A Templar's Gifts (15 page)

“A
ine!” I shouted, nearly following her over. My feet slipped as I peered into the ravine below. She was a small bit of white amid a tumble of rock and leaves. “Can ye hear me?” I shouted, frantic.

She made no sound and my fear peaked.
I had done it. I was like him.
This was the vision I had seen. I knew what I would find at the bottom of the gully, and the thought tore my heart in two.

“Hold on! I'm coming!” I shouted. I couldn't feel her, and that frightened me more than anything.

The ravine was sharp and steep. I leapt and slid down in a scramble. Aine lay partially buried in a thick mat of leaves. Earth had showered down on her, and I could only see her face and one foot.

“Aine, can ye hear me?” There was no response and my heart beat with a painful twist. Frantic, I cleared away the muck, uncovering her body bit by bit. She was pale and still, as Aine almost never was.

“Please. Talk to me! Tell me ye're all right! I'm sorry.” I brushed the leaves from her hair, lifted her head, and realized that something warm covered my fingers.
My heart stilled. Her blood was bright in the dimness. “Help me, Lord. Please.” I tore off the edge of my sark and pressed it to the back of her head.

“Listen to me! Ye will no' die!” I shouted, nearly shaking her. “I have seen it. D'ye hear me?” She had to hear, to understand, but she made no response.

I needed to get inside, to heal her as I had the old Father. Letting my gaze go wide, I called the power to me with barely leashed fury. “Come! Now!”

And it did, Lord help me, it came. Fueled by my desperation, the power leapt at my command — fast, strong, and very much beyond my control. The rush struck me numb. I could not move, nor pull my hands from her head. We were sealed to each other as heat poured through our joined bodies, searing a path I could not stop or contain.

It was like the bairn.
The realization stoked my furor. Like a wild thing, it rose and grew. Without Aine to tamp it down the power rushed and my shields completely collapsed. Raw energy surged. Light. Dark. Heat. Cold. The world convulsed around me and utter agony was my only sensation.

“A
waken.”
The voice came to me as if from afar. It was firm and demanding, yet I could not rouse the energy to care. I stayed in the dark, clinging to the cold. I'd done it again. My life was forfeit. My pain for Aine was all-consuming. I'd lost them: the Templar, Seamus, the bairn, and now Aine. I didn't deserve to go on. I didn't want to.

“Aine lives. Call on the Lord. Do it now.”
I was adrift, alone, dying, and talking to the dead.
“Ye have been chosen. Ye agreed. Do what ye were called to do. She will live. Wake now and move quickly.”

The dream of the Templar was so real I could do naught but return to the waking world. “Our Father, who art in heaven …” The prayer of Our Lord whispered in the depths of my mind. Light pressed my eyelids with a violence that made my guts heave. My head felt dislodged from my body. There was something beneath me, at the same time hard and soft.

Aine.
I rolled to my side, putting an ear to her chest and listening to her breath. Light, fast. Not the way it should be, but still, she lived.

I needed to get help. “Hold on, Aine.” I stared at her, sick at heart, then scanned the area wildly. I knew I hadn't the strength to carry her, nor could I use the power to heal her. I had to find help. Though it killed me to leave her there, I bolted back to camp and thundered out of the clearing.
She canno' die. No' like this. No' at my hands.

The memory of her still, white face made me mad with fear. I rode as if haunted toward a village we had bypassed earlier, opening myself to it. The roar of thoughts and feelings drew me like stone, but also left me near faint in the saddle.
I will no' fail.
I set myself to the commands of shielding with a will that burst a sheen of sweat over the whole of my body.

The village sat at the base of a vale deep in the woods. When I came upon the inn, it was as if I were riding into the jaws of hell. Frightened but determined, I dropped from the horse at a run, but before I had gone two paces I knew that this place was probably a huge mistake.
They
were here.

I pulled my cloak close about me and softly began the whisper. Then I stepped into the shadows of the inn.

T
hey sat in disarray all around the inn, lounging, drinking, and laughing. The soldiers. Pockface included. I willed myself to move slowly.
Just a lad from the village. Nothing more.
Sweat beaded along my brow as the draw on the power slowly ate away at my shielding.

“Ale for ye?” A serving lass came with a tankard.

“Aye.” I kept my voice low and soft. No one marked my entrance, but my heart still hammered wildly. I kept my head low and watched the other patrons through downcast eyes.

