A Templar's Gifts (7 page)

W
e followed the sun as it worked its way across the land, skirting as many of the crofts as we were able. There were, no doubt, even more factions hunting me now. It was frightening to know that now I had more enemies than friends. News did not generally travel fast but word of murder was sure to reach the watch, the Highland group of men who kept the law. It would not be safe to test our luck at any of the homesteads within days of Aine's former home.

Aine tried at conversation several times, but I didn't encourage her. It was not the falling out of the morning, but a growing sense of general unease that hovered. By late afternoon I felt the chaos rising within me, and even her touch did not bank the fire. It was growing more and more difficult to sit upright. Every once in a while, she hummed in my ear and the feelings settled enough for me to bear, but it was never for very long.

Just before sundown we stopped in a grove beside a
rushing burn to rest. We ate some carrots and cheese that the old Father had sent along, but the food lay hard in my stomach. Aine saw to the horse and then sat down near me and began once more to softly sing. The worst of my queasiness evened out.

“D'ye know how far away the village is?” She was tired. I could see it in her face. Darkness bruised the space above her cheeks.

“It can't be far now,” I said with a confidence I didn't feel. Just then a gust of wind lifted the bare branches around us, and fear tore through my mind. Aine stilled and a wash of emotion surged from her to me.

“Someone approaches.” I leapt to my feet and drew my dagger, quickly stepping in front of her. “We travel to our uncle's in Straloch. You are my sister,” I said urgently.

She nodded and we waited for their arrival. The sound of the horse's hooves was loud in my ears. I concentrated on the feel of them. It was a ragtag group. Hungry. Petty. Dangerous. At the back of my mind, Aine's low hum sounded. I latched on to it to calm myself as I scanned the level of power beneath the ground and among the trees. The slow and steady thrum of life was comforting. Full to bursting and tempting me to call upon it.

“What do we have here? Two wee cockerels ripe for the pickin'?” The man was skin and bones, and he smelled as if he had never come in contact with water or
lye soap. His teeth were brown and rotted, and there was an edge to him that was desperate.

“We want no trouble,” I said. “Just be on yer way, an' we'll all come out o' this fine.” I pulled a tiny tendril of power and pushed.
These two are dangerous. Get away from here.
The push had no effect on the man, for he let out a high cackle of a laugh.

“Hear that, Harry? The whelp is telling us to be gone.” He laughed again.

The second man lifted a hand toward Aine, and I shifted sideways and put myself between them. “Get ye gone. I'll no' warn ye again.” I pushed harder this time, but instead of affecting the man, I felt something inside me change.

“Get away!” shouted Aine. “Ye don't know who ye face.” I heard her strained cry a moment later and realized that the first man had gone around me and now held her hard. “Let me go!” Her terror lashed my senses and the world around me wavered.

“Get yer filthy hands off her!” I shouted, turning my blade toward them. My fury grew as Aine's thoughts flit back to her uncle, and I saw images of Aine bruised and bleeding.

All at once the clearing grew hot and steam wafted up off the ground. Fear buffeted me from several directions, but the strongest came from Aine. She was now not only frightened of the man who held her, but of me
as well. I was out of control. Nothing was stopping the rise of power streaming toward me and spilling through my mind. And worse, the terror she felt became my own and both grew rapidly beyond bearing.

A blinding riot of color flashed and an eerie echo of wind shrieked. The world dropped away, and I was suspended in a solid field of black as voices came at me from all sides.

“Find the boy and the talismans and bring them to me! The Templars will rue the day they chose to do battle.”

“But what about the Pope? The Templars answer only to the Holy Father. We have no authority.”

“We have all the authority we need. See to your end of the bargain and I will see to mine.”

When I woke I first noticed the cold. Aine was bent low over me, emptying our water skin onto my face and chest. My head pulsed so badly, I was afraid that it had split in two and the contents had dumped all over the ground. I tried to sit but it was impossible.

“What are ye doin'?” My throat was raw.

“Tormod?” The light of the sky seemed to have filled her eyes. “Are ye all right?”

“I think so.” I struggled to sit and only then noticed the woods around us. The earth was completely dry for a wide swath of the land and smoke curled from the edges of blackened leaves.

