A Templar's Gifts (6 page)

I
dove beneath a thick pile of straw. It was not fresh, and she shoveled more of the same over me before I could argue. The gate squealed and thumped. Light overtook the darkness and my eyes began to swim. “Ye should have been done with this a long time ago,” I heard him say.

Anger pressed against the edges of my mind. Aine didn't speak. She had moved away from me to the opposite corner and I could feel her blind terror.

“Stupid, lazy girl.” His mean words hung in the empty air. “Waste o' food, ye are.” He was moving toward her. “What, no smart words from ye?” The hairs on my neck bristled. As he advanced on her, she backed away. The muck shovel hung limp in her hands.

Fear lashed out at me suddenly, a terror so deep it stole my breath.

“I've told ye before haven't I, Aine?” He reached out and squeezed her arm. I could see the white spots where his fingers pressed tightly. I felt the scream rising within her.

Everything in me tensed, and I felt the power calling
out to me. I shouldn't do it. It was dangerous, and I was weak.

His jaw tightened and flexed as he shook her. “Ye know well the punishment for disobeying me, don't ye?” She only stared at him with wide eyes. There was nothing I could do but push.
She's nothing to ye. Beneath yer notice.
Pain rocked my head, and the push had no effect. My resources were too low. He grabbed hold of her hair and Aine's panic howled in my mind. Her fear and my own smashed into each other and grew. My head pounded as sweat poured from my body. Still, I pushed.

I felt the pulse swell between my ears, and my head felt near bursting, the pressure was so high.
Yer wife will see the bruises.
Push. A flash of his memories slid through me. My ears were ringing.
She knows where ye buried the last servant girl's body.
Push. Bile rose high and thick, choking me. Push.

He finally thrust her forcefully aside, his eyes wild and darting around the place. The beat of his heart was erratic. I could feel it in my chest.
She'll tell.
His vile thoughts filled my head.
Dirty, lying girl. Must stop her from opening her rotten, telling lips.

My heart dropped. I couldn't breathe. No! This was not supposed to happen. Wait!

His meaty fist rose in the air, and the muscles in his forearm clenched.

Pure, raw power streamed to my call. It poured through my entire being. As his fist started down, I focused the power directly into his mind. Everything I had seen, all I had been through — the hurt, the pain, and the loss — fueled my attack. And it was an attack, there was no mistaking that. I wanted him dead, for what he'd done and what he intended to do.

The man's body jerked, as if unseen hands gripped and shook him hard. His eyes grew wide and terrified and rolled back in his head. Spittle gurgled from his lips and he crumbled to the earthen floor.

“No, Tormod. Stop!” But the power would not be contained. It surged in waves without end. Flowing. Crashing. Burning.

Focus!
The command snapped so loud in my ears that it shook me into action. I quickly emptied my mind of everything but the desire to stop. It was so sudden I nearly forgot what came next.

Ground.
The second command seemed to materialize inside my head, and the earth was solid and strong beneath me, the wind outside whipping hard. Aine's hands found me through the hay and, once again, her presence made the difference.

“Shield,” I said aloud.

The power dropped away and slid back into the earth from whence it had come. Only fear, panic, and guilt remained. Dear Lord, what had I done? My breath
rasped in the darkness. A dead man lay before me. I had killed again, and this time on purpose. Guilt crowded my heart and tears filled my eyes as I weakly crawled away from the body. I had no right. I had no control. I knew that long before arriving here. “Why? Why did I try? I am a beast.” I didn't realize the words I spoke were aloud.

“No.” Aine's whisper was strong. I couldn't look at her. “Tormod.” Her fingers forced my face to hers. “He was an abomination.” She could barely form the words. “I had nowhere to run. No one would have believed me. I don't know how ye did it, but ye saved me.”

I tried to embrace what she'd said, to accept that what I'd done was worth the price on my soul, but I could not reconcile it. I shook my head, trying to clear it. I was so ill, so very twisted inside that I could barely move.

“Tormod. Stay with me. We have to be gone from here. Please!” With her hands on my arms I managed to get to my feet. “It won't be long till they find him. Ye'll be hung. We've got to go!” In the dimness her face was pale.

“We?” I gasped.

