Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin (37 page)

Beanna immediately took off, flying off the edge of the precipice while Caymin slung her bow and a water skin over her shoulder and wandered the perimeter of the clifftop. The seaward side made her dizzy as the rock plunged many times Péist’s length into the crashing waves below. The other sides gave her a view out over the forested land below, stretching farther than her eye could see. As she crept along the edge, looking down, she found a worn trail, barely visible against the side of the cliff. She picked her way gingerly down the trail, climbing over piles of fallen rock and jumping gaps in the narrow path. It wound its way down from their landing place to the forest below. Caymin entered the shadows of the forest and listened.

It was ancient, older even than the forest they had left. It was a place of massive power, buried deep in the earth like the roots of the trees. She stepped to an old tree and placed her hands on it, listening. She asked permission to be there.

The tree registered mild curiosity at her presence. Caymin got vague images of people in the long-ago past, and knew it had been many, many lifetimes since a two-leg had been here. She stepped into the forest and explored, sensing many animals. She reached out with her mind, but they were wary after Péist’s hunt the night before. She gathered as she wandered, digging up wild turnips and onions for later. She found asparagus and wild cabbage as well as herbs and roots she could use for potions if she got sick or hurt.

Glancing back up at the cliff where Péist was, she craned her neck. The cliff-face had several holes, high above the trail.

Beanna saw also. She landed on Caymin’s shoulder.
“What are they?”

“I do not know. Can you fly up there?”

Beanna took off, flying higher until she was a tiny black speck. She was gone for a while before she flew back down to where Caymin waited next to a spring, filling the water skin.

“They are caves. I think other dragons hatched there,”
Beanna said.
“I saw pieces of shell, like Péist’s. All colors
 
–
blue, green, red, black.”

Caymin looked up sharply.
“Are any recent?”

“No. They all look very old. The fragments of egg had dust on them. They have not been disturbed for a long time.”

“Is there any way for me to get there?”

“I do not think so. They are very high and there is nothing for a two-leg to climb.”

“That is why the dragons used them.”
Caymin smiled.
“There, the eggs could have stayed safe as long as they needed to until the dragons were ready to hatch.”

Beanna clicked her beak in the direction of the forest.
“Do you think there are more worms here?”

Caymin turned.
“I do not know.”

A sudden call made her jump.

“
We must go back. Péist is awake.”

Caymin was halfway up the trail, breathless and panting, when a sudden shadow darkened the trail and a great gust of wind buffeted her. Péist hovered, his wings beating the air against the cliff-face as he flapped. His front feet reached for her, each grasping an arm, and he hoisted her into the air. She looked down at the forest far below her dangling feet as he flew her back to the top of the precipice. Afraid to struggle lest she loosen herself from his grip, she closed her eyes tightly until she felt her feet hit solid ground again.

“Why did you do that?”
she demanded angrily.

“I know.”
Péist lowered his head to look her in the eye.

Caymin shook her twisted tunic back into position.
“You know what?”

“I know why we had to come here.”

His pupils were wide, almost round, in a sea of brilliant green. She felt his excitement and some of her irritation abated.

Beanna flapped down to alight on Caymin’s shoulder.
“Do tell us, oh great dragon.”

He snorted a blast of hot air that ruffled all of Beanna’s feathers. With a loud caw, she rose into the air.

“Stop.”
Caymin held out an arm for Beanna who grudgingly accepted.
“Tell us. What was happening in the night?”

“This is one hatching place of my kind,”
Péist said.
“There are others, scattered in safe places where we can hatch in peace. The only two-legs who have been here are the mages who have bonded with us.”
He spread his wings and raised his head to the sky with a trumpeting roar.
“All the knowledge of my kind, our history, our deeds, all has been given me.”

“How can that be?”

“I do not know. During the night, I was pulled into a place not of this world, a place in between.”

“In between what?”

“I am not certain. It was a realm where I could see my ancestors.”

“Like my spiritwalk?”

“Perhaps. But they spoke to me, and told me of my kind. The dragons who hatched here came to this world knowing all, because there were other dragons with them, but I did not.”
He looked down at her.
“I must take you with me.”

“Where?”

“You will see. Climb on my back.”

Caymin did as he asked and he leapt into the sky. Beanna followed as he dropped off the edge of the cliff, over the ocean, his wings tightly folded against his body. For several heartbeats, Caymin was certain they were going to plunge into the water, but then, he spread his wings and, instantly, they soared upward. Caymin felt the utter joy of flight emanating from Péist as he turned from side to side. She gripped the spike in front of her, wondering, if she fell off, whether Péist could fly fast enough to catch her.

Beanna flew along behind them, and Caymin heard the joy in her cries as well. Péist rose along the cliff-face high over the water, and Caymin saw that there were more caves here. Flapping hard, he aimed for one of them. What had looked like a small opening in the rock proved to be enormous as they entered. Caymin slid off his back and peered over the lip of the cliff, looking down at a sheer drop to the ocean below.