“What happened?” I asked fearfully.

“Ye drew the power,” she said, mopping my face with the plaid. “I tried to contain it with my song, but I think I made it worse.”

“Are they dead?” I held my breath, waiting for her answer.

She laughed, surprising me as nothing else could have, and brushed a tear from her eyes. “Just singed a bit. I wish that ye could have seen their faces, Tormod.” She made an undignified snort and I smiled weakly. “Like rabbits. They couldn't get away fast or far enough.” I was sick from using the power, but somehow her amusement eased my pain.

“Ye spoke. Near on the end of it all.”

“What?” Her words seemed to echo softly in my head and none of this made sense.

“Ye said a word, or a name, perhaps. De Nogaret.”

I thought on the vision. This time it had been only the disjointed sound of conversation with no images at all. “Ye're sure that was the word? I don't remember it.”

She nodded. “Let's move on before they pluck up their courage and come back.”

The landscape was almost too bright for my eyes. I wavered. My response to the use of the power was much, much worse this time. She had to nearly lift me, and it took us both a good long time to get back into the saddle.

When finally we set out again, I felt Aine tremble against my back. Thoughts of my loss of control haunted our every league. How could this have happened to me? I wished for the hundredth time that the Templar had not passed on and left me alone. He would have known why this was happening and what to do to remedy it. I missed him.

M
oving into the mountainous Highlands, I was colder than I could ever have imagined feeling. My fingers and toes were numb. And as the land crept ever upward, it grew worse. We rode a snaking path between the great green swaths of slope and stopped only to replenish our water and take short breaks when we needed them most. By late afternoon we'd reached the outskirts of the village of Kintore and I was nearly falling from my seat.

“I have to walk,” I said. My voice was gritty and my vision seemed to pulse along with the beat of my heart.

“I could use it as well,” she said. “I've never in my life ridden this long.” She wobbled when her feet hit
the ground. “I can barely feel my legs for the cold, an' my tailbone aches like the devil.” I nodded. Though I'd ridden for long stretches before, I was out of practice. Everything hurt, even my fingers where they bent and grasped the leather of the reins. The road was uneven and narrowed sharply as we turned the bend. Aine walked ahead of the horse and me.

As we passed the first croft, what struck me most was the lack of activity within. There were no animals beside or behind the dwelling, no bairns shouted from inside, and no elders hung about the front walk. It was eerie and we both slowed as we approached.

“All is no' well here,” I said. Aine had lapsed into silence. Her face was white and still.

“Can ye feel it?” she said, wrapping her arms tight around her middle.

“No, I canno'. What d'ye feel?” I asked, watching her eyes grow wide and distant.

“They came by night. Groups of soldiers. There was resistance. They killed them all.”

Her hands grasped tight the folds of my plaid as she fought to see the vision that was taking hold of her. “Men. Here and again farther down the lane.
Hide. Don't speak a word. Stay here. Stay hidden.”
A chill rippled along my spine. Her voice had taken on a frightening aspect. It was as if she were someone within the vision. Her movements mimicked the speaker.

And then she was back, staring at me with wonder. And before I could question her, she bolted away, up the path and over the hill. I dropped the reins and ran as fast as my weakened legs would carry me. Her destination was the door of a hut set back from the road.

“Aine! What are ye doin'? Ye canno' go running about. It's dangerous. Stop!”

She paid me no heed. Nor did she even acknowledge that I'd spoken. I hurried to catch her before she got into trouble. My heart was near beating double time, the sweat beading upon my forehead and beneath my tunic. She was already inside when I reached the doorpost. “What the devil are ye up to, lass?” I shouted, gasping for breath.

“Shh,” she said, holding her hand up to forestall my approach. Inside the hut it was dim. Though it was early afternoon, the shutters were closed up tight and the only light spilled through the door behind me.

“It's all right,” she said softly.

“What's all right? Have ye gone daft?” I asked, exasperated.

She motioned quick and sharp to me. I had no idea what she was on about, but it was beginning to annoy me. I was cold and tired and in no mood for games. She had crossed the room and was bent low, speaking to a drape of linen hanging from a table in the corner.

