Gideon's Spear

by Darby Karchut

  Empty plate pushed to one side, Gideon sat deep in thought. He rubbed his knuckles along his stubbled jaw, brows pinched together. As Finn watched, he nodded to himself as if coming to a decision, then rose and carried his dishes to the counter. “Finish up, then out back.” He disappeared into the living room. Finn heard him open the door leading down to the basement, footsteps echoing faintly as he descended.

  After licking his spoon clean, Finn dumped his own bowl in the sink and headed outside.

  He wandered to the far side of the yard where the grass grew thicker, though now neatly trimmed. The voice of a weather forecaster droning on about the increase in afternoon storms drifted faintly from the direction of Ms. Martinez, the elderly, and rather deaf, neighbor to the north of them. Finn grinned as he recalled Gideon consenting to help move a concrete birdbath from her back yard to the front just last week. His master had ended up carrying it back and forth a dozen times before she decided to leave it in its original spot. All the while, Gideon had struggled to keep a tight rein on his annoyance.

  The screen slapped open. Gideon appeared, carrying two sets of boxing gloves. He joined Finn and handed him a pair.

  “How is boxing going to help me hunt Amandán?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Finn pulled on the gloves. He held them up while Gideon laced them tight. While he waited for his master to finish his own preparations, he walked over to the punching bag and gave it a few thumps. The massive gloves stuck on the end of his still-too-skinny-for-his-taste arms made him feel like a cartoon character. All I need is a goofy name and… Oh. Yeah. Right. Never mind.

  “Finn.”

  Jogging back, he took a stance a few feet from the Knight and waited for instructions. For a long minute, Gideon stood looking at him, an uneasy expression on his face. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

  “Do you remember when I mentioned to you that the warp spasm could be useful in a fight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And do you trust me? Trust me to train you in the best way I know how?”

  Finn nodded, unsure what to say.

  “Right. Then I want you to try to hit me. Land a blow anywhere and any way you can.” He held up his gloves and indicated for Finn to do the same.

  Balancing on the balls of his feet, Finn raised his gloves. Keeping his chin tucked as Gideon had taught him, he jabbed in the classic right, left, right combo. Smack. Smack. Smack. Each punch was blocked by the Knight’s lightning-fast moves. Warming up, he danced to the side, trying to break through Gideon’s guard.

  Out of the blue, gloves slammed into his, driving him backward.

  Finn staggered. Before he could catch his balance, Gideon attacked again. Blow after blow landed on Finn’s gloves like twin hammers, sending shock waves up his arms and into his shoulders. Thrown back on his heels, he stumbled, then landed heavily on his bottom. “Son of a goat,” he muttered to himself.

  “Get up.”

  Red-faced and slightly breathless, he lurched to his feet. Before he could bring his hands up, the Knight hooked a foot around his ankle and gave a yank. Finn landed with a thud on the grass. “Gideon—knock it off!” Blood thundering in his ears, he rose, spitting mad and wondering what the heck. This time, his master backed off a step. Taking advantage of the space, Finn sucked in a deep breath, brought up his gloves, and launched himself at the Knight.

  It was like hitting a stone wall.

  A stone wall that hit back.

  A glove came out of nowhere and clipped his ear. Stunned, Finn dropped his arms. Bad mistake. Another blow clipped the same ear. Not enough to hurt, just enough to piss him off. Jerking his gloves back up, he gritted his teeth against a growing anger and swung his right fist at Gideon’s face. It whistled through the air as his master ducked. Off-balance, he staggered a step.

  Another clip. On the same ear.

  Rage blossomed in Finn’s chest. He could feel his face and neck flush. Sweat drenched his body, already damp from the boxing. His pulse hummed in his ears. He squinted at his master through a growing red haze as the warp spasm took over. A corner of his mind dropped its jaw when his master stepped back with a cold smile and spoke.

  “It’s about time.”

  Twenty-Two

  Gideon eyed Finn’s face. I certainly hope this works. Now all I need do is push him over the edge. “That stung, did it?” He tapped his apprentice on the side of the head again. And again. His other arm blocked Finn’s wild swings with ease. “Why, you hit like a wee baby.” He sighed in silent relief as the growing strength of the of the warp spasm reddened Finn’s face.

  Before the rage could completely take over his apprentice, Gideon stepped back. “Finn, listen to me. Listen! Use the anger to attack me,” he said in a slow, clear voice. “Forge your rage into a weapon.” He held his breath and watched as Finn began to tremble, his boyish face twisted into an ugly mask. Even his hair stood up on end like miniature bronze spikes. “Control the warp spasm—do not let it control you.” Come, boyo, you can do this. Blue eyes blazing, the boy glared at him. For a moment, the Knight thought he had pushed the boy too far. But then Finn growled through his teeth.

  “Trying,” he gasped. “Hard…to hold it…”

  Pride swept through Gideon. Oh, gle mhaith, lad. He raised his hands. “Let’s keep it simple. Strike my left glove. One blow, then back away.”

