Challenge of the clans (35 page)

"Of course," Finn assured him calmly. "May we begin now?"

He removed his cloak and the sword harness, handing them to Caoilte. He slipped his shield onto his right arm, settling it firmly. Goll then took the hazel staff from one of his warriors and presented it to Finn. The young warrior examined it carefully. It was a smoothly polished rod two fingers thick and as long as his arm. The wood made it strong but supple. It flexed easily in his hands, showing no signs of weakness.

"It seems all right," Finn said, whipping it around him experimentally.

"YouVe no need to fear that," Goll said sharply, catching the implication. "Theres no man in Ireland would say that Goll MacMorna is not an honorable man."

"I see," said Finn. "Is that why your clan destroyed mine? Is that why my father died?"

"Your father had taken too much power to him-selfl" Goll returned heatedly. "He had broken the bond of all Fian warriors to serve the will of the high king before all else. He had to be challenged for the leadership, and that challenge was a fair one!"

"It may be you thought you had cause," Finn conceded. "But I am not my father. Why were your warriors sent to hunt me down?"

Goll hesitated. "That . . . was not something that I did willingly," he said at last.

"It was at the high king s order, wasn't it?" Finn asked. "He wanted no chance of my father's clan rising again."

Goll didn't answer that directly. He stared for a long moment at the young warrior, and then replied in determined tones: "I give my word to you now that what has happened will not happen again. From this day on, only the law of Ireland and the honor of the

Fianna will determine what happens to you, and I will put my own sword to the seeing of it!"

Finn looked into the unflinching eye of the Fian captain and saw no falseness there. He nodded.

"I believe you, son of Morna. But when I have won my father's chieftainship, you know that there is something else I must regain as well."

"// you win the chieftainship, the next choice is your own," the other replied.

For a time they stood motionless, their iron gazes locked, their tall, hard figures set like those of two stags preparing to contend.

Then one of the Fian chieftains asked, "Are you ready?"

Finn gave a sharp nod of acknowledgment. He stepped down into the pit. Goll directed the diggers in and they began to fill the hole, pushing the dirt in about Finn's legs, packing it tightly, trapping the lower body quite effectively.

As this was being done, Finn looked around him at the watching crowd.

"I see that the high king isn't here," he remarked.

"The high king has nothing to do with this," Goll told him. "These tests are for men of the Fianna. Your success will be judged by our chieftains alone."

With Finn secured, the nine chosen Fian warriors moved forward. From a rack of spears crafted especially for this purpose, each chose a weapon. Then they formed a ring about the pit, facing away from Finn. At Coil's command, they began to pace outward. The crowd fell back before them, opening up a circular space like a wheel, with Finn as its hub and the spearmen its spokes.

"I notice that my father is also missing from the gathering," Muime commented to Caoilte as they moved back.

"Likely he wants to avoid speaking to you," the dark warrior replied.

"I hope that is the reason, " she said, her voice touched with worry.

"Don't be fearing for your son," Caoilte assured

her. "I know what he can do. This test will be a simple one for him.*'

"Of course it will," she agreed, putting on a brave smile, trying to ignore the chill of fear she felt.

From the upper window of the high king's quarters, Tadg and Conn watched the preparations closely. Conn's face was drawn with his concern, but the druid's expression was smug. For, early that morning, he had visited the armory where those special spears were kept, taking along certain items of his magic craft. Only he knew that the weapons now contained a power that would endow their throwers' arms with a brief surge of strength. The spears would speed to their marks with an incredible speed.

It would be impossible for Finn to escape them all.

Chapter Thirty-one

THE DEADLY TRIALS

In the yard, the spearmen continued to back away until Goll judged that they had reached the distance of nine furrows. He signaled them to halt.

Finn prepared himself for the defense. He knew his back would be most vulnerable. He would have to twist from side to side with speed, wrenching himself violently around to defend himself from the spearmen behind him. If they were good—as he was certain they were—they would only fire when they felt he was least able to turn and fend the missiles off The throws would come very quickly once they began.

