Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin (10 page)

“Be patient,” urged Enat when Ash grew frustrated. “This is not magic. No power can help you, and in this you are not behind the others. Most of our apprentices come from humble beginnings and have never seen writing in their lives. Diarmit has not. Neither did Daina or Cíana before they came here.”

“Gai has,” Ash said resentfully. “He said his father’s house had many books and scrolls. He had a teacher when he was young.”

Enat looked at her with some amusement. “Gai had many things growing up that most of us have never had. I certainly had never seen a book or writing before I came here to learn.”

Ash swallowed her retort. “I forgot. You said you grew up in a family that did not have much.”

“We’ve few wealthy people in our land.” Enat carefully rolled up the scroll she had been reading from. “You watched the people in the village near your sett. They were farmers and hunters. They did not have wealth. They most certainly did not have books. That is why we tell stories and sing songs. Neela studied for a long time to learn our stories. When most do not know how to read or write, and books are scarce, ’tis the only way we can pass our knowledge and traditions along.”

Ash was silent as she thought about this.

“Do not envy Gai the things he had,” Enat said. “He would be the first to say they don’t make up for the things he did not have.”

Ash snorted. “I do not believe Gai would admit any such thing. Not to me.”

“Why is there this feeling of ill will between you?”

Ash opened her mouth to answer but then shut it again. “I do not know.”

“Could it be that you are jealous?”

Ash frowned. “I do not understand.”

“Envious,” Enat explained. “Wishing to have what the other has.”

Ash flushed. “Perhaps. Gai comes from wealth I cannot imagine.”

“I did not mean only you,” Enat said. “I meant jealous of each other. Do you think Gai could be jealous of you?”

Ash’s mouth fell open, and Enat smiled.

“Why would Gai be jealous of me?”

“Can you not see why?” Enat tucked the rolled-up scroll securely on its shelf and gathered up her bag. Ash followed her as they made their way back to the cottage.

“No,” Ash said. “I cannot see any reason why Gai would be jealous of me.”

Enat walked on in silence for a bit before saying, “You are learning quickly, and this after you started with so much less.”

“But… but I cannot fight,” Ash sputtered.

Enat gave an impatient wave of her hand. “Fighting. Bah. ’Tis necessary to know how to fight, yes, but it’s the least important thing we teach you. I don’t care if you never defeat an enemy with a sword or staff.”

Ash laughed and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth at the unexpected sound. Enat smiled.

“That is good,” Ash said, lowering her hand. “Because I probably never will.”

“All the better. Those who can, tend to rely on physical force to get their way. I would be very happy if you never do that.”

They reached their cottage. Ash squatted to light the fire – “without magic,” Enat reminded her. Ash grinned and struck the steel to the flint. The spark ignited the tinder, and flames began to lick at the little branches and fibers she had piled up. As the flames grew, she added a few blocks of peat. When the fire was burning well, she took the pail to the stream to fetch water for their dinner.

When she got back to the cottage, Enat poured some of the water into a kettle on the fire to heat. She ladled more of the water onto some ground flour to make some loaves while Ash chopped carrots and turnips, dropping them into the kettle.

“It would be a worthwhile thing,” Enat said as she kneaded the flour mix, “if you could find a way to be friendly with Gai.”

“That is easier to say than to do.”

“Many things are.”

CHAPTER 6

Provocation and Promise

W
eeks passed, and still Ash could not overcome any of the others when they sparred. Time and again, whether it was Diarmit or Cíana or Gai or Daina, Ash was forced off-balance, unable to raise her weapon quickly enough to counter their blows.

Ivar fumed as he watched. “She is hopeless.”

“She is not,” Enat said sharply. “You have simply not learned how to get the best from her.”

Enat rarely came to the sparring ground, but she began to appear more regularly. While Ivar coached the apprentices in the use of sword and staff, Enat taught them how to use a bow. There were bows of varying thicknesses and weights with the other weapons, but Enat’s bow was beautiful, made of smooth black wood, carved with intricate designs.

“This is a woman’s weapon,” Gai said, dropping his bow and picking up a sword, hefting it with both hands.

Enat whirled, shooting an arrow at Niall’s feet, a hundred paces away.

“It is much more effective to keep your enemy at a distance if you can,” she said with a reproving glance in Gai’s direction. “By the time he gets close enough for you to use a sword or staff, you may have already lost your advantage.”

Ash struggled with this as she had with sword and staff. Her scarred right arm wouldn’t straighten enough to allow her to draw the bow as the others did, with the left arm already extended, so she learned to nock the arrow and grasp the bowstring first, and then push the bow out with her left arm.

“It’s not the right way,” Gai complained.

“It works,” Enat said. “That’s all that will matter if she ever has to use it.”

Ash’s arms trembled trying to hold the draw and aim. Even using the lightest bow, she could only hold the draw for a heartbeat or two, and her arrows flew wildly. She practiced every chance she got, raising welts on the inside of her left elbow from the twang of the bowstring. Enat made her a leather guard to tie around her arm. Despite Ash’s reluctance to wear anything leather, the relief the guard offered was welcome. For days and days, she practiced, gradually getting stronger until she could hold the draw, her right thumb resting against her jaw as she settled to take aim.

“Well done,” Enat said as Ash loosed an arrow and it joined the others bristling from the center of the target. Ash smiled as Enat walked on.

