Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin Read online

  Ash’s weariness was forgotten as she got to her feet and followed Enat. Every now and again, she paused to lay her hands on a tree, listening for a moment before trotting after Enat.

  Though Enat had said they were nearly there, it seemed to Ash that they walked on and on before at last coming to any other sign of people. A shallow valley held a small cluster of stone dwellings, some built entirely of rock, their cone shapes pointed at the top, others thatched to keep rain out. A stream ran nearby, tumbling and gurgling over rocks. At their arrival, a few people appeared, mixed older and young, male and female.

  One man, enormous, with a wild head of black hair and a beard covering most of his face, stepped forward. “Enat.” He greeted her by placing his huge hands on her shoulders and bending to touch his forehead to hers.

  He turned. “Who have you brought?”

  Enat rested a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “This is Ash.” Enat gestured toward the man. “This is Ivar.”

  Ivar looked at her curiously, his black eyes raking her face, taking in her scars, her naked head. His nose twitched as he sniffed, and he suddenly reminded Ash of a bear she had seen once, snuffling as he trundled along, hunting grubs.

  “We should have known you were coming by the smell alone,” he said.

  Enat was unperturbed. “We have had a long journey. We can both use a bath.” She nodded to him and the others, and led Ash away, back into the forest.

  “Will we not live there, with them?” Ash hurried to catch up.

  Enat shook her head. “My cottage is a wee bit farther on. I prefer solitude.” She glanced at Ash, her eyes twinkling. “I guess you would prefer it as well.”

  Ash was filled a sense of relief. Through all their journey, she had been fretting silently about having to live among a group of humans. She still felt a little ill at ease even with Enat, who had been only kind to her. She had watched the villagers near her sett enough to know that they sometimes fought, especially the children. She had seen several of them beating up on one child, yelling and jeering, far out on the hills when they were supposed to be tending the cattle and goats and sheep, and there were no grown humans nearby. Again, Enat seemed to read her thoughts.

  “The other young ones who are here for training live together in separate houses – one for the girls, one for the boys. You’ll meet them, but not just yet.”

  She led Ash around a twist in the trail to a small cottage, thatched like the others, but with plants growing along the walls. Enat pushed open the wooden door and Ash followed her inside. Daylight came through the openings in the walls, but the cottage was dark and cold. Enat pointed to the hearth.

  It was unlike anything Ash had ever seen. Built of stacked stone, it contained a deep cavity that was blackened, with a circle of stones sitting amid the ashes. A metal rod was suspended in some way from the stone so that it could swing over the fire. Strangest of all was a tall column of stone that went through the cottage’s roof. Ash stuck her head inside and craned her neck to look up.

  “It’s called a chimney,” Enat said. “It allows us to have a fire inside and yet channel all the smoke out through the hole in the stone. Will you light a fire for us?”

  Ash found a pile of twigs and shredded bark for tinder, but no wood. She turned to Enat in question.

  “Use the peat,” Enat said, pointing again to blocks of dirt stacked next to the hearth. She came over. “We don’t cut wood here. Even the fallen trees are sacred. Only the branches that fall do we use and sometimes we ask permission to cut live branches and flowers for medicines. The trunks of the fallen become homes for other life. All of the wood we build with or make things from comes from outside the forest. This…” She held up a brick of peat. “This is dug from the earth. When it’s dried, ’twill burn.” She showed Ash how to stack the peat bricks around the tinder and watched as Ash struck a steel to her flint to light it.

  Almost immediately, the cottage began to warm. Looking around, Ash saw that the rafters were hung with bunches and bunches of dried plants and flowers.

  “Now, for our baths,” Enat said.

  She gathered up an armful of folded cloth and led Ash deeper into the forest, to another stone building that housed a small pool of water. Nearby was a stone fire pit already filled with blocks of peat. Rather than using steel and flint, Enat waved her hand and the peat ignited into large flames. The interior of the building quickly warmed.

