Gideon's Spear (18 page)

He started to move, then hissed when bangs and bruises made themselves felt. Shifting his limbs cautiously, he managed to untangle himself and poke his head up. “Oh, no,” he breathed.

Twenty-Four

G
ideon lay slumped over the steering wheel, eyes closed and arms dangling limp on either side. His face was streaked with blood. As Finn watched, another crimson drop ran from the cut on his forehead and dripped off his chin.

“Gideon?” Finn whispered. Ignoring his own aches, he unbuckled and clambered up on the seat.
ABC
,
ABC
, he repeated to himself, trying to remember the primary rules of first aid Gideon had drilled into him.
Airway. Breathing. Circulation
. Feeling slightly nauseous, he scooted closer. Relief flooded through him at the Knight's soft exhale of breath, then another.
He seems to be breathing, so his airway must be okay. I hope. Now for circulation, meaning blood. I know he told me head wounds bleed a lot and not to get freaked out by that
. Freaking out seemed like a really good idea at the moment.

With shaking hands, Finn tried to tear a strip off his T-shirt. Cursing at the stubborn material, he pulled his knife from the sheath and used it to hack off a piece. He wadded it into a ball and pressed it gently against his master's head. Holding it in place, he wondered at the odd chattering sound. He clamped his jaw tight when he realized it was his own teeth knocking together as his shaking grew worse.
Come on, Gideon. Wake up
.

As if hearing his thoughts, the Knight moaned softly. Pulling the cloth away, Finn leaned closer. “Gideon?”

A hand twitched. One eye opened, then another. They fastened on Finn. “You…all right?” he whispered.

Finn nodded. An annoying lump clogged his throat.

“Good lad.” Blinking to clear his vision, Gideon took a deep breath, hesitated, then pulled himself upright with a string of Gaelic curses. He sat panting for a moment. “Here. Give me that.” Taking the piece of shirt, he used a clean corner of it to wipe his face before looking around. “Ye gods.”

Hail continued the
ping-ping-ping
on their truck. Or what was left of it. The roof sagged in the middle, just a scant inch from the top of the Knight's head. Peering through the shattered windshield, they could see the hood crumpled like used aluminum foil, while Finn's door was completely blocked by a massive pine. The reek of gasoline wafted through the cab.

With a wince, Gideon unfastened his seatbelt. He squinted in the gloomy light. “Now, you're sure you're not injured?”

“No, just banged up some.”

“Arms and legs all work?” Gideon looked relieved when Finn wiggled around a few times. “Any dizziness?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“Right. Well, we best figure out how to get back up to the road.”

“Can you walk? You look pretty bad.”

“I've not a choice.” Gideon looked up. “It appears the hail is passing. We'll try to—”

Branches snapped outside the truck. As they strained to listen through the falling rain, something moved around the back of the truck, tromping on the broken vegetation littering the area. Then silence.

“Your blade, boyo. Quick, now.”

Finn slapped the knife into his master's palm, then leaned forward, his fingers scrabbling under the seat for the spare dagger. He pulled it out, crawled up on the seat, and peered out the back window. “I don't see anything.”

“We need to get out of this truck—we're sitting ducks in here.” Gritting his teeth, the Knight battered a shoulder against his door. It opened partway, the hinges screaming in protest. He eased out, movements stiff and slow, and looked around. “All clear. Come along.”

Finn clambered out after him. Standing on wobbly legs, he leaned against the bed as Gideon pulled an old flannel shirt from behind the seat and handed it over.

The sleeves dangled past his fingertips when Finn pulled it on, but the warmth felt good. Rolling back the cuffs, he looked up the hill. A swath of mangled bushes and churned dirt marked the passage of their vehicle down the steep hillside. The wet, reddish soil made it look like a bloody wound.

“You think you can climb that?” he asked his master. He noticed Gideon kept an arm wrapped around his ribs.

“I could ask you the same question. You're the one who's trembling like a newborn lamb.”

“Just excited from doing a kamikaze off the side of the mountain,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He failed. Finn blinked in surprise when Gideon reached over with his free arm and pulled him to his side in a rough, one-armed embrace. He leaned against the Knight, taking shelter from the pelting rain as he waited for the shakes to subside.