“No two-leg could get up here,”
she said.

“This was our place of safety.”

Beanna strutted back into the recesses of the cave.
“Look.”

Caymin and Péist followed. The cave got darker as they retreated farther into the mountain. Caymin conjured a ball of fire to illuminate their way. The passage opened into a large room carved into the rock, large enough for a dragon three times Péist’s size.

“What is this?”

Caymin went to a huge boulder draped with a large piece of supple leather with several straps attached to it.

“It is for you,”
said Péist. “
A saddle to hold you on my back as we fly. I saw others do so.”

She struggled to pick up the saddle and saw that there were holes for his spikes. She cast a spell to lighten it enough to lift it and place it on his back. As it touched him, it glowed and formed itself to fit him perfectly. Two straps secured around his chest and his girth, holding the saddle fast. Small loops of leather provided footholds for her to climb up. Once on his back, she saw that there was a stout belt to cinch around her own waist, attached to the saddle by four other straps so that no matter which direction Péist twisted or turned, even upside-down, she would remain firmly anchored.

“Shall we try it?”
she asked as she buckled the belt in place.

Péist trotted eagerly to the mouth of the cave, jarring Caymin’s teeth. He spread his wings and launched himself out over the water. Without the need to hold to the spike in front of her, Caymin lifted her arms and shouted with joy, matching Péist’s writhing and twisting as he tried his wings, carving sharp turns through the air, flying spirals so that the water and the sky switched places and then switched back again.

Looking back at the cliff, Caymin saw Beanna, a tiny black spot against the gray rock.

“Take us back to the top.”

Péist flew to the top of the mountain.

“So, the worm can truly fly,”
Beanna said as she joined them.

Caymin unbuckled the straps securing her and slid to the ground where her legs refused to hold her. She flopped to the earth and lay on her back, breathless and flushed.

“No wonder Timmin wanted this so badly.”

Péist’s lip curled, revealing a tooth nearly as long as Caymin’s arm.
“I would never have consented to bond with him.”

She sat up.
“You can choose?”

“Of course.”
He settled on the ground, tucking his legs neatly under him.
“You think it was an accident that we bonded in that cave?”

“I… I did not know.”
She surveyed him as the sunlight reflected off his white scales.
“Why me?”

“I sensed that you were different from other two-legs, just as I am different from other four-legs.”

“Did you have to bond with someone?”

“No. I did not know then what I know now, but I could have remained unbonded.”

“You would have been free,”
said Beanna.

“I would have been alone.”

Nights spent in the cave were much more comfortable than on the exposed cliff top. Caymin found torches and old bottles of oil, and so had light in the darkness of the cavern without having to use magic. There was a bed that had belonged to some mage long ago, as well as a hollowed place in the cave floor, padded with several soft skins, that fit Péist perfectly. Just as his insatiable hunger when he first hatched had abated, his ability to go without sleep had waned so that he now fell into a deeper trance at night, while Caymin and Beanna slept.

Days were spent exploring. While Péist hunted, Caymin gathered more root vegetables and other edible plants to store for the future.

“How long will we be here?”
Beanna asked.

But none of them knew the answer to that question.

During their flights, they realized they were on an island they guessed to be about the size of their old forest. They found a few crumbling ruins of buildings, stone walls and circles overgrown with vines and grasses. In the middle of the island was a circle of standing stones. Like the circle where Caymin had claimed her name and Timmin tried to wrest Péist from her, this circle was very, very old. The stones were mottled with moss and lichens, but carved into the stones were spirals, connected three by three. Standing in the circle, Caymin felt the power gathered there as it vibrated through her body.

Beanna flew on her own when they explored the island, but when they flew over the ocean, soaring on Péist’s broad wings, she rode tucked inside a sling Caymin fashioned to keep the bird snug against her body.

They explored some of the other caves and found mountains of scrolls, written by former dragonmages, containing much of the wisdom and history of the dragons and their riders. The writing on many was faded and difficult to make out. The island had once been home to scores of dragons and some mages.

As Enat had done for her, she read so that Péist and Beanna could hear and enjoy the stories as well.

“This scroll tells of a dragon, Ríona was her name, who lived for hundreds of winters,”
Caymin read.

“Was she bonded to a mage?”
Beanna asked as she preened her feathers.

“Yes,”
said Péist.
“Her name was Ailill. Together, they protected Éire from invaders and other dragons.”

Beanna looked up from her preening.
“Did she live as long as her dragon did? I did not think two-legs could live so long.”

“Dragons can live forever, and so, too, their mages,”
said Péist.
“They can be killed in battle, but they do not die of old age as others do.”

Every so often, Péist came forth with these insights about dragonkind, bits of the knowledge he had gleaned during his spiritwalk, for Caymin was convinced that that was what he had experienced.