Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin (7 page)

“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?”

“Yes.”

“You are a two-leg.”

“Yes.”

“You told me you came here to be among them.”

“Yes, but I have never been among two-legs. Only Enat.”

“They are your kind,”
said Beanna.
“They will accept you.”

Ash shifted, picking Beanna up gently and lying down on her side with the crow tucked against her stomach.
“I wish I could just stay here.”

A tiny grub wriggled in the rotten wood near them. Beanna pounced and swallowed the grub. She waddled back and settled again against Ash.
“That grub may wish I had not just eaten it. Wishing does not make it so.”

The moon was bright as Enat led the way. When they arrived at the small village where Ash had met Ivar, the others were already gathered around a large fire lit in the center of the dwellings. They nodded greetings to Enat and Ash and shifted over to make room for them. Ash looked around and saw that she was an object of great curiosity. The others craned their necks to get a glimpse of her. Scattered among the grown humans were other young ones, some who appeared to be about her age, and some who were a few winters older. Ash assumed they must be here to learn as she was. Enat had told her that there were about ten apprentices living in the village, four others who were recently arrived, and a handful of older ones who studied separately.

One woman got to her feet and began chanting a song of a man named Cú Chulainn. She was younger than Enat, with yellow hair and a pretty face. She moved as she sang, and Ash found herself also swaying with the rhythm of the words. Ash had never heard such a tale, but the others seemed familiar with it, nodding and clapping at the telling of his exploits. Ash looked around in puzzlement at their enjoyment, especially the young ones, who seemed to like it especially. After listening a while, Ash stirred restlessly.

“What is it?” Enat whispered.

“Do all human stories tell of killing and fighting?”

Enat looked back for a moment at the woman chanting. When she came to a pause in her tale, Enat interrupted, saying, “Thank you, Neela, but my old heart is in the mood for a more gentle tale. Would you honor us with such a one?”

A few frowns were cast in Enat’s direction, but Neela obliged by reaching for her small harp. She sat with the harp in her lap and began to sing a tale of two humans who loved each other. Ash listened raptly. Something about the harp sounded familiar to her. The younger apprentices soon became bored and wandered off.

“Go with them,” Enat whispered. “Talk to them.”

Reluctantly, Ash got up and followed to where they had gathered around another fire pit lined with stones and stacked with peat, ready to be ignited.

“Show us, Fergus,” one girl was saying to an older boy.

He flung his hand toward the pit, and flames suddenly rose from the peat as it burned fiercely. They turned to glance curiously at Ash as she hung back.

“Come sit with us,” said the girl. “I am Cíana.”

“I am Ash.” Ash sat next to her as the others settled around the fire.

Another boy snorted with laughter. “What kind of name is Ash?”

“Gai!” Cíana frowned at him. She shook her head. “Ignore him.”

The boy called Gai scowled.

“It’s your turn, Méav,” Cíana said to one of the older girls. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Méav lifted her arm, twirling her hand in the air. The flames leapt, twining and twisting, following her movements. The others clapped and then took turns showing their skills. A girl named Una levitated some of the sticks piled next to the fire pit and then a boy they called Ronan wrung his hand in the air and water poured from his closed fist.

As amazed as Ash was by the magic, she was even more fascinated by the other apprentices. It was the first time she’d ever had the opportunity to be this near to two-leg young – like her, no longer cubs, but not yet grown. Méav had eyes the color of a summer sky with hair as black as Beanna’s feathers, gathered in many braids under a leather band around her head. Ronan’s chin was covered in sparse hairs the same red-brown color as his hair. Cíana’s hair was the color of the sun, long, pulled back into a twisted strand hanging down her back. Gai’s hair and eyes were almost black, but his face was pale, like the moon. Una’s hair was dark, and she looked a lot like Gai. Another older boy, Niall, was so fair, he looked as if he had no color at all, with his pale eyes and white hair.

The younger ones tried to mimic what the older could do. Cíana succeeded in sparking a twig into flame and Gai could briefly levitate the sticks. Daina was able to extinguish Cíana’s flame with a thought. Diarmit, a heavyset boy with thick, brown hair tried to move the sticks as well, but only succeeded in toppling the pile. The others laughed.

At last, they turned to Ash.

“Show us what you can do,” said Gai.

Ash knew there was an owl sitting on an overhanging branch, watching a mouse hiding in a nearby clump of moss. She knew the mouse was quivering under the moss, watching the owl. There were many animals about, and she could hear them all, but she was not going to call them to her for Gai’s enjoyment.

“I do not know how to do anything,” she said.

He stared at her for a moment. “Nothing?”

Ash shook her head. “Not like you. I cannot make fire or smoke do my bidding or move things.”

Cíana turned to look at Ash more closely, taking in the scars on her face and her bare feet. Ash lowered her head. “You live with Enat,” Cíana said.

Ash nodded.

“How old are you? You look too young to be here.”

Ash poked a forefinger in the dirt and drew a pattern. “I do not know.”

There was laughter from the circle. “How can you not know how old you are?” Diarmit asked.

Ash looked up sharply as Cíana hissed for them to be quiet. “I do not know how many winters I had when my clan found me. I was with my clan for eight winters before Enat came.”

“What clan?” Cíana asked.

“Badgers.”

“Badgers?” Niall looked as if he did not believe her.

“Yes. Badgers saved me when my village was burned.” Ash looked at them. No one was laughing now. “They raised me and taught me.”

“How could badgers teach you?” Gai’s tone was challenging, but the others looked intrigued.

Ash looked from him to Cíana to some of the others. A new feeling pricked at her, one she had never felt before and, forgetting for a moment that she was not going to call animals to her for Gai’s entertainment, she reached out.
“Beanna? Are you awake?”

The others looked from one to another, casting furtive glances behind them in the dark as Ash looked over their heads into the woods. Nothing happened for a moment, then a great flapping of wings and a loud caw signaled Beanna’s arrival. She landed on Ash’s shoulder.

“What do you wish?”

“They do not believe I can talk to you,”
Ash said. Beanna tipped her head, looking at Ash with her bright, black eye. She then turned and looked at the other humans.

“Do you want me to peck their eyes out?”

Ash snorted.
“No. That would not help them to like me.”

Beanna hopped down from Ash’s shoulder and strutted around the fire pit, pausing a moment in front of each human, looking each in the eye before moving to the next. In front of Cíana, she said,
“This one shows great promise.”