A Templar's Gifts (10 page)

“T
wo alone, traveling the rough o' the Highlands. An interesting tale no doubt.” His voice was smooth, even toned, and learned.

“Who are ye?” Aine asked before I had the nerve to.

“I am the Bruce,” he said plainly, “Robert to those who I name friend.” He tilted his head and held out his hand to me. “Can I count ye as a friend?” he asked.

“Aye, sire. It would be an honor,” I said, dropping to my knees, nearly overcome with reverence. Robert Bruce, the King of Scotland, crowned at Scone on the Stone of Destiny.

He was of medium height with a long, full beard and thick, bushy eyebrows. And yet it was his eyes that distinguished him from others. They had an intensity that caught you up and snared you like a fox.

“An' would ye be a friend as well?” He addressed his question to Aine, who was deep in a curtsy. He took her hand and lifted her to stand. I felt her faintness ripple through me.

“Aye, my Lord.” She smiled at him; a wide-lipped, full-toothed thing that made her eyes glow.

For no reason I could fathom, the smile irritated the life out of me. I nudged her and, leaning toward the fire out of earshot of the others, said, “Close yer mouth. Flies are drawing.”

Her slight squeal preceded the elbow that jabbed my side. My yelp was not nearly as quiet and the Bruce's laugh cut the night.

“Come ye both, my new friends. Ye must be hungry,” he said, leading us toward the main tent. “Geoffrey, bring some refreshments, if ye would.”

The man turning the spit nodded and began to cut slices of hare onto a trencher. “Yes, my Lord.”

“There's a story in this that may be as interesting as my own,” the Bruce said. He lifted the tent flap and motioned us inside. “Why don't we start with yer names an' how ye've come to be with me. We'll see where it leads from there.”

The tent was larger on the inside than it appeared without. Long draping swaths of canvas enclosed one enormous room that was divided into a general meeting area, cut into several spaces and curtained off at the back where I assumed his private quarters lay. Three trunks were set next to one another and wooden tables and chairs were arranged. On one, a variety of maps was laid out, tacked in place by stone chessmen.

“I am Tormod MacLeod of Leith,” I said. I looked over to Aine, but she refused to turn my way. She had broken contact over my taunt and was now on the opposite side of the map table, far from me. My body was trembling without her.

“And I am Aine Cleary.” Still no acknowledgment of me, or my trouble, though I was sure she knew of it. I cursed myself for a fool and wished heartily that I had curbed my tongue. The chaos was reeling through me and building, but I refused to go to her when she so obviously had decided to punish me. My annoyance at her, however, was not a good companion. It filled my mind and combined with hers, and all of a sudden the emotions
of the men of the camp came to me as well. I was confused and overwhelmed.

I noticed then that everyone in the tent was staring and thought perhaps that the Bruce had asked a question, but for the life of me I didn't know what it was. The air was becoming strangely hot and the light in the tent overly bright. Blood was thrumming hard in my veins.

“Tormod!” Aine's gasped cry barely stirred the air by my ears. Before I could credit what was happening, I felt the floor of the tent rise up to meet me.

A
buzz filled my ears like the hum of a million wings and the dim inside of a kirk filled my mind's eye. A rough altar stood at the fore and a wooden cross was suspended above. Several men moved in stealth.

“Well, I have come. What have ye to say?”

“We both know that there can only be one King of Scotland.”

“And that Kingship should by rights fall to me.”

“And I believe that it is mine to inherit. It matters no', I have a proposition.”

“Aye?”

“That we become partners. Ye an' yer clan will become richer than ere ye dreamt possible. Lands and titles I will grant, an' ye will become my right hand. Together we will take Scotland from this English dog.”

“An' I say the Comyns will rule, an' ye can be my right hand. It is as it always has been. Why the meeting?”

A whisper of movement. A rustle of cloth.

“No! This is no' the way!”
The shout rang out.

Blades clashed. Men fought. A scream split the night.

“Step back, Robert!”

“Gaylen! What have ye done?”

Light rose before my eyes, bringing me fully back to the Bruce's tent and those staring down at me.

“He's coming around.” A man crouched before me, but I could not feel his emotion or intent. I remembered his voice, though.
Step back, Robert!
The smell of camphor wafted into my nostrils and I swatted it aside.

“Tormod, can ye hear me?”

This voice I knew as well, from the vision and as well as from here, now: King Robert the Bruce. My mind was having trouble sorting out what I'd heard and seen. The face of the blank one was before me. He was holding my head, speaking. I saw his mouth move and remembered.

“Ye killed the Red Comyn.” I couldn't believe the words had escaped me.

He flinched and stumbled back, shock and anger filling his eyes. “What did ye say?” The cold voice cut me and I was suddenly deadly afraid. Sweat built quickly and rolled down my neck.

