Gideon's Spear (3 page)

Gideon took a seat next to him. “What in the name of all the gods were you thinking?”

“What do you mean?” Finn asked, playing the innocent card.

“This.” He grabbed one of Finn's wrists and held it up between them. “Cutting yourself to battle the Amandán.”

“But I had to—”

“NEVER do that again. It's too hazardous. Twice now, you've used your blood to kill the beasts, and look what happened. You became as weak as a newborn lamb and vulnerable to attack. Besides, I don't want anyone knowing about you and your ability.”

“Why? Is there someone who—” He swallowed his question when Gideon squeezed his wrist in an iron grip. “I mean, yes, sir.”

Gideon let go. Plucking one of the rags from the pile, he dipped it in the brew and began silently removing the blood and dirt from Finn's wounds.

Finn hissed at the nip of the healing potion. While Gideon worked on the other one, he blew on his cleaned palm. “I know
sláinte
nettle helps us heal, but does it have to sting so much?” His heart drooped when his master didn't respond.
Guess he's still pissed. Well, he can be mad all he wants. I'm not going to just stand around sucking my thumb while he gets killed
.

After finishing the other hand, Gideon bandaged them both with strips soaked in the brew. He poured the remaining liquid out on the grass and tossed the rags into the empty basin. When Finn started to rise, his master motioned him to remain seated.
Uh-oh. Here it comes
. He steeled himself.

Pushing to his feet, Gideon stalked away a few feet and stood gazing westward at the sky, which formed a cerulean backdrop for the Rockies beyond.

“When I was a young and rebellious apprentice,” he began without preamble, gaze still fixed on the sky. “Me master,” he paused, then tried again. “
My
master would toss me arse over teakettle into the river. To school me in the meaning of obedience. And the Aille River was a cold teacher, to be sure.” He stabbed a finger at the ground next to him.

Finn gulped. Dragging his feet, he walked over to the Knight. He tensed when Gideon leaned closer.

“I've a strong right arm when it comes to throwing things. Such as insubordinate apprentices. And High Springs has its share of snow-fed rivers. You might want to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rumble of an engine broke the quiet of the evening, followed by the sound of tires crunching on their gravel driveway. A minute later, a knock echoed from beyond the open kitchen door.

Gideon gave him a nudge toward the house. “Get the door. And put the weapons away while you're at it.” He slid his knife free and handed it over.

Eager to escape, Finn hurried through the small house to the living room. He paused in front of the massive stone fireplace that took up most of one wall. Stretching above the mantel, he hung Gideon's hunting knife in its customary spot on the rack, which already sported a number of knives, daggers, and even a few hatchets, all of bronze. His own knife he placed on one of the lower brackets. He picked up the pace at another knock, winding his way around their second-hand furniture.
More like third-hand
, Gideon had once joked. Nearby, the Knight's battered desk sat tucked under the stairs.

“I was beginning to think I was no longer welcome here,” boomed a voice when Finn opened the door.

“
Fáilte
, Mac Roth.” Finn beamed up at the redheaded giant—fellow Knight and Gideon's oldest friend—standing on their porch. He swung the door wider and moved to one side.

Ducking his head, Mac Roth stepped inside. Smiling back through a fiery beard, he cocked his head. “And now where did ye come by that fine torc?”

Finn's grin widened. He raised his chin to show it off. “Thank you for this. You didn't have to replace my old one.”

“A joy to do so, lad. Ye were generous to lay yers in the grave with Asher.”

“Well, he earned it. Bagging his first Amandán with a knife throw like that.” Guilt tore through Finn as he recalled Mac Roth's apprentice, Asher O'Neill, saving Finn's life at the forfeit of his own on a hunt earlier in the summer.

“Aye, that he did. For all his faults, Asher was a fine apprentice. ‘Tis a pity ye two could not walk the road of friendship, but I understand why.

He had a sharp tongue and never missed an opportunity to cut someone with it.”

Not sure what to say, Finn nodded. For a moment, they both stood in silence. Then Mac Roth seemed to shake the sadness off his broad shoulders. He looked down at Finn's bandaged hands. His eyebrows asked the question.