“Aye,” she replied. “I canno' stay here. I've nowhere to go.” She was not asking. “I'm coming with ye.” Her voice was loud, demanding. I didn't know what to do. It was one thing to run by myself, but to be responsible for
the life of another …? I was trying to think, but my head was foggy and my body battered by the power use. I truly didn't think I could go on without her. “Aye. Together,” I said quickly.

We crept outside, leading one of the horses. Though we needed to hurry, my movements were slow and awkward and the sudden brightness nearly took me low. Mist hovered around our feet and my breath floated on the cool air. Beneath the gray of the morning sky, a pale yellow sun was emerging.

“Hurry! The horse is strong. We can ride together. I'll help.” I was struggling to make my body work, to heed her urgency. The saddle was high, and it took much from both of us to get me astride. Aine scrambled nimbly into place behind me and the moment our legs touched and she settled against my back the world calmed.

“Aine? Where are ye, ye lazy girl? The cows are fair set to bursting.” The woman's muttering was near. I could feel her approach. I gave the horse his head and kneed him on. We were across the field when her shrill cry cut the air.

“William!” Her pain cut through the barrier Aine was providing, and I nearly fell from the horse.

As we sped over the rise and out of her sight, I hunched low and reached for the mind of our horse. He
took on speed and the village disappeared behind us. Aine was wrapped tightly around me. It was then that I was hit with the inevitable exertion, and my eyes grew dim. I felt Aine's arms tighten and her hands close over mine on the reins. It was all I could do to fight the blackness reaching for me.

W
e rode north and west, though I was barely aware of it. Aine kept me upright and pushed the horse to make distance. We stuck to the main road and followed its twisting, rutted path deep into the heart of Highland country. The going was rough and our speed erratic. Rain began again midmorning, light, misty, and cold. We were soaked through in little time and spoke not at all.

Aine clung to my back. I could feel her shivering. As the shock and fear of what I had done played in her thoughts and pressed against my mind, it built the wall of guilt and regret so high in me that by midday I was lying against the horse's neck in nearly a faint.

Aine slowed and stopped the horse as we came to an overhang of ledge, deep in a forested vale. “We'll not find
a better place to rest,” she said. I slid down from the saddle and landed shakily. I lost contact with her for the first time since morning.

It was as if the air was sucked from my lungs. The pulse of the land and the whisper of the trees crashed and pounded loud in my ears. All of my fears spiraled and became entangled with hers. I cried out as my body began to shake and, in response, Aine's fear grew yet again. The forest began to fade.

And then from the darkness, a thread of sound broke through. Aine's song surrounded me, filling the clearing, and the world went still. The horrible press of feeling was blessedly silenced and my mind was fixed on the strange and haunting melody. It had no beginning or end, no pattern that could be anticipated. I felt the power rise up out of the land and engulf us, and within my mind a perfect harmony settled. The chaos stilled and I could once again breathe.

“What was that?!” I gasped as the song faded and her faraway gaze sharpened.

“I don't know what ye're talking about,” she muttered, turning away.

I was confused. Had she done something? Before I could ask, her body wavered and I reached for her. As my hands touched her shoulders, I was flooded with images.
A family stricken, bairns too ill to lift their heads, pleading,
begging with their eyes. Aine sitting among them singing and crying.

Her family? I pushed away the memories as if scalded. To read these thoughts uninvited was surely a trespass. I dropped my hands and moved a pace away. She hunched down on herself.

What was I to make of this? Was it her? Was it me?

“Lord, it's cold,” she mumbled. Her body was shaking.

I had the plaid tight about me. She had only her sark. I peeled off the woolen and offered it to her.

“Thank ye, Tormod,” she said.

“I forgot what it's like to travel in the rain,” I said. She seemed to need me to stop talking about what had happened, so I did. Aine moved off in search of wood beneath the overhang.

“It's been wet awhile, but maybe we can manage a fire with bits from the back,” I said. She rubbed her hands briskly together, trying no doubt to get warm.

“I'll take the rain an' a new life over the one I left,” she said softly as she rooted for wood. “Is there anything we can use for tinder?” She seemed determined to put the incident behind.

I moved sluggishly to find sticks and leaves that had escaped the rain. My body was tired, down to the ends of my fingers and toes. I fumbled the flint from my pack
and Aine moved on to feed and water the horse. She could deny that she had done anything, but I could feel the exhaustion and sadness billowing from her. It surrounded and squeezed me. She was feeling poorly and it was from using the power. I was sure of it. And though her singing had somehow helped strengthen my shielding, I could feel it once again begin to thin. Her mood was becoming mine.

