Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin

by Caren J. Werlinger

  Beanna was right. He was healing. He still limped, but was walking farther, exploring the area around the clearing on his own.

  More than once, Caymin had brought down thick fog to confound him and keep him close to his fire.

  She observed him sometimes from the concealment of the forest, watching as he knelt with his eyes closed, his lips moving. She knew he prayed to his god, but she didn’t know what he asked for. Sometimes he hit himself across the back with the knotted end of the rope he wore around his waist.

  When she brought him food, he plied her with endless questions. In response to where they were, she answered truthfully, “West.” It was as much as she knew. He seemed to have decided she was alone, and she let him think her boat had sunk in a storm similar to the one that had brought him there, drowning her people.

  He pressed to find out where she lived, where she slept, and she avoided answering, pretending not to understand, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe that. Again and again, his gaze was drawn to the mountain.

  “How can we get him to leave here?” Péist asked now as they saw his shadow move across his fire.

  “We cannot, unless he can fix his boat,” Caymin replied.

  “Has he said yet why he was in such a small boat on such large water?”

  “No. He has not. When I try to ask him, he evades answering. He is hiding something.”

  “What of us?” Beanna asked. “We have not flown in search of land for nearly a moon because we cannot fly during the day. Are we to stay here all our days? We could leave, and let him fend for himself here.”

  Caymin stewed as she listened, knowing Beanna was right about this as well. Péist had taken to flying over the ocean at night to keep his wings strong. They were all chafing at how Garvan’s presence had restricted their activity.

  “If you will not let me eat him,” Péist said, “I think I should pick him up and carry him far out over the ocean and drop him in.”

  “We cannot do that.” Caymin lay back in frustration. She watched the stars filling the sky above her. “Why did he have to come here? We were better on our own.”

  “Something has to happen,” said Beanna. “We cannot continue like this forever.”

  Péist flew Caymin down from their cave, landing in an open area outside the forest, as close as they dared to Garvan’s clearing. “I will hunt while you take the last of this meat to the two-leg.”

  No sooner had Péist taken off than Garvan appeared. Startled, Caymin had her hands up, ready to cast a protective shield before he could take a breath.

  “Stay!” He held up both of his hands. “’Tis I.”

  She lowered her hands, her heart still pounding. “What are you doing here?”

  He cocked his head at the sound of Péist landing in the forest a distance away.

  “What in the name of heaven is that?”

  She shrugged but didn’t respond.

  “Are you a druid, then?”

  She stared at him. “A what?”

  He picked up a stone, rubbing it in between his palms. “I know you healed me, at least some.” He wiggled his leg. “This should have been much worse than it was.”

  Still, she said nothing, but guarded her mind in case he had the skill to try and push into her thoughts.

  “How do you get to the top of the mountain?”

  “Why would you think I go to the top?”

  He looked at her, and she couldn’t decide what she saw in his eyes – curiosity that wouldn’t be satisfied with vague answers, or calculation, like what she’d seen in Diarmit’s eyes when he finally admitted all he knew. Either way, she had the feeling he knew more than she’d realized.

  Apparently, Péist thought so as well, because she felt him, just a heartbeat before a huge shadow blotted out the sun and he crashed down, landing with his front legs braced on either side of her.

  Garvan fell back, his eyes huge, his mouth open in a silent scream as Péist bared his teeth in a fearsome snarl.

  “Holy mother of God,” Garvan managed to whimper as he stared up at the dragon.

  “What are you doing?” Caymin asked.

  “Do not be fooled,” Péist answered. “He knows. Don’t you, holy man?”

  Garvan’s mouth gaped. “You… you can talk.”

  “He can hear you?”

  “When I choose to let him. All dragons can do this.” He stretched his neck out until his muzzle was just a hair from Garvan’s face. “Just as all dragons could eat any two-leg with no more than a snap of our mighty jaws.”

  “Holy mother of God,” Garvan said again, making the sign of the cross.

  Péist raised his head. “Luckily for you, holy man, my mage took pity on you, so I will do the same. For now.”

  Garvan placed a hand over his heart and took a few deep breaths. “Your mage?”

  Caymin laid a hand on Péist’s leg and drew herself up to her full height. “You asked if I am a druid. I am not. I am a mage, born to bond with this dragon.”

  Garvan stared at them. “But… but those are only children’s tales, told round the fire. And there are no such things as mages.”

  A deep rumble sounded from Péist. “Do I look like a fable told to children? And my mage has powers you cannot dream of.”

  Garvan’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and then opened them again as if hoping the sight before him would have disappeared. When it did not, he sat up. “May I stand?”

  Péist dipped his head. “You may.”

  He scrambled to his feet as Beanna fluttered down to Caymin’s shoulder. He pointed. “I’ve seen that bird everywhere, watching me.”

  Caymin ran a finger down Beanna’s sleek breast. “She has been keeping watch.”

  Garvan stood looking at them. “What now?”

  “Now we talk.”

  Péist refused to allow Caymin to walk with Garvan where he could not follow. He flew her back to the inlet where the boat sat on its side, while Garvan retraced his path through the forest.

