“Call to me if you need me for anything,” Caymin told them.
She concentrated on her lessons again, or tried to. She often found herself sitting in the meetinghouse with the other apprentices, her cauldron bubbling or some spell half-murmured, but then she would become distracted when she heard faint stirrings from the badgers, even when they weren’t speaking directly to her.
“I never used to hear them from this far away before,” she told Enat, rubbing her forehead. “And Péist is growing more insistent. He reaches out to me day and night now. I think maybe he is jealous.”
Enat eyed her. “Perhaps it’s a combination of how your power has grown and the forest magnifying everything.”
“It is hard to focus.”
“This might be a good time for you to learn to block your mind,” Enat said. “It is a useful skill for all of us anyhow, and is normally saved for the older apprentices, but it will be especially good for you, with so many tugging at you.”
“What do I do?”
“It is different for each,” said Enat. “Some can clear their minds, but I find that exceedingly difficult. As soon I clear my mind, it fills up with all kinds of nonsense. I find it easier to focus so hard on one thing, that there is no room for anything else.”
Caymin closed her eyes tightly, and then opened them again when she heard Enat’s laugh.
“You’d best not learn to do this with your eyes closed,” Enat said. “It would be most inconvenient if you had to close your eyes every time you needed to block someone. Aside from the practical aspect that you might have to do this in the middle of a confrontation, you’ll want to master the skill in such a way that others will not know when you’re blocking.”
Caymin frowned. “This sounds very difficult.”
“It can be,” Enat said with a shrug. “For you, talking to animals comes naturally, while it doesn’t for others. Some can block without even having to think about it, while you may have to work to learn to do this.”
Enat prodded the fire. “Stare into the flames, find something to focus on – maybe a memory or something you see in the fire itself.”
Caymin concentrated on the way the flames licked the blocks of peat, as if they were alive. She felt something pushing, almost a physical thing, pushing into her thoughts and she found herself remembering the end of the last winter when Enat came to find her.
“You’re not blocking me,” Enat said quietly. “You’re letting me right in.”
“But how do I stop you?”
“You must concentrate harder, do not let me in.”
Caymin glared at the fire now, and this time, when the push came, she relived her spiritwalk the night she saw her mother for the first time.
“Try again.”
She renewed her focus on the fire, trying to do as Enat said and fill her mind with what she saw, but time after time, Enat pushed through.
She heard Enat sigh, and the pushing stopped.
“This will not be easy for you,” Enat said. “You’ve never tried to conceal your emotions from anyone. You never needed to, so it doesn’t come naturally to you. We’ll keep practicing, but not now.”
The apprentices were given a free afternoon. They ate a mid-day meal and Diarmit announced he was going to the boys’ cottage to sleep.
“Why is he so sleepy all the time?” Caymin asked.
Gai shrugged. “Because he’s lazy? All he does is sleep and eat. I’m going to the forge with Ivar. Want to come along?”
Caymin shook her head. “I promised Broc I would come to visit.”
Daina and Cíana accompanied Caymin to the sett, each carrying a small basket of carrots or dried venison or nuts. They walked through snow almost up to their knees.
“How old are the cubs now?” Daina asked, huffing along behind Caymin.
“Almost a moon.”
They trudged for a while before coming to an area the badgers had cleared of snow.
“We have come for a visit,” Caymin called.
She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled down a long tunnel, enlarged to accommodate humans. Cíana and Daina followed. They came to a larger chamber where Broc lay with her four new cubs as they nursed.
“We brought food.”
“It’s darker than night in here,” said Daina. “How do you see anything?”
Caymin conjured a small flame to illuminate the chamber. “I forgot. I cannot see enough to be able to read, but enough to tell friend from foe.”
The other badgers crowded around, greeting Caymin. Somewhat more shyly, they stretched their noses out to sniff Cíana and Daina, allowing them to stroke their heads.
“Thank you, little one,” said Broc.
Cuán pulled a strip of venison from the basket and brought it to Broc.
“They’re so cute,” Daina said, looking at the newborn cubs. “May I hold one?”
Caymin translated for her, and Broc nudged one of the cubs in her direction. Daina picked it up, and it cried and wriggled. It settled as she snuggled it against her chest, keeping it warm.
“I never thought to have two-legs in our sett, beyond you, little one,” Cuán said.
“I never thought to have you and my two-leg friends all together.”
Cíana giggled. “I like being called a two-leg.”
“I had to learn many new words when Enat came to get me,” Caymin said, remembering how strange and new everything seemed back then.
“Please tell Enat again how grateful we are to her for sending help to us,” Broc said. “Has there been any sign of that two-leg, Timmin?”
Caymin felt Cíana tense next to her, though Daina continued to croon and stroke the badger cub, oblivious to the unspoken conversation taking place around her.
“No,” Caymin said. She waited a moment, but Cíana kept her silence. “There has been no sign of him.”
The girls took their leave shortly thereafter, with a promise to come back soon. Caymin lingered for just a moment.
“Be well, little one,” said Broc.
“And you.”
