“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.”
Ash translated, and Cíana smiled, looking proudly around at the others.
To Diarmit, Beanna said, “This one eats enough for three.” The others laughed raucously as Ash told the group what she had said.
“So you have a trained crow,” Gai said.
Beanna hopped onto his knee, and Ash was pleased to see him jump. “Tell this one I have seen him in the forest, practicing his magic. He knows of what I speak. Tell him the forest is restless and will not allow him to continue.”
Ash repeated Beanna’s words as the crow flew back to her shoulder. Patches
of scarlet rose in Gai’s pale cheeks.
“What does that mean?” Cíana turned to him. “What is the bird talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” Gai said, but he looked at Ash and Beanna shrewdly.
“So that’s how the badgers taught you?” Méav asked. “You can talk to them?”
Ash nodded, reaching up to stroke Beanna’s feathers. “Thank you.”
The crow gave her ear a gentle tug with her beak and flew off into the night.
The others looked at Ash with new respect. Cíana reached up and ran her hand over the short hair covering Ash’s head. “Did you keep it short when you lived with badgers?”
“No,” Ash said, smiling. “I had no means of cutting it. I asked Enat to cut it for me.”
“Ash?”
They all jumped at the sound of Enat’s voice.
“It’s time for us to leave.”
Something in Enat’s tone made Ash feel she had done something wrong. In silence, she followed Enat back to their cottage.
“Sit,” Enat said, indicating a stool near the hearth. She stirred the fire and took an adjacent stool. “What happened tonight?”
Ash told her all that had occurred. She frowned in puzzlement. “I have never felt anything like what I felt when Gai did not believe me.”
Enat watched her through narrowed eyes. “You were angry. I felt it.”
“Angry?”
“You were annoyed, displeased. You wanted to make him sorry for what he had said.”
Ash looked at her, realizing Enat was right. “Yes. I had never felt that before.”
“And you used your power, your ability to communicate to call a creature to you and prove him wrong.” Enat’s voice was gentle, but Ash hung her head in shame.
“Yes.”
Enat was quiet for a long time, staring into the flames. “Ash, you’ll be tempted many times to use your power to impress people, to make them fear you or like you. You may even be tempted to use it against others.” Ash opened her mouth to protest, but Enat held up a hand. “You must learn when to use your power and when not to. Animals like the badgers you lived with are simple creatures. They care for their own; they are hunter or hunted; they raise their young and send them out to raise more young. Humans are more complicated than that. We can choose to do good or evil. We can –”
She stopped at the blank expression on Ash’s face. “Never mind. Go to bed. It’s late.”
Ash went to her sleeping mat and pulled her old cloak over her. As she drifted to sleep, she wondered what Beanna had meant, what she had seen Gai doing.
Ash woke to the sound of a soft rain falling. She lay there, still feeling troubled by all that had occurred the evening before.
“You are awake?” Enat was at the fire, stirring a pot. “Come and eat.”
She dished out some porridge into a bowl. This new delight had become one of Ash’s favorites, sweetened with a bit of honey. She sat next to Enat, dipping her fingers into the porridge. Enat cleared her throat and held out a wooden spoon. Ash scowled. Eating with her fingers was so much easier than this awkward implement. She grasped it in her fist and scooped some porridge into her mouth.
They ate in silence until their bowls were empty. Ash scraped the last of her porridge from her bowl while Enat poured tea into two cups. Handing one to Ash, she said, “Tell me what troubles you.”
Ash stared into the fire. “The others can do things I cannot.”
“And you can do what they cannot,” Enat said. “You will all learn. Méav, Ronan and the other older ones have been with us two or more winters. They have had time to study. Cíana, Daina and Gai are a little older than you. They have been here since last summer. Diarmit only arrived four moons ago. You will find your way with your magic.”
Ash cocked her head. “Beanna said she had seen Gai in the forest, practicing magic that made the forest restless. What did she mean?”
Enat looked at her sharply. “Did she say more?”
Ash shook her head.
“Gai is a king’s son,” Enat said.
“What is a king?”
Enat sighed. “There is so much you don’t know.” She paused. “Among humans, there are clans, like yours. They gather together to protect what they have, but they often want what others have – land, wealth, crops. And they will fight to take it from one another.”
A distant memory flashed through Ash’s mind – shouts and the clanging of weapons and screams of pain – and then it was gone.
“The leader of a clan is a king, or a woman may be queen,” Enat continued. “So Gai is the son of a leader. His older brother will become king in his time, and Gai will be expected to return and help him rule with his magic.”
