A Templar's Gifts Read Online Free PDF Page B

bit of growing up, Tor.”
    I turned away from him and swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling anything but grown.
    Torquil retired to a dark corner beneath a length of sail, leaving me to navigate. There was not much in the duty but holding steady and moving ahead. Still the wheel was comforting beneath my fingers and gave me the feel of taking control of my destiny, whatever that might be.
    As the clouds drew darker and the day moved on, thoughts of that destiny were not as reassuring as they might have been. I couldn’t help but think that I was running away, with little idea as to where I would be safe. Itwas just like before, but I was alone now and had no friend or mentor to counsel me.
    Time passed at a crawl and my fears grew with every league we traveled. My anxiety was such that I felt as if my skin had been flayed raw, and my guts grew more tight and twisted by the moment. Torquil’s worry pressed against my mind. Even while he slept, my own became barely manageable.
    By the time he woke, late that afternoon, I could hardly wait to give over the wheel. Candle marks of uncertainty had worn me thin. My eyes were as if filled with sand and my head buzzing with bees.
    We spoke little as I huddled in my plaid, watching the roll of the waves, drifting between dreams that I could not remember moments after I awoke.
    As night drew on we neared the shores of Arbroath. “You don’t have to beach it,” I said, hefting my pack and looking over the side for rocks below the water’s edge. The boat swelled and dipped.
    â€œJust a little closer,” he replied. “Best to try and keep yer things dry.” He dropped the weight to anchor us. “This is all I can do.” He looked torn. “I hate to leave ye like this.” I felt the truth of his words and my eyes watered.
    He held up his sack of coin. I had left it on the deck where he’d tossed it to me.
    I hesitated, then took it. “I’ll return it the moment I get back. Give my love to them all.”
    He rested his hands on my shoulders and pulled me close. “God go with ye, little brother.” His voice was rough. I squeezed him back, never wanting to let go, comforted as if my da held me close, as he might never do again. My throat was tight with unshed tears.
    â€œI love ye,” I whispered. My face was hot with embarrassment and yet I needed to say the words.
    I heard him swallow. When he spoke his voice was gruff. “As do I. Come home again safe, Tormod.” I pulled back and he shook me. “I command ye to.”
    I nodded, hoping and praying that I could.
    The boat was knee-high in frigid water, and in moments I could not feel my feet. I waded quickly ashore shaking with cold, quivering with sadness. When I looked back, Torquil was a smudge in the distance.
    Be careful.
His thoughts brushed the edges of my mind as from a stand of trees, I watched him disappear. Rain fell in fat drops, mixing with the tears slipping down my cheeks. I brushed them away and hurried into my boots. My breeks dripped water and clung to my legs. I had to move inland before it grew too dark to see. Head down, I trudged over the rise and through the woods. The rain came on stronger as my heart felt near to breaking. I had no notion where exactly to find Bertrand and was pleased, when I came upon the village, to see one hut largerthan the rest surrounded by grave markers, the usual sign of a kirk. An old well stood at its fore, and as I passed I said a prayer to Our Lady to safeguard my passage.
    The Templar and I had been ambushed in a hut that looked much like this one. By the door I lingered, uncertain, equally poised to knock or flee. Then from beyond came the soft cadence of prayer.
    I rapped solidly on the old wood and the murmur inside stopped. A moment later a frail, hunched figure appeared. He was a very old man. His hair hung limp and pale around his face, and his eyes were an unnatural milky white. A large