  “Where does the water come from?” Ash looked around for a source.

  “A small stream has been blocked for our use here,” Enat said, stripping off her travel-stained clothing. She plunged into the water. Ash stood on the edge, unwilling to follow.

  “Have you never taken a bath?” Enat asked.

  “No,” Ash said, dipping her foot into the icy water and withdrawing it immediately. “Not like this. Only with my hands.” She dipped a hand into the water and rubbed it on her arm to show Enat.

  “That is not good enough. You can’t wash your hair like that. It’s only cold when you first jump in.” Enat picked up a handful of sand from the bottom of the pool and rubbed it on her arms.

  Ash pulled off her cloak and the cloth she wore and jumped in, immediately sinking over her head. She sputtered and coughed as she came back up. The water stung like a thousand nettles pricking her everywhere at once, but, as Enat had said, the stinging lasted only a little while, and then the water felt almost warm. Emulating Enat, she used sand to scrub her skin, though the sand had quite a bit more dirt to scrub off in her case. Soon, Ash was pink as a newborn cub.

  “Let me do your back,” Enat said.

  After some scrubbing that left Ash wondering if she would have any skin left, Enat inspected her work. “That will do.”

  She reached for a small jar Ash had not noticed and scooped out a fragrant handful of thick liquid that she rubbed all over the short hair on Ash’s head and then she did her own. She showed Ash how to duck under the water to rinse her head. With more sputtering, Ash wiped the water out of her eyes.

  “This is not worth saving,” Enat said, lifting Ash’s old cloth. “But this is.” She pulled the cloak into the water, scrubbing it and rinsing it. As she lifted it, the colors woven into the cloth had new life, red and blue and yellow. Enat inspected the design more closely, and looked at Ash. “This will do as well.”

  They clambered out of the water and wrapped themselves in the clean cloaks Enat had brought from the cottage. Ash was reluctant to leave the warmth of the bathhouse, and her teeth chattered as they made their way back to the cottage. On the way, Enat pointed to yet another small building.

  “It is called a latrine. We use them to relieve ourselves. Of course, we do not have them everywhere in the forest, but we use them when we can.”

  Ash nodded. “Badgers, also. We do not soil our setts once we are no longer nursing cubs. We always have a place far away for such things.” She looked at Enat. “But I have never seen things such as these among the villagers near our sett. Nor your chimney.”

  Enat smiled. “Some of our kind have traveled to far-away lands, and have brought back here the best of what those people have discovered or built.”

  Enat hung Ash’s cloak to dry and sat her on a stool pulled up close to the fire while she rummaged in a carved wooden trunk sitting in a far corner.

  “I think these will fit you,” Enat said, holding out some clothes.

  Ash pulled on a pair of leggings and a tunic. The tunic hung to her knees, but Enat cinched it with a length of braided leather and nodded.

  “Better.” She donned clean clothing of her own and joined Ash at the fire where she put a kettle on the hook and swung it over the flames. “Now, we can have some things we could not have while we traveled.”

  Soon, Ash held a steaming cup of tea. Her eyes widened at the aromatic liquid that warmed as it slid down her gullet.

  “Good?”

  Ash nodded, taking another sip. “It tastes of… of summer.”

  Enat laughed. “It doe
s. It has many grasses and herbs that grow in summer. I will show you how to make it.”

  She mixed water with some ground flour and nuts and, explaining as she worked, placed the cakes on a flat stone and slid it into the hot coals. Ash’s stomach growled hungrily as this new aroma began to fill the cottage. At last, the cakes were baked.

  “Be careful,” Enat said. “These will be hot.”

  Despite the warning, Ash burned her fingers picking a cake off the stone. She blew on the hot oatcake until she could take a bite. Never had she tasted anything like this. She gobbled it down, quickly followed by three more. Warmed by the fire, clean and dressed in new clothes, and now with her belly full, Ash’s eyes began to close and her head to nod as she sat there. She thought maybe Enat was saying something, but her voice sounded very far away….

