Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin Page 7

  Enat whirled, shooting an arrow at Niall’s feet, a hundred paces away.

  “It is much more effective to keep your enemy at a distance if you can,” she said with a reproving glance in Gai’s direction. “By the time he gets close enough for you to use a sword or staff, you may have already lost your advantage.”

  Ash struggled with this as she had with sword and staff. Her scarred right arm wouldn’t straighten enough to allow her to draw the bow as the others did, with the left arm already extended, so she learned to nock the arrow and grasp the bowstring first, and then push the bow out with her left arm.

  “It’s not the right way,” Gai complained.

  “It works,” Enat said. “That’s all that will matter if she ever has to use it.”

  Ash’s arms trembled trying to hold the draw and aim. Even using the lightest bow, she could only hold the draw for a heartbeat or two, and her arrows flew wildly. She practiced every chance she got, raising welts on the inside of her left elbow from the twang of the bowstring. Enat made her a leather guard to tie around her arm. Despite Ash’s reluctance to wear anything leather, the relief the guard offered was welcome. For days and days, she practiced, gradually getting stronger until she could hold the draw, her right thumb resting against her jaw as she settled to take aim.

  “Well done,” Enat said as Ash loosed an arrow and it joined the others bristling from the center of the target. Ash smiled as Enat walked on.

  Ivar and Niall came over from where they had been practicing, using real swords. Breathing hard, they joined Enat and Neela who were watching from the edge of the archery range.

  “That is fine, from a distance,” Ivar said, leaning on his sword. “But she’ll never defeat an enemy who has made it close enough for hand to hand fighting.”

  Enat eyed him. “You think not?”

  “Have you watched her spar?” Ivar laughed. “She can’t best anyone here.”

  Enat shrugged. “I told you, you’ve yet to find the right way to motivate her.”

  “And you have?”

  Without warning, Enat seized Niall’s sword and swung it at Ivar, forcing him to leap back and defend himself. She allowed him no time to question her, but began fighting in earnest, the clang of their swords resounding through the sparring yard. All stopped to watch, including Ash. Blow for blow, Enat met Ivar, blocking his sword, he blocking hers as she attacked, but his greater size began to tell as Enat was forced to retreat step by step. She suddenly stumbled and fell. Ivar raised his sword over his head.

  With a scream, Ash fired an arrow at Ivar. It tore through his beard, startling him as he cursed. She ran and leapt between him and Enat, crouching and snarling like an animal, her teeth bared. She raised a hand, and Ivar was thrown backward, the force of her power lifting him off his feet. He soared through the air and landed on his back with a sickening thud.

  All was silent, and it seemed no one dared move for a moment. Enat and Ivar both sat up.

  “I told you,” Enat said. She got to her feet and went to Ivar, whose face had gone from white to a furious red, and offered him a hand. She pulled him to his feet as he glared at Ash. “She only needed the right motivation.”

  “She shot an arrow at me!”

  “She missed you.”

  “By a hair’s breadth.”

  “A hair is as good as an arm if it misses.”

  “Enough.”

  Ash sat with the younger apprentices outside the meetinghouse where the elders and the older apprentices argued her fate. Ash listened to the voices. One was unfamiliar. It belonged to an old man, much older than Enat to judge by his wizened appearance. His name was Timmin. He had been summoned by the others when Ivar and Enat continued arguing Ash’s punishment, or whether she was to be punished at all. Patiently, they had sat and waited for him to come from some distant part of the forest.

  “Timmin is First Mage and prefers to live alone,” Enat had murmured to Ash while they waited. “He studies the stars and the skies, looking for portents as to the future.”

  Ash frowned. “Can anyone see the future?”

  Enat shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone who could. But Timmin is very old and very wise. Perhaps he can.”

  When Timmin arrived, Ash watched him with great curiosity. He walked straight despite being very old, supported by his staff. He had a long, white beard, but sharp eyes, black as Beanna’s, and Ash had the feeling he could see through her when he glanced in her direction before going into the meetinghouse.