“Had a bit of a fright, eh? Rolling off the hillside like that?” his master asked after a few moments.

Finn nodded.
But not as scary as seeing you hurt and just lying there
.

“All right now, boyo?”

“Right as rain,” he joked weakly.

Gideon chuckled, then looked around. “We're about five miles from our neighborhood. Instead of climbing back up to the road, it might be best if we just head east and pick up one of the trails for home.”

“Won't that take us near that den of Amandán? The ones we ran into a few weeks ago?” It seemed like a million years since that evening.

“Not the trail I'm planning on following.”

After rummaging through the truck for any other useful tools or weapons, Gideon gave up. He led the way toward the trail. Finn noticed he took care to pick the easy route through the forest. By the time they reached the path for home, they were soaked from the relentless drizzle and from pushing through wet vegetation. Thunder continued to clear its throat overhead. The storm clouds sank lower, scraping the foothills, their underbellies an ugly gray.

Gideon walked slightly hunched to one side, but his head never ceased sweeping from left to right. Behind him, Finn focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Every bruise and bump throbbed in rhythm with his pulse; even his teeth hurt. After thirty minutes of dogged hiking, he sighed in relief when Gideon stopped and slumped down on a fallen log.

The rain had washed the Knight's face clean, but blood continued to seep from the cut. Wiping it from his eyes with a weary gesture, he blinked and shook his head as if to clear it.

“Hey.” Finn took a seat next to his master. “You okay?”

“Aye.” Gideon shifted on his seat with a wince. “Cracked ribs are a bleedin' nuisance.” He rubbed his eyes again. “Well, we're not getting any closer to home sitting on our arses. Let's push on.”

The rain picked up as they started again. Finn shivered as cold droplets trickled down his neck and back.
Great. Just what we needed—hypothermia
.

Snaking around boulders and fallen trees, the path narrowed, hemming them in. Finn plodded along, his eyes locked on the heels of Gideon's boots. He frowned when he noticed they seemed to veer from one side of the trail to the other, then back again, as if their owner couldn't make them walk in a straight line.

Then they slammed to a halt.

His feet skidding in the mud, Finn barely stopped himself from crashing into Gideon. “What the heck?” Wondering why they had stopped, he peered around his master. “Oh, crap.”

Several Amandán blocked the trail ahead of them.

Finn whirled around and set his back against the Knight's. Good thing. Another goblin crept down the path toward him. Its dark-green pelt hung on it like soggy moss. Tightening his grip on the knife, Finn shook wet hair out of his eyes and waited for the attack.

“Looks what we gots here, mates,” said a gravely voice from beyond his master. “One of them high and mighty Tuatha De Danaan. All bloodied up.” It hooted in contempt. “And his whelp.”

“
Nar
, not just any Tuatha De Danaan.” The Amandán in front of Finn moved closer. One side of its face was disfigured by a patch of twisted scars, as if the skin had melted. “These be the ones she sent us to finds. We needs to bring them back to the cave.” It gestured past Finn. “You, take their weapons. You, tie them up. And keeps yer paws off their heads. She wants them alive.”

Behind him, Finn felt his master move. A shriek echoed through the woods.

“Not a very well-thought plan, beastie.” Gideon snatched his thrown knife from a pile of goblin ash alredy turning into goo from the rain. He eased sideways toward one of the large boulders. Finn matched him step for step. They pressed their backs against the granite. “After all, there are
two
of us and only a couple of dozen of you.”

Jostling for position until they formed a half-circle around Finn and Gideon, the Amandán snarled at each other in their own language. Many of them gestured angrily. Finn stiffened when they pointed at his hands. Several scuffles broke out.

“Hey, Gideon.” Finn pointed at the goblin who had been giving the orders. “Wasn't that the same one we saw meeting with Iona?”

“Aye.”

Something in the Knight's tone sent a spike of fear through Finn. Keeping one eye on the still-squabbling goblins, he risked a peek at his master.

Gideon leaned to one side, left arm pressed against his ribs. His face was a pale shape in the gloom, except for a dark, wet line mingling with rain and running from the cut on his forehead. Wincing as he drew in a shallow breath, he began softly singing the Song.

