Gideon's Spear

by Darby Karchut

  “Things just happen. That is certainly the finest excuse I’ve heard for putting one’s friends in danger, as well as oneself.”

  “But it was Rafe and Lochlan who wanted to hunt. I came along to watch out for them. And Savannah, too.”

  Gideon closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “You realize you are tempting me to live down to Rufus Steel’s expectations of me. I’ve a good mind to beat you black and blue all the way home.”

  Finn gulped. He flinched when his master stepped over and gave him a push toward the trail. Hyperaware of the Knight on his heels, he hurried along as fast as he could. His tongue felt sticky inside his dry mouth. I wonder if he’s going to ground me or—

  “You, Finnegan MacCullen, are grounded,” Gideon announced behind him.

  Yup, I should have known. “Yes, sir. For how long?”

  “One week. During which you’ll do naught but chores and training exercises, followed by more chores and more training exercises.”

  “What about—”

  “No hunting, no visiting the Steels or Lochlan, no television, no music, and if I can find anything else you might possibly take even a wee bit of pleasure in, I’ll ban that as well. Such as food and water.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, best foot forward.”

  They picked up the pace, hiking at the top speed Finn could maintain without having to break into a jog. No matter how careful he was, twigs snapped and leaves rustled under his feet. Behind him, Gideon stalked along as silent as a wolf on the hunt. How does he move so quietly? In work boots, no less?

  Finn sighed. Even as he hurried, Iona’s words kept looping through his head. “Um, Gideon?” he began tentatively. Encouraged by the grunt behind him, he continued. “I think Iona knows I’m the Spear.”

  “Aye, I’ve suspected as much. That was most likely why she was trying to capture you with her golden net.”

  “But why? She’s got some kind of deal with the Amandán. Why would she want, you know, me? If she needs protection, why doesn’t she just zap them with her magic?”

  “I do not know. And do you realize how thin you stretched your luck today?”

  Guilt stabbed at him again. “Yes, sir.”

  “Why, if I hadn’t come along at that moment, she would have captured you and possibly the others. Maybe even hurt them. Or worse.”

  Finn nodded miserably. Yeah, I get it already. Sheesh, stop reminding me. “How did she even know we were going to be there?” he asked, panting slightly.

  “It’s a mystery, to be sure. What was she doing when you first saw her?”

  He thought for a moment. “Just walking along. Staring at the ground as if she was looking for something.”

  Reaching the top of a knoll, Gideon paused, signaling Finn to catch his breath. “Odd that she would be even be in the vicinity.” He glanced around, his eyes scanning the shadows.

  “So what happens next?”

  “We wait for her to make another move. In the meantime, we’ll try to determine both why she wants you so badly and what arrangements she’s made with the Amandán.”

  “Did you and Mac Roth find that other pack?”

  “No. But the mine’s entrance had been disturbed. It appeared as if someone was trying to get inside of it. Why, I do not know.” He gestured for Finn to continue down the trail.

  They were silent the rest of the way home. Finn followed his master through the back gate at their house. A deep rumble greeted them.

  “Ah, good—ye didn’t kill the boyo after all.” Mac Roth waved from his perch on top of the picnic table, a half-eaten apple in one hand.

  As they approached, Finn noticed Lochlan loitering by the corner of the house next to the target. What’s he doing over there?

  “I said nose to wall, Lochlan O’Neill,” Mac Roth ordered without looking over. He grinned and, with a satisfying crunch, took another bite of apple.

  Blushing as red as his master’s beard, Lochlan turned around and faced the side of the house. Finn grimaced in sympathy. I think I would rather have Gideon knock me upside the head than make me stand in the corner like a little kid.

  “Finn, store the weapons.” Gideon handed his blades over, then joined his friend at the table. “And where are the Steel children?”

  “Oh, I sent them home. And yes, they’re fine,” Mac Roth said as Finn walked past.

  Hurrying inside, Finn hung the knives on the rack, then headed back out. He waited nearby.

  “Now, fetch us a cold drink,” Gideon ordered.

  Refraining from rolling his eyes, Finn walked back inside. He paused at the sink to stick his mouth under the faucet and gulp down some water before fetching iced tea from the refrigerator and making another trip out the door, this time with a glass in each hand.