  “Summon the girl,” he said now.

  Enat’s face appeared in the doorway, and she gestured to Ash. Ash entered, and Enat stood her before Timmin where he sat in a chair while the others occupied the benches on either side of the long table.

  “Come.” He held out his hand, and Ash approached. His hand, when she placed hers in it, was surprisingly warm and gentle. He held it, looking long into her eyes.

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  “How can she not remember –?”

  Timmin silenced Ivar with a look and turned back to Ash.

  “I remember some,” Ash said. “I remember watching Enat and Ivar fighting. I remember Enat falling, and Ivar raising his sword.” She paused, biting her lip. “Then I do not remember anything until Enat was helping Ivar to stand.”

  “You don’t remember shooting an arrow at me?” Ivar shoved angrily to his feet.

  “Ivar –”

  “She lies!”

  Ash did not know what that meant but understood it to be an insult. She stood as tall as she could, but before she could speak, Enat said calmly, “She doesn’t know how to lie.”

  Ivar opened his mouth to retort, but Enat continued, “You forget – all of you – that Ash was not raised by humans. She has not been taught in the ways of guile or deceit. She does not know how to fight when there is no reason to, but she will defend when threatened. Because that is how her clan raised her.” She turned to Timmin. “If there is fault, it is mine. I knew that Ash would act to protect me, and I allowed myself to be made vulnerable so that we could see just how strong her instinct to protect would be. I confess, I did not expect it to be so… potent.”

  A few chuckles came from those around the table. Ivar glared at them.

  “Sit, Ivar,” said Timmin. He returned to his regard of Ash. “Enat tells me you were raised by badgers after they saved your life.”

  “Yes.”

  “May I?” Timmin gestured to Ash’s face.

  She nodded and stepped closer. He reached up to touch her scars and lifted her sleeve to inspect her arm. Ash could see movement from the table as others, curious about her burns, craned their necks to see as well. Timmin, who still held Ash’s hand, placed his other hand over top of hers and looked into her eyes. At last, he released her and turned to the others.

  “I’ve no right to order you to keep her here, but I sense no malice in what she did. I would suggest a more prudent approach to teaching her in future.” He gave Enat a wry smile.

  “Thank you, Timmin,” Neela said. She stood, and the others rose as well.

  “Enat, a word, if you please,” said Timmin.

  The others glanced back curiously as Enat stood with Ash in front of Timmin.

  Timmin waited until they were alone before saying, “Do you remember anything from before the badgers rescued you, child?”

  Ash shook her head.

  He looked at Enat. “It is time she had her name.”

  Enat inclined her head. “I’ve been waiting for her to settle in with us, as everything was so new to her. You feel it’s time?”

  “I do.”

  “We’ll see to it, Master Timmin. Thank you.”

  Ash looked back and forth between them, not understanding. Enat laid a hand on her shoulder and led her from the meetinghouse. Cíana, Daina and Diarmit were waiting. Off to one side, Gai sat by himself.

  Enat nodded. “Go to them.”

  Ash trotted over. “I do not have to leave.”
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  “Oh, good,” Cíana said, taking Ash’s hand. “I was so afraid for you.”

  “I’ve never seen Ivar so angry,” Diarmit said, his eyes wide.

  Ash glanced toward Gai. “He will be disappointed.”

  “You are wrong.” Daina got to her feet and went to where he sat. “Come and join us. We should celebrate. Ash is not going to be dismissed.”

  Gai glanced in Ash’s direction. “I don’t –”

  “Stop pretending you don’t care what happens,” Cíana said impatiently. “We want you to join us.”

  “She doesn’t.”

  They looked over and it was clear from Ash’s expression that Gai was right.

  “Stop it, both of you!” Cíana stomped her foot. “We’re all here to learn together. We can help one another if you two would stop picking at each other. Now come join us.”

  Gai obediently followed her back over to where Ash sat with Diarmit and Daina.