  “She looks like a runt.”

  “She was rescued by a clan of badgers and raised by them.”

  “You jest.”

  “No.”

  Ash listened from where she lay on a warm mat, covered with a heavy woolen throw. She had never slept on anything so soft and comfortable. She inhaled and recognized the scent of lavender. The shaggy shadow of a bear-like man moved over the wall next to her as he approached. She closed her eyes and lay without moving. He was silent for a moment.

  “Are you sure about her?”

  “Ivar, I felt her power. From here.”

  “From here?”

  “Yes. All natural. She’s had almost no contact with humans. I’ve never encountered another so strong at such a young age. I think it may be because she’s used her power to communicate with them ever since they saved her.”

  She heard his big feet shuffle away and opened her eyes.

  “What –?” Ivar’s shadow pointed. “Where did that come from?”

  “It’s hers,” Enat said. “The badgers took it from a fallen warrior the night they rescued her. She’s had it ever since.”

  Ivar’s shadow disappeared from the wall as he went to Enat. “Does she know?”

  “No. I didn’t realize myself until I washed it last night. And I think it best if it stays that way. At least for now.”

  Ash lay very still.

  “Hmmm.” Ivar cleared his throat. “We’ll see how she progresses.”

  “Ivar, she shows great promise, but she will make mistakes. We must give her a chance.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Fire and Crow

  For several days, Enat was the only person Ash saw. The girl was still fatigued from their journey, and she found her days and nights turned around. Living with the badgers, she had been in the habit of sleeping during the day and hunting at night. Since leaving with Enat, she had had to learn to change that pattern, but night seemed a strange time to sleep when so many animals were about. She looked longingly at her soft sleeping mat – filled with feathers, Enat had told her – while Enat was trying to teach her about herbs and medicines. Enat must have seen, for she said several times, “Go and rest. We will talk more later.” Never had Ash slept so much or so deeply. Within a few days, she felt more rested and began to take a greater interest in her surroundings as Enat took her for walks through the forest around their cottage.

  “Why did you pretend to be lame?” Ash asked as Enat strode quickly through the forest. “With the villagers where I first saw you and again at the lake. You pretended to be lame.”

  Enat glanced at her. “Why did you pretend you couldn’t speak or hear?”

  “It was safer if they thought I could not understand their speech.”

  “Even so. Not all believe now in the old ways. They fear magic, and I seem less of a threat as a crippled old woman,” Enat said.

  “Why do they fear it?”

  Enat did not answer immediately, but paused to pluck some plants, shaking the dirt off the roots before placing them into her bag. “There are men who have come to our land. They want others to believe in their god. They don’t believe in magic, and they have taught some of the people to fear it. The village near your sett was not such a village. The women there did not fear what I offered. Until I know how the villagers feel about it, I pretend to be a harmless old woman.”

  Ash did not know much about magic, and she did not know what a god was, but it had never occurred to her that not all humans believed in the same things. “Is that why we did not go to those villages on our journey?”

  “Yes. The monks and their followers control those villages. For myself, I’m not afraid, but you haven’t enough magic yet to defend yourself if there would be trouble.”

  “They would fight?”

  “Yes, sometimes.” Enat walked on. “Sometimes they fight over differing beliefs, sometimes over land, sometimes for no good reason at all.”

  Ash thought about this as she followed, pondering what had led to the destruction of her village, for Broc had told her many times about the raid. She’d never thought before about why it had happened, and wondered now why she had not.

  She had expected to be doing magic with Enat and others as soon as she arrived, but she was wrong. Most days were spent like this one, with Enat putting her to work gathering roots and plants, teaching her how to prepare them and hang them to dry. Some they cut up, some they ground into a fine powder, some they steeped in water and placed in containers unlike anything Ash had ever seen the villagers use.

  “This is glass,” Enat said. She held one up to the light so Ash could see through the thing, glowing green. “It does not absorb the liquid as clay would. Another thing we learned and brought back from invaders of a neighboring land.”

