Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin (39 page)

The cave was dark when Caymin woke. Silently, she rose from her bed, trying not to disturb the others. She padded to the back of the cave. Flicking her finger, she conjured a small bit of flame and set it afloat. Here, propped against the rock wall by a former inhabitant of the cave, was a flat plate of glass and silver, polished and gleaming. She’d found it by accident, scaring herself when she thought another person was there with her. She’d avoided it since, not wanting to look at herself. But she approached now. When she stepped in front of it, she saw her image reflected back at her in the glass.

She turned her face, studying first her scarred side and then the other. When her scars weren’t visible, she looked just like anyone else, like Gai or Daina or Cíana. She combed her fingers through her hair. It had grown, as no one had cut it since she left Enat. Pulling at the strands, she separated her hair into small bunches, braiding them. When she was done, she smiled grimly at her reflection. She would never be beautiful like Méav, but she thought she looked fearsome, and fearsome would have to do.

Caymin sat with Péist and Beanna on the cliff top, looking down at the pinprick of light that was Garvan’s fire.

“You are giving him too much of our food,”
Beanna said.

“If I do not give him food, he will go in search of it,”
Caymin countered.
“I want him to stay in one place.”

“His leg is healing. Already, he can walk without his stick. He will not stay in one place for long.”

Beanna was right. He was healing. He still limped, but was walking farther, exploring the area around the clearing on his own.

More than once, Caymin had brought down thick fog to confound him and keep him close to his fire.

She observed him sometimes from the concealment of the forest, watching as he knelt with his eyes closed, his lips moving. She knew he prayed to his god, but she didn’t know what he asked for. Sometimes he hit himself across the back with the knotted end of the rope he wore around his waist.

When she brought him food, he plied her with endless questions. In response to where they were, she answered truthfully, “West.” It was as much as she knew. He seemed to have decided she was alone, and she let him think her boat had sunk in a storm similar to the one that had brought him there, drowning her people.

He pressed to find out where she lived, where she slept, and she avoided answering, pretending not to understand, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe that. Again and again, his gaze was drawn to the mountain.

“How can we get him to leave here?”
Péist asked now as they saw his shadow move across his fire.

“We cannot, unless he can fix his boat,”
Caymin replied.

“Has he said yet why he was in such a small boat on such large water?”

“No. He has not. When I try to ask him, he evades answering. He is hiding something.”

“What of us?”
Beanna asked.
“We have not flown in search of land for nearly a moon because we cannot fly during the day. Are we to stay here all our days? We could leave, and let him fend for himself here.”

Caymin stewed as she listened, knowing Beanna was right about this as well. Péist had taken to flying over the ocean at night to keep his wings strong. They were all chafing at how Garvan’s presence had restricted their activity.

“If you will not let me eat him,”
Péist said,
“I think I should pick him up and carry him far out over the ocean and drop him in.”

“We cannot do that.”
Caymin lay back in frustration. She watched the stars filling the sky above her.
“Why did he have to come here? We were better on our own.”

“Something has to happen,”
said Beanna.
“We cannot continue like this forever.”

Péist flew Caymin down from their cave, landing in an open area outside the forest, as close as they dared to Garvan’s clearing.
“I will hunt while you take the last of this meat to the two-leg.”

No sooner had Péist taken off than Garvan appeared. Startled, Caymin had her hands up, ready to cast a protective shield before he could take a breath.

“Stay!” He held up both of his hands. “’Tis I.”

She lowered her hands, her heart still pounding. “What are you doing here?”

He cocked his head at the sound of Péist landing in the forest a distance away.

“What in the name of heaven is that?”

She shrugged but didn’t respond.

“Are you a druid, then?”

She stared at him. “A what?”

He picked up a stone, rubbing it in between his palms. “I know you healed me, at least some.” He wiggled his leg. “This should have been much worse than it was.”

Still, she said nothing, but guarded her mind in case he had the skill to try and push into her thoughts.

“How do you get to the top of the mountain?”

“Why would you think I go to the top?”

He looked at her, and she couldn’t decide what she saw in his eyes – curiosity that wouldn’t be satisfied with vague answers, or calculation, like what she’d seen in Diarmit’s eyes when he finally admitted all he knew. Either way, she had the feeling he knew more than she’d realized.

Apparently, Péist thought so as well, because she felt him, just a heartbeat before a huge shadow blotted out the sun and he crashed down, landing with his front legs braced on either side of her.

Garvan fell back, his eyes huge, his mouth open in a silent scream as Péist bared his teeth in a fearsome snarl.

“Holy mother of God,” Garvan managed to whimper as he stared up at the dragon.

“What are you doing?”
Caymin asked.