Ash looked at her. “He would use magic to control other humans?”
“He might. This is what I was trying to explain to you last night. Evil is when you use your power to deliberately harm others rather than help them. And not just those with magic. Those without magic can also be evil, using force to make others do their will.”
“Is Gai evil?”
“No,” Enat said quickly. “Not yet. But there is an emptiness in him. He was not raised with love as you were. His mother died when he was born, and his father and brother had little time for him. He has had to make his own way, and he feels a need to prove himself. Gai may even become king himself if his brother dies.”
She looked at Ash with thoughtful eyes and reached for the empty bowl sitting at the girl’s feet.
“When this bowl is empty, there is room to fill it with anything – porridge or muck. Good or bad. But if I fill it first with porridge, there is no room left for anything bad. Gai is like this bowl right now. If we can help to fill him with goodness, there will be no room for evil.”
Ash looked puzzled. “How can we do that?”
“You feel you are missing something compared to the others because you were not raised in a human family, but you also were not tainted by the bad things people can do to one another. You are different, in a good way. You can help the others, including Gai, to see things differently. Teach them the way Broc and Cuán taught you.”
CHAPTER 5
Elements
Ash’s training began in earnest after that night. Neela and Ivar were their teachers most days, taking the young ones into the forest and teaching them more of the herbs and plants there, teaching them how to control their magic.
“It will be different for each of you, how you tap into your power, but one thing is true for all. You’ll find it easier here,” said Neela. “The life-force of the forest will aid you. If you were to go out into the world as you are now, it would be difficult for you to harness your power. You probably could only perform magic by accident.”
Ash was reminded of the night she had healed Cuán, and knew that it had only been in the terror of that night that she had been able to channel the ability to heal him.
Neela took them this day far from the village. As they walked, Ash wondered again how extensive this forest must be. Neela led them deep into a grove of oaks, and asked them each to go to a tree. They spread out while Neela herself went to the largest tree in the center of the grove.
“This tree is the mother of this grove,” she said, laying her hands on the massive trunk. “All of these trees are her children. All came from acorns she dropped over the winters. Listen.”
She closed her eyes. Ash sat at the base of her tree and laid her hands on its roots. She knew what these ancient trees felt like from her lessons with Enat, but even she was surprised to feel echoes of Neela’s touch come to her like a tiny shiver of awareness in the tree she clasped.
Cíana next to her gasped as she felt it also. They smiled at each other.
“Each tree is still connected to the mother tree and to the others,” Neela explained. “They communicate with one another, much as we do. We cannot cut one without doing harm to the others. This is true in every forest.”
The other apprentices looked perpl
exed as they struggled to feel something. Neela went from one to the next, whispering, laying her hands over top of theirs, guiding them. Ash watched as Neela went to Gai. Remembering what Enat had said to her, she was curious to see whether he would feel the power of these beings. She could not hear what Neela said to him, but Gai closed his eyes and laid his hands again on the tree where he stood. His pale face at first was expressionless, but as he felt and listened, his features softened. A look of wonder came over him, and when he opened his eyes and met Ash’s gaze, for just a moment, it was like looking into the soft eyes of a deer. Almost immediately, the softness was gone, replaced by his usual hard expression.
“That was amazing,” said Daina a short while later as they began their trek back to the village. “It reminded me how small we are.”
“It reminded me how hungry I am,” said Diarmit.
Cíana laughed. “You’re always hungry.”
Diarmit shrugged. “Aye.” He eyed Ash as they walked. “Why do you limp?”
Ash felt heat rise in her cheeks.
“Leave her alone,” Cíana said.
“Why? I’m only asking,” Diarmit said.
“My leg was burned,” Ash said. She pulled up her legging and showed them. “It will not straighten. Nor my arm.”
Cíana winced. “Does it hurt?”
Ash shook her head. “Not unless I try to force it.”
“Can you run?”
Ash grinned at Diarmit. “I can beat you back to the village.” And she took off with her strange lopsided gait that nevertheless was light as a rabbit as she ran through the underbrush rather than along the trail, scrambling under branches and hopping over roots and rocks, arriving back at the village well before Diarmit and the others.
“Now I’m hungrier than ever,” Diarmit huffed as he bent over, his hands braced on his knees.
“We thought you might be.”
Ash turned to find Enat standing at the door to the largest building. No one lived in it. It served as a space for teaching or meetings of the elders of the village or a place to tell stories if the sky was raining or snowing. Today, a large pot hung over the fire and lured them inside with the smell of food.
Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin Page 5
