Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin (35 page)

“Rest while you can,”
said Beanna.
“We will wake you if we sense danger.”

Caymin shifted Péist’s heavy
khrusallis
to relieve the pressure on Ríordán’s back. It felt even warmer. She peeled back the cloth covering it and was blinded by the radiant beams of light that shot out of it. She flung the cloth back over the egg, but it was a long time before her eyes adjusted to the darkness again.

The sliver of moon had shifted so that it was ahead of them, and the stars had wheeled through the sky, and still they walked.

Dawn began to break through the clouds behind them.

“We must stop,”
Caymin said.
“You need to rest and eat.”

The elk didn’t argue. Ríordán knelt so that Caymin could slide off his back and lower the egg to the ground. She placed her hands on his back, rubbing and kneading the muscles. She whispered a spell of healing to ease the soreness from the burden he’d carried. He groaned in delight, his eyes closed.

She sat with Beanna while Ríordán and Osán grazed hungrily.

“How goes it with the egg?”
Beanna asked, hopping up onto the wrapped bundle and settling on it as if she were roosting.

“He continues to be agitated, restless,”
said Caymin.
“I wish someone knew to tell us what to expect.”

“I would guess that any who have witnessed what is coming are long dead.”

“Do you think he is dangerous?”

Beanna tapped the egg with her beak.
“I think he is a dragon.”

A cold rain had begun to fall as Caymin grunted to hoist the egg. Even using magic to lighten it, it was almost heavier than she could lift. She straddled Ríordán’s back with the egg clamped securely between her legs and grabbed a handful of hair to steady herself as he got to his feet. She pulled her cloak over her head. It didn’t keep her dry but, combined with the warmth from Péist and Ríordán, at least she wasn’t shivering with cold.

They trudged through a gray, lightless world as the rain fell more heavily. Beanna hunched down into a ball of tight, black feathers on Osán’s back, letting the rain run off her in rivulets.

Caymin sat engrossed in her own thoughts as the day passed with no letup in the rain and no change in the flat, dull light. She ate from her bag of food, offering bits to Beanna, and encouraged the elk to graze as they walked. They stripped leaves off trees and reached for mouthfuls of leafy branches from bushes they passed, but they kept moving through the steady downpour.

Caymin was just starting to wonder whether she might dare to start a fire for the night when she was startled by a sudden crack. The sound reverberated sharply through the forest. Ríordán and Osán stopped abruptly, their great heads high in the air as they sniffed for danger. Caymin looked around wildly for the source, her bow at the ready with an arrow nocked and half-drawn. Beanna flapped into the air, circling.

“What was it? Can you see anything?”
Caymin asked her.

“No.”

Another resounding crack broke through the thrum of the rainfall, and Caymin realized what it was.

“It is Péist.”

Ríordán knelt and Caymin rolled the egg to the ground. She pulled back the cloth and had to shield her eyes with one hand. The light coming from within the egg was blinding in its brilliance.

“It is opening.”

The gaps in the shell had widened, and Caymin saw Péist writhing inside the
khrusallis.
The shell cracked again and the gap widened. They all stared transfixed as the pieces of the shell slowly, excruciatingly opened.

Caymin kept her bow in one hand. They could go nowhere now. If Timmin chose this moment to attack, there would be no escape. She scanned the woods around them and asked Beanna to fly circles overhead.

“Nothing,”
said the crow, flapping back down to where pieces of the shell lay on the ground.
“It is taking him forever. My fledglings hatched in half this time.”

As if spurred by her comment, a taloned foot emerged, stretching. They moved back as more of Péist came out of the shell.

“How is this possible?”
asked Osán.
“The egg was not that big.”

Caymin wondered the same thing as more and more dragon kept unfolding from the confines of the
khrusallis.
One tightly furled wing expanded, a length of tail, a haunch, all covered in white scales so iridescent, they caused the raindrops to light up in rainbow colors as they fell.

At last, an enormous body, larger even than the giant elk, lay on the wet ground as Péist clawed at the remains of the egg. A long neck rose sinuously and, with a vicious shake of his head, the last remnants of the shell flew off. Péist raised his head to the sky and took his first breath of air as a dragon. He stood on legs too wobbly to hold him, his head and neck weaving as he tried to keep his balance. He snorted, blowing his nostrils clear, and sparks flew.

Caymin stood suddenly and turned to the elk.
“You must go!”

“What is wrong?”

“His hunger. I can feel it. It is bottomless now, and he will hunt soon. You must leave. I cannot have him harm you, but I will not be able to stop him.”

She placed her hands on their shoulders as they hesitated.
“Go, Osán. Take word back to Enat of what has happened. Tell her we will send word when we can. Please, Ríordán. You must leave us.”