  “Sláinte,” the Knights said in unison, toasting each other with a clink. They both sighed in pleasure after a long pull.

  Gideon squinted up at the sky through his half-empty glass. “Why, I believe it’s time for luncheon. What say you, old friend? Would you care to break bread with me?”

  Keeping a grin firmly hidden in his beard, Mac Roth raised his own glass. “Why, thank ye. A generous offer.”

  “Finn. Sandwiches for our guest.” Gideon stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Smartly now, boyo.”

  “Lochlan, go help him,” Mac Roth added. “And be generous with the meat in mine.”

  Once inside, Lochlan started to complain. Before he could get two words out, Finn shushed him, then pointed to the screen door and open window.

  “I don’t want to get in any deeper than I am,” Finn whispered. He pulled out a platter of leftover ham, some cheese, and a container of mustard from the refrigerator. After Finn told Lochlan to get the bread from the cupboard, the two stood at the counter and began slapping sandwiches together.

  “Were Rafe and Savannah okay?” Finn asked as he added another layer of ham to Mac Roth’s sandwich.

  “They’re cool.” Lochlan popped a bite of meat into his mouth as he worked. “Savannah was more worried about you getting into trouble.”

  Finn blushed. It deepened when the other apprentice elbowed him in the ribs. “She likes you.”

  “Only as a friend, so shut up.” Does she really?

  “Yeah, whatever. So, anyway, what was Iona talking about earlier?” Lochlan topped the mound of sandwich fixings with a slice of bread and pressed down until mustard oozed out on either side. “About the Spear and your blood and everything?”

  More heat burned Finn’s face. How do I explain without sounding like…like I’m bragging or making myself out to be some sort of Celtic ninja? He stilled his hands and looked at the other apprentice. “Okay, before I tell you, I want you to know I didn’t choose this or anything. It’s not like I want to be…this. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Lochlan said slowly, confusion wrinkling his forehead.

  Finn took a deep breath. “Iamthespear,” he mumbled all at once.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “I said, ‘I am the Spear,’” he said louder.

  “What spear?”

  “Gideon’s Spear. You know—the Spear of the Tuatha De Danaan.”

  Lochlan blinked. “Of course, you are.” He waited for a beat. “And I’m Excalibur.” The mocking tone made Finn’s ears flame. Before he could explain, Lochlan snatched up the mustard-coated knife with a flourish. “No. Wait. I’m King Arthur!” He waved it in the air. A yellow dollop splattered Finn’s chin.

  “Hey!” He shoved Lochlan, who laughed. “Knock it off.”

  “Oops. Sorry. Did I get mustard on the Spear?” He hooted again and tossed the knife into the sink with a clatter. “No, seriously.”

  “Seriously. I’m Gideon’s Spear.”

  “More like Gideon’s Pain-in-the-Butt.” Lochlan laughed in Finn’s face.

  Something snapped in Finn. He shoved Lochlan again, this time sending the other apprentice stumbling into the kitchen table. He went down in a ta
ngle of boy and chair legs.

  Bouncing to his feet with a curse, Lochlan charged across the room and plowed into Finn. Finn reeled. The edge of the counter caught him painfully in the lower back. His elbow hit the pitcher of tea and sent it crashing to the floor.

  Red dots began flickering at the edge of his vision. It darkened to a crimson haze. Lochlan became a dim figure dancing in front of him and taunting him. Bring it on, Spear. A tiny part of Finn’s brain yelled at him to wait. To stop. To think.

  Fighting to control the warp spasm, Finn squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, crap, not in front of Lochlan. He began to shake. In desperation, he dug fingernails into the palms of his clenched hands. The shaking worsened as the warp spasm swelled. Sweat burst out on his forehead and the back of his neck and his hair stood on end. Blood thundered in his ears. Vaguely, he could hear Lochlan yelling his name, the screen door slapping open, and voices shouting.

  * * *

  Outside on the table, Gideon grinned in amusement with his friend as they listened to the apprentices talking through the window. Mac Roth cringed at the mention of Excalibur.

  “Oh, the shame.” He tugged at his beard.

  “Now, why do ye say that?”

  “Because me daft apprentice chose a bleedin’ English sword to use as a comparison.”

