must endure the cold winters and wait for a truth which comes in the form of a visiting boat on the first day of spring. A voyage of self discovery will take her further than the ends of the world. Into a place where myth meets reality.

 

Where her love will be tested against a new way of life. Always the wild girl from the abandoned isle, but is Finola truly all she seems?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lucie Howorth
• Release date: May 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393567301

Book preview

Prologue

T

here was and is a house which stands alone within the waters of Orkney. Upon Eynhallow. The winters were always long and bleak, with no sunshine or hope. The summers seemed to laugh at us in those dark months, mocking us with memories of stolen days in the warmth. If there was such a thing as summer. The Hylands seemed to exist in a world forgotten and us, in turn, forgotten too. As the cold began to creep closer, it was as if the rest of the world was saying Goodbye. Nobody came to us and we came to nobody. 

Mammy was a god-fearing woman. She told us always, that the water would never claim us. That God would save us because we had earnt our place in Heaven. 

I knew as much about Heaven as I did about life and desired it less than I should have. I wondered if the Sinners had disregarded it too and damned their souls regardless?

I was a good girl who said her prayers. But I was never certain who I was saying them to. 

Daddy was like the house itself. He would never let the elements take him without a fight. The Hylands was his castle, and the lonely rocks were his land. I think, perhaps, he saw something else when he looked around us. Never did I see the desperation in his eyes that I saw when I looked at myself. 

Even during that winter my brother came in the middle of the night, not even then did he wish to be anywhere else. As storms raged, bringing the ghosts which lived in the wind whistling through the walls, he held Mammy’s hand and allowed me to stand at the foot of the bed. I was so young, so uninitiated in pain. I thought she was going to die. Though I hated the little pink thing in her arms for hurting her, I grew to love him in the winters which passed. A sorry substitute for the friends which we had lost, eventually we became grateful for the company in each other. Whether through choice or necessity, we came to love each other beyond all others. 

The winter of my fifteenth year was one of intolerable desolation. The Hylands, my family home, was cut off from the mainland by waters so treacherous not even the fishermen dared set sail. We lived on an Island of our own. A craggy rock of land that seemed to have broken off from the world thousands of years ago in search of absolute solitude. The Hylands wasn’t meant to exist here. Sometimes it was as if the earth beneath our feet tried to tell us to go, that this place wasn’t meant for us. But we remained. Every winter like the last, we remained in our stone-built house by the water. Even as the water licked the bay with a savage tongue, threatening to move closer we would stand and watch the foam whipped into a frenzy. 

We stood together by the stone wall which ran around The Hylands, by the gate we watched as heavy clouds danced above the water and shrouded the mainland in an impenetrable mist. It was my fifteenth winter, but never did I cease to feel that clench in my throat as I watched the rain descend. 

On that day, Mammy walked down the garden to watch with us, a solid hand on each of our shoulders. There was a sense of foreboding. I was never certain if they shared it, or if they simply stood to watch at the sorrowful beauty of the savage weather. 

My face was flushed red, my lips quivering against the biting wind. But still, I stood and wrapped my shawl tighter around me. 

Ah, not today... not today. Mammy said, her voice almost lost in the wind. 

I closed my eyes and imagined the boat coming through the mist. But there was nothing but the shadow of Rousay. 

Why Mammy? Why not today? My brother asked, his stubborn reluctance as strong as mine. 

Mammy tucked him under her shawl, though he was already at her height and pulled him away from the oncoming storm. 

Ah Rohan, the waters are too rough for sailing. You’ll watch tomorrow, when they’ll be calmer.

But his eyes turned away and I knew he would watch until nightfall. 

Finola? Will you not come back into the house? 

I turned and went with them. I could not withstand another day waiting for salvation that would not come. 

I had long since grown sick of the smell which came from the fire in the kitchen. Of vegetables boiling in the same water as the night before. In the larder was the remnants of the bannock bread which had gone hard and stale, which we sopped in the soup to make it soft again. The frost had killed the best of what little crops we’d grown, the wild foxes which were not native to Eynhallow had been circling the chicken coop for weeks. Hunger was setting in and we were no exception. 

