Péist’s great bulk proved to be a problem in some places where the trees grew tightly. He solved that problem by simply pushing through them.
“Must you make so much noise?” Beanna asked. “The two-legs will hear us.”
Caymin glanced back at the trees, lying broken and split like twigs. She shrugged. “The villagers will make up some story about a magical creature.”
Péist sniffed. “And they would be right.”
They walked on, a new moon providing welcome darkness, but Péist’s silvery form glowed all the brighter for the dark night. Here, outside the magical protections of the forest, Caymin felt more exposed. Timmin was still a danger, but she knew any people they encountered would prove to be more dangerous still.
Two nights later, a crescent moon was just beginning to show herself when they heard men’s voices.
Beanna flew to a high tree branch. “Two-legs. They are coming your way.”
“Over here. I saw a light.”
Caymin saw the flicker of torches approaching through the trees.
“I don’t like this. What if it’s the woodfolk?”
The progress of the torches paused.
“You think it’s woodfolk?”
“Don’t be daft. There’s no such thing. Whatever’s out there is flesh and blood.”
“There! I see something glowing in the forest. Are you sure it isn’t faeries?”
“Stay silent,” Caymin said. She raised her hands and conjured a concealing spell. She had practiced this only on small objects, and had never made them completely disappear. She could hear the men’s voices coming nearer. She concentrated, drew the power, tried again to conjure the spell, but Péist’s head and tail shone like the drawings of sea serpents in Ivar’s scrolls.
“There,” one of the men said. “I told you I saw something.”
Suddenly, she felt energy draining from her like water pouring from a pitcher. The spell, incomplete and unable to hide Péist completely, was drawing every bit of energy she had. Her knees buckled and her eyes rolled back in her head. Péist shifted to touch his foot to her leg and she felt his energy combining with hers. With the surge in power, she completely shielded the dragon and herself. She cast another spell to confound the men, sending them in another direction. Beanna flitted from tree to tree, following them to make sure they wandered away from the dragon and girl.
Caymin and Péist sat hunched, scarcely daring to breathe, until the men’s voices and footfalls faded into the night. With a gasp, she ended the spell.
“Do not do that again,” Péist said as Caymin slumped against him.
For long heartbeats, Caymin did not answer. “I am sorry. That was foolish. I did not think about what that spell would cost me.”
“And it nearly cost you everything.”
Beanna flew back to them. “Follow me.”
Caymin got shakily to her feet and they resumed their journey.
“What would we have done if they had found us?” she asked.
“I could have eaten them,” Péist offered.
Caymin gave him a look. “No villagers. No villagers’ livestock. We would be hunted for certain.”
“The sooner we arrive at our destination, the better,” Beanna said. “Do you know yet where we are bound?”
Péist snorted sparks as he walked, his tail leaving an undulating track in his wake. “I will know when we arrive.”
CHAPTER 24
Over the Endless Water
Their journey took them over a fortnight, traveling by cover of night, with several narrow escapes from villagers drawn by the curious glow in the dark. Each time, Caymin combined her power with Péist’s to conjure a spell of concealment.
“This is dangerous,” Caymin said. “We may not always be able to hide from them.”
“We are getting closer,” Péist said. “Soon.”
Caymin heard the water before she saw it. There were no trees to provide cover as they approached the edge of a cliff. Caymin gaped at the sight below her, waves crashing on rocks below, the stars and moonlight rippling over the constantly moving water stretching into the darkness.
“The birds told us of this when I lived with the badgers, and I saw it on Ivar’s maps, but never could I have imagined so much water. It is truly endless.”
“This is where we must go,” Péist said, stretching his neck out as he sniffed the breeze blowing in from the sea.
“There is nowhere to go,” said Beanna. “Unless you hunt prey from the water as some birds do.”
But Péist’s eyes were fixed on the horizon. “We must go.” He turned to Caymin. “Climb on.”
“What?” Caymin stared up at him.
“Climb on my back. There.” He twisted his sinuous neck around to indicate a space at his withers where there was a gap in the spikes transitioning from his neck to his back.
When Caymin hesitated, his pupils suddenly contracted to mere slits. He picked her up by the neck of her tunic as Broc picked up her newborn cubs and swung her over his back, dropping her into position.
Before she could protest, he stretched his wings. The air rising off the water filled the leathery white expanses and, without warning, he launched himself off the cliff.
Caymin’s yell was whipped from her mouth by the wind as they plummeted toward the water. With one great whoosh, Péist beat his wings and they rose into the air. He flapped several times to gain altitude, and then suddenly found an air current he could ride. Behind them, Beanna flew madly to catch up. Caymin snatched her out of the air as Péist gave another downward thrust of his wings, accelerating over the water. His wings dipped and twitched, feeling and catching the currents as if he’d been doing this for ages.
“He’ll leave you behind,” Caymin said to the crow, who nestled in her lap.
Beanna looked down at the water flashing by far below them. “So the worm knows how to fly.”
Caymin’s eyes watered as they streaked through the air. She looked back and already the land behind them was sinking into distant shadows.