  Diarmit, lowering his voice, said, “Did you see how far she threw Ivar?”

  For a tense moment, everyone was silent, then they all burst out laughing.

  “How did you do it?” Daina asked.

  “I do not know,” Ash replied.

  “Have you ever done that before?” Gai was looking at her with an expression Ash had never seen on his face before. She shook her head.

  “Only one time did I do something like it, when Cuán was attacked by wolves and I healed him.”

  “What?” Cíana and the others gaped. “Tell us.”

  Ash told the story of that awful night. “That was what led Enat to me. I do not know how I did it. And I did not mean to hurt Ivar.”

  Diarmit snorted. “Hurt his arse more than anything.”

  “And his pride,” Cíana said seriously. “That, he will hold against you.”

  “It was like watching a badger,” Gai said. “You were snarling and hissing at him. I thought you were going to bite him, and then… you –” He gestured with his hand. “And he went flying. It was brilliant.”

  Ash swelled with his praise as the others retold what they had seen and asked Ash to tell the story of the wolf attack again. Not until later, as she was making her way back to the cottage, did it occur to her that Gai’s one and only compliment had come after she used her power in a way that could have injured someone, even if she hadn’t meant to.

  Ash and Diarmit crawled along, reaching under bushes and thickets for eggs. Chickens roamed freely about the village, sometimes roosting in the small shelter built for them, but just as often laying their eggs under any handy bush. Hens clucked at them, surrounded by dozens of young chicks as they flapped in the dust.

  Once every moon, two of the elders journeyed outside the forest to trade salves and potions and metalwork for provisions such as meat and cheese and salt and wool, things they could not produce for themselves in the forest.

  “We do not keep cattle or goats or sheep,” Ivar had told the younger apprentices. “There is not enough grassy land here in the forest for them to graze, and we don’t have time to milk and make butter and cheese, but there is a clearing large enough to plant crops.”

  As the weather warmed and spring turned to summer, it was time to plant. Cabbage had been another delight that Ash had discovered since coming to live with Enat. She had occasionally nibbled on stolen cabbages from the villagers when she was living with the badgers, but she had never eaten it cooked.

  After the eggs were gathered for the morning, all the young ones followed Neela to the clearing, ringed by apple trees, their branches still bursting with white blossoms. Bags of seeds waited to be placed in the furrows they were soon digging. Once Neela was satisfied with their work, she left them to it.

  The older apprentices came by to watch.

  “You could help us,” Cíana said.

  “We did this before you came,” said Ronan as Fergus leaned an elbow on his shoulder.

  Una sat with Niall and Méav as they watched. “Niall and I did it the last few springs, before we moved up. You’ll do the same with the ones who come after you.”

  “Do it right or do it again, wee ones,” said Méav. The others chuckled and gave one another knowing glances.

  Ash set to work, pulling a metal hook fastened to a long stick through the dirt to dig a furrow. Daina came behind her, placing seeds at regular intervals and then covering the furrow with her foot.

  The older five soon got bored with poking fun at them and wandered off, leaving the younger ones to their work. They spread out around the clearing, everyone hard at work.

  Almost everyone, Ash thought as she watched Gai standing off to one side, leaning on his digging stick.

  “This is servants’ work,” he said.

  Cíana straightened. “That’s what you say every time you don’t want to do something. I’ll tell you again what I told you before; we’re not your servants. I didn’t hear you complain about having turnips and beans to eat during the winter. So if you expect to eat again this winter, get to work.”

  Diarmit sniggered, his chubby face red and sweaty from the effort of digging.

  “I do not mind,” Ash said. “Badgers and squirrels and other animals gather food all the time to store through the cold.”

  “Well,” Gai said, stepping forward. “If we must do this, at least we could use magic to get it done more quickly.”

  He waved his hand and seeds flew down the row, plopping into the openings in the soil. With another wave of his hand, the soil shifted to cover them.

  Ash stood upright, her own back aching from being bent over. She wished she could do that, but she had not yet mastered the art of moving things through the air. No one else had been able to do this like Gai could.

