Gideon's Spear

by Darby Karchut

  “They’ve healed enough to not need wrappings any longer,” Gideon said with a grunt of satisfaction. “But I want you to soak them twice a day for the rest of the week to minimize the scars.” He nodded toward the basin. “Do that now, then clean the kitchen. Meet me out front when you’re finished. And make sure you’re armed.”

  “Yes, sir.” Finn stuck his hands into the cool liquid. He winced at the stinging, then relaxed as it faded. “What about target practice?”

  Gideon rose, carrying a few dishes to the sink before heading to the living room. “We’re going hunting instead. That Amandán was too bold for my liking—coming that close to our house and in broad daylight with humans around. It may be they are not only losing their dread of us, but of mortals, as well.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Pausing in the doorway, the Knight looked back over his shoulder. He smiled coldly. “Remind them why they should fear the Tuatha De Danaan.”

  Eight

  The truck was already idling in the driveway when Finn locked the front door and jogged down the steps and across the yard. Careful to shut the gate, he tightened one of the bronze wires before hurrying over.

  “All set,” he said, clambering into the passenger seat. As Finn pulled the door closed, it creaked, then bounced open again. Grabbing the handle, he yanked it again. It flew open. “Son of a goat,” he muttered. He leaned out and grasped the handle with both hands.

  “Ye gods, Finn. Put some muscle into it.”

  “I’m trying, but the stupid thing won’t latch.” He slammed it with a rattle. It sprang open again. “We need a new truck.”

  “Boyo, the list of things we need would strain a year of our monthly budgets.” Putting the truck into neutral, Gideon climbed out and walked around to Finn’s side. With a grunt, he rammed the door with his shoulder, then eyed it as if daring it to open again. Shuddering from the impact, the truck gave a sigh and began rolling backward down the driveway.

  “The brakes,” Gideon shouted, making a dash for the driver’s side.

  Finn scrambled across the seat. Toe pointed, he stretched for the nearest pedal. The engine revved futilely when he stomped on the gas.

  Picking up speed, the truck shot tail-first across the street and bounced up against the curb on the far side with a crashing jolt, just missing the Steels’ mailbox. Finn’s bottom left the seat. His head hit the roof. Tears sprang to his eyes when the impact snapped his jaw shut. With a moan, the engine died.

  Cursing under his breath in Gaelic, Gideon jogged over. He peered through the open window. “Are you all right?”

  “Ah beh meh ‘ongue.” Eyes watering, Finn pointed to his mouth.

  The Knight grimaced in sympathy. He yanked the door open and motioned the boy out. After climbing down, Finn spat a glob of bloody mucus to one side and shook his head. “Son of a goat—that hurts.” He wiped his lips, leaving a reddish smear.

  “Goodness, what happened?” said a female voice.

  Master and apprentice turned. Dressed in a white lab coat, Dr. Susanna Steel stood at the end of her driveway, purse and keys in hand. Her dark eyes widened at the sight of Finn’s red-stained chin and their truck parked halfway up on the sidewalk.

  “Susanna Steel.” Gideon dipped his head, an old-fashioned courtesy. “It’s a pleasure to see you this fine morning, madam.” He gestured toward the vehicle. “The brake slipped, nothing more.”

  Mrs. Steel frowned, her high cheekbones and ebony skin giving her a regal air. Her heels clicked rhythmically as she walked closer to inspect Finn’s bloody face. “How did you get hurt?”

  “Oh, I bit my tongue when the truck hit the curb. I hit the gas instead of the brakes. But it’s okay now.” He spat again. “See? Barely any blood,” he said, pointing down at the wet spot.

  Gideon cringed. “Finnegan MacCullen. We do not spit in front of ladies.”

  “Oh, that’s quite all right. I am a doctor, after all.” Susanna Steel’s brows puckered. “So, why were you driving the truck?” A look of skepticism crossed her face as Gideon explained. “Well, I suppose that makes sense,” she said slowly. Glancing at her watch, she clicked her tongue. “Late already. Finn, we’ll see you at supper tonight, then.” With a nod, she hurried back up the driveway to the open garage door.

