Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin Page 15

  “Oh, that’s better. A house is much nicer when it’s kept neat, and most men are not neat.”

  She built up the fire and placed a kettle of water over it to heat. “I’m sorry to have put you in harm’s way.”

  “I was not afraid until I thought he might hurt Péist.” Caymin sat, staring into the fire, watching the flames lick at the blocks of peat. “I did not know Timmin felt so much hatred toward others.”

  Enat was silent while she waited for the water to heat. When it was hot enough, she poured it and pushed a steaming cup of tea into Caymin’s hands. “I must confess, I did not know he felt that way, either. I have long known of his frustration that the old ways are disappearing, and that fewer and fewer people believe in magic. He’s right that the monks and their followers fear what they don’t understand and in their fear, they believe magic and those who practice it to be evil.” Her eyes narrowed. “For some of them, it’s more a matter of control.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “If the people look to us for healing or wisdom as in days past, they don’t look to the monks and their religion. They would never admit that it’s power they seek, but they’re human after all.”

  Caymin looked up at her. “I still do not understand why he thought Péist could help him.”

  Enat sighed. “I know you don’t.” She got up and went to her door, opening it to look outside. She closed the door and whispered words as she stroked the door with her hand.

  Caymin saw the door shimmer for a moment.

  “We may speak now without being overheard,” Enat said, sitting again at the fire. “You’ve heard Gai and the others speak of dragons?”

  “Yes.” Caymin stared at her. “The northman spoke also of dragons. ‘Drage,’ he said.”

  Enat nodded. “Yes. It’s said that once there were many dragons roaming the earth, many different kinds living in different lands. And the people of the north have long told stories of dragons.”

  “But what do dragons have to do with Péist? Gai describes them as being huge winged creatures, bigger than the biggest bird, fierce and able to breathe fire. Not… not helpless creatures like Péist, wriggling about in the dirt.”

  “Gai is right. The dragons people know to be dragons are as he described. We always thought they hatched from eggs, but now I’m starting to believe we were wrong.”

  It took Caymin a moment to realize what Enat was saying. “You mean they all start as creatures like Péist? Small and helpless?”

  “Think of them as cubs.”

  “Do they not have parents to protect them? The way Broc and Cuán protect their cubs?”

  Enat smiled. “It would seem not. We do not know much about dragons beyond what they have told those few humans they trust. We have stories and legends, of course, but those are often fanciful and exaggerated.”

  At Caymin’s dubious expression, Enat said, “If you were so vulnerable, would you want others to know of it? Dragons have done their best over the ages to hide their beginnings from humans. Think what people like Timmin might do if they knew a young dragon was out there, helpless and easy to catch.”

  Caymin’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times as she thought. “How does a creature like Péist become a dragon?”

  “We don’t know.” Enat took a sip of her tea. “There’s much we don’t understand, much they have never shared beyond the one they bond to.”

  “As Péist bonded to me?”

  Enat nodded. “From what I know, and it’s not much, not all dragons bond to a human. Some are wild creatures their whole lives long. But the ones who bond, bond for life. It will span all distance and will last until one of you dies.” She looked at Caymin appraisingly. “You should count yourself blessed that Péist chose to bond with you. Timmin knew. When you spoke of Péist waking you to tell you of the invaders, he suspected what Péist was, but the prisoner confirmed it. We couldn’t understand most of what he said, but we believe they heard there were dragons here, and they came searching.”

  “Why would they think there are dragons here?”

  Enat took a sip of her tea. “It is written that when people began to crowd the lands the dragons once roamed, they took refuge on islands across the sea. It may be the northmen interpreted that to mean our island.”

  Caymin thought about this. “Timmin thought he could make Péist bond with him?”

  Enat appraised Caymin. “Yes. He wanted his power for himself. He should have known better. That bond, once formed, cannot be transferred to another.”

  Caymin stared into the fire again as she thought on this. She opened her hand and conjured a ball of flame. “And they really breathe fire?”

  “So I’ve heard. I don’t know how they do it, though.”

  Caymin looked at her. “This is why you do not want me to speak of it to the others?”

  “Do you think it wise to let others know you’ve bonded with a dragon cub?”

  A sly grin tugged at Caymin’s mouth. “It might be useful the next time Gai makes me angry.”

  The younger apprentices sat huddled around a fire with Niall and Una, warming themselves against the frosty cold of the morning.

  For days, their talk had centered around why Timmin had left so unexpectedly. Caymin sat silently, not participating in the speculation, since only she knew the reason. Neela had returned late that day, assuring Enat that Timmin had crossed the boundary of the forest.

  “I think he went after the invaders,” whispered Daina now. “Followed them north to their land to make sure they don’t come back.”

  The others looked suitably awestruck at this suggestion. Without meaning to, Caymin snorted impatiently.

  “Well, where do you think he is, then?”

  Diarmit eyed her as she felt her cheeks burn.

  “I do not know,” she said, thinking quickly. “But I doubt he is strong enough yet to travel across the sea and take on the invaders single-handedly.”

  Gai looked toward the meetinghouse with its closed door. “What do you think they’re doing in there?”