“Nothing.” Lord help me, how could I have spoken? A meeting held in secret in a kirk. This man had stabbed the rival to the throne.

Aine was at my side. I felt the twist of her fear and it built with my own, making it worse, and then suddenly I was back in the state she had found me in. My body felt dead and yet my mind was alert. This man was danger incarnate and I knew that he had killed without remorse on the altar of God.

In a panic I called for the power but it scattered from my touch.
Aine.
I sent the whisper of her name, desperate to somehow make her understand that I was here, that I needed her, but I couldn't do much more than send a word or a thought.

Her startled gasp sounded in my head and I put all I had into the reach.
Sing for me.

In an instant her music swirled and wove around my body, loosening the bonds and bringing me back.

Focus.
The command came to me as if from a dream, a memory.

I was confused. Aine's hum was softening my thoughts, but the word came again, demanding I stay on track.
Focus.

I did and the cool wash of a breeze flit through my mind. Suddenly I found I could move my lips again.

Ground,
I said to myself, and this time the power came to me, clinging to the surfaces of my inner mind, taking hold, healing.

“He's coming around!” I heard the Bruce say, and the dangerous one stepped away from me.

“Tormod, can ye hear me?”

Shield.
The command seemed much closer this time, and I pushed the power outward. The shielding was not the strongest, but it was the most difficult I'd ever attempted.

Aine and the Bruce were crouched before me, but it was the cold, calculating gaze of the other that held mine. I turned away, trying to rise, but the tent tilted and a hand pushed me flat. My fear grew ever higher, but Aine took hold of my shoulders and slowly the world began to right. The ground was hard beneath me, and my body and head ached.

“How d'ye feel, lad?” It was the Bruce asking.

“Better,” I gasped, not at all sure it was the truth.

“Gaylen, have we any valerian?” asked the Bruce.

“Aye. I'll have it brought to their tent.” Gaylen, the blank one, the killer, helped me to sit. “Yer in quite a
state,” he said. His eyes were cold, unfathomable. “Why d'ye travel this road?”

“We seek a healer. I am hunted,” I answered as if compelled. A strange itch filled my head behind my eyes.

“An' how is it ye knew where ye'd find the Bruce?” he asked.

“We did no'. Ye found us. We seek Bertrand Beaton, a Templar healer.” I could not help but to answer his questions. The answers felt as if they were torn from my head. Aine helped me to my feet, and I immediately had the urge to flee. My eyes strayed nervously to the tent flap.

“We know Bertrand well,” said the Bruce. “But ye've missed him. He's gone to Elgin.”

My heart sank. “Is Elgin far?” We had to get out of here. My fears began to rise again and, as if on demand, Aine's lifted and combined and we began the spiral upward.

It was Gaylen who answered. “A lifetime away.” The words were meant for me alone.

I dropped my head in despair. “If ye could tell us how to get there, we'll bother ye no more,” I said. A faint was again spreading over me. My legs wavered.

“Ye're in no shape to travel. Ye'll stay with us,” said Gaylen. He was not giving us the option to leave. He turned to the King then. “I would speak to ye a moment in private, sire.”

The Bruce nodded and called to a guard standing outside the tent. “Is all as it should be?”

“Aye, sire.”

“Yer tent is ready. Ye may both retire.” The King dismissed us and a pang of uncertainty rippled through me. The ache in my head grew worse. A man came at the call of the King and escorted us outside.

“Tormod!” Aine whispered. I cut her off with a quick look and shake of my head.

We were led to a small, dark tent. Our meager pack was set beside two blankets spaced a hand span apart. It might have seemed confining if my head had hurt a little less. As it was, I was happy to fall onto the blanket and urge Aine down beside me.

He left us with a trencher of hare and some greens. The food sat untouched as I tried in vain to settle myself. Her worry was strong in my head.

“We've got to get out o' here as soon as we can. I had a vision about the Bruce and Gaylen, and I saw something I should no' have.” The pull of sleep and the darkened tent beckoned.

Aine shook me. “Tell me,” she said.

“I saw Gaylen kill the Red Comyn on an altar in some darkened kirk. Robert the Bruce was there. It was a meeting of some sort to try and win Comyn's support o' the Bruce as King. The discussion turned to argument an' Gaylen killed the clan leader.”

“I saw it as well!” she said faintly. “We shared this vision.”

Her words surprised me. How was that possible? “This vision was different. 'Twas of the past, which rarely comes to me. 'Twas clear and complete. It is never that way for me.”

“It is as you describe for me, usually, except I hear no sound. This time, I saw only movement in a vague half-light and I heard everything. What does any of this mean?” she asked.

“The visions are changing. It is a part o' what is happening to me I would grant. But more than that, what we saw is no' something Gaylen would have us know.”