  They watched as she drove away, Finn waving cheerfully. After her Volvo station wagon turned the corner, they sighed in relief. Exchanging glances, they climbed back in. This time, Gideon closed Finn’s door before starting the engine.

  “So how are we going to hunt with the truck?” Finn asked. He held on tight as they bucked and rolled off the sidewalk, then headed out of their neighborhood.

  “We’re not. We’re taking one of the forest roads up into the foothills and parking it there. It’ll put us closer to the pack’s cave—I want to intercept that lone beastie before it goes to ground.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Gideon pulled onto the shoulder of a dirt road, cut high into the mountainside. He angled the truck tightly against the embankment, and the engine shuddered to a stop. “Come out on my side,” he said, eyeing Finn’s less-than-functional door. He stepped out and waited for Finn to climb down after him. They walked across the dusty road.

  Looking east, they took a moment to enjoy the view. The tick-tick of the cooling engine echoed in the quiet of the summer morning; the July sun was already hot. On the plains below, the city of High Springs stretched out under a sky as blue as Tuatha De Danaan eyes. The downtown buildings, including a few skyscrapers, crowned the center of the city. Beyond the sprawling metropolitan area, the grasslands disappeared into a distant haze. At their feet, a trail snaked downhill into the woods.

  “If you gaze far enough, you might catch a glimpse of the border of Kansas from here,” Gideon explained. “Or you could, if you were on the top of the Peak. We ought to climb it this summer as a training exercise.”

  Finn groaned silently at the thought of keeping up with his master. He glanced sideways, then straightened, trying to see if his head reached the top of Gideon’s shoulder. Nope, not yet.

  He sighed. I wonder if I’ll be tall like my dad. The old sadness swept through him. Reaching into his pocket, he wrapped his fingers around the moonstone, then pushed the gloom away before it could take hold. Shoving the stone deeper into his pocket, he shook his head clear and knelt down. He pulled up his pant leg and tightened the straps of the ankle sheath holding his knife. The other weapon was tucked in his belt behind him. “How are we going to find that Amandán?” he asked, rising to his feet.

  “They tend to follow the same route to and from their hole. If we head downhill from here, we should be able to catch it.”

  “Do you think there are more packs around?”

  “Possibly. Mac Roth thought he saw signs of others the night Asher was killed.” He studied Finn’s face at the mention of the dead apprentice. “Let it go, Finn lad,” he said softly. “It was not your fault. I’ve told you so before.”

  “I know.” His cheeks warmed with embarrassment when Gideon ruffled his hair in a rare display of affection.

  “Aye, your head knows, but your heart does not. ‘Twill pass with time. Now, for the hunt.” He slipped the knife out from under the tail of his denim shirt and raised it to the sky. “‘Cry “havoc,” and let slip the dogs of war.’” he quoted, heavy on the drama. “So to speak.”

  “Let slip what?”

  “The dogs of war. It’s a metaphor.”

  “But we don’t have any dogs.” Finn’s face brightened. “Are we getting one?”

  “No. It was simply an expression of…”

  “Awesome! He could help us hunt.”

  “No dogs. I can scarcely afford to keep you fed and…”

  “He can sleep in my room. Heck, he can sleep in my bed!”

  “We are not getting a bleedin’ dog.” Gideon spoke through gritted teeth.

  “But, you just said—” Finn’s jaw snapped shut when the Knight gave
him a look. Or, as Finn privately called it, The Look. Deciding that he really didn’t need to finish the sentence after all, he slid the knife out of his belt and nodded his readiness. He followed Gideon off the roadside and down the path, plunging eastward into the woods.

  Almost immediately, the temperature dropped to a welcome coolness. As they hiked through the forest, Finn glanced around, trying to watch the shadows on either side of the narrow trail. No wonder the Amandán like Colorado so much. Their fur is almost the exact color of these pine trees. Or is it fur trees? He had opened his mouth to ask when a rustle in a nearby bush whipped his head around. He froze.

  Ahead of him, Gideon slammed to a halt. A fist snapped shoulder high in a wordless signal. When the Knight held up one finger, Finn eased back a step. Two fingers. Two steps. Then Gideon made a rotating gesture.