  On shaky legs, Finn advanced. Sweat dripped from his brow. Gideon swore he could almost hear the drops sizzle as they ran down the boy’s face. Finn swung at the target. Smack. Gideon winced at the power behind the blow. Ye gods! He waited until Finn eased back a step and stood gasping for breath.

  “Well done. Now, this time, aim for my right glove. Is the warp spasm still there?”

  Finn nodded, his eyes fixed on the glove held up in front of him. “It…it keeps making me want to attack…” He blinked, then shook his head. “I can’t…I can’t control it anymore…” With a gasp, he crashed to his knees.

  Ripping at the ties with his teeth, Gideon tore off one glove, then the other. Flinging them to one side, he knelt down next to Finn, who was slumped over, head pressed against the ground. Tremors shook his entire body. For a moment, Gideon thought he was weeping.

  Then Finn sat up, laughing. Grass and sweat and hair were plastered to his forehead. “That was insane,” he panted. He slumped back on his bottom and held out his gloves, still grinning.

  “Are you all right?” Gideon tugged at the laces.

  “Yes, sir.” He wiped his face with his first bare hand. “Good thing Mr. Steel didn’t see all that.”

  “Aye.” Once he freed the boy of the boxing gloves, Gideon grabbed his elbow and hauled him to his feet. “My apologies for striking you. How’s the ear?”

  “Pffftt.” Finn blew a raspberry. “That didn’t even hurt. I used to get in fights with my cousins worse than that.” His eyes danced. “And, by the way, you hit like a wee baby, too.”

  Relief flooded Gideon at Finn’s show of mettle. “I probably should have explained my plan to you beforehand.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I wanted to test my theory. I needed to enrage you enough to bring about the warp spasm to see if you could actually control it. And maybe use it in battle.”

  “Makes sense.” Finn chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “You know, it felt a little different this time. The warp spasm, I mean.”

  “In what way?”

  Finn stared into the distance as he thought. “Well, it started off the same way, like my whole body was on fire, but when I tried to control it, it’s like I got colder. No. Wait. Not colder, but less hot.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it.” He gestured at the gloves, then peered up at Gideon. “Can we try it again?”

  “Not tonight, boyo.” Glancing at the sun dipping behind the foothills, he picked up the gloves and handed them to Finn. “Store those in the laundry room for now. We’ll train again tomorrow.” They headed back to the house.
/>   “Gideon, do other Tuatha De Danaan use the warp spasm on the hunt or in battle? Does Mac Roth?”

  “It was very much a part of the way we waged war a thousand years ago, to be sure. Not only the Tuatha De Danaan, but even the Celtic mortals believed in and utilized the battle rage. For some reason, it has fallen out of favor. Possibly because our Song has always been a more reliable source of power and strength for us.”

  “Good thing. I’d hate to see you or Mac Roth go crazy like that.”

  Gideon opened the back screen and ushered Finn in ahead of him. “It is not in Mac Roth’s nature, as you well know—for all his ferocity and skill in battle, that one is as gentle as a rabbit to friends and allies.”

  Finn paused in the doorway with the gloves. “But not you. I mean, you know, you still have to fight it.”

  Peering into the pot of leftover stew, Gideon gave it a stir before answering. “Aye, lad. I’ve told you before, it is a black beast I cannot shake.” He cut his gaze toward the boy. “It is a part of my nature. Just as it is a part of yours. Something we share in common.” He waited until the boy disappeared into the other room with the equipment, then softly added, “Among other things.”

  The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: August 2nd

  Except when he’s being all master-y and grounding me and making me work like a slave, Gideon rocks. He’s training me to control my warp spasms—had my first lesson today. It was pretty hard to do and I was only able to control it for a few minutes, but I can see where it can be, as Gideon says, “bleedin’ useful” in a fight.

  The only problem with all this is that I have to get really mad for it to work. Which scares the crap out of me. But I can’t tell Gideon that—he’ll think I’m a wimp.

  What I Learned Today Over The Last Few Days:

  Gideon told me once that friendship is more valuable than riches. I must be like a billionaire because I now have three good friends: Rafe, Savannah, and Lochlan.

  I wish we could just tell Mr. and Mrs. Steel what’s really going on. But I guess, being a science teacher and a doctor, they’re not ready to believe that the world is a lot different than they think.

  The Journal of Gideon Lir: August 2nd

  Finn was able to control the warp spasm for a few minutes today. Mayhap he can develop the ability to use it in battle. However, we will proceed slowly with this training. It is fraught with danger, not least the mental pressure it puts on Finn to reach that level of rage. And I do not relish striking my apprentice just to make him angry. There must be another way.

  On a lighter note: I think I’ll allow Finn a bit of fun tomorrow. I think I’ll teach him something he should know, especially after that mishap with the truck.

  May the Goddess Danu protect us both.