“Aye. I've heard William speak o' the Red Comyn. His claim to the throne was strong, an' he had many supporters throughout the land,” she said.

“He was ambushed,” I said.

“Are ye sure? That's a dangerous thing to be speaking aloud,” she said.

I hesitated. “I don't know. It happened quickly. Gaylen did the deed. The Bruce protested, but he was too late.” A cold sinking feeling was strong in the pit of my stomach. “I don't think any on the Comyn side lived. There were no witnesses.”

Her eyes met mine and fear trembled back and forth between us. “None, but us,” she said with a shudder. “How can Gaylen know that you saw, though?”

“I spoke the words aloud when I came out o' the vision state. He heard me, I know it.”

“D'ye think that's what they needed to talk about?” she asked.

“Aye. We're no' going to be allowed to leave.” My head was near to splitting in pieces. Recovering was far worse than even losing control of the power. That it had happened again was beyond frightening. Something very bad was happening to me.

“I need to sleep,” I said, not wanting to frighten Aine with my dark thoughts.

“Eat first,” she said, shoving a piece of meat into my mouth before I could protest. It was all I could do to finish before seeking the rest that I so desperately needed.

I felt Aine at my side and without asking pulled her close and wrapped around her. Peace stole gently over me.

“T
ormod!” Fear flooded my sleep-fogged brain. Aine's hand was on my arm, dragging me up.

The sound of men moving at quick pace was loud
beyond our walls. The clink of stakes and the shout of orders filled the morning air. A soldier struck the canvas side of our tent roughly. “Out! Now!” he demanded. We were being evicted.

“What's happening?” I asked, hurrying Aine out of the tent before me.

“We're moving. Our camp is breeched.” His words were clipped and impatient. Aine and I were ignored as a flurry of activity flowed around us. Tents were dropped and rolled faster than I could credit. The fire was tamped and packhorses loaded. I looked for the King, but neither he nor Gaylen were anywhere about. “Let's grab a horse an' get out of here,” I whispered.

“But they'll see us,” she said.

Her fear was escalating inside me again. I tamped it down as best I could, but my head was pounding in moments. Aine moved close and took my hand, no doubt seeing me waver. “We won't have this chance again.” Just as I spoke, the Bruce strode into the clearing, his lead men flanking him.

“Tormod, Aine. Mount up an' join the line.”

I shot Aine a quick glance, knowing our time to escape had come and gone. I let go only long enough to climb into the saddle, but even that short a time was enough to nearly undo me. The activity of the many men in the camp was overwhelming. Even Aine's touch did
not insulate me, and I nearly tumbled to the ground. Aine wrenched me back into position.

Gaylen appeared at our side. “Ride. Stay with the front of the line.” He rode off, calling orders to others.

We moved ahead of the line just as the feel of men on the attack hit me. At least twenty strong, they pounded into the clearing with swords outstretched. The burst of their fury slammed my barely protected mind like a smith's hammer. Nearly blind, I dug my heels into the horse's sides and took off like a shot. Behind us, horses screamed. Men shouted and the clash of steel filled the air.

We raced like the devil was on our tail, skirting the horses that had turned to engage in the battle. Aine held tight, and I felt more than heard the hum that filled my ears. I didn't try to add to her pull of the power. All I could do was give the horse his head and hang on for life.

The road twisted upward and branched at several intervals. We had no idea where we were going or in what direction we should turn. Distance was our only priority. It was several leagues before I let the horse slow and the tightness in my chest and back loosen. Aine's hum had long since faded, but her fierce grip on me had not. I could feel the rapid beat of her heart as strongly as the life force of the trees around us.

We rode that way for a long time before either of us
spoke. I could tell Aine was getting ready to say something. “Where d'ye suppose we are?” she asked.

Though I didn't want to admit it, I said, “I have no idea. Let's try for the top of that slope and see if anything helps,” I said.

It was a long way off and I wasn't at all optimistic about the result. “It all looks the same,” Aine said. “Gaylen warned that the paths in these hills lead in circles.”

It did feel that way, but I didn't want to add to her worry. The day was moving on. The pale shadow of the sun that had greeted our waking was now high above, and my stomach was beginning to complain. I reached down and dug some carrots from the pack and handed her one.

“We're better off on our own than with Gaylen,” I said. “I don't know what he had planned, but I'm fair sure letting us go off and find Bertrand was no' a part o' it. We'll make our way,” I said, putting as much reassurance as I could into my words.

“But up here, with no direction and only a bit o' food left …” she said.

“We'll be fine. There's got to be game around and nuts and berries.” I hadn't seen any evidence to support the thought but I needed Aine calm. Her fears were mine and when they grew, the out-of-control feeling in me did as well.