It seemed to cry out from the very stones. The Typhoid had finished off the other Eynhallow families. Perhaps hunger would be the end of us?

A year had passed since the others had died or fled to the mainland. I often wondered if Daddy had descended into madness by keeping us here. I thought Mammy would protest but instead, she went to the kirk on the other side of the Island and prayed for us to survive. 

That old church and its roofless byre was Mammy’s place of pilgrimage. It gave her comfort to go there when it seemed all other hope was lost. There was no comfort for me here. The old stones of the ancient church were like false idols. Whoever had built it was no longer there. Even God had fled this once Holy Isle. 

Finola, will you go out and fetch your Daddy from the garden? Mammy asked, before I had chance to remove my broken shoes. I’ll be serving your suppers.

He was standing behind the house, bringing the pail up from the well. The rain had reached us and was lashing at his shirt. 

Ah, Daddy! Will you put your coat on! I said through the howling of the wind, taking his coat off the wall before it blew away. 

He let me slip it around his shoulders. Get you back in the house girl, it's raining tears from God himself out here!

Daddy was a strong man. But the fierce wind was against him. 

I’ll have to tie it off, get you back into the house Finola Gray! But his orders went unheard.

The winter chill had already set in my bones. I heard the chickens clucking at the end of the lawn where our plot of land met the wilderness. I saw a flurry of feathers and knew they were frightened. I fought against the wind until I was standing above them, their wings trying to take flight. I gathered the eggs which had been abandoned on the ground and my eyes met with the creature of their fear. Facing me was one of the wild foxes which had been left to roam by one of the families who went to the mainland. His eyes were burning into me, that hunger which was so familiar. For a moment, the wind seemed too calm and I could sense his desperation. I never knew what made me do it, or why it meant so much to me. As I opened the coop I watched as one of the chickens broke free and into the path of the waiting fox. I thought I saw him bow gracefully as he took the chicken in his mouth and retreated across the barren fields. He would eat a fine meal that night. I could not regret what I had done if the creature filled their belly. 

But I would pay for it. For what I had done for that Fox. For in the night when the skies cleared and the moon shone its full light on our tiny Island, the Fox returned for more. 

In the calm morning there was a frost like no other, ice that had kept the blood fresh. The corpses were laid out above the white grass, their heads taken, and their bodies savaged. Not one chicken had survived the massacre. 

What in God’s name has occurred here! Mammy screamed, her footsteps crisp on the ground as she hurried back into the house. 

Daddy rose from his breakfast, the last of the bannock bread and some salted fish, his eyes casting a glance at me.

Finola, how were them chickens when last you saw them? He asked, his voice low and authoritative. 

They feared for their lives, but they were as fine as any well-kept creature. But I could not say the words. I chose their fate the moment I allowed one of them to slip free. I cursed the day the McDonnal’s returned from the mainland one summer, their youngest son Angus clutching a tiny bundle in his lap. 

He’d found them in the hedgerows in the village of Evie, their mother had abandoned them, and they would have starved. But they weren’t like the domesticated animals we kept in house. They were meant for the wild, when the day came that the tiny foxes grew to maturity there was nothing could be done to stop them roaming the shores... too afraid to head into the water. 

So, they remained. As did we. Even when the McDonnal’s had gone. Perhaps that’s why I had fed them. They didn’t ask to be here anymore than I had. 

Finola, I ask you again. How were them chickens when last you saw them? Daddy said, breaking into my thoughts. 

I stared at him gravely. They were just fine.

He flexed his bearded jaw and I wondered if Mammy’s God would strike me dead for the lie. She was pale as a ghost on the church steps and fell into one of the chairs in a faint. 

God save us. She whispered. Those waters have calmed when we have need of safe passage most.

I went to the window and peered down to the water. The frost had brought a cloudless sky, blue and eternal. The tidal water swelled and receded like it was licking the wounds of the previous day. 

Rohan, be a good boy and fetch my gun from underneath the bed. Daddy ordered.