  Twenty-Three

  “Mind the tree!” Gideon shouted while trying to stomp on a non-existent brake. Trapped in the passenger side of the truck’s cab as they drove along, he cursed under his breath when a branch slapped the side mirror. Pine needles showered down on him through the open window.

  “Stop yelling—you’re making me nervous!” Finn shouted back, both hands clutching the wheel. He sat bolt upright on the edge of the driver’s seat. They rolled slowly along the same dirt road through the foothills that they had used a few weeks ago. Cloud shadows raced each other across the hills, ahead of an afternoon rainstorm building up over the western mountains. Taking a deep breath, Finn grabbed the stick shift. “Okay, I’m going to try to put it into second.” He yanked. A grinding sound filled the cab.

  Gideon winced. “Clutch in first, then shift.”

  “Son of a goat,” Finn muttered. There’s too much to remember. He pressed on the left pedal, waited a second, then wrangled the stick down into the next gear. Holding his breath, he eased off the pedal. With a jerk, the truck shot forward a few feet, then perished with a strangled gasp.

  “You forgot to give it gas whilst letting up on the clutch,” Gideon explained when Finn looked over in confusion. “That’s why the engine died.”

  “Stupid truck.” Finn wiped his face and left a smear of dirt and sweat across his forehead. Even with both windows rolled down, the cab was uncomfortably hot and muggy from the approaching storm. “Why can’t we get a newer car? You know. Like something from this century?”

  “Why, certainly. We’ll just do without food. And electricity.”

  “I hate being poor.”

  “Now, what gave you the idea that we are poor? We’ve enough to eat, a roof over our heads, and we can pay all our monthly bills. What more do we need?”

  Finn held up a hand and began ticking off. “A computer. With Internet. A new truck for you. I wouldn’t mind a mountain bike. A cell phone. And some video games would be—”

  “Video games?”

  “You don’t know what a video game is?” At Gideon’s look of confusion, Finn scrunched up his face. “How come there are some things you don’t know about modern life, but you’re only thirty-seven years old?”

  “If you recall, I didn’t say I was thirty-seven years old. I said I was thirty-seven,” the Knight corrected, face expressionless.

  Which means he’s either being sarcastic or he thinks he’s being clever. “What’s the difference—oh, wait, I get it. Thirty-seven what?”

  “Decades.”

  Finn made a quick calculation. His eyes widened. “You’re three hundred and seventy years old!” His freckles disappeared behind a blush when his voice cracked.

  “And few odd months.”

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Finn continued. “Well, video games are these cool games you play on your television or computer where you pretend you’re a soldier fighting in a war or a hunter going after zombies or monsters or—”

  “Because that is markedly different from our day-to-day lives.”

  “Okay, so never mind about the video games.”

  “Well, we are certainly not poor. Oh, we may not have as much as some, but we have more than most.” Gideon stuck his head out and checked the sky. “Enough for today. It looks like rain is on its way. Out with you.”

  Master and apprentice switched places and climbed back into the cab. After coaxing the engine on, Gideon turned the truck around and headed north to pick up the main highway. As they bounced along, Finn peered over the side of the road, his eyes following the trail they had hunted on a few days ago. Paralleling the road, it appeared and disappeared in the woods below him. Further east, the city seemed to crouch down under the darkening clouds. Scrunching his eyes tight, he leaned out the window.

  “Catching flies, are you?” Gideon said over the roar of the truck.

  “Ha, ha. Funny.” Pulling his head back in, Finn combed his fingers through his mop of hair. “Just enjoying the cool air.”

  Rain began drumming on the roof of the cab. Gideon flipped on the wiper blades, then the headlights. Thunder rumbled overhead. Driving one-handed around another bend in the road, he reached behind and fished his wallet out of a back pocket. He tossed it into Finn’s lap. “Count the money. See if there is at least thirty dollars.”

  Finn thumbed through the bills. “Thirty-four.”

  “We’ll fill the gas tank on our way home and then—”

  BANG!

  At first, Finn thought lightning had struck them. Then the truck skewed violently to the right, the blown front tire dragging it toward the edge. Gideon cursed as he fought the vehicle’s momentum.

  Finn gasped as the road disappeared outside his window. Nothing but air separated him from the tree tops below. He thumped against the door as the truck began tilting over, the soft shoulder of the road giving way beneath the tires.

  Everything became a tumble of arms and legs; his head and knees and elbows flailed around the interior of the cab like clothes in a dryer. He kept hitting the same spots over and over, each time with a fresh spike of pain. Branches cracked and snapped while twisting metal screamed. Dirt and rocks poured in through the open windows. To Finn, it seemed like t
hey rolled forever. Once he felt Gideon trying to catch hold of him, but the force of the next roll tore them apart.

  With a jolt, the truck crashed to a stop, ending upright on flat tires. Finn himself twisted sideways under his seatbelt. Outside, the rain turned to hail and pinged against the roof, partially muting the ticking-ticking of the dying engine and the blood thundering in his ears.

  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

  Gideon 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.