As the girls walked back through the snow to the village, Daina chattered on and on about how she never thought she’d meet badgers and how cute the cubs were. Caymin stayed silent and noticed that Cíana said nothing.
When they neared Enat’s cottage, Caymin veered off, but hadn’t gone ten paces before Cíana circled around and caught up to her.
“I told Daina I’d forgotten something,” she said. “I want to talk to you.”
Caymin kept walking. Cíana grabbed her arm to pull her to a halt. “You know what I mean. Tell me about Timmin.”
Caymin glanced around, but all near them was quiet. Still, she cast a spell to block any from hearing what they said.
“The elders know, but Enat asked me not to tell anyone else. If I tell you, you will not tell the others?”
“I won’t. I give you my word.”
Caymin bit her lip for a moment as she thought. “Do you know why Timmin left the forest?”
Cíana shook her head. “No one does. We guessed he had a disagreement with the other elders.”
Caymin scoffed. “You are partially right. Timmin… he wanted something. And he tried to use me to get it. Enat and Neela saved me from him. At the circle of stones. They made him leave the forest.”
“But what could he want from you that badly?”
“Péist.”
Cíana laughed a little. “The worm-creature? The one who warned you the invaders were coming across the lake? Why in the world would Timmin want him?”
Caymin pulled Cíana down to sit under the shelter of a rowan tree where the ground was clear of snow. “Because Péist is a dragon cub. At least, Enat believes he is. And Timmin wanted him. Wanted to control him and use him to drive the invaders and the believers of the Christ from our land.”
Cíana’s mouth fell open and she said nothing for several heartbeats. “A dragon cub. You’re sure?”
“I am not. But Enat thinks he is.
The invader we caught had a dragon on the brooch holding his cloak and he said something about dragons in his speech. After the invaders were gone, Timmin asked me many questions, and then one day, took me to the circle of stones and made me call Péist. He tried to take Péist away, but his magic rebounded.”
Cíana gasped. “Like the day Enat fought Ivar to make you protect her.”
Caymin nodded. “I did not mean to, but my power rose to protect Péist, and Timmin was thrown back. Enat and Neela came then and made him leave the forest.”
“But what has this to do with the badgers?”
“Enat thought Timmin might try to find them and use them to force me to do as he wishes. She sent Beanna to them first, asking them to come to the forest for protection.”
Cíana’s mouth fell open again. “This is why they’re here?”
Caymin nodded.
“And was he after them?”
“It seems he was.”
Cíana sat there, absorbing all of this. “Timmin must be desperate, if he would go to such lengths to get Péist.”
“And Enat is worried that the protections around the forest may not be enough to keep him out.”
“The forest and the elders are powerful.”
Caymin’s expression darkened. “So is Timmin.”
The cold softened and the snow melted, carrying a hint of spring on the air.
“We celebrate Imbolc next moon,” said Enat one evening as she and Caymin sat near the hearth. Enat paused her writing in the book she kept, her book of days, she called it. “It will be one year since I came to you and we started our journey here.”
Caymin looked up from the arrow she was fletching. “You are right. I had not realized.”
“How would you like to celebrate?”
Caymin tilted her head. “I do not understand.”
“To mark the date. Humans often celebrate dates or occasions that are meaningful to them. I think ’twas very meaningful, the day I found you. I’d like to celebrate.”
Caymin bent her head back over her arrow shaft, tightly pulling the thread she was using to bind crow feathers Beanna had brought her. “Everyone will celebrate Imbolc, will they not?”
“Aye, they will. But we can do something additional.”
“Perhaps you and I could share a meal with the badgers?”
Enat smiled. “I think that is an excellent way to celebrate, since my coming took you away from them.”
Caymin’s stomach growled.
“You spoke of food,” Enat said with a chuckle. “What would you like to eat?”
“Porridge?” Caymin looked up hopefully.
“Porridge it is.”
“I will make it.”
Caymin set aside her arrow. Just as she poured the ground grain into two bowls, her head snapped up.
“What is it?” Enat asked.
“Péist! He is in trouble.”
Enat grabbed her staff and followed Caymin into the dark forest as she ran unerringly in the direction from which Péist continued to cry out.
“This way!”
Caymin scrambled over boulders and crawled under fallen trees, leaving Enat to follow. On and on she ran, following the sound of his cries in her head. She came to a small clearing, and even in the dim light from the quarter-moon, she could see that there had been a disturbance. Broken branches were scattered about, and the leaves and dirt on the forest floor had been dug and tossed over what remained of the snow. She knelt down and sniffed. Blood.
Caymin stopped to listen. She thought she heard running footsteps, but a moment later, Enat appeared and ran up behind her.
“What is it?” Enat gasped.
“I am not sure yet.” Caymin pointed. “A fight? Someone was injured.”
She and Enat paused, listening.
“Péist?” She called out, trying to hear him, but all was quiet now.
She closed her eyes, reaching out and felt… not Péist’s thoughts as she had. It was different. “This way.” She crept toward an outcropping of rock and dropped to her hands and knees. “I think he is in here.”