  While they worked, Enat spoke of ordinary things. She told of growing up, one girl among ten brothers in a fishing village on the coast. Rapt, Ash listened to her tales of being out on the sea – Ash still could not envision endless water or waves. Sometimes, she thought she could almost remember what it was like to live among humans, to have music and dancing and laughter – she still couldn’t laugh. As she listened, she learned without realizing. She found herself using the new words Enat was teaching her, adjusting to life with another human. Adjusting too well. Sometimes, for brief bits of time, she forgot what it was like to live with Broc and the others in the sett.

  “What’s wrong?” Enat looked up to see that Ash had stopped stripping the bark off a large bunch of willow branches they had picked. She stared at the stone bowl in her lap.

  “Ash?”

  “I do not want to forget.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Enat came to her and sat. “You won’t. You’ll become accustomed to living among two-legs…” Ash smiled. “But you will never forget the ones who loved you and cared for you.” She placed a hand over Ash’s chest. “You carry them with you. Always. Here.”

  Enat returned to her mortar and pestle, where she was grinding other leaves into a powder. “I’ve told enough stories. Tell me of Broc and Cuán.”

  Ash thought for a bit and began to tell the familiar story of how Broc did not know what to feed a two-leg cub, and tried to feed her earthworms. Enat laughed as Ash went on, telling tale after tale, and soon, Ash forgot her fears of forgetting. It felt as if her clan were here with her.

  The days passed, and the moon waxed again. Before Ash knew it, a full moon was upon them – a whole moon cycle since Enat had come to the village and found her.

  “Tonight,” Enat said that morning as they broke their fast, “we will join some of the others.”

  “For what?” Ash’s eyes opened wide.

  “Just a gathering to listen to a bard sing,” Enat said. “It is time for you to meet some of the others.”

  Ash grew very quiet. “I am going to go for a walk.”

  “As you wish.”

  Ash got to her feet and took a now-familiar path through the forest. It had rained overnight, and droplets of water still hung from every leaf and branch, shimmering in the morning light. Ash moved silently through the mist rising from the damp ground. She heard and felt all the life about her as she
made her way to an enormous tree that had fallen on its side. Its roots stuck out at all angles, and the trunk had been hollowed by time. It was so large that Ivar could have stood inside it without having to bend. Ash, being very small, crawled deep into the trunk. She found a cache of nuts, left there by some animal. She sat, her knees hugged to her chest, pretending she was back in her sett, waiting for the badgers to come back from hunting. She reached out with her mind.

  “Who is there?”

  “Who is asking?”

  She smiled, recognizing the familiar voice of a crow who had befriended her. “It is Ash.”

  There was a flapping of wings, and the crow came strutting into the hollow. Ash had never really talked much to the birds in her forest with the badgers. Since the badgers often stole eggs, the birds had never wanted anything to do with her, but this crow was different. She had spent much time around humans and knew Enat.

  “Greetings, Beanna.”

  The crow cocked her head, looking at Ash with her bright eye. “Have you anything?”

  Ash reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of seeds. She held them in her hand, and Beanna approached, gently plucking the seeds from her palm without poking with her sharp beak.

  “What news of the forest?” Ash asked as the crow took the last of the seeds.

  “Much is happening,” Beanna said. “Young are birthing or hatching everywhere. All are busy hunting to feed them.”

  “Have you no nest? No young hatching?”

  Beanna tipped her head again, watching Ash. “I am old. I have raised many broods. My mate is gone on, now. No more eggs for me.”

  “Well, I am glad. It means you can visit with me,” Ash said with a smile. The crow hopped into her lap, rustling her feathers and settling down as if she were sitting on eggs.

  “How goes it with you, little two-leg?”

  Ash stroked the sleek feathers. “Tonight, I am to join the others for the first time.”

  Beanna clicked her beak. “That troubles you?”