The leader sat across from me, oblivious to my presence. A parchment was spread on the table before him.

I had to get help, but who and how could I ask without drawing attention to myself? The server passed through a long, dark curtain into another room of the inn. I followed her with my eyes, and when she did not return, I stood, willing my shaking legs to move. I crept over to the wall and changed benches, as if I needed the warmth of the fire. If I could get into the kitchen unnoticed, perhaps the inn's owner would be able to help.

The leader's back was now to me, the edge of the parchment clear from where I sat. In the upper corner was a signet marked in wax. My stomach flipped and light burst suddenly before me. A golden ring dangled from a chain. A dark room lit by a multitude of candles. A warm breeze where no wind should have been.
Send the boy to Philippe. Bring the Holy Vessel to me.

I came to myself knowing two things — that I had heard the voice in a vision before and that my whisper had faltered. I dropped my head and hunched my shoulders, wondering how many sets of eyes were staring in my direction.

Tormod?
The voice touched my mind softly, and I snapped my head up in disbelief. Across the room a man was bound and huddled on the floor.

Bertrand?
To frame the question sorely taxed my overwrought senses.

He recognized me even with hair of deep brown. I knew it was ridiculous trying to disguise myself this way. His warning rang out strongly.
Get out o' here. These men are killers and they are hunting ye.

Though my head was throbbing and my arms and legs shivered with the backlash of power use, I mind-spoke to Bertrand.
I need yer help.
I sent a mental image of what had happened to Aine and without pause pulled the power and began the whisper again. This time I stirred the soldiers' anger and inflamed their exhaustion.

All around the room men began to bristle. A big meaty hand gripped the mug the serving woman put on his table. Another closed over the first and yanked. Ale splashed in a wave, dousing two others who sat behind them. Benches flew back and tables were shoved aside. Men's voices rose in heat and the brawl began.

I sent the whisper wider, fanning the flame of annoyance. Sweat soaked my hair and back. The room seemed to waver and pulse before me as I stumbled, nearly blind, to Bertrand's side and crouched to free him. We were overlooked and without interference slipped out the rear door.

Even the light of day was too much to bear. I fumbled my way to the horse and dragged my body into the saddle. Bertrand was close behind, mounted on a horse he'd taken.

“Hurry, lad. It won't be long before they notice I'm gone.” He took in my ragged appearance at a glance. “Ye're in sore shape. Can ye ride?” he asked, his concern flaring within my mind. I nodded, barely seeing him as the forest wavered around me.

The horses took off like twin arrows as the furor of the men inside surged behind me. They had noticed Bertrand's escape, and they were coming.

The horse's muscles bunched beneath me. The wind tore at my clothes and hair, and my surroundings slid into a blur of shadow. We had to get away, to reach Aine.

Without warning a strong flow of power radiated around and within me, and a new strength became mine.
Trees.
The thought and direction were strong.

Quickly I loosed the earth around the base of a great, long-dead trunk and flinched as it thundered down onto the road just behind Bertrand. I felt another and reached. It fell. And then one more. The road was littered, impassible.

Only the thought of Aine kept me conscious, and when I reached for the reassurance of her essence, I found her vital connection was gone. I nearly gave in then to the encroaching dark.

Hold on, Tormod.
A whisper flit through me and again the waft of strength came to me. Whose words, and whose strength was it? The wind whipped and my thoughts were torn away.

“Are we nearly there?” Bertrand shouted from behind.

“Aye! Beyond the bend. Beware the drop.” I reached it in moments and leapt from my mount. With cold dread I scrambled down the incline and dug at the piles of leaves, confused.

Then, all at once, my heart froze. My mind refused to believe. Aine was not there.

“A
re ye sure this is the place ye left her?” Bertrand asked. We combed the area. I knew it was right. Aine was just unaccountably not here.

“The leaves have been flattened.” I pointed. “She lay there.” Bertrand was looking about carefully. I was pacing and frantic.

“Mayhap she was no' as bad off as ye thought. She might have awakened after ye left.”

I looked at him sharply. “An' what?” I demanded, my temper rising before I could control it. “Climbed back up that incline and hied herself to break her fast?” It was surely impossible. I stooped where I had left her, staring hard at the leaves.

“Aye. I suppose ye're right. If she were wounded as ye said, there would be some trace o' her passage.” He rubbed his head and looked around the area.