  By the time he arrived, Caymin was waiting at his fire. Péist could not fit his body into the clearing, but his head rested next to Caymin. Garvan sat opposite her, still eyeing Péist with a mix of fascination and disbelief while Beanna hopped around them. As he gazed at her, Caymin could tell he was trying to reconcile the ignorant ghost-child she’d seemed with what he now knew.

  “Now,” Caymin began, “it is time for truth. We found you on the ocean after a storm. Your boat was damaged, as you were. We brought you here. Saved your life. You will tell us what you were doing out there.”

  Garvan fed the fire, his bearded jaw working as he considered. “I was exiled. By my abbot.”

  “For what?”

  He looked at her, his eyes hard. “For killing a man.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “You killed a man? Why?”

  He tilted his head, regarding her. “I just told you I killed a man, and instead of being afraid of me, you want to know why?”

  “I have no need to fear you,” she said calmly. “I could subdue you myself with magic if I needed to, and Péist could easily kill you.”

  Garvan threw his head back and laughed. “If I didn’t know I was awake, I would swear the devil was playing me.”

  Caymin waited.

  Garvan ran his fingers through his beard. “He was a brute. One of the landholders near our monastery. He had a wife and children, but was lusting after another young woman. I caught him trying to force her –” He stopped, looking at Caymin. “He had to be stopped. I didn’t mean to kill him. He fell over a watering trough and his neck snapped. But I was the cause.”

  “And they sent you away for this?”

  “Aye. He was kin to the king, and the king was threatening to seize our lands if I wasn’t dealt with.”

  Caymin looked into his eyes. “He tells the truth.”

  “I agree,” said Péist.

  “I planned to sail to a land w
here I could bring word of our Lord or perhaps start a new monastery.” Garvan chuckled. “Instead, I landed on an island with no other men, just a girl and a dragon.”

  He shifted. “What of you? Why are you here?”

  Caymin looked at Péist. “How much to tell him?”

  “Not all. Do not tell him of my life in the forest. Begin when I was an egg.”

  And so Caymin told of bonding with Péist’s egg, and the danger they were in as others sought to use him for their own goals. She told of their fleeing the forest and Péist’s hatching and their flight to this island.

  Garvan listened raptly. “There are places where mages are taught?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What manner of magic are you taught?”

  Caymin wondered how much to say. “We are taught the use of plants to make healing potions and salves.”

  He rubbed his leg. “You didn’t heal me with a potion or salve.”

  Caymin smiled. “We are taught to do a bit more.”

  “Do you serve the devil?”

  Caymin tilted her head. “What is the devil?”

  “The tempter, the bringer of evil.”

  She laid her hand on Péist’s jaw. “Do we seem evil to you?”

  “We saved your life, holy man,” Péist said, speaking so Garvan could hear. “When we could have left you adrift to die.”

  Garvan frowned.

  “Is anyone wholly good or evil?” Caymin asked. “One or the other? We are taught to do no harm with our power. I did not grow up among humans, but I think perhaps mages are no better or worse than others.”

  He stared into the fire, thinking about what she’d said.

  “Your baseless fears that we are evil is what drove Timmin to do what he did.”

  Garvan looked at her. “And you say this other mage, Timmin, tried to steal the egg?”

  “He wanted to use Péist for his own purposes.”

  “As if I would have done what he wished,” Péist said, snorting sparks.

  “He may have had a way of forcing you to do his will,” Caymin said.

  “Did the boy, Diarmit, tell you the name of the monk he served?”

  Caymin tried to remember. “No. He never told me who his master was.”

  Péist raised his head. “And yet you question whether we are evil.”

  Garvan sighed. “I have much to think on, to pray on.”

  Caymin stood. “Pray all you like. You and your god do not change who we are.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Back to the Forest

  Péist continued to hunt for them all, but Garvan also fished, wading out into the water of the inlet and casting a net he had packed in his boat.

  “Fish are good, but it would take a boatful of them to satisfy me,” Péist said, using a talon to pick a fish bone from his teeth.

  With no further need to keep Péist’s existence a secret from Garvan, they took to flying during the day again. Caymin had nearly forgotten the joy and freedom of being strapped to the dragon’s back as they soared over the ocean. But still, there was no sign of any other land.

  “I have heard tales of lands far, far to the west,” Garvan said as they sat around his fire one evening while Péist hunted. “But those who tell the tales do not know for certain where they are. And the travelers went in ships, much larger than my boat, with provisions for the journey, enough to be on the water for many moons.”

  He looked across the fire at Caymin, studying her scars. “You told me you were not raised by humans. What did you mean?”

  “My village was attacked, ransacked by another kingdom.” Caymin heard the bitterness in her voice as she spoke, but she couldn’t help it. She raised a hand to the ridges on her face. “I was left to die. I called out and a family of badgers rescued me. They took care of me, taught me, raised me.”

  “What do you mean you called out?”

  “I speak to animals. Not just Péist and Beanna, but all.”

  He looked beyond her to the forest. “You can speak with all the animals out there?”

  She nodded. “I can. Most of them do not speak back to me here, because Péist has been hunting among them.”

  “It is always our choice,” Beanna said.