“Do not be fooled,”
Péist answered.
“He knows. Don’t you, holy man?”

Garvan’s mouth gaped. “You… you can talk.”

“He can hear you?”

“When I choose to let him. All dragons can do this.”
He stretched his neck out until his muzzle was just a hair from Garvan’s face.
“Just as all dragons could eat any two-leg with no more than a snap of our mighty jaws.”

“Holy mother of God,” Garvan said again, making the sign of the cross.

Péist raised his head.
“Luckily for you, holy man, my mage took pity on you, so I will do the same. For now.”

Garvan placed a hand over his heart and took a few deep breaths. “Your mage?”

Caymin laid a hand on Péist’s leg and drew herself up to her full height. “You asked if I am a druid. I am not. I am a mage, born to bond with this dragon.”

Garvan stared at them. “But… but those are only children’s tales, told round the fire. And there are no such things as mages.”

A deep rumble sounded from Péist.
“Do I look like a fable told to children? And my mage has powers you cannot dream of.”

Garvan’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He rubbed his hand over his eyes, and then opened them again as if hoping the sight before him would have disappeared. When it did not, he sat up. “May I stand?”

Péist dipped his head.
“You may.”

He scrambled to his feet as Beanna fluttered down to Caymin’s shoulder. He pointed. “I’ve seen that bird everywhere, watching me.”

Caymin ran a finger down Beanna’s sleek breast. “She has been keeping watch.”

Garvan stood looking at them. “What now?”

“Now we talk.”

Péist refused to allow Caymin to walk with Garvan where he could not follow. He flew her back to the inlet where the boat sat on its side, while Garvan retraced his path through the forest.

By the time he arrived, Caymin was waiting at his fire. Péist could not fit his body into the clearing, but his head rested next to Caymin. Garvan sat opposite her, still eyeing Péist with a mix of fascination and disbelief while Beanna hopped around them. As he gazed at her, Caymin could tell he was trying to reconcile the ignorant ghost-child she’d seemed with what he now knew.

“Now,” Caymin began, “it is time for truth. We found you on the ocean after a storm. Your boat was damaged, as you were. We brought you here. Saved your life. You will tell us what you were doing out there.”

Garvan fed the fire, his bearded jaw working as he considered. “I was exiled. By my abbot.”

“For what?”

He looked at her, his eyes hard. “For killing a man.”

She stared at him for a moment. “You killed a man? Why?”

He tilted his head, regarding her. “I just told you I killed a man, and instead of being afraid of me, you want to know why?”

“I have no need to fear you,” she said calmly. “I could subdue you myself with magic if I needed to, and Péist could easily kill you.”

Garvan threw his head back and laughed. “If I didn’t know I was awake, I would swear the devil was playing me.”

Caymin waited.

Garvan ran his fingers through his beard. “He was a brute. One of the landholders near our monastery. He had a wife and children, but was lusting after another young woman. I caught him trying to force her –” He stopped, looking at Caymin. “He had to be stopped. I didn’t mean to kill him. He fell over a watering trough and his neck snapped. But I was the cause.”

“And they sent you away for this?”

“Aye. He was kin to the king, and the king was threatening to seize our lands if I wasn’t dealt with.”

Caymin looked into his eyes.
“He tells the truth.”

“I agree,”
said Péist.

“I planned to sail to a land where I could bring word of our Lord or perhaps start a new monastery.” Garvan chuckled. “Instead, I landed on an island with no other men, just a girl and a dragon.”

He shifted. “What of you? Why are you here?”

Caymin looked at Péist.
“How much to tell him?”

“Not all. Do not tell him of my life in the forest. Begin when I was an egg.”

And so Caymin told of bonding with Péist’s egg, and the danger they were in as others sought to use him for their own goals. She told of their fleeing the forest and Péist’s hatching and their flight to this island.

Garvan listened raptly. “There are places where mages are taught?”

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed. “What manner of magic are you taught?”

Caymin wondered how much to say. “We are taught the use of plants to make healing potions and salves.”

He rubbed his leg. “You didn’t heal me with a potion or salve.”

Caymin smiled. “We are taught to do a bit more.”

“Do you serve the devil?”

Caymin tilted her head. “What is the devil?”

“The tempter, the bringer of evil.”

She laid her hand on Péist’s jaw. “Do we seem evil to you?”

“We saved your life, holy man,”
Péist said, speaking so Garvan could hear.
“When we could have left you adrift to die.”

Garvan frowned.

“Is anyone wholly good or evil?” Caymin asked. “One or the other? We are taught to do no harm with our power. I did not grow up among humans, but I think perhaps mages are no better or worse than others.”

He stared into the fire, thinking about what she’d said.