Rising From the Ashes: The Chronicles of Caymin by Caren J. Werlinger Read Free Book Online

things. “Is that why we did not go to those villages on our journey?”
    “Yes. The monks and their followers control those villages. For myself, I’m not afraid, but you haven’t enough magic yet to defend yourself if there would be trouble.”
    “They would fight?”
    “Yes, sometimes.” Enat walked on. “Sometimes they fight over differing beliefs, sometimes over land, sometimes for no good reason at all.”
    Ash thought about this as she followed, pondering what had led to the destruction of her village, for Broc had told her many times about the raid. She’d never thought before about why it had happened, and wondered now why she had not.
    She had expected to be doing magic with Enat and others as soon as she arrived, but she was wrong. Most days were spent like this one, with Enat putting her to work gathering roots and plants, teaching her how to prepare them and hang them to dry. Some they cut up, some they ground into a fine powder, some they steeped in water and placed in containers unlike anything Ash had ever seen the villagers use.
    “This is glass,” Enat said. She held one up to the light so Ash could see through the thing, glowing green. “It does not absorb the liquid as clay would. Another thing we learned and brought back from invaders of a neighboring land.”
    While they worked, Enat spoke of ordinary things. She told of growing up, one girl among ten brothers in a fishing village on the coast. Rapt, Ash listened to her tales of being out on the sea – Ash still could not envision endless water or waves. Sometimes, she thought she could almost remember what it was like to live among humans, to have music and dancing and laughter – she still couldn’t laugh. As she listened, she learned without realizing. She found herself using the new words Enat was teaching her, adjusting to life with another human. Adjusting too well. Sometimes, for brief bits of time, she forgot what it was like to live with Broc and the others in the sett.
    “What’s wrong?” Enat looked up to see that Ash had stopped stripping the bark off a large bunch of willow branches they had picked. She stared at the stone bowl in her lap.
    “Ash?”
    “I do not want to forget.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
    Enat came to her and sat. “You won’t. You’ll become accustomed to living among two-legs…” Ash smiled. “But you will never forget the ones who loved you and cared for you.” She placed a hand over Ash’s chest. “You carry them with you. Always. Here.”
    Enat returned to her mortar and pestle, where she was grinding other leaves into a powder. “I’ve told enough stories. Tell me of Broc and Cuán.”
    Ash thought for a bit and began to tell the familiar story of how Broc did not know what to feed a two-leg cub, and tried to feed her earthworms. Enat laughed as Ash went on, telling tale after tale, and soon, Ash forgot her fears of forgetting. It felt as if her clan were here with her.
    The days passed, and the moon waxed again. Before Ash knew it, a full moon was upon them – a whole moon cycle since Enat had come to the village and found her.
    “Tonight,” Enat said that morning as they broke their fast, “we will join some of the others.”
    “For what?” Ash’s eyes opened wide.
    “Just a gathering to listen to a bard sing,” Enat said. “It is time for you to meet some of the others.”
    Ash grew very quiet. “I am going to go for a walk.”
    “As you wish.”
    Ash got to her feet and took a now-familiar path through the forest. It had rained overnight, and droplets of water still hung from every leaf and branch, shimmering in the morning light. Ash moved silently through the mist rising from the damp ground. She heard and felt all the life about her as she made her way to an enormous tree that had fallen on its side. Its roots stuck out at all angles, and the trunk had been hollowed by time. It was so large that Ivar could have stood inside it without having to bend. Ash,