“Where are we going?” she asked, but Péist only shook his head and flew on.
They flew through what remained of the night. The sun rose behind them, throwing their shadow down onto the water. Beanna stayed tucked against Caymin’s body as she held tight to the spike in front of her, occasionally shifting as Péist flapped his wings to lift and find another air current. No land was to be seen in any direction, but still Péist flew, away from the rising sun, toward a destination known to him alone.
On and on they flew as the sun arced over them, settling toward the far horizon ahead. Péist began to tire. Caymin felt his fatigue and laid her hands on either side of his neck, giving him some of her power and strength. He glanced back once in gratitude. Beanna stayed tucked against Caymin, her head pulled in between her wings as she hunched against the cold wind.
They were all hungry, but Caymin didn’t dare twist around to try and pull food from the basket slung over her shoulders. She wondered how much longer Péist could fly without eating.
Just before the sun began to sink below the endless expanse of ocean in the distance, the flat line of the horizon was broken by a jagged mass. Caymin, weary and droopy-eyed, sat up, alert. She felt Péist’s heart quicken at the sight and knew that this was their destination.
As they approached, a craggy peak rose out of the water, its sheer face home to a few birds clinging to the rock. As they drew near, Péist flapped to gain altitude, and when they rose higher than the peak, Caymin saw that what had looked like the point of a needle from the distance was actually a very large plateau with scattered scrub trees. Péist spread his wings wide and landed with a jolt. Beanna immediately fluttered to the ground, flapping her own wings as she shook her head.
“I never want to do that again. Crows are not made for flying over the endless water.”
“You did not fly. I did,” Péist said.
Caymin looked around. “What is this place?”
&nb
sp; “The home of my kind,” said Péist. He turned to look at her. “You have food?”
She unslung her bow and the woven basket from her shoulders. “Yes,” she said, reaching in to pull out the last of the bread and cheese.
“I will hunt for all of us.” With a great thrust of his wings, he leapt into the air and disappeared over the edge of the precipice on the side opposite from which they had approached.
Caymin and Beanna hurried over to see him soaring over a large expanse of forested land. In the light from the moon that had risen in the east, she could see that it was a steep drop from their cliff-top site down to the flatter land below. Péist hovered for a moment, and then dove through the dark canopy of the trees, disappearing from view.
The trees up here, exposed to the wind and weather, were twisted and gnarled, their roots dug tenaciously into the thin soil. Caymin gathered deadwood from the ground under them and lit a fire. The wind blew steady and cold up this high, and she was already chilled from their flight over the water. Beanna huddled next to her as they both ate.
When Péist returned, he brought with him a haunch from a deer. Caymin gave thanks to the spirit of the deer, and used her knife to carve chunks of meat off, offering some to Beanna and skewering others on a stick to put them over the fire. She watched Beanna a little enviously as the crow tore at the pieces of meat, gobbling them down while she waited impatiently for her own meat to cook sufficiently to be able to eat it. As soon as it was half-done, she plucked the chunks of venison off the skewer and ate.
At last, with her belly full and her body partially warmed by the fire, Caymin sat back against Péist’s side.
“What now?”
“I am not sure. We wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“If I knew that, we would not have to wait.”
Caymin gave him an elbow in the ribs and heard a deep rumble as he laughed.
The night wind howled and whistled around the edge of Péist’s wing as it sheltered Caymin and Beanna. They lay together against his body for warmth, Beanna tucked against Caymin under her cloak.
Caymin’s restless sleep was disrupted sometime in the middle of the night by a vibration coming from Péist. She felt it against her back.
“Péist?”
He did not respond.
She threw off her cloak and crawled out from under his wing. His head was stretched to the sky, his eyes closed as he hummed.
“What is he doing?” Beanna asked, hopping along beside Caymin.
“I do not know.” She stepped around to look up at him and called to him again. The humming continued, but he did not open his eyes or answer.
Caymin shivered in the damp wind blowing off the sea as she stood looking up at him. Tears pricked her eyes. She was alone in the middle of the endless water with a dragon and a crow, cut off from all she knew, everyone she loved. At this moment, she almost wished Péist had bonded with Diarmit or Timmin.
As soon as she thought it, she regretted it. None of this was his fault.
With a sigh, she turned to Beanna. “We may as well stay warm.”
They crawled back under his wing.
The sun when it rose shone through the filmy skin of the dragon wing. Caymin squinted as she opened her eyes, enjoying the increased warmth. Behind her, Péist still hummed. She got up and stirred the coals of the fire into life. She and Beanna ate more of the venison from the night before.
“What do we do now?” Beanna asked, waddling around Péist and looking up at him.
“As he said, we wait.”
“Must we wait here?”
Caymin considered. “I do not see why. We can explore while we wait.”
Beanna immediately took off, flying off the edge of the precipice while Caymin slung her bow and a water skin over her shoulder and wandered the perimeter of the clifftop. The seaward side made her dizzy as the rock plunged many times Péist’s length into the crashing waves below. The other sides gave her a view out over the forested land below, stretching farther than her eye could see. As she crept along the edge, looking down, she found a worn trail, barely visible against the side of the cliff. She picked her way gingerly down the trail, climbing over piles of fallen rock and jumping gaps in the narrow path. It wound its way down from their landing place to the forest below. Caymin entered the shadows of the forest and listened.