He looked across to his companions. His mother

and Liath stood with arms about one another, offering mutual comfort. He gave them a wide, confident smile.

"Are you ready?" Goll asked.

Again he nodded.

"All right then," said the captain. He stepped back fi-om the warrior in the pit and raised his voice to call out: "Spearmen, you may throw at your own will!"

Finn began to swivel his head rapidly back and forth awaiting the first attack, shield and stick held high. There was a long moment's delay as the spearmen evaluated Finn's movements for possible openings and eyed one another to gauge who would throw first.

Finally, one man leaped forward, firing his spear at the young warrior's back as his head began to turn the other way.

The weapon shot toward Finn with a velocity that astonished its thrower. But its speed actually saved Finn. For, before he could turn completely away from it, he caught its movement in the corner of his eye. His trained reflexes gave him just time to swing around and throw up his shield.

The spear hit the upper edge with tremendous force, slamming the head through the thick layers of leather, tearing away the straps. The shield was wrenched fi^om Finn's arm and carried away to fall out of his reach.

Finn's arm was tingling. He stared at the spear impaling his shield in disbelief. Never had he encountered a spear thrower with such power—even himself. If the others were as good, he was going to have a very hectic time saving his life.

The hectic time came almost instantly. Seeing Finn shieldless, the other warriors quickly began launching their own missies. He began to twist his upper body with greater speed. He had only the hazel stick for defense now, and he lifted it in both hands. He remembered Caoilte's training and the dark warrior's often repeated warning to always keep an eye on the opponent's weapon. He must focus all attention only on those incoming, glinting iron points.

The lightning reactions those baby hares had long

before forced him to acquire now stood him in good stead. His movements were a blur. The rod struck out at each spearhead as it came within reach, sweeping around, right and left, the thin wood whipping against the metal points, snapping them aside.

Liath gave a cry of fear and hid her face against Muime as the spears seemed to converge upon Finn. But in instants it was over. All the remaining spears were grounded, heads deeply buried in the earth, shafts quivering, forming an outward-slanting fence about the unscathed young warrior.

The crowd gave a collective roar and surged forward, shouldering through the spearmen, who stood staring in amazement at their failure.

"A grand show that was!" Caoilte told Finn as the diggers moved in to free him. "I dont think iVe ever seen you move that fast before."

"iVe never had to before," Finn told him.

With the dirt removed, Finn climbed from the hole. The clan chieftains of the Fianna came in close around him, examining his upper body carefully.

"There's not a single mark upon him," one of them finally reported to Goll. "He has passed the test."

"You did well," Goll MacMorna grudgingly admitted.

"The spearmen were good," Finn told him, eyeing him closely. "They were better than I would have thought any man could be."

"What do you mean?" the captain demanded.

"Never mind," Finn said quickly, for the face of Goll had told him that the man was truly puzzled by his statement. "I only meant to praise their skill. Shall we be getting on to the next trial?"

Goll seemed to accept this. He nodded. "If you wish. For the next trial we must move down to the woods below the hill."

At his orders, the Fianna men quickly began to stream out through the gates and down the slope. The other watchers, not wishing to miss what was to come, joined in the exodus. As Finn and his own company

moved after the rest, he had a chance to speak to his comrades.

"Mother was right, I think. Tadg is taking a hand in this. Well have to be on guard."

"It would be nice to know what for," Cnu Deireoil commented unhappily.

In the high king's quarters. Conn was watching the departure of the victorious Finn with growing despair.

"Did you hear the cheer for him when he won the test?" he asked the druid. "They Hke him, Tadg, just as they liked his father. It's happeiyng again, Tadg, and yQU can't stop it!"

His voice had risen to a strident note on these last words, but they brought no reply from his high druid. He turned to find the man gone.

"Oh, no!" said Conn. "What's he meaning to do now?" He considered, then he shook his head. "No. Better not to know."