When Finn finished explaining what happened, he declared in a low voice, “But I'm not sorry I did it. No way was I letting him get killed.”

“Well, Lir has fought and hunted alone for too long, and has decided, in his stubbornness, that he needs no help. But ye did the right thing, lad. So, continue to guard yer master's back, no matter how much he rages at ye. However, ye bring yer weapons and yer training and the Song to the field of battle, not
this
,” he said, pointing at the bandages with a stern look on his usually jovial face.

“Yeah, that's what Gideon said, too. He's really angry about it.” Finn looked down and shuffled his feet. “Seems like he's mad at me all the time.” He blinked in surprise when the Knight clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, he has a temper, to be sure. But he is also one of the finest Knights of our age. As was yer father. And he has much to teach ye, so learn well.”

“I'm trying, but I never seem to do anything right.” Finn blew out a long breath. “He wants me to be as good as he is, and I never will.”

Mac Roth shook his head. “He doesn't want ye to be
as good
. He wants ye to be
better
. And he wouldn't have taken ye on as an apprentice if he didn't think ye had it in ye.”

“Even though I'm half human?”

“Now, ye know that doesn't make a wee bit of difference to him, don't ye?” At Finn's nod, he continued. “Then cease yer fretting, boyo.”

“And just what are you two whispering about over there?”

Finn whirled around at Gideon's voice. He glanced up at Mac Roth, praying he wouldn't tell his master about their conversation. Relief flooded him when the Knight winked down at him.

“Why, we're discussing this fine piece of Irish workmanship around the boyo's neck. Whilst sharing our fond memories of young Asher.”

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Gideon looked from one to the other for a long minute. “Of course you were.” Then, with a wave of his hand, he invited them back to the kitchen. “Tea?”

“Aye, thanks.” Mac Roth took a seat at the table squeezed into a corner of the small kitchen. He nodded in appreciation when Gideon plunked down a pot of tea and slabs of warm, buttery brown bread a few minutes later. Finn carried over plates and mugs for three, then joined them. He waited until the Knights had helped themselves before selecting the smallest slice, hoping his master would notice. No such luck.

“I'll place a fair bet this isn't a social call?” said Gideon. A corner of his mouth twitched. “Although, knowing you, it could very well be.”

Mac Roth shrugged. “Like most of our people, I enjoy the company of others. Unlike a certain Knight I could name who lives only for the hunt.”

“Gadabout,” Gideon said.

“Recluse.” Mac Roth fired back. “And, by the way, why are ye speaking like the man on the six o'clock news?”

Gideon shrugged. “I'm simply trying to ‘get the times.'”

At Mac Roth's look of confusion, Finn elaborated. “‘Get
with
the times,' he means.”

Mac Roth chuckled, then licked crumbs from his fingers. “Well, back to the reason for my visit—I've come with good news. The O'Neill family paid me a visit a few days ago.”

“Asher's parents?” Finn was careful to speak before popping the last bite of his bread into his mouth.

“His uncle's family. By and by, did you hear Martin O'Neill has a place on the Council at this autumn's Festival?” When Gideon made a face, he added. “As well as Kel O'Shea.” Mac Roth's eyes twinkled.

“Kel O'Shea? Why, she's naught but a girl!”

Mac Roth laughed. “Ye best not say that in her presence. Knight O'Shea's been ‘naught but a girl' for over a century, Lir. I hear she has taken on her first apprentice, too—young Tara Butler. ‘Twill be grand seeing her again, eh?” Gideon ignored the comment. “You were going to tell us why Martin O'Neill contacted you.”

Mac Roth relented on the teasing. “It was to ask me if I would be willing to take their son as me apprentice. The lad turns thirteen in just a few days, and the Knight who was to have apprenticed young Lochlan was recently killed on a hunt near Steamboat Springs.”

“And what did you tell them?” Gideon reached over and slipped another piece of bread onto Finn's plate, his face neutral.