She had to get on her belly to wriggle into the opening under the rocks. The pitch black of the crevice suddenly glowed with a faint light. She gathered her power, ready to throw a defensive spell if needed, but the light continued to pulse. Cautiously, she crawled forward and saw an orb, about the size of her head. It glowed with a white luminescence, waxing and waning from inside, as if some creature breathed within. She reached out and was surprised to feel that it was warm. She rolled it to her and gathered it in one arm as she wriggled her way back out of the crevice to where Enat waited.
“What is that?” Enat laid a hand on the object.
Caymin looked at her, her face illuminated by the light coming from the orb. “It is Péist.”
CHAPTER 19
The Dragon Egg
Enat asked no more questions until they were well away from the clearing. Caymin carried the orb under her tunic to hide its light. She kept glancing behind them, fearful whoever had fought with Péist might be following them, but all was still.
They came to a dense thicket of blackthorn, a few white flowers already blooming. Enat whispered and the branches parted. They crawled under the hedge and Enat closed the wall of thorns around them again. She took the additional precaution of setting an enchantment to keep them from being overheard.
“You’re sure this is Péist?”
Caymin nodded, setting the heavy object on her lap. “He is not communicating as he did before, but I can feel… things. He is injured, but healing. Whatever or whoever he fought with hurt him.”
She looked up. “Did they, whoever they were, do this to him?”
Enat didn’t answer immediately. She picked up the orb and held it, pulsing in her hands, its light illuminating their thorny enclosure. “I think not,” she said at last. “I think Péist did this to himself.” She looked at Caymin. “Dragon lore tells us that dragons hatch from eggs, and that’s why no one recognized Péist for what he is. No one in our lifetime has ever seen a dragon egg. It may be that the worm-like Péist we have known is a stage dragons go through, much like a caterpillar. If so, then this is not truly an egg, but more a khrusallis.”
“What is that?”
“Certain creatures encase themselves in a protective shell as they grow, in order to transform themselves,” said Enat. “When they’re ready, they emerge as something very different from what they were. Many winged creatures, not birds, but other winged creatures, such as butterflies, do this.”
“You mean, when he hatches from this, this khrusallis, he will be a dragon?”
Enat shrugged. “I can’t know for certain, but I believe so.”
Caymin stared at the glowing sphere in Enat’s hands. “How long will this last? When will he hatch?”
“I’ve no way of knowing. The tales tell of eggs being carried from place to place for many, many winters without hatching.”
“How many?”
Enat shook her head. “I simply don’t know, Caymin. Those tales are only that, stories. But one thing I know is that in those stories, none of those dragons had already bonded with a human.”
The expression of wonder on Enat’s face sobered as she handed the egg back to Caymin.
“The tales also tell of wars being fought over dragon eggs,” Enat added.
“Then he is still not safe in this form.”
“No, he is not.”
Caymin hugged the sphere to her, feeling its warmth, feeling Péist inside. “What can we do to keep him safe?”
Enat thought for long heartbeats before saying, “This goes against everything we believe here, but I think we must keep this secret from everyone. Even Neela and Ivar. And you should not tell any of the apprentices.”
“Cíana knows,” Caymin said. “She heard Broc ask about Timmin, and she asked what she was speaking of. I know you told me to tell no one, but she asked and I did not know what to say.”
“Tel
l no one else,” Enat said firmly. “I know you don’t know how to lie, Caymin, but this is very important. We cannot let anyone know that Péist is now an egg. He will become a target for any who want to steal him. We must both lie and tell any who ask that he has left the forest. Can you do this?”
“To keep Péist safe, yes.” Caymin ran a hand over the smooth warmth of the khrusallis. “But where can we keep him?”
“Let’s take him to the badgers.” Enat nodded. “They’ll protect him as they once protected you. Only a fool would take on an angry badger.”
Caymin breathed a sigh of relief. “They will take care of him.”
When Caymin joined the other apprentices the next day, she watched them to see if any showed signs of having been in a fight. To her dismay, both Gai and Niall had cuts and bruises.
“Boys,” Una said with a shake of her head. “They were practicing sparring with staffs and didn’t enchant them for protection.”
“Why?”
“Because they wanted to see who was the better fighter, they said.” She laughed, but Caymin did not.
Tucked deep in the sett, covered by a mound of dirt, leaves and moss, was Péist’s egg. She couldn’t hear him as she had before, but she felt him, like a heartbeat, low and steady, and it reassured her.
Diarmit limped into the meetinghouse.
“What happened to you?” Cíana asked him as he dropped onto the bench.
“He tripped in the dark, going to the latrine,” Gai said, laughing.
Diarmit’s cheeks reddened, but he chuckled along as he reached for an oatcake.
Caymin stared morosely at the table, her chin resting on her fist. Péist was in danger from someone here, or from some unknown person hiding in the forest. Lessons on making potions or learning to float feathers did not seem very important at the moment.
Ivar came in and the others all grew quiet. Caymin didn’t bother to look up.
“Today, we are going to have you practice attacking and blocking one another,” said Ivar. Caymin felt the boys shift eagerly. “Not with weapons, but with magic.” At these words, she sat up.
Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin Page 19