It was ancient, older even than the forest they had left. It was a place of massive power, buried deep in the earth like the roots of the trees. She stepped to an old tree and placed her hands on it, listening. She asked permission to be there.
The tree registered mild curiosity at her presence. Caymin got vague images of people in the long-ago past, and knew it had been many, many lifetimes since a two-leg had been here. She stepped into the forest and explored, sensing many animals. She reached out with her mind, but they were wary after Péist’s hunt the night before. She gathered as she wandered, digging up wild turnips and onions for later. She found asparagus and wild cabbage as well as herbs and roots she could use for potions if she got sick or hurt.
Glancing back up at the cliff where Péist was, she craned her neck. The cliff-face had several holes, high above the trail.
Beanna saw also. She landed on Caymin’s shoulder. “What are they?”
“I do not know. Can you fly up there?”
Beanna took off, flying higher until she was a tiny black speck. She was gone for a while before she flew back down to where Caymin waited next to a spring, filling the water skin.
“They are caves. I think other dragons hatched there,” Beanna said. “I saw pieces of shell, like Péist’s. All colors – blue, green, red, black.”
Caymin looked up sharply. “Are any recent?”
“No. They all look very old. The fragments of egg had dust on them. They have not been disturbed for a long time.”
“Is there any way for me to get there?”
“I do not think so. They are very high and there is nothing for a two-leg to climb.”
“That is why the dragons used them.” Caymin smiled. “There, the eggs could have stayed safe as long as they needed to until the dragons were ready to hatch.”
Beanna clicked her beak in the direction of the forest. “Do you think there are more worms here?”
Caymin turned. “I do not know.”
A sudden call made her jump.
“We must go back. Péist is awake.”
Caymin was halfway up the trail, breathless and panting, when a sudden shadow darkened the trail and a great gust of wind buffeted her. Péist hovered, his wings beating the air against the cliff-face as he flapped. His front feet reached for her, each grasping an arm, and he hoisted her into the air. She looked down at the forest far below her dangling feet as he flew her back to the top of the precipice. Afraid to struggle lest she loosen herself from his grip, she closed her eyes tightly until she felt her feet hit solid ground again.
“Why did you do that?” she demanded angrily.
“I know.” Péist lowered his head to look her in the eye.
Caymin shook her twisted tunic back into position. “You know what?”
“I know why we had to come here.”
His pupils were wide, almost round, in a sea of brilliant green. She felt his excitement and some of her irritation abated.
Beanna flapped down to alight on Caymin’s shoulder. “Do tell us, oh great dragon.”
He snorted a blast of hot air that ruffled all of Beanna’s feathers. With a loud caw, she rose into the air.
“Stop.” Caymin held out an arm for Beanna who grudgingly accepted. “Tell us. What was happening in the night?”
“This is one hatching place of my kind,” Péist said. “There are others, scattered in safe places where we can hatch in peace. The only two-legs who have been here are the mages who have bonded with us.” He spread his wings and raised his head to the sky with a trumpeting roar. “All the knowledge of my kind, our history, our deeds, all has been given me.”
“How can that be?”
“I do not know. During the night, I was pulled into a place not of this world, a place in between.”
“In between what?”
“I am not certain. It was a realm where I could see my ancestors.”
“Like my spiritwalk?”
“Perhaps. But they spoke to me, and told me of my kind. The dragons who hatched here came to this world knowing all, because there were other dragons with them, but I did not.” He looked down at her. “I must take you with me.”
“Where?”
“You will see. Climb on my back.”
Caymin did as he asked and he leapt into the sky. Beanna followed as he dropped off the edge of the cliff, over the ocean, his wings tightly folded against his body. For several heartbeats, Caymin was certain they were going to plunge into the water, but then, he spread his wings and, instantly, they soared upward. Caymin felt the utter joy of flight emanating from Péist as he turned from side to side. She gripped the spike in front of her, wondering, if she fell off, whether Péist could fly fast enough to catch her.
Beanna flew along behind them, and Caymin heard the joy in her cries as well. Péist rose along the cliff-face high over the water, and Caymin saw that there were more caves here. Flapping hard, he aimed for one of them. What had looked like a small opening in the rock proved to be enormous as they entered. Caymin slid off his back and peered over the lip of the cliff, looking down at a sheer drop to the ocean below.
“No two-leg could get up here,” she said.
“This was our place of safety.”
Beanna strutted back into the recesses of the cave. “Look.”
Caymin and Péist followed. The cave got darker as they retreated farther into the mountain. Caymin conjured a ball of fire to illuminate their way. The passage opened into a large room carved into the rock, large enough for a dragon three times Péist’s size.
“What is this?”
Caymin went to a huge boulder draped with a large piece of supple leather with several straps attached to it.
“It is for you,” said Péist. “A saddle to hold you on my back as we fly. I saw others do so.”
Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin Page 24