I stumbled to the small pile of wood and twigs and set spark to the tinder. It was smoky and slow and I gave up after a time. Instead I fished an apple and some dried herring from the pack. “Best I can do,” I said, offering both to Aine.

She took the apple. I waved toward the pack. “There's more in the sack. Help yerself to whatever ye want.”

“This is good for now. I'm not so much hungry as tired.” She ate without relish and moved to the back of the shelter and slumped down. I joined her there. The patter of rain from beyond pulled me toward sleep. I could not sense any of her thoughts and was glad of it. When she closed her eyes a slow trickle of tears leaked from their edges. She pulled the plaid closer to hide them.

I hated when lasses cried. It twisted something deep inside and made me sad and uncomfortable. She didn't invite me to talk about it, which was all right. Just feeling what she did made me want to cry as well. Instead I gave in to sleep.

I
woke cold, damp, and cramped from head to toe, but at least the rain had stopped. Aine's head lay against my shoulder and with some slow shifting I found I could study her face. She was pretty when she wasn't railing at me or crying, I decided. Her hair had a kind of red-gold glow that hung in a tangle of curls. Her skin was pale, but light freckles covered much of it.

Aine stirred and opened her eyes, and I felt as if I had been caught doing something wrong. Heat colored my cheeks. Her feelings were, thankfully, no longer pressing their way into my mind. But as I couldn't read her, I was surprised when she asked, “What did ye do to William?”

What should I do? Deny that I'd done anything or try to explain it? “I don't really know. He made me sore angry.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Aye. I get angry as well, but my thoughts are no' enough to kill a man.” She sat up, breaking contact, and I felt both her fear and the determination she had to overcome it.

“Well, I'm not so much like ye.” I rested my head on my arms and stared at her. “I'm different.” It was all
I could say. How could I possibly explain any of this to her?

“We're more alike than ye might credit. I am different as well,” she said softly. Her bright blue gaze held mine steadily and I could not look away.

“Want to tell me about it?” I asked. My heart was beating strongly in my chest. I was taking a chance. Asking her to trust me.

“Tell me about ye, first,” she said.

Trust asking for trust. I paused. She knew already something about the man's death and my involvement. Her gaze was open and honest. I took a deep breath. “I have strange abilities. I can do things no other can,” I said.

She nodded and the fear crackling beneath the surface of her seemed to settle. “As can I.” Her voice was almost too soft to hear. “What did ye do to William?”

How could I explain it to her? “I convinced him that there were other things more important than hurting ye.”

“Aside from the how of it, he believed ye?”

“No. No' at first.” The conversation was beginning to make me uncomfortable.

“How did ye convince him?” she persisted.

I didn't realize opening up to her would really mean telling her the whole truth. “It doesn't matter. I had
to make him stop. He was hurting ye.” I wanted her to drop it. This was a mistake.

“Tormod, how did ye convince him? Please, tell me.” She would not leave it alone. Sweat was rising on my skin and I was growing agitated.

“Tormod!”

“He killed another girl, Aine! I convinced him ye knew where the body was.” There, I'd said it. Now maybe she would stop pestering.

“Ye saw his memories.” Her hand went to her mouth, and she whispered the words as if they frightened her more than anything.

I nodded.

“I did as well,” she said. “I knew what he'd done. It was there, in the barn. I can see things that have happened in the recent past,” she said. Her own words seemed to stun her.

My mouth dropped and I gaped at her, shocked. I don't know what I expected. Something about the singing, perhaps, but this ability was akin to my own.

The shock on my face set off her ire. “What? Ye don't think a lass could be like ye?”

That was nearly exactly what I had been thinking. Could she read my mind? I was suddenly uneasy. “I just never knew any,” I said truthfully. “I thought ye'd speak o' the singing. Ye surprised me.”

“I do that as well. It's this other thing that stands out more, though.”

“How d'ye mean ye see what's past?”

“When I come on a place, I can sometimes tell who has been to it recently or something that has happened there. It's like an echo.” She was quiet, somber then. “I wish that I had known how to kill him.”

“No! Ye don't. It's terrible to bear the death of another, Aine. No matter what he did, he was a man an' I took his life. I had no right,” I said.