“I have an idea,” I said abruptly.

“What's that?” asked Bertrand.

I paid him no heed, but set immediately to it. The power came swiftly at my reach and I began to read the forest, thinking of Aine, using the power as I had
seen her do. It did not come to me as clearly as it did for Aine. But then, wraithlike forms suddenly filled my head and a vision crashed down with bone-jarring strength. Men in the forest, moving with stealth. One leaning over Aine's body. I strained to see, to feel. And in that moment I understood. I felt nothing from him at all. Gaylen.

I snapped to with a lurch and my stomach heaved. Pain slammed my temples and I dropped to my knees, holding my head. Waves of agony rolled through my body. Black seeped in before my eyes.

“Tormod!” I heard Bertrand, but I could not speak or move. The power ripped through me and everything felt afire. The second vision that descended and filled my mind's eye was one I had forgotten. One Aine had dulled into something that I barely recognized.

The lash hissed. I heard it catch and cut. The scream that tore through the silence brought a pain to my heart so deep and resounding that tears flowed from my eyes.
Torquil.

“Tormod, ye must stop!” Bertrand was shaking me.

“What am I to do?” I stared at him, unseeing. “Bertrand, what can I do?” It was more than I could bear. I wanted to close my mind's eye and die.

Stop! Now!
The command came at me with the power of a blow. I felt broken, my head and body shattered. Voices came at me in a jumble. The Templar's,
Bertrand's, and Aine's, all seemed to echo within me. Thoughts collided and crashed. Thunder roared in my ears. Breath rattled in my chest.

Focus.
The word came at me insistently.

Ground.
The solid strength of the land was thrust deep into my head and I latched on for life.

And I gave in, reaching. “Shield.” My voice was harsh and strained.

Bertrand knelt by my side, his hands strong on my head. All around me the swirl of the land's powers flowed. I was safe, for now. I lay as still as the dead.

“Tormod, ye've barely any internal shielding! I can't imagine how ye've survived this long. I know of no one who could withstand direct contact with the power, unprotected. Be still now while I probe,” he admonished, mumbling to himself as he went along. I felt him inside my head. Moving, weighing, healing. “Your powers are much askew. Something has burned out the bit o' yer mind that protects the gifted from the use o' the power.” His words were like the chatter of woodland animals. I heard him but had not the time to spare for listening. I was weak and tired, consumed with the choice I knew I must make.

“The power drains any who attempt to use it, but this is far more. It's worse than ere I've seen, and the damage is progressing.”

His expression was grave. “Yer inner protections have been stripped from ye, lad. Usually with rest, the body can rejuvenate on its own after exposure, but yers is no'. An' despite each shield I build, an' no matter how much I encourage healing, they won't take. They're unraveling as fast as I can weave them.”

His words held a panic that was bringing me lower by the moment. I thought he would have answers, but these were not the responses I wanted to hear.

“There's a tendril of power tied to ye from somewhere else. I don't know what ‘tis. I dare no' sever it for it stretches too far away for me to see the origin. Ye need more healing than I can provide. We have to get ye back to the preceptory, to the high healers.”

My head was pounding. “No. Aine needs me. I have to rescue her from the Bruce's men. An' yet, my brother needs me. The men o' Philippe will take and hurt him badly. The family boat will be set afire. The Abbot will be kidnapped. So many things. Too many crises.” My head was pounding and I felt my blood rush with fever.

“Ye must still yerself, Tormod. Tell me all that's happened.”

Whatever he was doing gave me enough peace and strength to answer him. Briefly and quickly I told him all that had happened, from my running from home and meeting Aine to the slow ruin of my powers and Aine's
terrible accident. I left out the bairn, as I could not, even now, bear to think about what I'd done.

“Aine is injured and taken, and my family, the carving, and the Abbot are all in grave danger. What am I supposed to do?” Helplessness was clawing great rents in my soul.

“I will go to the Bruce and care for Aine. I am a healer. I've set a temporary shield in place that should hold until ye make it to the preceptory. Ye will go there. Now, with all haste.” He moved to his horse and climbed into the saddle. “The soldiers will be looking for our path. We can confuse them by splitting up.”

It was the right thing to do, but how could I leave Aine? He sensed my hesitation. “Go, lad. I'll get her an' we'll find ye. I promise!”