  He strode over to the others. “I can do the same for you, and then we can go do something more fun than this.”

  The others straightened, looking at one another, no one willing to reply.

  “All right,” Diarmit said at last. “I can’t do that yet, so I’m willing.”

  Gai walked to each of them, waving his hand similarly, dropping seeds into the ground and covering them with soil. When he was done, they trooped together into the forest to a stream where they spent the rest of the day wading and splashing in the water. They overturned stones, looking for small crayfish and tadpoles, catching them and letting them go.

  The sun was on its downward path when they returned to the village, laughing and talking. As one, they stopped when they saw Ivar and Neela waiting for them. Ash saw the older five sitting back by the meetinghouse, grinning and nudging one another.

  “You finished your work quickly,” Neela said.

  Gai’s pale cheeks colored with bright patches of scarlet as he jutted his chin out. “We used magic. Why should we toil like –” He glanced toward Cíana. “Like oxen when magic gets the work done so much faster.”

  Ivar stepped forward, his brows drawn together. “And did your magic plant all the cabbage seeds far enough apart? Did it plant the bean and carrot seeds at the proper depth? Because if it didn’t, the plants will wither in the soil and we’ll all go hungry this winter.”

  Gai opened his mouth to retort, but Ivar silenced him with a gesture.

  “Your excuses are meaningless.”

  Neela laid a calming hand on Ivar’s arm. “Magic is a wonderful thing, and it will serve you well in many tasks in your life, but there are some things that must be done by the sweat of your brow. If magic were the answer, do you not think we would have done it that way without your help?”

  All of them hung their heads, staring at the ground. Even Gai looked somewhat abashed.

  “To thank you for your work, we had planned on taking you all on the morrow to a special place in the forest, a waterfall such as you have never seen. But now we can’t,” Neela said.

  “Tomorrow,” said Ivar, “you will all go back to the clearing. You will dig up everything and replant it properly so that it has time to grow.”

  His gaze challenged Gai
to argue, but Gai only nodded and turned away.

  Neela and Ivar left them.

  Daina rounded on Gai. “You told us it would do no harm to use magic.”

  “Don’t blame Gai,” Cíana told her. “He didn’t force us. We were all eager to get done quickly. We’re all to blame.”

  Gai looked at the older ones resentfully. “You could have told us.”

  Ronan cocked his head. “It seems to me we did. It’s not our fault if you’re too dense to listen.”

  “Don’t rub it in,” said Niall. “We did the same thing.”

  Fergus laughed. “That’s why it’s so funny. We all try it. They know we will.”

  “And now, we get to do it all again,” Diarmit said with a sigh. “Let’s eat. We’ll need the energy for tomorrow.”

  “I am going to eat with Enat,” Ash said. “I will meet you at the clearing tomorrow.”

  She suspected Enat would have heard about what happened, so she was not surprised when Enat greeted her by saying, “I trust you had an educational day?”

  Ash snorted. “A lesson I will not forget.”

  Enat smiled. “A good lesson, then.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Claiming Her Name

  We should go this way.”

  “No, it’s this way.”

  The planting was done – “and properly,” Neela had said with a nod of approval after the younger apprentices replanted all the crops. She had sent them out into the forest to find a selection of plants and roots for her. She had given each group a list written out on a small piece of parchment. Ash was working with Cíana and Diarmit, while Gai was with Daina somewhere else in the forest.

  “This is not a contest,” Neela had warned, but Ash saw the gleam in Gai’s eye and knew he did not see it so. Ever since the planting, Gai seemed to have felt the need to prove himself.

  The things on Neela’s lists were for the celebration of Bealtaine that night. Like Imbolc, when Enat had first sought Ash, this celebration was something all the other humans knew well, while Ash knew nothing of it.

  “It marks the start of summer,” Diarmit said as they walked through the forest. “In our village, we had a huge bonfire and all the cattle and sheep were decorated with wreaths of flowers and led around it.”