A wash of sadness rolled through her, then on to me. “What is it?” I asked.

“I've killed as well, Tormod. An' it was people who did no' deserve to die.” She wouldn't meet my eye. She did not speak for a long moment, and I concentrated on the drip of the rain and the shift and sway of the trees. I let the pulse of the forest's life calm me. Her voice was so soft and low that when she began again, I had to fight to hear. “I killed them, Tormod. My family is gone an' it's my fault.”

I was confused. I knew her memories even if she was unaware of it. Her family had died of illness. “Ye didn't, Aine. I saw what happened. Illness took yer family. Ye canno' take responsibility for that.”

She shook her head. “I begged them to go to market, Tormod. We didn't go every year, an' we weren't set to yet. I talked them into it. An' on the way we passed
through a village whose memories lay strong enough for me to see.”

Her hands were wringing the plaid and her face was pale with the remembering. “I read the place. I saw the illness, but I was caught up in wanting to get to market an' I didn't heed the signs. I didn't tell anyone. They never knew.” She choked on the last.

“There was naught ye could have done about it, lass. I know what yer feeling. I've faced like situations. It's no' yer fault, ye didn't recognize the danger. An' truly, could ye have told them? Would they have listened?”

She took a deep breath. “Yer the first one I've ever talked to about it, the first who might understand. No. I guess they wouldn't have believed me even if I insisted.” She rolled over and sat up. “It doesn't make me feel any better. I lived an' they died.”

I didn't argue. I felt as she did and it got me nowhere. We had both survived when others hadn't. I didn't know why any more than she did.

“So ye too can read the past o' a place?” she asked.

“Not like I think ye can. I have visions, bits an' pieces of both the past an' the future come to me, but they're never complete. I only see a little at a time, like I'm looking through a hole.”

She nodded. “I see it all an' I'd much rather no' most times. It's rare strange to speak about it at all.” She paused, in thought. Then she stood and offered me a
hand up. “I'm starving. An' stayin' here is no' an option. Let's eat and go.”

I nodded and accepted her hand. A gentle hum of vibration slid through me all the way to my shields when my fingers touched hers. I didn't know what to make of, or do, about it.

She misinterpreted my quiet. “Are ye feelin' badly?”

“No. I am fairly well just now.” The horse was grazing beyond the overhang and I took a long drink of water from the skin. Aine drew two apples from the pack and gave me one.

“So, where
are
we goin'?” she asked.

“To seek a healer o' our kind, Bertrand Beaton by name.” I stood and tied my pack to the saddle, then climbed astride and offered her a hand up.

“There are more? Like us, I mean?” she asked. The surprise in her voice was familiar. I had been just as shocked by the notion when it was first suggested to me.

“Aye. From what I'm told, there are many. I was supposed to apprentice with them.” I could feel her curiosity peak.

“Ye were to be a healer's apprentice?” she asked.

“A Templar's apprentice,” I replied. Even now the words felt good on my tongue, and the look of wonder that passed over her features pleased me.

“I would give anything to be one!” she exclaimed.

“You? A lass?” A sharp laugh escaped before I could rein it in.

Her legs firmed on the ground and with a strong jerk on my arm she toppled me off the horse before I knew what happened. My aching body hit the dirt and I rolled away from the horse's hooves with great effort.

“Are ye daft?!” I shouted. “Damnation! Do that again and ye'll be sorrier than ye can ever imagine.” Fury rose and rippled through me like the strike of lightning. “Ye know well that it could never be,” I snapped, at the same time confused and frightened by the intensity of the feelings rushing over me. It made my head spin. Slowly I crawled to my feet, trying to reorient myself. “It's an order of monks. They're no' even allowed in the presence of women. Can ye imagine for one moment that they would accept one as a member?”

She had the grace to look away even though I could feel her seething. I climbed back into the saddle, not at all helpful to her as she worked to get up behind me.

“It's nothing against ye personally,” I grumbled. “From what I've seen, ye'd give them a devil o' a hard time.” I said the last beneath my breath, but she heard nonetheless, and I felt a ripple of amusement slide from her to me. Placidly she wrapped her arms around my waist. I wanted to throw them off to spite her, but my body and mind had already begun to settle with the
contact and my anger grew less. I urged the horse on without another word.