Tadg, meantime, had arrived at his sacred spot within the grove of oaks. He had anticipated the possible failure of his first attempt and had made arrangements for another. The cauldron boiled already over the fire of ash and yew. The ingredients were prepared and waiting. He had only to slip them into the steaming brew and begin the incantation that would raise the spell.

In moments the cloud was writhing up from the bubbhng liquid, growing, lifting over him. He looked up at his creation with satisfaction. His own magic was still strong. He had once again called up this force to aid him, and he would now send it out to work his will.

It was only fitting, he thought. It had helped to destroy the father. Now it would help defeat the son.

By the time the high druid was prepared to put his newest scheme into operation, the great crowd with Finn MacCumhal had gathered by a large wooded area on the far side of the fortress hill. Its numbers had been swelled considerably by hundreds of folk attracted from the fair by this event. For word of mouth had quickly spread the knowledge that the son of the legendary Cumhal would be the one tested. That made the contest more interesting than any race or hurling match.

Finn looked around at the enormous crowd with curiosity. They seemed most excited, and many seemed to be exchanging coins.

"What are they doing?" he asked.

"I'll go see," Cnu Deireoil volunteered. He moved off to talk with several of the folk, then returned, grinning widely.

"TheyVe wagering," he announced. "Ah, they'll bet on almost anything, that they will."

"Wagering?" Finn said, feeling somewhat indignant at this liberty. "That's a bit unfeehng, isn't it?"

"Ah, no. It's just good sense, lad. Why waste such a fine opportunity? I've put a bit on you myself. The odds are very good. Two to one against you."

"Against?" Finn repeated in dismay.

"It's very few men who are good enough to come through this test, so they say," the Little Nut explained.

"Put a bit on Finn for me as well, harper," said the enterprising Caoilte. He smiled at Finn. "It'd be a fool who'd not want to bet on such a certain thing, wouldn't it?"

Finn smiled in return. "It would only be a help to my confidence."

Goll MacMoma now approached them with a retinue of his warriors. While two men carefully fastened Finn's long hair up upon his head with pins, the Fian captain explained the next challenge.

"You must run the length of these woods and return," he said. "A band of Fian men, led by myself, wiU pursue you. You'll have only the start of the length of a tree branch before we come after you. If any of us catch you or wound you in your flight, if your hair is undone by hanging branches or a stick cracks under your foot, you have lost."

Finn could see why few men were good enough to come through the test. But he thought of the rigorous forest training Bodhmall had given him and he told himself that it would help him to succeed now.

"I am ready," he told Goll.

He and the captain's band moved to the edge of the woods. They gathered by the trunk of a large tree

while Finn moved into the woods until he reached the end of one of its lower branches.

"We will begin when you do," Goll told him.

Finn searched the underbrush ahead, picking his path. He took a few deep breaths, calming his mind. Then he was off.

He shot away like a startled deer. The suddenness of his move left the Fian warriors staring for a moment before they gathered themselves and set oflF in pursuit.

The young warrior had no difficulty in quickly outdistancing his pursuers. In little time he was far ahead, streaking through the woods as if there were no trees to slow him, leaving no mark of his passing, making no sound.

Behind, the Fian warriors pushed ahead at their best speed. But the rotund Conan—not quite in the ideal condition of the rest—accompanied their run with his complaining.

"I knew that this test would be useless," he puffed. "We already knew he had a deers speed. This is ... as the night ... in Slieve Bladhma . . . once again!"

"Save your wind!" shouted his brother. "Keep on! No one can outrun the best men of the Fianna!"

But he was wrong. Finn was outrunning them, and easily. He reached the far end of the patch of forest long before them, turned, and started back. He skirted the pack of his would-be hunters still heading the other way without their knowing and without slowing his pace.

He felt the glow of triumph burning in him now. He had only to return to the waiting crowd and the chieftainship would be his!

He kept up his best pace, anxious to be through the remaining portion of the woods. So intent was he on the way ahead that he did not notice the first, faint wisps of fog begin to flit down, ghostlike, through the trees around him.