Enat woke and Caymin sat. Around them, the others slept on. Enat got up to remove the charm from the door and gestured to her to follow.
Outside, they walked several paces from the meetinghouse before Enat said, “We must check on something. I should have thought of it before.”
They stopped at the latrine first, and then Enat led Caymin deep into the forest.
“They all won their staffs last night, did they not?”
Enat smiled. “They did. The only time we take wood from live trees. Upon passing their trials, they each would have been led by wood sprites to a tree willing to give a branch for the making of a staff. It is a most moving rite of passage.”
Caymin limped along beside her. “Where are we going?”
“To Timmin’s cottage. I should have gone as soon as he revealed his true intent toward you and Péist.”
“What do you expect to find?”
“We’ll know when we get there.”
It seemed they walked a long time. Caymin’s stomach was growling with hunger by the time they approached a stone cottage, so covered in moss and ivy that it almost disappeared. Enat slowed and raised her hands, as if pressing on an invisible wall.
“What do you feel?” Caymin asked in a whisper.
“Just as I expected, Timmin guarded this place with magic.” Enat moved sideways, still pressing with her hands. She walked all the way around the cottage, eventually coming back to where Caymin stood waiting.
“The protection is complete,” Enat said, sounding relieved. “I thought perhaps whoever attacked Fergus might have found a way through, but the most I can detect is that someone tried to get in here.” She pointed to a place where Caymin could now see that the leaves and dirt had been disturbed.
“Stand behind me,” Enat said as she stepped forward, her hands raised once more. Her lips moved as she murmured.
Caymin felt a surge of power pushing back against Enat’s magic, and then a sudden yielding.
“Here. We can get through here.”
Caymin followed Enat through a gap in the charmed protections placed around the cottage. Cautiously, Enat pushed the door open, standing back as if she expected something to pounce out at them. When all remained quiet, she stepped inside.
“He thought no one would get through the outer protections,” Enat said as Caymin entered after her.
With a small gasp, she looked around at the remnants of Timmin’s life here. Arranged on a table with three oil lamps were several scrolls and books, some of them lying open. Even before she stepped to the table, she could see that they all had to do with dragons.
“He knew,” she said, looking at Enat. “Even before he met Péist, he knew what he was.”
Enat nodded. “He did. And he wanted to use him.” She leaned over a scroll. “This is the story of an ancient mage who once ruled this entire land, he and his dragon. This was the cause of the last great dragon war.”
Caymin saw something under one of the scrolls and picked it up. “Enat.”
Enat turned to her.
“This is the brooch the northman wore.” She held up the silver medallion, worked with its design of a dragon. “How? I thought you and the others took him…?”
“We did.” Enat stared at the medallion. “We took him to a larger town, closer to the sea.” She paused. “But we scattered when we got back, each going in a different direction to make sure no one had entered the forest while we were gone.
She reached out and took the brooch from Caymin. “The northman was wearing this the last time I saw him.”
They stared at each other for a long moment before Enat turned to look around. She wandered around the cottage. Caymin stepped over to an array of stones and crystals lying on a table.
“Don’t touch those!”
Enat came to her and suspended her hands over them for a moment. She gathered them up, taking care to use a cloth to handle them. “I think we should take those as well,” she said, pointing to the books and scrolls. “We don’t need anyone else learning what it was Timmin was after.”
“You do not think he told anyone else?”
Enat shook her head. “Oh no. He wouldn’t have wanted to share what he knew. He wanted to have Péist to himself.”
Caymin collected the books, tucking them and the scrolls into a bag she found in a corner. “I have been thinking that the person who attacked Fergus at Samhain knew about Péist.”
“I have thought the same thing,” Enat said. “I still don’t think it was Timmin, but it frightens me that someone else, someone living among us, knows what Péist is and is so willing to hurt someone else to get to him.”
Caymin looked at her. “You think it is one of the elders or apprentices?”
“We’ve detected no other people within the forest this past moon. It cannot be a stranger. We would have felt it. It can only be one of us.”
“But who? Gai?”
“Gai has not acted honorably, and I know others would suspect him.”
“You do not.”
“Nor, I think, do you.” Enat studied Caymin. “You befriended him when the others turned from him.”
“I felt sorry for him. He told me why he stole into the forest at Samhain.”
“His father?” Enat smiled when Caymin gaped at her. “I know he feels duty-bound to become what his father wishes.” Her expression sobered. “But if not Gai, then who?”
CHAPTER 16
Unexpected Tidings
With the three eldest apprentices gone, the studies for the younger resumed in earnest. Ivar, Neela and Enat pushed them harder than ever.
Winter had settled in hard and cold, and Caymin often wished she were tucked snugly in a nice, warm sett with her clan, sleeping most of the winter away. Enat gave her a heavy wool tunic, but still she was hesitant to leave the comfort of the fire.
She huddled close to the flames she had conjured under her cauldron. The others did likewise where Enat had them gathered in the meetinghouse, teaching them to make a potion to staunch bleeding.
