A Templar's Apprentice (12 page)

“Things are changing. I can feel it.” The knight's words were meant for me. “We go on as we are, windless or not, and put in to Santiago.”

Seamus sighed with a depressed sort of acceptance. “As ye will it, Uncle.”

B
y nightfall the ship was back under a steady breeze and tensions aboard began to turn as well. That is, everyone's mood improved but Seamus's. The man literally vibrated with anger, and it was all the worse when he was near me.

Reason or no, things between us remained balanced on the edge of a blade. While the others returned to their tasks, the Templar bade me continue to fish, ending for a time my duties with the deckhands. This appeared to chafe Seamus all the more. Truth be told, I would have caulked the entire hold or rowed for days rather than spend time on deck with that man, for fishing gave him even more opportunity to cause havoc in my world. Nothing pleased him. Not my skills, nor the catch, nor the way I handled the wheel. Not even my scrubbing of the privy was good enough for the sergeant. I dreaded his presence around me.

The pale gray dawn brought with it a tiding of things to change. The wind whipped briskly across the deck as I dropped the first of our nets, letting the line slowly drift
out and down. It was heavy and slick in my hands. I felt the bite of it in my fingers and the weight of it in my arms. Balance was a fine line I trod. I tipped over the rail, and the blood rushed to my head as I slowly lowered the bulk of the net seaward, making sure it fell evenly and didn't tangle.

The water was rough, crashing against the hull and rushing up in a spray that wet my arms as I dangled. The waves surged and dropped away, surged and dropped away. On one deep dip of the ship, as I was letting out the last of the net, I was surprised by the feel of someone behind me. I twisted to see what was going on. I saw and felt him at the same time.

Seamus's fingers closed over my shin. I didn't stop to ask questions, but kicked out and caught him square in the chest. It all happened so fast. He staggered back and cursed. I saw the rope tangle and tried to right myself, but the sea tugged the net out of my fingers. Then Seamus was yanked over the side.

What possessed me then I'll never know, for in truth I hated the man, but the moment he went over I grabbed my fishing knife, tossed aside my plaid, and dove in.

The water hit me with a crush, nearly tearing the knife from my grip. It was colder than the first ice of winter, and though my eyes stung, I searched for him in the blackness. In moments my ears were ringing and the
pressure in my chest grew unbearable. He was deep and struggling. The rope was wrapped tight and grew more tangled by the moment.

I swam toward him to try and loose the rope, but he fought me off. The burning need for air made my head pound, but I ignored it and made a lunge for him.

This time I got close enough, for by now Seamus had stopped struggling. With the breath heaving in my chest, I sawed until the rope frayed and broke. With Seamus limp in my arms, I kicked for my life.

The surface glistened above, taunting me. His heavy, awkward body shoved me deep each time I reached for it, struggling to get Seamus's face and my own above the waves. The undertow was strong, fighting to suck me below, churning water into my open, gasping mouth. My body was exhausted and not working as it should.

“Tormod!” The Templar's voice floated over the roar of the sea and hope grew where none had been. I swam in circles, looking and listening, but the waves were coming from all directions, confusing me. A great crest broke over me and the force of it wrenched Seamus from my grasp. I began to choke on water that rushed down my throat. My chest was exploding as I fought again for the surface, and when at last I broke through, I knew that I'd lost him.

I
ducked beneath the waves again and again, stroking though the dark, desperate to find Seamus. The water was so cold I couldn't tell if my arms or legs were moving. Somehow the direction I thought was the surface never seemed to be right. Blackness was all around me. The only heat I felt was the burn in my chest. I thought I was going to die.

Suddenly the darkness broke, and a glow of brilliant light filled the ocean's depths. I swam as if in a dream. No — as if in a vision. Before my eyes a thousand embers glowed. One by one the lights winked off and on, calling me forward.

With the breath so tight in my chest, every heave turning me inside out, I followed the trail of starlight. And as I passed each glowing point, my need for air lessened and my body warmed.

An eternity later I broke through the waves, gasping for air, determined to float. I heard them then, the Templar foremost in the shouting, and long moments later, I was hauled aboard.

“Tormod, lad, come back.”

The Templar's soft voice called to me through a haze of mist. I heard him, but I could not speak or seem to come fully awake.

I drifted and dreamt. Though I don't know how long I stayed in that strange and silent place, I knew full well the waking.

Pain seared into my dreaming and I jerked to. The chamber was dark and frightening. The black wrapped around me and squeezed the air from my body.

“Lay still, Tormod. I'll get Alexander. He wanted to be told the moment ye woke.” Seamus's voice startled me.

My eyes darted around the room, frantic. Nothing looked familiar. “Where am I? What's wrong with me?”

“Ye're in my quarters. Be calm.” He moved quickly toward the door but didn't pass through it right away. He stood instead as if he could not move on. Suddenly he pounded the wall. “Why? Why would ye do it? I gave ye no reason to play savior.”

I struggled to remember, to understand his words. The feel of the icy water closed in on me. “The water. We were in the water,” I said raggedly. “I could no' find
ye.” It was all so bleary in my mind. I remembered the dark and cold and shook with the thought of it.