  Spinning on his toes, Finn took a position back-to-back with his master. Knees slightly bent, he held his weapon at waist height as he waited for the all-clear. Or attack. A faint rhythmic thumping echoed from the road above them when a vehicle passed by, the bass on its radio cranked to maximum. The music faded as it drove on. Finn fought the urge to glance toward the cloud of dust it had kicked up. Stay focused when you’re in the woods, said Gideon’s voice inside his head. Finn tightened his grip on his weapon; his eyes swept the area around him, never lingering too long in any one spot. Remember, a distracted apprentice is a dead apprentice.

  After a long minute, Gideon relaxed. He glanced over his shoulder and gave a grunt of approval. “Gle mhaith,” he said and continued along the trail.

  “Hey, Gideon? Don’t crows show up to warn us if any Amandán are around?” Finn asked as he trotted along, trying to keep up with his master’s brisk pace.

  “Aye, but not always. The manky birds can be tricksters. Long-lived hunters learn not to rely on them alone.”

  The trail leveled out as they hiked along. It curved around to run parallel with the hillside and took a northward direction. After fifteen minutes of steady hiking, they halted in the shadow of a massive pine. Gideon pointed downhill through the trees to a clearing about ten yards away.

  “If I’ve guessed correctly,” he whispered, “we should be able to see or hear it coming along soon.”

  “Or smell it,” Finn muttered back.

  Gideon took a stance deeper in the shadow and leaned a shoulder against the trunk. Finn crouched next to him, grateful for the rest. He slid both knives free and held one in each hand.

  After a few minutes, he started to shift to a more comfortable position when a rap on the top of his skull made him look up. Gideon gazed down at him. Without a word, the Knight pointed to his own nose.

  Finn nodded. Closing his eyes, he lifted his face and sniffed. We tend to use just sight and sound when hunting. One of Gideon’s earliest lessons came back to him. But when you’re in the woods, open all your senses to what’s around you. Be it sight or sound or smell or even taste. Learn to read the earth like a book. Not only to aid you on the hunt, but also out of a sense of wonderment.

  What do you mean, Gideon?

  Why, Colorado is a fine land, boyo. And we should give thanks at each day’s dawning for the gift of mountain and forest and plains and the sun in the blue sky overhead.

  Branches snapped in the distance. Finn’s eyes flew open. A faint grunting and huffing grew louder. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the Knight straightened. Finn rose to his feet and shook his legs to get the muscles warmed up.

  The Amandán drew nearer. Gideon leaned over and spoke in a quiet tone. “Stay here until I give you the signal to join me.” When Finn started to protest, he continued. “And the next thing I hear coming out of your mouth best be the words yes, sir.”

  “Yes, sir.” Finn waited until his master focused his gaze back on the goblin before making a face.

  “Stand ready, now.” Gideon pulled the second knife free and prepared to charge. Finn’s head jerked up when the Knight let loose a curse.

  “Now, what the bleedin’ ‘ell is she doing here?”

  Nine

  Finn’s stomach lurched at the sight of Iona stepping out from behind a tree into the clearing. Her brown curls gleamed as she shook her hair back from her face. Moving with a fluid confidence, she stepped to the middle of the grove and crossed her arms, gold cuffs flashing in the sunlight. She stood waiting, her foot tapping. The rustling grew louder.

  A touch on Finn’s shoulder made him flinch. Gideon signaled him to kneel down, then joined him behind a screen of bushes. Squatting side by side, they watched as an Amandán crunched into view, its mossy pelt the same shade of green as the vegetation surrounding the clearing. A scar about the width of its paw marked one side of its face. It approached Iona and stopped in front of her. Like some sort of half-gorilla, half-man creature, it squatted on its haunches and rested its knuckles on the ground.

  Waving her hand in front of her nose, Iona made a face. “Bleh! How many times do I have to tell you? Downwind from me.” She waited until it shuffled to one side. “So. What did you find out?” Her voice carried in the quiet of the forest.

  “Nar, you was right. The whelp was the same one who destroyed me mates last night. At least, I thinks. Them Tuatha De Danaan all looks alike.”

  “Well, well, what do you know?” She wound a curl around a finger, gazing into space. “And he was right in front me last night,” she said as if speaking to herself.

  “What abouts our deal?” the goblin growled. “You promised us the Spear if we tells you about the whelp.”