“The more you know about healing,” she told them, “the more welcome you will be in any village you visit. You will not be working the land or learning a trade like most others. Some learn a craft such as metalworking, like Ivar did. For most of you, magic is your craft, and you must be versatile in many skills to make yourself as useful as possible.”
She went from one to the other, watching as they mixed the ingredients for the potion.
“You added three crushed beetles instead of two,” she said to Diarmit, whose potion had become thick and foul-smelling. She moved on to Daina and Cíana, dipping a spoon into their cauldrons. “Very good.”
She came over to Gai and Caymin, who were working side by side. She leaned over Gai’s cauldron as he stirred it. “This is perfect. Nicely done.”
Gai looked up at her unexpected praise. “Thank you.”
Caymin sat back as Enat spooned some of her potion, confident that she would win the same words of praise. She and Gai had followed the formula for the potion, step for step. Hers was the same pale yellow as his, the same thickness, so she felt a sharp sting of disappointment when Enat only said, “This will do.”
She stared at Enat’s back as she walked away. She carefully bottled some of her potion, sealing the stopper before cleaning the cauldron. Enat hadn’t actually dismissed them, but she left to return to the cottage while the others were still chatting as they cleaned up.
She flicked an irritated hand and magically stoked the fire, taking some satisfaction in knowing Enat would frown at such a frivolous use of power. She was reading one of Timmin’s books on dragons when Enat came in. She didn’t look up.
Enat plucked the kettle off the hook and poured two cups of tea. She set one cup next to Caymin who remained silent.
“A blazing fire,” Enat said. “Nice and warm.”
Still, Caymin said nothing.
Enat sat back and sipped her tea.
Caymin’s gaze was glued t
o the page in front of her, but she was not reading the words.
“You’re angry because I praised Gai and didn’t praise you.”
Caymin sat stubbornly mute.
“Did you make mistakes with your potion?”
Caymin’s head snapped up. “No.”
“Did you follow the correct formula?”
“Yes.”
“So, your potion was perfect and you knew it.”
Caymin frowned. “Yes.”
“Then why did you need me to say it?”
Caymin opened her mouth but then closed it.
Enat lowered her cup and smiled. “When you first came here, you doubted that you belonged because you hadn’t been raised with other humans. You felt out of place. Despite that, you have proved yourself, again and again. Gai arrived also needing to prove himself, but for very different reasons. Gai has never known love or approval, not from his father or his brother. He speaks as if he does not need those things, but inside, he craves them more than anything. You know when you have done well, whether I say it or no. Gai does not. While he pushes people away, what he really desires is to be close.”
Caymin bit her lip, thinking about what Enat had said.
“Lately, I’ve seen you make an effort to talk to Gai, spend time with him when the others turned from him. Why have you done that?”
“I felt sorry for him.”
“I’m glad you are capable of feeling pity for someone who has made you angry in the past.” Enat leaned forward to poke at the fire. “I told you before that Gai is probably jealous of you.” Enat sat back and looked at her. “Don’t be jealous of him now.”
“I am sorry.”
“There’s no need to be sorry, Caymin. But always, always trust what you know of yourself.”
“Why are we out here in the cold?” Diarmit complained.
Despite her woolen tunic and Enat’s heavy cloak, Caymin shivered as she and the others wandered the forest with another list of plants and herbs they had to find.
“Neela said certain of these plants are most potent at this time of year when there is no growth,” Daina said. “All their power is stored in their stems and roots.”
“And Yule is coming soon,” Cíana said. “We need mistletoe for the Yule night.”
“What is Yule?” Caymin asked.
“The longest night of the year,” Gai said. “The winter solstice. We always had a roaring fire with giant logs in my father’s hall and spent the whole night listening to bards tell tales and sing songs.”
Cíana nodded. “We did as well. ’Tis the turning point of the year, when Lugh, the sun god, comes back and the days grow longer.”
“Our village is mostly Christian,” Diarmit said. “We’re supposed to celebrate the birth of the Christ at this time of year, not Lugh.”
“The monks near us try to stop us celebrating Yule,” said Daina. “But many still do in secret.”
“Do the ones who celebrate Yule try to stop the believers in the Christ?” Caymin asked, spying a stand of wild cherry bushes.
They gathered most of the cherries that remained, leaving some for the birds. They also asked permission to cut some of the branches.
“You don’t understand,” said Daina. “The Christians are becoming more powerful, and it’s dangerous in many places for people to admit they believe in the old gods and old ways.”
Caymin shook her head. “Why does it matter if others believe differently? Does it stop them from believing as they wish?”
Gai laughed. “You speak like a badger.”
Caymin grinned. “Sometimes I think badgers and animals have more sense.”
“Mistletoe!”
Cíana pointed to a hazel tree with large bunches of mistletoe hanging from the branches, filled with clusters of white, waxy berries. Caymin climbed up, cutting the clusters loose and letting them drop to the others below who gathered them into a bag.
They were all startled by the loud and unexpected arrival of Beanna as she settled on the branch above Caymin’s head.
“Where have you been?” Caymin sat up. “I have not seen you in ages.”
“Roaming,” Beanna said vaguely. “I must speak to you later. What are you doing?”