My brother was quick to do his bidding, none of us wished to anger him on a day as grave as this. Those chickens had been a source of food when all others had run out.

Mammy sighed in relief. Of all God’s creatures! Will you have them on this table by supper.

By the calm of the frozen shores, it seemed to me that lying hadn’t hurt much. I was not struck down dead. I did not see there had been much difference, save for my Mammy and Daddy’s disapproval. 

Which I had avoided with the lie. Already my resentment was finding its own way into other aspects of my character. 

I had begun to hate these rocks under feet. I watched the birds flying overhead and found an aching in my heart to join them. 

There was a quietness here which seemed to scream into my very veins. The sound of the water hitting the shore, always moving, never relenting in its quest to raid the sand and then retreating to where it came. 

The wind through the grass, sending it into disarray. Even the most content people would be haunted by it. Or perhaps it was only me. 

Picking up one of the stones by the water’s edge, I returned it to the tide. I threw it as far as I could and watched it hit the water. 

But all too soon it was too cold to stand more. The bite of the cold had reached my exposed hands and was sending a chill through me. I knew if I returned to The Hylands there would be the reminder of my grievous deed. I knew that if I stayed in the path of the wind, I would give myself the fever. The shelter of the ruined kirk was my only respite and I did not want to go there. 

Churches mocked me, even when ruined. Instead I went to the ashes which once were home to the other Eynhallow families. 

The McDonnal’s were the first to succumb to the typhoid. All of them died within fourteen days of each other. I recalled Angus. His flame red hair standing by the wall around The Hylands, waiting for me to come and greet him. He was a wee boy of seven. The first on the island to die. 

Their house was burned and the family within it. The parish thought it would rid us of the disease. But when the Munro’s were struck down, fear began to spread. 

But they did not die, not all of them. Only Aaron Munro. He was eighteen the week of his death and had a sweetheart waiting for him in the village of Evie. The other Munro’s could not stay. They were the first to flee in the cold morning light, taking Aaron’s body with them. We burned their house regardless. 

The McAvoy’s came to pray with Mammy and Daddy in those last days. But their prayers went unanswered, so began the plague of my doubt. Jenny McAvoy had been to me what I was now in most need of. A friend I had grown with since birth until the last day of her life. I had cried for Jenny when there had been no tears in me left to shed. Her brother Benjamin soon followed into that realm where the living cannot follow. So, the others left, as the Munro’s had done before them, taking the bodies of their children in the prow of their boat towards the mainland. Forever gone from me and when it seemed as if there could be no more sorrow bestowed on our houses, The Guthrie’s died in their beds. 

The old couple had not been parted and in that we took solace as we watched their home taken by flames. What remained, along with the charred stones and grey dust was a memory I could not shake. We were all that was left. The Gray’s and their Hylands home. We waited for our deaths, wondering when it would come to claim us. But death smiled on The Hylands. 

We did not greet the typhoid at our doorstep. We did not see the sickness which took the others, either into death or the mainland. Perhaps it was waiting for us now. So that the winter could claim us instead. 

As I lamented my friend, taking a moment to miss her and think of her, I knew that if I did not turn my back I would descend into madness. I walked away from what was no longer there and shrouded myself within my shawl as the first flurry of snow fell silently onto Eynhallow. 

With the snow came the darkness and with the darkness, Daddy and Rohan called off the search and returned home. I watched them from the brow of the hill above, carrying the corpse of something I could not determine in the paling light. They hurried inside, eager to be out of the freezing air. But I lingered. Perhaps tempting the fever to claim my body and rid me of this melancholy. 

We ate the meat of the wild Fox that night. It was not the succulent meat of the chicken or the duck, but it satisfied the hunger. 

We’ll be having the other one on the morrow. Daddy said, picking bones from his teeth. Snow or no.

Rohan was finishing his meal, chewing the fat enthusiastically. His thirteen-year-old bones had not yet caught up to the strength of his mind. Hunting kept him content with his lot. He seemed content here and in that, I knew we were worlds apart.

Before winter’s done, we’ll have meat in our bellies again. He continued, eyeing his empty plate proudly. 