“I told them I was grateful they did not hold Asher's death against me, and I would be honored to take the lad. They'll be hosting a small dinner party Friday evening at Jack Quinn's. And I'll be expecting ye two to join us. ‘Twill give Finn a chance to get to know Lochlan.”

Finn stopped in time from making a face. Instead, he took another bite, saving himself from having to answer.
No way. Not going to happen. Any cousin of Asher will probably think I'm dirt just like
he
did. Just because I'm a halfer
. He choked when Gideon accepted the invitation.

“And I'm assuming the O'Neills will be footing the bill for the festivities?”

Mac Roth nodded in anticipation. “Ye know the O'Neills. They're a proud family and enjoy sharing their wealth with the rest of us.”

“You mean
flaunting
their wealth,” Gideon replied, then shrugged. “Well, I wouldn't want to show disrespect by not partaking in their generosity.”

“Forever thinking of others, Lir.”

“Aye, that I do. Excessive kindness has always been a fault of mine.”

Finn rolled his eyes.

T
he Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: July 14th

Son of a goat—not another O'Neill!

Four

If they think I'm going to be friends with Asher's cousin, they better check the Weather Channel to see if you-know-where froze over. For one thing, I've been an apprentice for two whole months AND I earned my torc years before most other apprentices. Lochlan had better stay out of my way.

I'm just saying.

What I Learned Today:

1. Amandán live in caves. That's because they believe they originally came from the earth. In fact, they call themselves
bog-born
. Which is the most unoriginal name, since supposedly they were created deep in the peat bogs of Ireland. They're not very bright.

2. Always do what your master tells you. Unless it is a stupid order.

Then ignore it and do the right thing. Because masters can make mistakes.

The Journal of Gideon Lir: July 14th

Ye gods.

If I had known that pack of Amandán back in the hills was so numerous, I would have brought Mac Roth along.

And even though he disobeyed me again, Finnegan MacCullen saved my life this evening. Now that my irritation with him has cooled, it has dawned on me I still owe him a debt of gratitude.

And I always pay my debts.

* * *

Gideon closed the journal and pushed it to one side of the desk, then leaned back. His chair squeaking in protest, he swiveled around and gazed into the cold hearth. After a long minute, he turned off the desk lamp and headed upstairs, his movements sure even in the dark.

Pausing at Finn's half-open door, he stuck his head inside. A faint breeze blew through the raised window, carrying the smells of the foothills beyond—pine and grass and good clean earth. Stepping further in, he edged over to the figure sprawled face-down on the bed.

“Finnegan, wake,” he said softly, smiling to himself at the old joke. He nudged the bed with a knee, giving it a shake.

Finn jerked and lifted his head from the pillow. “Is it an attack?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“No, not at all. And apologies for startling you.” The mattress squeaked as Gideon perched on the edge of it; he waited while the boy untangled himself from the covers and sat up. Shadows jostled for space in the corners of the room.

“What's wrong?” Finn yawned, knuckling his eyes.

“I neglected to speak with you about something earlier this evening.”

“Let me guess—I'm in trouble again.”

The tone of resignation in his apprentice's voice pulled Gideon up short. He frowned. “Now, what put that thought into your head?”

Finn shrugged. He kept his gaze fixed somewhere past the Knight's right ear. With a look of skepticism, Gideon shifted to a more comfortable position and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finn broke. “I hate it when you do that,” he grumbled. “That whole ‘I am an immovable rock' thing.”

“It's why I do it.” He tilted his head. “So. I take it you think I'm too harsh with you, eh?”

“Yeah. I guess. I mean, yes, sir.”

“I
am
harsh. I told you the first day of your apprenticeship that the journey to Knighthood would not be an easy one. And I'll not have you getting killed under my tutelage.” His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Why, just think how embarrassing it would be for me in front of our people if I were to lose the celebrated Spear of legend after all these centuries of searching for it.” His smile dimmed when Finn tightened his lips and looked away.

“Don't call me that.”

“The Spear?”

“Yeah. Makes me sound like…like…I'm supposed to be this superhero warrior or something. But I keep messing up and…” His voice trailed away. He stared out the window, bandaged hands clenched into fists.