“D'ye think they won the day?” she asked. Her teeth were chattering, though from nervousness or cold, I couldn't tell. I climbed off the horse. “What are ye doin'?” she asked.

“I have some things in my pack. Ye can cover up a bit. Ye're shaking like a leaf in the wind.” I fished out my extra sark. “Here. Put this on.”

She slid down and shrugged into the extra layer. “D'ye think that we'll be long out here?” Her voice was small, and I found myself bothered that I didn't have the answer she needed.

“We'll make do.” I didn't say that my problems using the power worried me more, or that it was possible I could go back into that barely conscious state and leave her completely alone.

The horse's sides were heaving from our flight. I ran my hands along his neck. “He's tired an' hungry. Ye go on an' remount an' I'll walk alongside.” I gave the horse leave to chew at a patch of late grass. “We have no other choice but to move ahead from hill to hill. We'll follow the path o' the sun and hope for the best.”

The prospect was daunting. On foot, the next summit was a long way off. “I'll walk as well,” she said. “We can't afford to lame him.”

I nodded. She was right. We would have to make choices from now on. The mountain pass was a thin track, stretching high into the hanging mist of the day.
The top was completely hidden by haze. “We may no' be able to see much even when we get there,” she said as I took the reins and began to lead.

The air was damp and frigid. It crept into our clothing and made it impossible to stay warm. As we walked, the land swam in and out of my sight. It was all I could do to keep moving and upright.

The Bruce's men would be seeking us. The information we had was dangerous in the hands of his enemies. He had barely begun to unite the country. If word of an ambush by his people were to reach the Comyns there would be war between the clans. And it would all be to the benefit of the English King trying to conquer Scotland.

Why had the vision shown me what it had? Was it a part of the rest I had seen? There were no revelations, however, to be found among the damp trees. And yet there was a strange calm that came of walking here.

The last of the summer leaves glistened beneath the scant rays of sunlight, dark then bright. Power swirled around my ankles. There. That was the difference. I could feel the power again. It came to me more strongly with each step.

“Can ye feel any trace o' the group that attacked the camp or o' the Bruce and his men?” Aine asked.

I was startled by her voice. My mind had been drifting. “No, I canno' sense anyone, but I wouldn't count on
me for that. My senses are so out o' sorts, they might be standing next to us and I'd no' feel them.” Her eyes met mine. Her face was pale. “It's all right. We've put much distance between us.”

Aine cocked her head, as if listening to something far away. “Does this place seem at all unusual to ye?” she asked.

The strong beat of the land was intoxicating. The power was washing through me unchecked. It was pure but a bit harsh. I couldn't seem to filter it through me right. It called to my body, and I could do nothing but go to it. I led Aine and the horse off the path and started up over the hillside in a weaving westerly movement.

“Are ye sure this is wise?” Aine asked. “Should we not stay at least on the track?” I could feel the roil of her anxiety but this time it found no purchase in me.

“Canno'. ‘Tis no' on the track,” I said, my words an effort.

“What's no', Tormod?”

“It's here. Up there somewhere,” I said, distracted.

Aine was nervous beside me. I could feel it, but spared no energy to think on it.

We took the most direct route we could, following the pull of the power. The land was difficult — it sloped at times nearly vertical. “Listen,” I said. “Can ye hear water?”

Aine was breathing hard. “No, nothing.”

“Well, I do. It's coming from there.” I pointed off to the left. There was a tangle of tall bushes and spindly trees blocking what lay ahead. Slowly we made our way toward the sound. Skirting the trees, I saw the stream. It was not a waterfall like the one that fronted the cave in France, but two distinct flows trickling down the hillside. They merged nearly at our feet to make a single strong current. I wondered if water had something to do with key places of power.

Like a boulder tossed in the stream
… The phrase the Templar used to describe the way events affected the future came to me as if from far away.

A flash of light burst behind my eyes and the glint of a blade darted and swept.

I stumbled and fell against the horse's side. “What was that?” I gasped, blinking. A strange dizziness hung over me and my heart was beating fast.

“Tormod.” Aine was snapping her fingers close to my eye, and truly I was not sure how long I had been standing there adrift. “Ye're frightening me.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it, and started across the stream. The hillside stretched sharply upward. Looking toward the crest made my head swim.

“Where are we going? What are ye lookin' for?” Aine asked, out of breath and clearly skeptical.

“It's there,” I said, nearly babbling. “Can't ye feel it?”

“Tormod. Ye're out o' sorts. Slow down.” Aine's hum began softly, and when I didn't react she sang, louder and stronger. I breathed deeply. As the wind blew, the trickle of sap deep within the trees and the life of animals hidden from the rest of the world came to me in a rush. And with it came an awareness that bolted through Aine and reverberated through me. Her eyes were wide with wonder.

“Tormod, what is that?”