Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin (21 page)

When she first met him, he had seemed kindly and wise, but now, Caymin found his presence unsettling. She often looked up to find him staring at her, and his probing gaze made her uncomfortable.

“I understand you made an interesting friend in the forest,” Timmin said to her one evening.

Caymin sat near the warmth of the fire, as the nights had grown cold. “Yes. Péist. Do you know him?”

“I don’t, no. But Enat said he’s the one who warned you the northmen were coming across the lake.”

“Yes.”

Enat sat nearby, mending a tear in a woolen tunic, as he filled a pipe with crushed leaves and lit it with a flick of a finger. Smoke puffed from both the bowl of the pipe and from his mouth. “Enat said you have connected with him in a way that lets you feel him at all times?”

Caymin nodded.

“Do you know where he is now?”

She shook her head. “I do not get such specific images from him most of the time. He is hunting.”

Timmin nodded, looking into the fire. He said nothing more, but Caymin had the feeling he was not done with asking about Péist.

To everyone’s surprise, Timmin began teaching the apprentices.

“We’ve never had lessons with him before,” Méav whispered. “He never left wherever it is he lives.”

Enat had taught them much about herbs and roots and barks and leaves and their various properties, but Timmin showed them how to make more than just teas and powders for different ailments.

“One sip of this potion, and someone will sleep for many hours,” he told them as he carefully measured his ingredients into a cauldron heating over a fire. “Useful if you ever need to slip past someone, or escape an enemy. And if you add just a few yew needles, it will put them so deeply asleep they will appear to be dead.”

“Yew needles are poisonous,” Cíana said.

Timmin nodded. “All of the yew tree is poisonous. But if you know how to brew this potion – and it only works in a very few recipes – you can use the poison to your advantage.”

Caymin had to admit these lessons were more exciting than learning to make simple salves and healing potions. Not as exciting as learning to control the elements or levitate things, but it was fascinating to watch him create different potions. He added the ingredients almost tenderly, as if the potion were a living thing.

“Anyone care to try it?” Timmin smiled as he dipped a wooden spoon into the pale green solution.

“I think not at this moment,” said Neela.

The apprentices all turned in surprise at her unexpected arrival.

“I have other work for them today, and it doesn’t involve sleeping.”

“I should have taken the potion,” Diarmit grumbled a short while later as they all shouldered square metal shovels and walked to a low, boggy area of the forest.

“We need to replenish our stock of peat,” Neela told them. “We’ll be spending the next few days working here.”

Gai looked around with a scowl. “This is –”

“We know,” Una interrupted. “This is servants’ work. But since we’ve no servants here and we need enough peat to keep the fires burning all winter, stop complaining and get to it.”

Caymin grinned at her and pushed her shovel into the soft, moist earth, thick with bits of rotted plants and roots. She welcomed the hard work and the sleep she hoped would be hers that night, as sleep had been hard to come by lately… ever since the night of her last spiritwalk.

Sometimes she woke in the night, fragments of that terrible night fresh in her mind, sometimes all mixed up with images of Péist and how he’d been hurt. She still couldn’t tell who had hurt him and wondered if Diarmit could be right about Gai. Always, when she woke, she turned to find Timmin awake on his bed, watching her as he had that night. And she knew he knew what was in her mind. In fact, she sometimes wondered if he didn’t cause her to go there in her sleep. She’d considered asking Enat how much longer he would stay with them, but Enat was kind. She’d taken her in, letting her invade her nice, quiet cottage. Caymin didn’t feel as if she had any right to complain.

They dug peat all afternoon, the heavy wet earth eliciting groans of fatigue from all of them. Daylight was fading as they returned to the village. Enat and Ivar had a hearty meal awaiting them – a chicken stew with cabbage and carrots and onions, and fresh bread.

Diarmit filled his bowl almost to overflowing, spooning stew into his mouth before he even sat. “Oh, this is so good.”

Caymin had to agree as she filled her own bowl. The day’s work had stirred her appetite. Enat looked at her legs.

“You’ve grown. Those leggings were down to your ankles when you first came here,” she observed. “They’re halfway to your knees now.”

Caymin looked down in surprise. Enat was right. She hadn’t noticed how she’d grown.

Cíana smiled at her. “You’re not a badger runt any longer.”

“Still a human runt, though,” Gai said. Cíana glared at him. “What? I’m just saying she’s still the smallest one here.”

Caymin shrugged. “He is right. I am the smallest.”

“Maybe,” said Ronan. “But don’t make her angry.”

Ivar scowled as the others burst into laughter. Daina asked Neela to tell them a story and she told a story of the Morrigan, challenging Cú Chulainn and predicting his death in battle.

The apprentices listened raptly to her tale.

“Does she really turn into a crow?” Daina asked when Neela finished.

Beanna chose that moment to fly down and land on Caymin’s shoulder.
“And why would she not become a crow?”

The ones who could understand her chuckled. Caymin offered her a bit of bread.

She accepted it, cocking her head to look around at them all.
“Why do humans sit and tell tales?”

“They are enjoyable to listen to,”
said Enat.

Beanna nibbled gently on Caymin’s ear.
“One day, they will tell tales of you, little one.”

Caymin flushed as Enat and some of the others turned to look at her. Diarmit suddenly choked on his stew, apparently oblivious to the unspoken conversation taking place around him.

“What did she say?” Daina asked.

“Nothing,” Caymin said quickly, giving Beanna a sidelong glance as the crow bobbed her head, laughing silently. “She said nothing.”

CHAPTER 13

The Worm Who Isn’t

W
here are you?”