  Fergus, Méav and Ronan had been summoned to meet with the elders.

  “They’re soon to be tested,” said Una.

  Diarmit looked up. “For what?”

  “To see if they’re ready.”

  “Ready for what?” Caymin’s curiosity was piqued.

  “Their final test in the forest.” Cíana lowered her voice. “The healer in our village told me a little. When we’ve learned enough as apprentices, we go into the forest at Samhain, the night when the veil between worlds thins, when we can pass between worlds. She couldn’t tell me what happens that night. All who undergo the test are sworn to secrecy, but she said, if the forest deems us worthy, we leave as mages, with our staff. Only then, can we come and go from the forest freely.”

  “What if they aren’t deemed worthy?” Daina asked.

  “They may return to us for more training or they can choose to leave with what they have,” Niall said. “There are many with some magical training, and they live as healers. Not all become full mages.” He glanced toward the meetinghouse. “But if they win their staffs, they’ll leave the forest and we likely won’t see them again.”

  Caymin watched the meetinghouse with renewed curiosity. She half-listened as the others began speaking of their traditions for Samhain – bringing the cattle and sheep in from summer pastures and slaughtering those that would feed their village through the winter. Caymin remembered watching the villagers participate in these rituals, relighting their doused fires from a central bonfire. But she had never heard of the passage from one world to another.

  “My da swears he saw his da’s da on Samhain,” Diarmit said solemnly. “Talked to him, he did, though he’d been dead a score or more summers.”

  Caymin looked up at that. “You can see and speak to the dead on Samhain?”

  Diarmit shrugged. “Some can.”

  Gai scoffed. “Tales for children and simpletons.”

 
“No.” Niall shook his head. “I saw my mam, one Samhain when I was ten winters, and she died when my younger sister was born, some five winters before. She looked just as I remembered her. We talked. ’Twas she who told me she’d had magic and had passed it to me, and that I’d be coming here.”

  Caymin tilted her head. “She had magic and still died?”

  “Having power doesn’t save us from everything,” Una said, laying a hand on Niall’s shoulder.

  The door of the meetinghouse opened suddenly and the elders emerged with Méav, Fergus and Ronan. The others gathered round. Una and Niall embraced them, wishing them well. Caymin hung back.

  Méav noticed and came to her. She pulled a silver knife and sheath from her belt. “For you, my brave little warrior.”

  Caymin looked into her eyes, remembering how fierce Méav had seemed to her when first she saw her sparring, with her black braids flying as she whirled and leapt. “I cannot take this. You may need it. In the forest, when you are tested.”

  Méav smiled. “If the lack of a knife keeps me here, ’twill be a sign I’m not yet meant to leave.” She pressed the knife into Caymin’s hands. “I feel certain we’ll meet again.”

  Ronan joined them. He laid a hand on Caymin’s shoulder. “If I don’t see you after the morrow… well, thank the white worm for us all. If he hadn’t warned you, who knows where we’d be now.”

  He gave her a pat, and then he and Méav joined Fergus to go pack their few belongings and prepare for the trial they were to face.

  Caymin sat back down at the fire, holding the knife. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. The blade was honed to a fine edge, its leather sheath embossed with spirals and knotwork. In her limited dealings with humans, she had never taken leave of anyone. The pain of leaving Broc and Cuán had been almost more than she could bear.

  Cíana joined her. She reached over and examined the knife. “A fine gift.” She handed it back.

  Caymin nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat.

  CHAPTER 14

  Samhain Trials

  It’s time.”

  Enat turned to Caymin who was reaching for her old cloak, Méav’s knife strapped to her belt. She held out a cloak of her own.

  “Wear this one.”

  “Why?” Caymin laid her cloak on her bed and held up the one Enat offered.

  “Yours is special to you,” Enat said. She picked up her staff as Caymin fastened the cloak around her shoulders. “We’ll keep yours here. If this one is damaged, it won’t matter.”

  Full dark had fallen as they made their way to the same hill where they had burned a fire at Lughnasadh. Their breath puffed in front of them as they walked through the frosty night.

  “A full moon,” Enat said.

  Caymin looked up at the orb, luminous in the night sky, gilding the edges of the clouds drifting by her. “There was a full moon the night you came to find me.”

  Enat chuckled. “There was. I could feel you, but I didn’t think you’d ever speak with me.”

  “I was frightened of you,” Caymin said. “You were the first two-leg I met who could speak without speaking.”

  “You’ve been here for eight moons, nearly a year. Are you sorry?”

  Caymin limped along for a bit, thinking. “Not sorry. Sometimes, I think about what I would be doing if you had not come to me. I know I would still be with my clan, but…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “You know Broc and Cuán would have wanted what’s best for you. ’Tis natural to feel torn – to miss them and to be happy you’re here – all at once.”

  Caymin was silent for a long while. “It is not just Broc.”

  “Your mother and father?”

  Caymin stopped abruptly. “The others say that tonight, it is possible to speak with the dead.”

  Enat stopped as well and turned to look back at her. “This is a night when many things are possible. The veil that separates worlds parts on this night, and for some, it allows passage from one world to the other. But, as with magic, it comes with a cost.”