“What—”

“Hsst,” she said to me. Then, “You can come out now, dearlin'. No one here will hurt ye.”

I took a step farther into the hut and shoved the door wide as Aine gently pulled the linen from the table.

Shock was the mildest of the feelings that careened through me, and confusion and worry followed fast. Enormous blue eyes peered out from the depths of the gloom. I should have felt the wean's life force long before I did, but to me, it was as if he had just flickered into existence before us.

“Come ye now, little man. We're here to help,” she coaxed.

The bairn scuttled back as far as he could, pressing himself against the stone wall.

“Ye try,” she said, turning to me for help. “He's sore frightened.”

I approached slowly and crouched down to his level. “It's all right, laddie buck. Come to Tormod an' we'll have a bit of a play.” I sent the barest tendril of power into his mind, careful to hold back, determined to keep my rogue gift in check.

The little one said nothing but moved reluctantly into the faint light, his eyes wild. I lifted my hand slowly and he scrambled away, whining soft whimpers. Aine stood frozen, barely breathing.

“I'm just goin' to see if yer hurt. It's goin' to be well, laddie. Just be still,” I coaxed. He leapt away from me as
if my touch burned and clung to Aine, who was nearly bowled over by his sudden advance.

“Hush, laddie. Aine's here. All is well,” she said in a soothing voice.

I stood awkwardly, feeling out of place and somewhat offended that he preferred her over me. I heard her hum then, lacing the air softly.

The bairn's eyes were the blue of a clear day's sky, his hair golden threads of silk, but his face was smudged with dirt and he smelled as if he had voided where he hid. Near as I could tell he was around the mark of three, but that was the extent of the information we could gather. No matter what we said or did, no matter the question or his need, the bairn would not speak.

He did not protest when Aine took him to the well and washed him up. He did not ask for food or drink but gobbled up anything she put in his fingers. With his hand in hers, we wandered the path that ran along the nearby huts.

N
o one greeted our arrival. It was as if the whole of the place was emptied in one swift upending.

Finally, we sat on the hill beyond the last hut with the bairn curled up on Aine's lap. His thumb was tucked in his tiny mouth and his eyes were drooping.

“Well, what are we to do with him?” I asked, watching her run her fingers along the soft glint of his hair.

“We've got to take him with us, of course. He'll starve otherwise.” Her head was cocked to the side at that angle I'd come to recognize as the start of a fight. This was a point she was not going to back down from. Not that I could figure any way around it.

The soft suckling of his thumb and the gentle cry of birds in the distance lulled me toward sleep. My body was sluggish and I found it difficult to think. “Let's go inside and rest,” I suggested. “No one is about to protest us being here and it's safe for the moment.” I stood, automatically reaching for the bairn. He squirmed away, even with his eyes closed.

“Suit yerself,” I grumbled.

Aine hefted his small form into her arms, and he snuggled trustingly against her chest.

“Can ye tell anything more o' the place an' what happened?” I asked.

“ 'Twas recent, mayhap yesterday even. I can feel violence. Anger. Soldiers came through and ransacked the village. Most of the men had gone off already to fight.
An' so it was the old ones and the women and bairns who stood against them. 'Twas a slaughter, Tormod. They went hut to hut, killing an' taking whatever they found.” She shuddered. “I can see it as if I were standing off to the side watching and listening.”

I could feel the pain and disgust the vision brought her. It was within me, filling my thoughts and muddying my mind. “Aine, yer emotions are strong. Too much for me to bear in this condition.” She began to hum and I relaxed.

“Where are the bodies?” I asked when again I could speak.

“Beyond the hill.” She gestured with her head and I turned. I wasn't sure why I hadn't noticed it before. A good number of birds were gathered beyond the rise, winging in circles.

“Can ye no' see an' feel what has happened here? To me ‘tis as clear as daylight,” said Aine.

A flicker of irritation rolled through me. “I don't have visions that come to me as yours seem to.” I stared at the birds. “There are times that I see the past, but most oft I see the future. An' it's usually incomplete an' random. Ye seem to see full an' clear. Most times I hear voices and only scraps of image. I never get a whole read o' something. I'm always left to riddle out what I see and make choices from what I guess is right.”