Ivar and Niall came over from where they had been practicing, using real swords. Breathing hard, they joined Enat and Neela who were watching from the edge of the archery range.

“That is fine, from a distance,” Ivar said, leaning on his sword. “But she’ll never defeat an enemy who has made it close enough for hand to hand fighting.”

Enat eyed him. “You think not?”

“Have you watched her spar?” Ivar laughed. “She can’t best anyone here.”

Enat shrugged. “I told you, you’ve yet to find the right way to motivate her.”

“And you have?”

Without warning, Enat seized Niall’s sword and swung it at Ivar, forcing him to leap back and defend himself. She allowed him no time to question her, but began fighting in earnest, the clang of their swords resounding through the sparring yard. All stopped to watch, including Ash. Blow for blow, Enat met Ivar, blocking his sword, he blocking hers as she attacked, but his greater size began to tell as Enat was forced to retreat step by step. She suddenly stumbled and fell. Ivar raised his sword over his head.

With a scream, Ash fired an arrow at Ivar. It tore through his beard, startling him as he cursed. She ran and leapt between him and Enat, crouching and snarling like an animal, her teeth bared. She raised a hand, and Ivar was thrown backward, the force of her power lifting him off his feet. He soared through the air and landed on his back with a sickening thud.

All was silent, and it seemed no one dared move for a moment. Enat and Ivar both sat up.

“I told you,” Enat said. She got to her feet and went to Ivar, whose face had gone from white to a furious red, and offered him a hand. She pulled him to his feet as he glared at Ash. “She only needed the right motivation.”

“She shot an arrow at me!”

“She missed you.”

“By a hair’s breadth.”

“A hair is as good as an arm if it misses.”

“Enough.”

Ash sat with the younger apprentices outside the meetinghouse where the elders and the older apprentices argued her fate. Ash listened to the voices. One was unfamiliar. It belonged to an old man, much older than Enat to judge by his wizened appearance. His name was Timmin. He had been summoned by the others when Ivar and Enat continued arguing Ash’s punishment, or whether she was to be punished at all. Patiently, they had sat and waited for him to come from some distant part of the forest.

“Timmin is First Mage and prefers to live alone,” Enat had murmured to Ash while they waited. “He studies the stars and the skies, looking for portents as to the future.”

Ash frowned. “Can anyone see the future?”

Enat shrugged. “I’ve never known anyone who could. But Timmin is very old and very wise. Perhaps he can.”

When Timmin arrived, Ash watched him with great curiosity. He walked straight despite being very old, supported by his staff. He had a long, white beard, but sharp eyes, black as Beanna’s, and Ash had the feeling he could see through her when he glanced in her direction before going into the meetinghouse.

“Summon the girl,” he said now.

Enat’s face appeared in the doorway, and she gestured to Ash. Ash entered, and Enat stood her before Timmin where he sat in a chair while the others occupied the benches on either side of the long table.

“Come.” He held out his hand, and Ash approached. His hand, when she placed hers in it, was surprisingly warm and gentle. He held it, looking long into her eyes.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“How can she not remember –?”

Timmin silenced Ivar with a look and turned back to Ash.

“I remember some,” Ash said. “I remember watching Enat and Ivar fighting. I remember Enat falling, and Ivar raising his sword.” She paused, biting her lip. “Then I do not remember anything until Enat was helping Ivar to stand.”

“You don’t remember shooting an arrow at me?” Ivar shoved angrily to his feet.

“Ivar –”

“She lies!”

Ash did not know what that meant but understood it to be an insult. She stood as tall as she could, but before she could speak, Enat said calmly, “She doesn’t know how to lie.”

Ivar opened his mouth to retort, but Enat continued, “You forget – all of you – that Ash was not raised by humans. She has not been taught in the ways of guile or deceit. She does not know how to fight when there is no reason to, but she will defend when threatened. Because that is how her clan raised her.” She turned to Timmin. “If there is fault, it is mine. I knew that Ash would act to protect me, and I allowed myself to be made vulnerable so that we could see just how strong her instinct to protect would be. I confess, I did not expect it to be so… potent.”

A few chuckles came from those around the table. Ivar glared at them.

“Sit, Ivar,” said Timmin. He returned to his regard of Ash. “Enat tells me you were raised by badgers after they saved your life.”

“Yes.”

“May I?” Timmin gestured to Ash’s face.

She nodded and stepped closer. He reached up to touch her scars and lifted her sleeve to inspect her arm. Ash could see movement from the table as others, curious about her burns, craned their necks to see as well. Timmin, who still held Ash’s hand, placed his other hand over top of hers and looked into her eyes. At last, he released her and turned to the others.

“I’ve no right to order you to keep her here, but I sense no malice in what she did. I would suggest a more prudent approach to teaching her in future.” He gave Enat a wry smile.

“Thank you, Timmin,” Neela said. She stood, and the others rose as well.

“Enat, a word, if you please,” said Timmin.

The others glanced back curiously as Enat stood with Ash in front of Timmin.

Timmin waited until they were alone before saying, “Do you remember anything from before the badgers rescued you, child?”

Ash shook her head.

He looked at Enat. “It is time she had her name.”

Enat inclined her head. “I’ve been waiting for her to settle in with us, as everything was so new to her. You feel it’s time?”

“I do.”

“We’ll see to it, Master Timmin. Thank you.”