He nuzzled her, his great antlers making a temporary shelter from the rain.
“Take care, little one. You and Beanna. You are certain he will not harm you?”

“I am certain. We are safe, but you are not.”

The elk retreated into the forest, looking back reluctantly as Péist stretched out both wings and roared to the sky.

Caymin and Beanna sat side by side, listening to the crashes coming from the forest. For two days, they had waited while Péist hunted, clumsily launching himself after deer, foxes, even voles. With the ruckus he made, the game had fled, leading him farther and farther from Caymin as he hunted.

“I do not understand how he is catching anything with all the noise he is making,”
Beanna said, perched on Caymin’s knee as they sat beside a fire.

Caymin would have agreed, but she had seen his head dart upward through the trees so fast that he had snagged a hawk in mid-flight. His strength and hunger were prodigious, even if he was completely lacking in grace.

At first, she had followed him, her bow nocked and ready, afraid Timmin would make an appearance, drawn by the commotion. But Péist was so ravenous and moved so quickly, that she soon realized Timmin was likely to be eaten if he did show himself. She figured Timmin was wise enough to have figured this out, based on the dragon lore she and Enat had found in his cottage. If he was near, he was biding his time, as even Caymin could not penetrate the all-encompassing hunger that drove Péist now.

Sometime in the night, a sudden silence woke Caymin from an uneasy sleep. Beanna, too, had her head up, listening to the quiet.

The circle of light cast by their fire seemed pitifully small as they tried to pierce the darkness around them. A light seemed to be moving through the forest, and Caymin gasped as Péist appeared. He still glowed white in the night, but he seemed even larger than he had when he tumbled out of his egg. A few feathers stuck to the scales of his face, and his talons were stained with blood.

Uncertain as to whether his terrible hunger had been sated, Caymin tucked Beanna under her arm as Péist approached. He crouched near her and reached his snout out to sniff her, his warm breath puffing on her face.

Caymin laid a tentative hand on his jaw.
“Have you eaten enough?”

She was startled when he replied,
“For now.”
He had never used words before.

“I will need to eat again soon, but we must travel.”
He lifted his head, looking to the west.
“That way.”

“Why? What lies in that direction?”

He snorted and sparks flew into the sky.
“I do not know, but we must go there.”

Beanna wriggled loose from Caymin’s protective grasp.
“And how are we supposed to travel with a great white worm without all the two-legs seeing us?”

He looked down at her, and tilted his massive head to fix one green eye on her, its vertical pupil contracting. Almost more quickly than Caymin’s eye could follow, he snapped his great jaws, missing Beanna by a hair’s breadth.

With a squawk, she flapped and fell onto her back.

Péist opened his jaws in unmistakable laughter.
“I am a worm no longer and you would not even be a mouthful.”

With as much dignity as she could muster, Beanna ruffled her feathers to settle them back in place and eyed him balefully.
“You will always be a white worm to me.”

They traveled for three more days. Occasionally, Péist stretched his wings, flapping them, testing them as they walked. When they reached the forest boundary, Caymin hesitated.

“If I cross this threshold, I will not be permitted to re-enter.”

Péist thrust his long, white neck skyward.
“We must go on.”

And so, they walked through the magical barrier protecting the forest. Just as when she had entered, they passed through a mist until they emerged on the other side. She tried to retrace her steps, but the mist led her directly back to where Péist and Beanna waited for her.

Beanna flapped to her shoulder.
“Do not worry, little one. When it is time, I can fly back to Enat.”

Caymin sighed and turned to the west. They traveled now by night. Beanna flew ahead as Caymin and Péist walked, and then she circled back to tell them which route would take them past the fewest villages. Caymin had tried various spells to dull Péist’s luminous glow, but none worked. He had rolled in the soft mud of a stream, but nothing clung to his scales. They shed the mud as easily as Beanna’s feathers shed water. Caymin could shed neither without using energy to cast a spell, so she traveled wet and dirty, wishing for a bath and a warm, dry bed to sleep in. Péist provided as best he could.

By day, they sheltered in remote places where he offered protection from the rain as Caymin slept. He did not need to sleep –
“I slept long enough in my egg,”
he said – but instead fell into a waking trance. Caymin could sense his mind and his feelings during those times, but it was as if from a distance.

A few times they had to stop while Péist hunted again. Caymin asked him not to snatch livestock.

“They are easy prey,”
Péist grumbled.

“But the villagers depend on them,”
Caymin argued.

“Are you a dragon or a worm?”
taunted Beanna.
“Go hunt.”

He was learning to be stealthier, and could now catch prey without waking the entire forest. His appetite was appeased with less food than when he had first hatched, and usually a half-night’s hunt could sate him enough that they could journey on.