I felt lacking, admitting her gift appeared stronger than mine. It annoyed me. “Who d'ye think moved them?” I said to distract myself.

“Their men returned,” she said softly.

We were quiet a moment. “Seeing just a part seems troublesome,” she said. I was about to argue but she went on. “But then, what good is it to see what's gone on before? Mine is rarely of use,” she said.

She started up the hillside, away from the hut we had found the bairn in, to another that stood sentinel in the twilight. I followed.

It was small, just a single room of stone with a thatched roof that had been poorly tended. I opened the door and she carried the bairn inside and laid him on a pallet in a corner.

“Can ye tell from your read o' this place where the tinderbox might be? That would be helpful,” I said with an unexpected caustic edge. I smiled to ease the bite.

She returned the smile, tentatively. “No, but I think ye could go get the horse an' yer pack while I find us something to eat.”

I heard the rattle of pots and trenchers as I went out and back down the hill. It was good to have a few moments' peace. Worry over my lack of control, the loss of Aine's family and the Templar, and evading our hunters was distant. I was beyond tired. It had only been days, but I felt like I'd been on the run for a sennight. I
found the horse grazing in a spot of grass near where I'd left him hobbled behind the hut. By the time I got back Aine had gathered a few potatoes, onions, and some lard she found in the cupboard. I lit a small fire in the pit and Aine fried up the vegetables. The warm heaviness felt good in my stomach. Aine brought me a blanket. I couldn't seem to move from the chair by the fire. She curled up, pulling my plaid over her and the bairn on the pallet nearby. “We should put out the fire,” I said.

“Later,” she mumbled, drifting. “Too tired.” My eyes focused on the spill of her auburn curls against the brightness of his golden locks. It was a pleasing sight that followed me when my eyes slid shut.

The quiet of the night was broken by the sound of horses along the road and I came awake fast. The slide and clink of swords and the creak of leather echoed in my ears. I crawled quickly to the pallet and slid my hand over Aine's mouth. I spoke directly into her ear as my fingers connected with her lips. “Be still, men approach.”

Her body stiffened and she slid from the pallet to the floor, pulling the bairn with her. I heard her whisper words of comfort, but I couldn't tell if he understood, or even heard.

I could feel the growing excitement of our mount. There were other animals about and he was ready to join
them.
Be still, lad. Be silent.
I took a calming breath and sent the lightest push I could manage. His simple mind was suddenly shuttered with peace.

I could hear the conversation outside as the men got closer.

“I smell a fire. Someone has been here,” one said. I cursed our stupidity.

“We've a schedule to meet and I heard there's places along this road what's been cleared by illness,” said another.

“There's no bodies here,” replied the first. “An' I smell food.”

My hand was tight on my dagger as the footsteps moved closer and a wash of gravel slid and bounced. They were outside, just beyond the door.

Aine's frightened gaze locked on mine and she held the bairn close, rocking. Silent. His panic was cutting me up inside, building by the moment. My head was growing hazy.
No, don't give in.

I called the power then and grabbed a mental hold of a bit of our fear and sent the push of it right into the mind of the approaching stranger.
Illness lies here. Enter and die.

From beyond the door I heard a gasp, then the clatter of feet as they scrambled away and down the slope. “Don't go in there. I've got a bad feeling. Sickness. Can
ye not smell it? Can ye not taste it?” The man's babble was nearly hysterical.

“I smell something good. An' I'm hungry,” whined another.

Quickly I sent the fear his way, not bothering to dull it as I had the first. My head was splitting up the middle. It felt as if my eyes were near to bursting and I could not hold it much longer. The room was fading.

Aine added a soft hum to my push. The second man yelped and bolted down the incline.

“Get out. Go on, quickly! This place is no good,” he shrieked.

My breath rasped in the new quiet as I lay on the pallet, drifting in and out of consciousness. I could feel Aine moving about but could not lift my eyelids to see what she was doing. This time recovering was not easy. The pulse in my head beat like a bodhran. All I could do was lie still, grit my teeth, and pray the pain would go away.

I felt the bairn approach and opened my eyes. He stood before me, his gaze open and curious. Then without a word he climbed in beside me, curled up, and I felt the weight of his head on my arm. I pulled him close and thought of home as I lapsed into dreaming.