  Disdain twisted her lovely features as she peered down her nose at the goblin. “Oh, I think you’re forgetting the other half of our arrangement. Tell your pack I’ll meet again with them soon. And paws off the apprentice for now.” She hesitated, then added. “And the Knight, too. I’ll inform you when I want them captured.”

  “I gots some mates that want revenge. They might kill the whelp and his master before I stops ‘em.”

  “Then put some shock collars on them and see that they don’t.” She waved a hand in dismissal. The Amandán shambled away, muttering under its breath. Once it was gone, she pulled a small pouch out of her pocket and dug inside. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a handful of what looked like dust into the air. It gleamed gold, even in the shade of the forest. As it fell around her, she vanished.

  “Ye gods,” Gideon breathed. He rose and stood staring at the empty clearing.

  Still kneeling, Finn looked up at his master’s face. Anger and, to his astonishment, fear clouded the Knight’s lean countenance. “Gideon? What’s going on?” He stood up, both knives still clutched in his hands.

  Ignoring the question, Gideon led the way back up the path. He broke into a run after a few steps. Finn followed on his heels. Passing through the dappled light along the trail made Finn’s eyes water from trying to adjust, from light to dark to light again. When the Knight lengthened his stride, he paused to shove one knife back into his ankle sheath, then straightened up.

  The trail was empty.

  “Oh, crap.” Finn sprinted forward. He’s going to kill me for lagging behind. Or an Amandán will catch me. Either way, I’m dead meat. As he approached the next curve in the trail, his master appeared, a look of exasperation on his face. So. Death by Gideon.

  “Move your arse,” the Knight growled, pushing the boy in front of him. “And where’s your other blade?”

  “Ankle sheath,” Finn gasped as he ran. He spun his remaining knife handle-forward before Gideon could reprimand him.

  Master and apprentice pounded along. Questions pinged around in Finn’s head in rhythm with his running feet. Why is she interested in me? What’s the deal between her and the Amandán? And why is Gideon so freaked about this?

  They struggled up the final slope. Reaching the road, they slowed to a walk, both panting. With a final glance over his shoulder, Gideon ushered Finn to the truck and waved him inside. He scooted over to let his master climb in. After coaxing the engi
ne on, the Knight made a tight U-turn and roared for home.

  They bounced along the dirt road. Dust billowed up behind them in a pinkish cloud. For a few minutes, Finn waited for his master to explain. When nothing happened, he squeezed his courage out and cleared his throat.

  “Um…Gideon?”

  “Not now,” the Knight snapped. He stared straight ahead, hands on the wheel in a white-knuckle grip, his dark brows pinching together. “I want to think without you pelting me with a load of foolish questions. Shut your yap, and give me a moment of bleedin’ peace.”

  That stung. Flaring his nostrils, Finn tightened his jaw and stared out his window, determined to never say another word as long as he lived. Or longer. Whichever pissed off his master the most. Icy silence frosted the inside of the cab.

  After a while, Gideon glanced over. “Look, Finn. I didn’t like Iona’s interest in you, nor her involvement with those beasties,” he explained. “I must speak with Mac Roth first.”

  Finn nodded. He picked off a piece of dried mud on his jeans. Of course, you have to talk with Mac Roth first. Wouldn’t want to talk with me about all this. Oh, yeah. Some master and apprentice team we are. Why do I have to be the last to know everything? He ground the dried mud into dust between his fingers.

  Leaving the dirt road where it intersected one of High Springs’ main streets, they rode in silence until they reached their neighborhood. Gideon pulled into the driveway and parked, leaving the engine running.

  “Wait for me inside. I’ll return shortly.”

  “Can’t I come with you to Mac Roth’s?” He locked eyes with his master. “I mean, this is about me.”

  “No. Now, in the house.”

  “Please?”

  At the Knight’s stern expression, Finn muttered under his breath, kicked the door open, and climbed out. He watched from the porch as Gideon drove away without a backward glance, and then he let himself in, making sure to slam the front door as hard as he could.

  * * *

  “Ye thick-headed bog trotter,” Mac Roth roared as he paced to and fro across his living room. “What do ye mean ye dinna tell him?”