  “What cost?”

  “When the ones we love leave this world, they do not truly leave us, for we carry them with us.” Enat tilted her head up to look at the moon. “You weren’t old enough to know and remember your parents, so you feel an emptiness when you think of them. But you must know, when people try to bridge the worlds, they risk losing themselves in what can never be.”

  “Did that happen to you?”

  Enat became very still. “What do you mean?”

  “With Sorcha? Did you try to join with her again?”

  Enat stared at her. “How do you know of Sorcha?”

  “I heard the others speak of her,” Caymin said. She laid a hand on Enat’s arm. “Did you love her very much?”

  Enat blinked rapidly. “Very much indeed. And yes, I did see her one Samhain, many winters ago. She was as lovely as I remembered, but we could not touch, as we were in different realms. The sadness of seeing her thus was almost more than I could bear. It nearly destroyed me. Beware if you part the veil, Caymin, for it does not always bring happiness.”

  Caymin thought on this as they climbed the hill to where the others were gathered, standing around an unlit fire. If the elders were feeling Timmin’s absence, they did not acknowledge it, except that Enat stepped into the role of First Mage. She produced a pouch of ashes from the Lughnasadh fire, speaking words of power as she held the pouch to the moon. She sprinkled the ashes onto the stacked wood of the bonfire. With a gesture, she invited the others near and they all held out their hands, igniting the bonfire as one.

  It flared high into the sky, illuminating their faces. Neela uncorked a glass bottle full of some liquid. She raised it to her lips and passed it to Cíana who drank and passed it in turn. Each of them took a drink and handed it on. When Caymin raised the bottle to her own lips, she nearly choked on the liquid that scalded her throat, burning all the way down her gullet. She passed the bottle to Gai who passed it back to Neela, completing the circle. Neela then began to chant, something that had no real melody, but the singsong rhythm of her words worked their way into Caymin’s mind. She found herself swaying in time with the chant. All joined hands and began to sway in unison as Neela’s voice continued to work its way into her head.

  She turned and stepped away from the fire, and was only mildly surprised to look back and see herself still swaying with the others around the fire. She walked through the clearing toward the forest and found Péist waiting for her. Without questioning, she followed him as he wriggled into the trees. She had no sense of time or distance as they moved through the forest, the moon throwing shadows through the trees. Sporadic pinpricks of light appeared along their path, and she knew wood sprites guided them.

  Péist led her to a place she had never seen, a place where the trees were overgrown with vines growing thickly up the trunks, spreading out along the branches to join tree to tree so that they formed a tunnel. He stopped and turned to her. She reached out to part the vines and walked through the curtain of green.

  When she emerged from the dark, leafy passage, she found herself standing in her village, outside her family’s cottage. She waited a moment and her father stepped through the door.

  “Caymin.”

  She looked up into eyes as blue as the sky on a bright summer day. “You are here.”

  He nodded. “I hoped one day you would come.”

  His eyes took in her scars, and a great sadness came over his face. “I could not protect you and your mother.”

  “But you tried,” she said. “I saw. I watched you fight them. There were too many.”

  She looked around but, other than the two of them, the village was empty. “Is my mother here?”

  He shook his head. “She is not.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  He turned and picked up his harp. “Do you remember playing it with me?”

  “I do not remember, but I have seen.”
/>
  He plucked the strings and sang the song Caymin recalled from her spiritwalk. His voice rang out, clear and strong. He finished, his head bowed.

  “You must leave now,” he said. “You do not belong here, but in the land of the living.” He lifted his face to her. “But know that I love you more than my own life.”

  He stood and walked back into the cottage.

  “Wait!”

  Caymin stepped through the door of the cottage and found herself outside the wall of vines where Péist waited for her. She sank to her knees, crying. Péist wriggled closer, pressed to her side. Though he spoke no words, she felt his understanding of what she had seen.

  When she was ready, he accompanied her back to the hill where she still danced with the others around the bonfire. She stepped into the clearing and looked back to find he had gone, but she smiled as she realized she could feel them both, her father and Péist, as she rejoined the circle.

  Caymin awakened early after a restless night. Her head felt woozy when she sat up on her mat. She didn’t fully remember coming back to the cottage.

  She stoked the fire, adding blocks of peat and putting the kettle on to heat. She made a bit more noise than she needed to until Enat sat up, rubbing her own head.

  Caymin opened her mouth to ask questions, but Enat silenced her with a look. She made tea instead, handing a cup to Enat and waiting until she had had time to drink before speaking.

  “I do not understand how could I have been in two places at once.”

  Enat took another sip of tea, her eyes closed, before saying, “I told you last night, that is the magic of Samhain. Your body was with us around the fire – you never left. ’Twas your spirit that went into the forest.”

  “But it felt so real. I heard my father sing to me, and I felt Péist next to me.”

  Enat opened her eyes wearily. “Just because it was your spirit that spoke with your father doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

  “There were wood sprites, too.”

  Enat appeared more alert at this news. “You’re sure?”

  “I think so. There were points of light that stayed just ahead of us.”