  “Yer the daft one.” Gideon scoffed. “Why, everyone knows Arthur and his knights were Welsh, not bleedin’ English.”

  Mac Roth brightened. “By the Goddess, Lir, ye have a point there.” He raised his glass in a salute.

  A crash and a shout jerked their heads around. A moment later, Lochlan flung open the screen, eyes wide. “Gideon, something’s wrong with Finn.”

  Twenty-One

  Leaping to his feet, Gideon dashed inside. Spilled tea pooled on the floor. Next to the counter, Finn stood hunched over, trembling so violently his teeth clattered together.

  In two strides, Gideon crossed the room, broken glass crunching underfoot. He pinned the boy’s arms to his side. “Easy, boyo. Let it go, now.” He tightened his hold when the tremors increased.

  “Ye gods.” Mac Roth stood by the door, Lochlan beside him; the apprentice’s face was white as a sheet. “Is it a warp spasm, Lir?”

  “Aye.” Worry pinched Gideon’s face.

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” Lochlan breathed. “I was just joking around and…” His voice trailed off at Mac Roth’s growl.

  “When will ye learn to use this,” the giant cuffed Lochlan on the head, “before flapping this?” He clipped the boy under the chin, his words harsher than his hand. “Now, go wait for us outside.” Mac Roth gave Lochlan a nudge out the door, then walked closer. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” Gideon tightened his grip on Finn’s arms. “It will be over soon.”

  At that moment, Finn’s legs gave out. Gideon helped him to the table. Slumping over with a groan, he buried his head in his arms. His shoulders rose and fell as he gasped for breath.

  Dragging a chair closer, Gideon sat down next to his apprentice. “A right bad one, eh?’

  Finn nodded, face still buried. “I feel like an idiot,” he said hoarsely. “Is Lochlan still around?”

  “Out back.”

  With another groan, Finn lifted his head and pushed damp hair off his forehead. He looked away. “Sorry.” Embarrassment colored his voice as well as his cheeks.

  “No need for shame.”

  Mac Roth joined them. He handed a glass of cold water to Finn, then sat down. Leaning back in the chair, the Knight raked his beard as he studied the boy gulping down the drink. “Tell me, young Finn. Have yer warp spasms always been this ferocious?” His frown deepened when Finn nodded. “Curious.”

  Gideon cocked an eyebrow. “In what way?”

  “I wonder if perhaps his violent attacks are somehow related to the fact he is the Spear.”

  “Gideon says his warp spasms are pretty bad, too.” Finn took another drink. “Is that because of his ties to the Spear?”

  “I think not. I am only a descendent of Gideon Black Hand, nothing more. But there may be a connection—”

  “So, it’s true?” A voice blurted out. “You really are the Spear.” Lochlan stood on the other side of the screen door peering in. “But I was always taught that the Spear was, you know, a spear. Not a person.” He pressed his nose against the mesh and looked at Finn. “So what’s it like? Do you have any superpowers? Like can you shoot fire from your fingers or—ow!” He yelped when Mac Roth tilted back in his chair, reached over, and smacked his nose through the screen with the flat of his hand.

  Finn grinned wearily. “Does the guy ever shut up?” he asked Mac Roth.

  “Never. A true O’Neill, this one is. Gifted with both the knife and mouth.” He waved him inside.

  “Sorry about hazing you.” Lochlan took a seat next to Finn and stared at him. “I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the idea that you’re the Spear.”

  Finn snorted. “Me, too.”

  Mac Roth placed a hand on Lochlan’s arm. “I dislike putting ye in this situation, lad, but I need ye to refrain from speaking about this. Lir is…uneasy…about others knowing that Finn is the Spear.”

  “Sure.” Lochlan shrugged. “Anyway, who would I tell?”

  The Knights glanced over the apprentices’ heads at one another. “Yer da, for one,” Mac Roth said. “Although if he asks ye directly, then you mustn’t lie to him. Do ye understand what I am saying?”

  “Yes, sir.” Lochlan made a face. “Not that Dad ever would. He doesn’t think very highly of…” He made a vague gesture.

  “Halfers.” Finn finished the sentence.

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “No worries,” Finn replied. “Rafe once told me you can’t pick your family, just your friends.” Changing the subject, he glanced down at the mess on the floor. “Guess I should clean that up.”

