A Templar's Gifts by Kat Black Page A

if the Lord and the land had given up on me.
    â€œNo, no, no,” I moaned. He could not be gone. My guilt was so deep, my pain and Aine’s so hot I felt as if I might burst into flame. I couldn’t think. “I killed him,” I gasped, not wanting to accept that it was true.
    Aine’s hands were fisted on my shoulders. “No,” she whispered, “I did. Ye told me no’ to let go.” Her words ended on a sob. “I only meant to get him his dolly. I only meant …” She broke down, her cries like those of a wounded animal.
    I knew her thoughts. Her pain rushed through me like wildfire — the deaths of her family, the guilt she carried, her devastation over the bairn. My senses shrieked, and the power of the land suddenly broke free, welled up beneath me, and flowed through me.
    With new clarity I moved deeply into the mind and body of the bairn. I saw the stillness of his tiny heart, the quiet emptiness of his mind. The power had done this. I saw the scorched places in his body where the energy had seared. I tried to fix him, as I had healed the Templar’s nephew, Seamus, but I knew in my heart of hearts that he was beyond me.
    It was a long while later when I realized that Aine was shaking me, and so much longer before I was able to still the tears that flooded my world.

SHAME AND GUILT
    W e worked in silent numbness. The day lengthened as I dug a shallow grave with an old spade from one of the huts. The ground was cold and hard. It took much to make the barest of dents, but I did it while Aine gathered stones to make a cairn.
    As the rain began once more to fall, I laid his small body to rest. Aine put the doll in his hands, her tears dripping down on his pale face.
    â€œLord, take this innocent unto your care. He’s seen more than his share an’ yet not nearly enough o’ thisworld. Though we knew him not long, he will stay with us always.” I could barely speak for the sadness.
    â€œHail Mary, full o’ grace …” Aine began the prayer and I joined in softly. The bairn was home with his family now.
    We did not linger in that place. Aine climbed astride our horse and I walked, leading, following the road away. Sadness hung around us like the fog blanketing the mountains.
    â€œI don’t know how that could o’ happened,” Aine said in a whisper, as if she spoke to herself. “He was here and now he’s no’.” Her voice caught in a sob that she pulled back with a hiccup.
    I had no answer. I couldn’t speak. If I opened my mouth, I was afraid I might start screaming and never stop. I was supposed to be his protector. Instead I had killed him.
    Misery and guilt were my only companions as I thought of what happened again and again, wondering what I could have done differently.
    The echo of his cries filled my head. My body was cold, and my legs stumbled every few steps.
    â€œTormod! What’s wrong? What is happening?” I felt her hands on my arms and her nails digging. Her facewas strange and far away. My head pulsed with a throbbing that encompassed my eyes. I stared at her mutely, trying to make sense of what she was saying.
    Focus. Ground. Shield.
Words pounded my skull, but like puffs of cloud, they brushed me but beyond that had no effect. The voice in my head was not my own. I squinted. The light was too bright. I was confused.
Do it! Now!
    Aine’s face was fading in the brightness of the light.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God …”
The words came to me, as did the vision. I saw a block of wood. Shavings curl and fall. A likeness unfolding. Dark hair and amber eyes. The face of a woman. The carving had come to life.
    I blinked and my shielding was in place. Aine was before me, and the woman was gone. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, and ragged sobs tore from my throat. For the bairn, for the Templar, for Seamus. For myself.
    Aine took my hand and pulled me to her and hugged me. I