Mammy stirred the pot above the fire and stared intently into the flames.

God grant it. She sighed. 

I moved my plate away from me, unable to touch the food. Daddy looked at me almost with contempt. Forever we turned away the food he provided; it was a grave insult in these hard times. 

I cannot stomach it. I feel a little unwell. I said and it was not a lie. 

Daddy’s face softened a little, his eyes moving towards where Mammy stood over the hearth. She stooped now. Her body rounded with age and time; the fair hair of her youth was starting to turn to silver.

Finola, have you the fever? She asked, hurrying to place her hot hands upon my brow.

But perhaps there had been some harm in lying. There it was in the beating of my heart as I looked down at the food on my plate and could not bear the thought of it. 

What was this ache which riddled my soul? The regret that I had done what I had done. The guilt that I had lied about what I had done. The sense that this one act would shape the rest of our lives. Or at the very least, my life. 

I think I’ll go to bed. I said, taking my leave of the table. 

The winter of 1852 was unrelenting. It drove us to the edges of tolerance. 

For Daddy, who’s very soul was etched in the land it tested every bone in his body to stay. For Mammy, the God she loved so appeared to have gone from us in the days when we thought we would starve. For Rohan, whose life had yet to take on any meaning, the weather only dampened his soul when it prevented him from going outside. 

For me, there was a longing which would not be slaked. There was no release from it. No time where I did not curse my birth upon this lonely place. Then, like a beacon of light to slay the hellish night, standing by the wall I watched. 

As the red sun moved across the water, I saw the tiny form moving between the waves. At first, I could have sworn my eyes deceived me. That it was but a dream that I saw the boat heading towards us. Was it truly the end of winter? Had we truly survived? 

I felt the shackles of all which had passed ease a little, enough for me to rush down to the water to greet our first visitors in three months. 

I stood and waved erratically and did not come to my senses until the boat reached the shore. I was utterly consumed by relief. Like I had recovered from a madness I had no recollection of. Winter was gone. I could forget, for a moment, that I was unhappy.

Chapter One

THE VISITOR

I

n the hours before sunrise, on the first day of spring, I awoke early and regarded myself in the mirror by candlelight. Today I would not bind my shawl about me or wear my warmest petticoat. Today I put my bonnet aside and braided my hair high on each side of my head, allowing whispers of hair to fall around my neck. 

I noted the bones protruding from my shoulders and my dress was loose around my burgeoning hips. I had not survived without sacrifice. But I would amend that in the coming months. With ripened fruit and fresh fish. 

My eyes were still the same colour blue and my hair that same shade of raven black. If I had lost anything, it could be restored. 

Everything else was as it had ever been. Except older. I felt older. I saw it in myself even in the flickering candlelight. Last spring, I had been a child. But as I ran my hands down the contours of my body, I knew the sacrifice had been too great. My childhood was gone. 

It was a thought I could not give much mind to. The sun was rising over Eynhallow sound, the red turning the sky into almighty blue and the tide was turning.

The water was trying to retreat from us, but the waves pushed it forward creating white peaks that crashed into one another thoughtlessly. 

It was always at this time I liked to stand and watch the Arctic birds circle above us and wonder where they had been what they had seen. 

But today we had a guest and as I turned away from the window, I went to fetch water from the well. There was dew on the ground, sending broken rainbows across the grass and the sun shone down. A truly marvellous spectacle. 

I let the pail down and stared at the broken colours on the ground. Daddy had always called me a creature of thought. Unable to keep my mind to the task at hand without breaking free into thoughts of other things. 

Even now as the pail hit the water, I stood for a moment, hypnotized, before I remembered why I was there. All morning I had been distracted. Like there was something more important just waiting to grasp my attention, but I could not fathom what it might be. I found myself drifting from one task to another, floating above the conversation. God, King or beast could have spoken with me this day and I would have still looked out over the sound in silence. 

Come with me, Finola... I heard a voice say, penetrating my reverie at the sound of my name being called. 

I was standing by the front door, a cloth in my hand and an unwashed floor behind me. I turned to find our guest lacing his boots at the kitchen table. 