  “I’ll help.” Lochlan stood up. “After all, I’m kind of the reason you went nuclear.”

  While Lochlan gingerly picked up shards of broken glass, Finn found a rag and wiped the linoleum dry. Floor cleaned, they finished making lunch and carried the sandwiches over to the table while the Knights talked.

  “I disagree with ye, Lir.” Mac Roth reached for a sandwich. Half of it disappeared in one bite, two chews and a swallow. “Why not confront her directly and tell her we know of her meetings with the Amandán and of her interest in Finn here?”

  “Because then she’ll be doubly on her guard. No, we’ll go about our daily lives and see if she doesn’t trip herself up and reveal her true plan. Then we confront her.”

  “With a dagger at her throat, eh?”

  Gideon shrugged. “I should be so lucky.” He studied his apprentice for a moment, then tore his sandwich in half and slipped the rest of it onto Finn’s plate.

  “Well, ye’ve always been the better strategist. I’ll follow yer lead for now.” Mac Roth munched down the rest of the sandwich, then rose. “Come, Lochlan. Ye’ve a list of chores waiting for ye.”

  Lochlan choked on a mouthful of ham and bread. “What list of chores?”

  “Why, the one ye’ve just earned by disobeying me. Lir, I thank ye for yer hospitality. Ye two keep yer heads down and yer hides intact.” He nodded and left. Lochlan followed, sandwich in one hand. The front door thumped closed a moment later.

  “Speaking of chores…” Gideon walked out of the kitchen. While Finn finished eating, he returned with paper and pen. Sitting back down across from the apprentice, he began writing, pausing now and then to drum his fingers as he thought. Once he glanced out the kitchen window and murmured. “Number twenty-four—cut the grass in the back yard.” At Finn’s grimace, he added, “By hand.”

  * * *

  Flinging himself face-down on the sofa, Finn groaned. Ye gods, I’m finally done. I can’t believe it’s taken me three whole days to get through that stupid list of chores, he thought. I would have been done in two days if Gideon hadn’t kept adding to it. Which was totally unfair. And
mean. He stretched his back, wincing at the pull of sore muscles from the daily workouts that Finn was sure his master invented just to cause the most agony. He’s trying to kill me, before the Amandán do, and rob him of the satisfaction. He burrowed deeper into the cushions. The sound of Gideon singing as he bustled about the kitchen preparing supper grated on his nerves. He’s happy because he’s making me miserable. Typical. With a sigh, he curled onto his side, then closed his eyes.

  Ten minutes later, he grunted at the hand shaking him. He blinked awake and peered up; Gideon was leaning over him.

  “Supper is on the table, Finn. And eat lightly. We’ll be doing…”

  “…yeah, yeah, I know.” He sat up with a sigh and scrubbed at his hair until it stuck out from his head. “Fitness drills afterwards.”

  “Your choice, boyo.” Gideon turned and headed back.

  His upper lip curled as he silently mocked his master. “‘Your choice, boyo.’” When Gideon wasn’t looking, of course. He was insolent, not stupid.

  Finn pushed off the sofa. On his way to the kitchen, he idly noticed the chunk of iron pyrite Rafe had given him, sitting on Gideon’s desk. The Knight was using it as a paperweight. He shrugged and continued toward the kitchen.

  His stomach rumbled when he caught the scent of shepherd’s pie. “Oh, man—my favorite.” Two steaming bowls, already filled with savory lamb stew topped with clouds of mashed potatoes, sat on the table. Both the aroma of the meal and the evening sun glancing through the window warmed the room. Snatching a spoon from the table, Finn started shoveling food into his mouth even before his bottom hit the chair.

  “So what are we doing later?” he asked in a mashed potato-y tone of voice. He hastily swallowed when his master raised a warning eyebrow.

  Gideon thought for a moment. “I’ve something I would like to try this evening.”

  “A new exercise?”

  “Aye, in a way.” He pointed a spoon at Finn’s bowl. “That’s all you get for now. You may have more after we’re through.”

  Finn slowed down, determined to make it last. He grabbed a slice of brown bread from the basket and used it to sop up every last morsel of stew. While he ate, he kept glancing across the table.