“Gathering things for the Yule.”
Beanna tilted her head. “I have seen the two-legs celebrating on the longest night.” She glanced down at the others who were chatting amongst themselves. “Meet me tonight at the hollow tree when the moon rises. Bring Enat.”
Caymin shifted on her branch and reached into the pouch hanging from her belt. She retrieved a strip of dried venison and offered it. Beanna took it in her beak and flew off.
“What did she want?” Diarmit asked as Caymin climbed back down.
“She wondered what we were doing.”
They finished gathering the things on their list as the last of the weak winter daylight faded. They wandered back toward the village. Light snowflakes began to fall, floating first one way and then another on the cold breeze as if they would never settle to earth.
The apprentices brought their finds to the meetinghouse where Neela and Enat were making a thick salve.
“What’s this for?” Cíana stuck her finger in, rubbing some of the salve between her thumb and finger. “It smells good.”
“It heals skin damaged by cold and wind,” Enat said. “It can also heal burns and blisters.”
Daina glanced at Caymin. “Have you tried it?”
Caymin flushed. “I do not think anything can change my burns. They are too old.”
Enat pursed her lips. “I’m afraid nothing can heal them.” At Caymin’s downcast face, she added, “But it might help to soften the scars so that they don’t pull as much.”
She used a wooden paddle to push some of the thick salve into a small, squat jar and handed it to Caymin who raised it to her nose.
“It smells of spring.”
“I wish it were spring,” Diarmit grumbled, hunkering down near the fire crackling on the hearth. “I hate winter.”
They all rubbed some of the salve into their cold, chapped hands and cheeks.
“Winter is necessary,” Neela said. “Without the sleep of winter, the death of the plants and the pulling in to rest, nothing would bloom come spring and summer.”
The moon was not yet up as Enat and Caymin made their way through the forest. The snow that had started falling earlier in the day had stopped, leaving patches of ground untouched. They moved soundlessly and arrived at the hollow tree before Beanna.
“Why does Beanna need to speak with us?” Caymin asked as she crawled inside the tree and sat.
Enat followed her. “I asked Beanna to do something for me.”
Beanna entered the hollow at that moment, the flapping of her wings bringing swirls of snow in with her.
“Greetings, Beanna.”
“Greetings to you, Enat.”
The crow hopped up onto Enat’s knee and settled with a rustle of her feathers. Enat reached into her pouch and pulled out a handful of seeds and nuts. She and Caymin waited patiently while Beanna ate.
“My thanks. I have grown weary of the dried berries left on the bushes at this time of year, and finding worms takes more work in the frozen ground.”
“What news?”
Beanna cocked her head, looking at Caymin with her bright eye. “Have you told her?”
“I have not.”
“Enat asked me to try and track Timmin.” She turned her gaze to Enat. “You were right.”
“Right about what?” Caymin looked from Beanna to Enat and back.
Enat turned to Caymin. “I feared that Timmin might seek another way to draw you from the forest, to force you to leave our protection and so open yourself to his power.”
“He is gone,” Caymin said. “How could he do this? Through what means could he get me to leave you?”
Enat didn’t answer immediately. She looked at Beanna. “They are coming? You are sure?”
Beanna bobbed
her head.
Enat turned back to Caymin. “When Timmin first left the forest from the circle of stones, Neela told us that he headed north. I suspected he knew he was being watched and deliberately led us false. I asked Beanna to fly to the south and wait.”
“I did as she asked,” Beanna said. “It took him days to make his presence known, but he began searching, asking other four-legs and winged ones if they had seen you.”
Caymin shook her head. “I do not understand.”
“Not many two-legs can speak without speaking, and Timmin counted on the animals we encountered remembering that we had passed through on our journey here.” Enat laid a hand on her shoulder. “He is searching for Broc and Cuán.”
“What?” Caymin jumped up in alarm.
Beanna flapped her wings and Enat held up her hands. “Be calm. Let me speak.”
Caymin sat back down, her heart racing.
“I feel responsible. When first you came here, I told the other elders more or less where I had found you living among the badgers.” Enat folded her hands and stared down at them. “He means to find them and use them, use your affection for them to force you to come to their rescue. Beanna was able to find them first.”
“Enat told me enough of her search for you to convince them to listen to what I had to say,” said Beanna. “Together with my stories of you, little one, I assured them they are in danger, and asked them to come to us, to make their home here.”
Caymin sat up straighter. “They are coming here? The entire clan?”
“Not all,” Beanna said with a click of her beak. “Some of the older ones are too feeble to journey so far, and some are too young. But they have been warned and they are smart enough to pretend they know nothing of you if Timmin should find them. They will be safe.”
“But where are Broc and Cuán? When will they be here?”
Enat looked to Beanna.
“They are traveling only at night,” Beanna said. “And they are speaking with none so as to leave no trail for Timmin to follow. They should be here by the next dark moon.”
Caymin reached out and ran her finger down Beanna’s breast. “Thank you, Beanna. Thank you for going so far to protect my clan.” She looked at Enat. “And thank you for thinking of them. I never believed Timmin capable of this.”
Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin Page 17