Mammy wants me to clean this floor. I protested, but I knew I would adhere to his request. 

There’s none here to stop us. If the floor does not get cleaned today, I shall scrub it myself.

I smiled at Nathan Munro and was glad he had come. He had come back to set his affairs in order before his wedding. 

He wanted to sell the land where his house once stood but came to give Daddy first refusal. 

I had never given much thought to Nathan Munro. I had never noticed the sweetness in his voice when he spoke or the kindness in each request. Truly I had lost my childhood. 

But if I should no longer be a girl, I would be glad of these stirrings within which I had never known before. It was not that I wanted Nathan for a sweetheart. He was too old and already engaged to be married. I reasoned with myself that it was because I had seen no other face in so long. Perhaps I was simply flattered by his request for my company. Regardless, I joined him as he ventured down to the rocks near the water. 

I had thought returning here would somehow mark the end of my mourning, but I find myself more melancholy than ever. He said to me, as we sat by the rushing water. 

It’s only the memory. I said, glancing in the direction of where the old houses once stood. I went myself only the other day to see where once we were all together. But there is nothing there now, except for what I remember.

Nathan was much like his brother. Tall and fair haired. In the year which had passed since last I had seen, him he had grown a moustache and taken to wearing it into a beard. He was twenty-three and had met the woman he wanted to marry. If I had not had such a liking for him, I would have screamed until my lungs bled of the jealousy I felt towards his life after leaving Eynhallow. But I could not. He had lost something in return. 

They were fine days indeed. But Eynhallow slips further and further away, it seems. As I crossed the sound, it was as if it slipped entirely from view and I could not find my way. If I were any less of a reasonable man, I would fair say there was no way back at all.

I believed him. When the mist shrouded us, it was as if we had completely vanished and were not hidden, but it was as if we had never been there at all. 

I think, sometimes, Eynhallow is not a place but a living being. It speaks to us if we listen hard enough. I said, and the water rushed towards me as if it had heard me. 

Nathan gestured for me to move back; his hand stretched out to me to aid me across the rocks. He had learned something of being a gentleman in the past year, I noticed. In a world of gentlemen, I wondered, would I ever find one of my own? 

What does it say? He asked, as we moved towards the higher rocks. 

It does not want us here. It wants to be alone with the tide and the mist and old ruined kirk... I ventured to say, but as I said the words out loud, I knew it wasn’t true.

Eynhallow had always been the same. It would not change to suit our needs. It was not that it did not want us, simply that it did not know how to be anywhere else. Or perhaps I was wrong, and once it had been a prosperous place of warmth and good nature. It had turned barren because we invaded it. 

Nathan put his coat down so that I might sit. If I might be so bold, but is it not you that does not want to be here?

I thought I would cry at his assumption. There was a seal somewhere out in the water which shrieked above the sound of the crashing tide and I felt my own voice within it. 

The strangled sound carried far and as I looked out, I could not see the creature but only listen to its low rumble. Had I become so ingrained in this place that the creatures were now speaking for me? I shuddered. I put the thought away, like all my other thoughts, so that I may not forget myself. 

There is no hope that I should ever leave here. I wonder, sometimes, even when I come of age if I could truly leave Rohan here. I do not like to think of Mammy and Daddy without us either, so I am utterly lost.

You cannot live for them. There is much in the world to touch, to see. They would not begrudge you your dearest wish.

My dearest wish. I had not considered it that way. What had become an impossibility now seemed possible. To leave with their blessing was something I had not considered. But it would be a blessing indeed. 

I am afraid to leave here. As much as I have wanted it. I confessed.

Nathan stared at the bird’s overhead, his eyes watching where they swooped from the sky down onto the land. 

How strange that I should miss this place, even now when I am more content than I have ever been. Do not be afraid of what lies beyond the water. There is nothing to fear except for the unknown. You will soon come to know it.

I wondered what he had seen on the morning they took Aaron’s body. Had he closed his eyes and waited for absolution? There was no fear in the unknown when it was shared. I would be alone on that day.