Caymin wandered through the forest, only starlight to guide her in the darkness. She felt Péist and knew that he was near, but he would not come to her. Something compelled her to keep walking, keep searching, but,
“Stay away,”
she said to him. She struggled against the thing that made her continue, fought with it….

She started awake, finding herself back in her own bed. She refused to look toward where Timmin lay. He stayed on at Enat’s cottage, though Caymin was sure he was better and could have gone back to his own dwelling.

The equinox had passed, and daylight came later and later. She lay in the dark and heard Enat stir before dawn. Caymin joined her at the fire.

Enat spoke in a low voice so as not to wake Timmin. “Neela and I must travel to a village outside the forest. We’ve need of salt and flour and a few other things, so we’ll take things to trade. I should be back before nightfall. You and the others may have the day to yourselves. Ivar wants to look after our weapons, sharpening the swords and making new arrows in case the invaders return. You may help him if you wish or have the day to do whatever you would like.”

She packed a bag with pouches of herbs and roots, small pots of salves, along with food for her journey.

The sun was up when Timmin woke. He found Caymin outside the cottage, bent over a piece of parchment spread on a flat stone in her lap as she wrote with a sharpened quill dipped into a small pot of ink.

“What are you working so hard at?” Timmin asked as he came out, holding his staff.

She kept her eyes on her work. “I am writing down some of the potions you showed us.”

He leaned over to peer at her scroll. “You’ve a good memory. These are all written down in the scrolls in the meetinghouse.”

“I know. But this helps my writing.”

He chuckled. “So it does.” He stood and looked around. “I fancy a walk. Need to build my strength up a bit. Care to go with me?”

She looked up at that. Timmin never asked the apprentices to accompany him anywhere. “Yes.” She set her parchment and quill aside but then paused. “I should leave a message for Enat.”

“No need,” he said. “She knows.”

Caymin was a little puzzled, since Enat had not said anything of this before she left. Timmin, as if sensing Caymin’s hesitation, placed a hand on her shoulder, propelling her along with him.

They walked past the large hollowed tree, lying on its side, where Beanna had found her many months before. Caymin tried calling out to Beanna but heard nothing in response.

Timmin kept her in front of him, guiding her along forks in the path by placing his hand on her shoulder again and again to indicate which way she should go. As they walked, he spoke of trivial things, leaving Caymin to wonder where they were going and why. Twice, he made her pause, listening for a moment, and then continued on their way.

They walked for a long time, and it struck Caymin that Timmin was not tired, nor was he stooped and walking feebly as he had been since the invaders had come, but upright and with a purpose.

She was surprised to find them approaching the ring of stones she had found the night she claimed her name. The power of them pulled her even before they stepped inside.

She stood there, looking at Timmin who was staring at her.

“Call him.”

She wasn’t certain what he meant. “Call who?”

“Péist. Call him.”

“Why?”

Timmin grasped his staff with both hands, leaning on it. “I wish to meet him. That is all.”

She frowned. “But why?”

He looked at her appraisingly. “If he is the creature I think he is, I have never met one, and I must meet him.”

She could feel Péist as she always did, but the feeling was magnified here. Tentatively, she reached out to him, asking if he was near. She was not surprised to find that he was.

“Timmin wishes to meet you, but I do not know if it is safe.”

Timmin’s eyes narrowed, and she knew he had understood. For a time, she felt nothing. Timmin stood patiently, watching her. Something rustled in the leaves from outside the circle and Péist appeared. He wriggled into the stone circle, his snout busily sniffing the air as he approached. His white skin still bore the marks of his injuries.

“You are well?”
She laid a hand on him as he came to her side.

He replied that he was.

Timmin stared at the white worm, a hungry look in his eyes.
“You are Péist?”

Caymin heard his question and felt Péist’s hesitation, as he did not answer.

Timmin approached and dropped to one knee.
“I have long wanted to meet one of your kind.”

He held out a hand, but Péist recoiled, wriggling closer to Caymin, where she could feel him trembling as he nudged against her leg.

Timmin stood, and his eyes flashed.
“Do you not know what I could offer you? What we could be together?”

His staff glowed red.

“Leave him alone,” Caymin said. “If he wanted to go with you, he would.”

“What do you know of anything, you witless girl?” Timmin glowered at them. “You know nothing. You don’t even know what sits beside you. What he could mean for our kind.”

He turned and paced around the circle. “While the monks with their Christ spread everywhere and convince their ignorant flocks that we are evil, while they hunt us down and destroy our sacred sites, we flee like cowards to hide away in the few strongholds left to us.” He pointed. “Invaders from the north came here, looking for such as him. They know what he could mean, while our own people do not!”

He whirled and a sudden wind rose, whipping his hair and beard. “It is time we took back what is ours.”

Ominous clouds gathered and darkened the day, blotting out the weak autumn sunlight. He brought his staff down and the earth trembled while the staff went from red to white.

Caymin fell to her knees beside Péist and wrapped an arm around him as he cowered next to her.

Timmin pointed. “He could save us! He could avenge us upon all who would destroy us! But you will never know how to use him and all he could bring us. I cannot allow this.”

He raised his staff and aimed it at them. Caymin shielded Péist with her body as something like lightning shot from the end of Timmin’s staff. She twisted away as the bolt hit her. An enormous clap of thunder shook the ground and she heard a cry. She looked up in time to see Timmin landing in a crumpled heap several feet away.

Caymin slowly sat up, checking to make sure Péist was unhurt.
“Go,”
she told him, but he would not leave her.

Footsteps pounded, and she turned to find Enat and Neela running into the circle. They quickly took in the scene as Timmin lay motionless, blood running from his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Caymin asked.