Panic chilled Finn's already-cold neck.
He must be hurt worse than I thought to be using the Song just to stay upright
. Licking moisture from his lips, he moved closer to his master and took a stance slightly in front of him.
Maybe we should try to make a run for it while the Amandán are fighting with each other
.

As if reading his mind, one of the Amandán turned toward them. “Where do ya thinks yer going?” It moved closer and poked black-tipped fingers at him. It guffawed when Finn jerked back.

“
Nar
, enough already!” The pack leader's voice rose above the growls. “We're wasting time. You that wants revenge are just gonna have to wait. Now, get their weapons.” Stillness followed the order. The goblins closest to the Tuatha De Danaan hesitated. With a snarl of frustration, the pack leader muttered to the others standing nearby. They bared their teeth in acknowledgement.

With a roar, they lunged at the master and apprentice.

Finn lurched backward. He swung his knife at the nearest goblin. It exploded with a shriek. Squinting through a cloud of ash, he chanted through clenched teeth as he stabbed again at the wall of Amandán. Paws slapped at his arm and wrist. One connected hard enough to send the blade spinning out of his hands.

A stench like unwashed armpits choked him when the pack moved in. Several goblins grabbed his arms and lifted him off the ground. Kicking out with his feet, Finn flung himself side to side, trying to break free. One foot connected with an Amandán's face. A buzz of victory shot through him when he heard bones crunch. The goblin screamed but held on. Two more goblins grabbed Finn by the legs. Hoisting him high in the air like a trophy, they howled in triumph.

Helpless, Finn twisted his head around. Below him, Gideon stabbed and parried, his movements clumsy. Piles of sodden ash stained the ground in front of him. Gasping for breath, the Knight fought off another rush as the Amandán tried to overcome him by sheer numbers. Blood streaked his face from his wound, re-opened by the fight. Mouthing the words to the Song, he swung again as the rest of the pack closed around him. He staggered and sank to one knee.

Then, he disappeared from Finn's sight in a mob of green.

Twenty-Five

“G
ideon!” Finn screamed. He bucked and twisted against the hands restraining him. No use. Paws dug into his arms and ankles. At an order from their leader, the Amandán took off at a lope back up the trail, heading deeper into the foothills.

Wet leaves slapped Finn in the face when the Amandán veered suddenly and plunged off the path. The world became a jumble of branches and tree trunks zipping past. His head swam as it bounced from side to side. Finn swallowed against the nausea caused by being carried like a mosh pit crowdsurfer.

Once, the goblins tried to go around a tree. On opposite sides. He gasped and closed his eyes. A quick shift of the pair holding his left arm and leg saved him from becoming a Fey wishbone.

On either side and to the front and back, the rest of the Amandán galloped along, charging through the underbrush like a herd of, well, charging Amandán. Reaching a clearing, the pack slowed, then stopped. Another argument broke out. Without warning, his captors released him. Finn landed with a splat in the mud, the wind knocked out of him. Breathless, he rolled over to his hands and knees.

A few yards away, two other Amandán dragged the semiconscious Knight along between them. With snorts of contempt, they let go. Gideon crumpled facedown in a heap. Finn noticed that his blade was gone. For a long minute, he lay still. Just as Finn started toward him, he groaned, then raised himself up on one arm and peered about. Their eyes met.

All around them, the Amandán screeched and yammered and shook their fists in each other's faces. Overhead, thunder boomed, adding to the noise. The gloom deepened. Several goblins started clawing at each other. Tuffs of green fur flew about.

Still on his hands and knees, Finn scrambled toward Gideon. Reaching his master's side, he sank down next to him. “How bad are you hurt?”

Gideon straightened with a grunt. Ignoring the question, he spoke in a low tone. “Be ready to run. I'll distract them by—”

“No.”

“Yes, lad. Now, once free, you're to—”

“No.”

“Finnegan…”

“No.”

“…MacCullen.”

“Still no.”

Rubbing a filthy hand down his equally filthy face, Gideon growled in frustration. At that moment, an Amandán squatted behind them, several lengths of cord in one hand. “Hands behind yer backs.”