I fear not the unknown. I fear that I shall flounder without this place, or it shall crumble away without me. If it should, it will take my family into the mists and I shall never see them again.

The clouds seem to turn and cast shadows across the land. It changed the colour of the ground completely and for a moment we were shrouded in relative darkness. 

But the wind swept across us and the clouds moved, allowing the sun to triumph and once again shine upon us. Nathan pulled a flask from his pocket and took a quick swig. He winced before swallowing, but after he seemed to be refreshed and gestured for us to continue walking. 

Shall we continue? I would like to see more before I leave. I have forgotten the landscape. I dare say there will ever come a time where I shall return again.

I was dismayed, but I knew there was nothing here for him now. So I followed him across the shore, never certain of where we were heading. I found him good enough company not to care. As we headed away from the sea and onto the dirt path leading through the rough terrain he stopped and stood and looked back to where we had come from. 

This is it... He said quietly, running a thoughtful hand through his beard. This is the path we took... that day.

We were standing in the middle of a wild field. The path was hidden unless you knew where to find it. It leads from over the brow of the hill before us right down to the water below. 

Finola, would you indulge me a moment? He asked, putting his coat down once again so that I could sit comfortably on the ground. 

He seemed to change immediately. As he sat beside me, he took another swig from his flask and then offered me a taste. I declined, so he took another sip. 

His eyes glazed over. It seemed as if he was far away, remembering something he did not want to remember. I began to regret that we had come this far. 

It had been only a year since he had lost his brother. There was a raw memory here that had not been grieved for. I sat with him until he was ready to speak, unable to say anything in the meantime. 

When finally, he spoke, I was surprised to hear the steady tone in his lovely voice. He did not crack; he did not stutter. I had thought there would be tears to shed. But when I looked, they were gone, and his eyes were only red rimmed. 

Did your Daddy ever tell you about the Goodman of Thorodale? He asked me, quite soberly. 

The name evaded me; I did not recall. No, I have not heard of him.

It might be that an imaginative soul like you did not need to hear such stories. Nathan presumed, his brow raising a little with the thought. 

If there were stories to be told, they were told from the Bible. I told him; he did not seem surprised. Mammy insisted on it.

My father told it to me when I was a child. I had thought it but a story, but now I find myself believing it could well be true. There’s a feeling to this place unfelt by those who dwell here. But I come here now as an outsider, and I tell you, I feel it.

A cold spill went down my spine. I shuddered, but I was not particularly cold in myself. It went as suddenly as it came.

They say he came from Evie, and his wife bore him three sons. But she died in childbed with the third and Thorodale was left to raise the boys alone.

He had my complete attention. There was no other thought to contend with, nothing to distract me from the sound of Nathan Munro’s voice. It was a welcome relief. 

Many years later he married the bonniest lass in Evie. She was younger than his sons, who had now grown to manhood. He loved her like he had loved no other. But because of her youth and beauty, he guarded her closely. He did not anticipate that it would be a day like any other that she would be taken from him.

Enchanted, I was, hanging on every word. Wishing he would not pause for breath. 

"One morning he took his wife down to the shores and as he stumbled upon a rock, he stopped to tie his shoestring. He took his eyes from her but for a brief moment, but it was enough for him to turn upon hearing her begin to scream. He saw his bride being taken from the shore by a man he had never seen before. He held her tightly and dragged her into a waiting boat.

Thorodale followed them into the water, but the strange man had already begun to row where Thorodale could not follow. He knew, with the intuition of a man who had lived long by the sea, that she had been taken by one of the Finmen who lived beneath the waves. Because as he watched them go, knowing he could not get to his own boat in time, they simply vanished into nothing but air."

My breath stuck in my throat, I swallowed hard only to find my mouth was dry. 

"It is known that Finfolk can do magic. Making their vessels unseen and swifter than a bird in flight. But despite their sorcery, Thorodale was not a man who could take such a blow without seeking revenge. There, on the same shore where his beloved wife had been taken, he knelt into the sand and swore that living or dead, he would have his revenge. Every waking moment afterwards he thought long on it. But he could not see how it could be done against their magic.