“Tormod?” Aine's soft voice dragged me back from the rest I so needed. It took much to pry my lids open.

“I think we should be gone from here. It's too close to the road. There will be others, just as there have been these. I sense in ye a weariness that should not be put to the test.”

Her words made me feel as if I were lacking in something. Was it not enough that I turned away the men who had found us? I didn't say anything, just detangled my limbs from the bairn's and slowly climbed to my feet. The interior of the hut tilted, and I had to grasp the edge of the table to stay upright.

“I refilled the skins from the well and replenished our supplies.” Aine tossed two apples to me in quick succession. I fumbled to catch them. The bairn was awake, watching me solemnly. I handed him one and he began to eat it with great seriousness. I wondered what he had seen and what I could do to bring him some peace. It would be foolish to try anything with the power.

Aine moved about, oblivious to my discomfort, readying for the next of our journey.

Our
journey. I wondered how it had come to be that. It seemed forever my lot to stumble into situations that I had not intended. Exhausted, I sat on the pallet and let my head drop.

“Let's go,” said Aine impatiently. I was not sure how long she'd been standing there. The bairn's tug on my hand finally moved me.

Beyond Aine the gray morning filled the doorway. The land was still and the cold slipped around us, seeking skin, making the small of my back quiver. “He will need more than what he has on,” I said, looking down at the bairn. “Have ye woolens?” I asked.

He said nothing and merely stared at me with his enormous blue gaze. I knew he understood what I asked, but his quiet refusal to answer bothered me. “A heavy sark?” I asked again. “If ye're to come, we need to keep ye warm.”

Fear flickered in the depths of his eyes, though I was not sure if it was the thought of coming or that he would be left behind. His hut was along the road we had already traveled, and I did not want to have to go back. Aine solved the issue before it became a problem.

“There are blankets here, an' a small plaid that will do. An' here's a tunic to pull over his own, an' stockings to double up.” She led the bairn aside and began to bundle him.

Though I knew we could not leave him behind, the delay and my illness were making me snappish. “Could ye move it along, then?” I said irritably.

“Clapper yer gob,” she snapped back. “Aren't I doin' the best I can? It wouldn't hurt ye to pack the bags back on the horse, an' see that he's watered and eaten enough of the grain I left with him. Would it?”

Her tone annoyed me quite readily. My head was pulsing with an ache behind my eyes, and I felt bleary with fatigue though I had just arisen. “We ought to just go back to one of the huts off the road and rest today,” I said as I brought the horse around and fumbled to tie our packs to the buckles of the saddle. “We're better off here than any unknown place along the way.”

She glared at me, her face livid. “It's no' safe here.” Her words came between clenched teeth and her eyes shifted pointedly to the lad.

“For the devil's sake,” I said, exasperated, “what d'ye mean to say? Out with it already.”

She patted the little one's head and set him on the stoop of the door frame. “Now ye just set here for a moment, dearlin'. We're just goin' off to have a bit o' a chat.” He reached for her hand, clearly frightened. “Right over here. Back before ye can count to ten.” He let go reluctantly.

She grabbed my hand and tugged roughly, indicating I should follow her down the slope. I would have argued but the moment her fingers enclosed mine the worst of my aches dulled. I clutched her hand, and she shot me a look but said nothing until we were out of his hearing.

“Can't ye see that we've got to get him away from here?” she whispered furiously.

“Why?” I matched her tone.

“Because, ye dolt, I read the memories o' his hut. They killed his brothers and sisters, and his old grandy there before him. We have to take him from here. Can ye no' see that he's terrified?” Her eyes bore into mine with accusation.

I felt badly then for not seeing, not noticing how the place was truly affecting him. When I looked to the stoop I saw that he had drawn his knees close to his chest. His thumb was burrowed deep in his mouth, and his eyes were blank and staring.

I turned to her, contrite, but the superior look on her face wiped away the feeling. “Well, it's no' like I could read the scene. Ye might have shared it a bit sooner!” I didn't wait for her reply but stalked back toward the bairn.

“Hist!” I nearly felt the venom she aimed at my retreating form, but was pleased to get the last word in.