He hunched by the door, brooding. “I would not have done it for ye.” He seemed embarrassed by what he'd said, but it made little sense to my mind. I didn't reply. I could not. Fear choked the words in my throat.
It hurts. My leg … the burn.

“If there was something I could do or undo, I would.”

I struggled to sit, and the pain ripped through my body. I howled with it.

He moved quickly across the room. “No, lie down. Ye'll tear the stitches.” He pushed me flat, and I'd not the energy again to rise.
Stitches.

Seamus left me then, in the dark that seemed to smother me. It felt like a candle mark, though probably only moments passed before the Templar opened the door. A blur of fur streaked past him and leapt onto the pallet. My leg throbbed beneath the cat's weight. “Cass, get off him,” he said, shooing the animal away. Cassiopeia jumped from the bedding but stayed at my pallet's side. I could hear her purr in the darkness. It was comforting, and yet I squeezed my eyes shut. I wished to never open them and know the truth I would hear. “Tormod, I am truly glad that ye've finally awakened.”

“What's happened? I know there's something. Something bad.”

I felt his hand on my shoulder, strong. I didn't feel strong. I was filled with a well of sorrow that had no end. His silence brought my tears brimming to the surface.

“Ye were long in the cold, lad. We barely were able to bring yer body temperature back to normal. I'm sorry. It was the freezing sickness. Ye're lucky to be alive. Ye've been lost to us for many a day.”

“What?” I cried, embarrassed by the wobble in my voice and the tears in my eyes.

“Yer foot, lad. It was yer foot. Ye've lost two toes on yer left.”

The dark seemed to deepen, chilling my soul. The tears I'd been pressing away escaped to rush down the sides of my face.
I was my da's runner.
The thought repeated over and over in my mind, louder with every pass. “No,” I said. “No, no, no. It cannot be. Why? Why to me?”

“It's not that bad, Tormod.” His words were harsh. “There are many that get by with far worse. We were able to save both o' yer feet. Ye have two strong legs. Ye will adjust. It will take some time. I'll not lie to ye, it will pain ye for a good long while.”

His words barely cut the fog in my mind. I had done nothing to cause this, but it didn't feel that way.

I want to go home. I want my mam. I want to be left alone. I want my foot whole.
I shouted at him
deep in my mind but not aloud. His hand slid from my shoulder to my arm. I pulled away and huddled in the corner of my pallet. He hesitated and then left quietly. Cassiopeia leapt back onto the bedding and curled up near my head.

T
he Templar left me alone that night with a strong tea of willow bark to dull the pain. I didn't want to see him, and yet I did. I was angry … at everyone and everything — at Seamus, at God.
I prayed to Ye nine times a day. How could Ye do this to me? Why?
I railed.
I saved him. I should have been rewarded. Why have Ye punished me instead?
It was bad, all of it. But what was worse was there was a small part of me screaming that the Templar knew it was going to happen. He had the vision sense. I could not help but wonder if he had seen it days ago. I was confused. I had never been able to change the future — what I
saw,
happened — but what if he could, and he didn't?

I slept to escape all that had happened. My dreams were terrible. I ran in them, not happily with the wind at my back as I once would have, but jerkily, and
forever chased by something or someone pounding heavily behind me. I woke several times in the night, the last when the Templar came to check on me, but I was not yet ready to face him.

A full day and night passed before I had the strength and courage to peel back the dressing. The sight of my bloody foot made me retch into the chamber pot by my bedding.

“Go easy, leanabh.” I knew that he had entered, for the draft from the open door made the light of the candle flicker. As the last of the heaves and tremors passed, I leaned spent against the pallet's edge and took the cool scrap of linen he offered to wipe my face.

“It looks bad, aye, but it will heal well. Ye've got to be vigilant about cleaning the site, though. I've seen such before. Ye need to make sure that the wasting does no' progress further.”

My empty stomach heaved yet again.

“I'm sorry, lad. I forget that my words might fall harshly on yer ears.”

“No. I … 'tis all right.” Though I tried to suppress it, my voice shook. I swallowed hard, willing myself to be strong. “Who has seen to me?”

His gaze met mine. “Seamus didn't leave yer side until ye woke. And even now, he'll let no other prepare the water and herbs.”

Anger tore through me at the name and the thought
of my mangled foot. “He need not bother. He had no use for me. I want no part o' his guilt.”

The Templar didn't even raise an eyebrow and his voice remained calm. “I'll arrange for one o' the others,” he said. “Tormod, what ye did back there was nothing short o' heroic. He would surely have died had ye not thought quickly and acted as ye did.”

It would have been better for me if I had not done as I had,
my mind shouted.
If I had to do it again, I would not.

“Ye do yerself a disservice, Tormod. Ye did as was right. Ye've a good heart.” He spoke again as if he could read my mind. I had not the faith in myself that he placed upon me.

I could not bear to meet his eyes, to see the disappointment that would surely be there. I just wanted to be left alone. My foot was throbbing, and my mind was a blur. He stood. “Lay yer head, lad. Get some rest. We've time to talk o' it later.”

I did as he bid. I could do nothing else.

Horace brought the supplies for my wound care. The big man moved surprisingly quietly for the giant he was. I watched him wordlessly.