Until one day he was fishing in the sound between Evie and Rousay and there, during the slack tide, he heard a woman’s voice singing. He knew the voice and listened closely and though he could not see her, he knew it was his wife.

Goodman grieve no more for me. For me again you’ll never see. If you would have of Vengeance joy. Go ask the wise spae-wife of Hoy.

So Thorodale returned to the shore with his staff in hand and silver in his pocket and set out for the holy isle of Hoy."

I could barely speak, but in a whisper, I asked, What then? Did Thorodale find his wife?

It is not written that which the wise woman told him. But it is fair to say that she gave him the knowledge he would need to seek the Hildaland. The home of the Finfolk.

Nathan turned to me with a knowing look. "Know you not that once this placed was called that? Here is the Hildaland of the Finfolk. When Thorodale came to it, he knew that taking any part of it was the greatest punishment of all. For nine moons he had waited, on the full moon he went to the Odin Stone of Stenness and on his knees he looked through the hole in the stone and asked to see the hidden ways to the Hildaland. He did this for nine moons, finally when the answer he sought came to him he filled a meal chest with salt and set three large straw baskets beside it. 

He sent word to his grown sons to come and help him and told them the tale of his sorrow. He told them what they should do on the morrow, when finally, it came he looked out onto Eynhallow sound and saw the island there which had never been before. Calling to his sons to fill the baskets with the salt and bring them to the boat, the four men began to row out into the sea. 

The sons were not fools, but they were perplexed because only Thorodale himself could see the mystical island towards which they rowed. But before they could question, they found themselves surrounded by a pod of whales. The sons insisted on driving them away, but Thorodale knew better. He called to his sons to pull for their lives. The devil catch the delayer... It was then that the greatest of the whales came within their path and reared its head before the boat. 

Its mouth was open as if to swallow them whole, but Thorodale bade his sons to bend their oars and as they did so he stood and threw a handful of salt into the waiting mouth. The whale vanished. It was but an image of the Finman’s magic, which the consecrated salt had destroyed. But they were not done with sorcery.

As they neared the island two mermaids stood in the water awaiting them. Their beautiful faces and haunting voices enchanted the sons and they put down their oars. But Thorodale did not take his eyes away from the Isle and kicked his sons into picking up their oars once more. He called to the mermaids and warned them be gone! Ye unholy limmers!

He threw crosses made of tangled weed at them and they sank into the waters shrieking pitifully. The boat reached the enchanted shore. But their troubles did not end there, for on the shore awaiting them there was a terrible monster. With great striking tusks and feet as broad as quern stones. With blazing eyes, it spat fire from its mouth. But Thorodale was not afraid and as he leapt onto the sand; he threw more salt between the beast’s eyes. It let out a terrible growl, then vanished just as the whale had. But this time, in its place stood a dark man who was tall and angry. He had a sword in his hand and was ready for Thorodale and his sons. 

Go Back said the man. Go back you human thief, you who come to rob the Finfolk’s land! Or by my father’s head I shall defile the Hildaland with your nasty blood!

The sons turned in fear and begged their father to return. But Thorodale ignored his sons’ pleas and instead met the finman in combat. But Thorodale knew the finman’s weakness and stepped aside as he thrust his sword and instead with a flick of his wrist threw a cross into the strange finman’s face. He turned and fled, his anguished screams of pain and fury sounding across the whole land.

Thorodale ordered his sons to bring the salt ashore and instructed them to walk the length and breadth of the island, sowing the salt into the ground as they went. There arose a great outcry from the Finfolk and their beasts, they ran into the water screaming their doleful cries of agony. In the end, there was no beast or man living of the Finfolk left. All had fled into the water. Their homes went into ruin, their crops failed. When Thorodale was satisfied he cut nine crosses in the turf and sowed nine rings of salt in all. So the finfolk’s Hildaland was laid bare for all to see. No longer enchanted. Empty and clean to human eyes, so that none of the Finfolk could ever reclaim it. Thorodale had his revenge. We had Eynhallow, the holy isle." 