  Caymin smiled and translated, for Beanna could not make herself heard by Garvan as Péist could.

  “And other mages can do this also?”

  “Not all. Some are gifted with this ability, some can learn, and some cannot.”

  Garvan stirred the fire. “Do you know who attacked your village?”

  Caymin’s eyes flashed. “Yes. I have a cloak with their crest. It was the clan of one of the other apprentices. His father’s warriors were the ones who attacked us.”

  “I’m sorry, child.” Garvan watched her. “They killed all your family?”

  “They killed my father, but they took my mother.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “I saw it. In a spiritwalk.”

  “A spiritwalk?”

  Caymin nodded. “Enat gave me a potion and guided me the first time. I went again, on my own. I saw the attack. I saw them kill my father as he tried to protect us, and I saw them drag my mother away, leaving me in the fire.”

  “You saw all of this?”

  Tears stung her eyes and she turned away, not wanting Garvan to see her weak. He was quiet for long heartbeats, giving her time to collect herself.

  “So your mother might be alive?”

  Caymin swiped a hand over her eyes. “I do not know.”

  “Do you have this cloak with you? The one with the crest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see it one day. It may be I’ll recognize it.”

  “What good will that do?”

  He laughed. “You’ve a dragon, haven’t you? If your mother is still alive, I’m thinking you’d be able to find her.”

  “You think we should go back?”

  “Lass, you’ve turned my thinking on its head since I met you. I’ve no answers for what you and Péist should or shouldn’t do, but it seems to me that you were bonded for a reason. And leaving people like Timmin and whoever it is that the boy Diarmit serves running loose is not a good thing for others.”

  She tilted her head. “What about you? You said you were sent away for killing a man who was trying to harm another. Is it right for you to stay away?”

  “I’m vowed to obey my superior.”

  “Even when the superior is wrong?” Caymin had listened as he spoke of his god and the god-son, and decided his stories didn’t sound that different from Neela’s songs and tales of gods and goddesses. She didn’t believe in any of them, but kept those thoughts to herself. “I thought your Christ made enemies because he did what he knew to be right even when it angered those in authority.”

  He chuckled. “I should bring you back to argue with my brothers. You make more sense than all of them.” His expression sobered. “But you may be right. While I was on the sea, I realized I let myself be driven away for the wrong reasons.”

  “Perhaps one day we will all go back,” Beanna said.

  As the days shortened, and the sun traveled a lower arc through the sky, the weather began to worsen. Caymin had lost track of the days, but estimated it must be between Lughnasadh and Samhain.

  Caymin, Péist and Beanna sat huddled in their cave while a heavy fog blanketed the island. The fog had moved in from the sea four days ago, and was showing no signs of abating. They had flown down once to bring Garvan some meat and make sure he had all he needed. Caymin had asked Péist if they should bring him with them.

  Péist refused to fly Garvan to the mountaintop or to the caves. “Some things are for us alone,” he told Caymin.

  Secretly, she was relieved. She liked having the caves to themselves. With the entrance to the cave magically sealed to keep the fog and damp outside, they were warm and comfortable. She sat under the light of a torch, reading more of the scrolls they’d found.

  “How
did you come to be in our forest?” she asked.

  Péist lay curled up in his bed. “I do not know.”

  “Do you remember anything from before you were a worm?”

  He closed his eyes. “No. My earliest memory is of hunting in the forest, and then bonding with you.”

  She frowned down at the book. “It speaks of the hatching of the khrusallis, but nowhere does it say where dragon worms come from.” She looked at him. “You must come from somewhere.”

  “What of the different colors?” asked Beanna. “Does it say aught of that?”

  Caymin shook her head. “No. It does not.”

  “Crows are all the same color.”

  “How boring.” Péist opened one green eye. “From the shell fragments we have found, dragons come in all colors, but I do not know if there is a reason.”

  “It makes me sad, to think of all those dragons that were here at one time,” she said, closing the book. “Where have they all gone?”

  Outside the cave, the fog formed a solid wall against the night. She doused the torch and lay down on her bed. Beanna waddled over to curl up against her under her cloak. Lying in the dark, Caymin fingered the pattern of the crest woven into the fabric.

  Something awakened her. She sat up, but the cave was in complete darkness. At the entrance, the fog beckoned. She got up, leaving herself asleep with Péist and Beanna, and walked to the mouth of the cave. Whispers coaxed her, calling to her. Trusting the voices, she stepped out, into what should have been thin air, but her feet met solid ground. Like before, the mist parted just in front of her, only enough to lead her step by step, away from the cave. On and on she walked, following the whispers.

  When the fog parted, she found herself standing on a knoll overlooking a broad valley. Large birds flew through the sky, circling, wheeling – and she realized they weren’t birds. They were dragons. Dragons of every hue under the sun – green and yellow and blue and gray and bronze and crimson. Some had riders, but most did not.

  She stood in amazement at the glory of them.

  “Welcome, Caymin of Péist.”

  She turned to find a huge dragon beside her on the knoll. The voice that sounded in Caymin’s head was that of a female. Judging by the size of the ridges and horns growing from her head, she must be very old. Her scales gleamed black as onyx and her eyes burned yellow.