I watched Nathan sigh and take out his flask again. I did not decline this time and sipped gratefully on the hot whisky that burned as it went down. I was lost in dreams that I could not wake from. 

Where did they go? I asked in that far away voice that was not entirely my own. 

My father said only that there is a place we cannot go to, under the sea. Finfolkaheem. The kingdom of the Finfolk. Where they came from. Before they stepped onto the land. 

I looked onto the sound and tried to fathom a kingdom beneath it. Do you think one day they shall return? I asked, unable to take my eyes away from the water.

Nathan shook his head, his face taking on a playful look. It’s just a story Finola. There’s no truth in it. While I’m certain there’s something here which does not belong in the world beyond, I dare say it’s nothing to do with mystical beings from the water. He had changed his tune. 

But I was utterly spellbound. It was as if I had been sleeping and had awoken for the first time. As we made our way back down towards The Hylands I could not speak of it. Nathan was quiet too, although I was never sure if his reasons mirrored my own. 

That night as he sat at the table with Daddy, discussing things I had no mind to pay attention to, I sat by the fire and began to wonder if I should tell Rohan. He was the most logical of boys. The tale I had heard that day defied all logic. 

He would ask too many questions. He would not believe in the possibility of it. So, I decided not to tell him. But my distance did not go unnoticed. As ever, I was lost in thought and he demanded to know why. I did not have the strength to lie to him. 

I am weary of this place. I sighed, taking one of the pokers to slake the fire. 

Confusion wracked his face. He could not fathom it. Here was his world and there was nothing beyond it. I envied his simple mind. For it kept him content, and I could not share it. 

I thought of him watching for the boats even when we knew none would come and wondered if it was my desire to leave which he had shared, or if he simply wanted us to stay disconnected from the rest of the world and feared the boats would bring an end to our solitary confinement?

Daddy said this Sunday is the first of the month and we shall go to church in Evie for the morning service. So, you need no longer feel weary.

But he did not understand. Once a month, when the weather permitted, we would get in our boat and attend the morning services in the church in the village of Evie. 

Mammy reserved it for time to reflect and prayed fastidiously, for all our souls before taking in the polite conversation of the local parishioners. Daddy would speak with other crofters and farmers about their crops and cattle and they seemed to be fascinated with the family who remained on that strange island. I knew they did, because Rohan and I were subject to whispers amongst the Evie children. 

They pointed and spoke in hushed tones about us. But would never engage us. It was as if we didn’t really exist. I could not help but share their sentiment. 

I do not think going to church will satisfy my weariness. I confessed. 

But, like any thirteen-year-old boy who had no patience for the deepest feelings of a young girl, he shrugged and went over to where Daddy was shaking Nathan Munro’s hand. They had reached a deal. Soon it would be time for Nathan to leave forever. 

I could not sleep. The sound of the sea seemed to encroach on my dreams and kept me awake. It seemed that I was climbing trees to try and reach the sky, but they continued to grow beyond my reach. So, I looked out across the land instead and watched the water swallow Eynhallow. 

But I was not asleep. My eyes were open and fixed on the pale moon shining through the window. There was something sinister and beautiful about the moonlight. How it shifted and changed, becoming full and dazzling and then hiding its light under the crescent bow. 

Tonight, it was full and round, looking down at me as if it offered its light to no one else. It roused me. I could not lie still a moment longer. I pulled my shawl over my nightgown and on light feet I went down to where the fire had died into embers. Every soul under The Hylands roof slept soundly. I envied their content slumber. 

Quietly I managed to build up the fire and gather some warmth about me. But I could not shake the cold in my heart. It would remain winter for me no matter if the sun bore down on us. Time to die... I thought. 

Then the thought was gone from me almost as swiftly as it came. Perhaps it was this that kept me from noticing the figure sat at the table. So silent and observant as he was, he only made his presence known once the firelight filled the room and there was no darkness left to hide in. 

Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you. He whispered, leaning forward into the flickering light. 

He was cloaked with the blanket we had given him to sleep with. But underneath he was dressed for the day. He rested his chin into his hands and would not look directly at me. 

Nathan...