Gideon's Spear

by Darby Karchut

  With heavy legs, he crested the last hill as the rain finally stopped. Clouds hung low overhead, casting the neighborhood and the city beyond into gloom. A slight breeze came up. Finn shivered, both from cold and dread of being too late.

  Reduced to a shambling jog, he reached the back gate. For a moment, he sagged against it, gasping for air, then he pushed it opened and hurried toward the house.

  Once inside, he snatched the phone from its cradle. Dialing Mac Roth’s number with trembling hands, he muttered to himself as it began ringing. “See? This is exactly why cell phones were invented. To call another Knight when your master gets captured by goblins.” He paced back and forth, leaving muddy footprints across the linoleum. Come on, come on. Pick up. He slumped in relief against the counter when he heard Mac Roth’s voice.

  “Thank Danu you’re home—” He stopped when he realized he was listening to an answering machine. “Son of a goat!” He slammed the receiver down. In desperation, he hurried across the living room to the fireplace. Grabbing another knife from the rack, he bent over and shoved the weapon into his ankle sheath as he tried to think what to do. Wild schemes came and went. I need something else to take back. Some blade that could pass for the Spear. The Amandán don’t know what it looks like. For all they know, it is…

  The solution exploded in his head.

  “That’s it!” With a whoop, he bolted toward the front door, then skidded to a stop. Racing back into the kitchen, he dialed Mac Roth’s number again. After garbling out a frantic message, he ran out the door.

  Splashing through puddles, he raced across the street to the Steels’. Out of breath, he knocked, jiggling from one foot to the other. Suddenly, he froze. Oh, crap! What if Mr. Steel sees me like this? I know what he’s going to think. The sound of footsteps echoed dimly. He sagged in relief when his friend opened the door.

  Rafe stared at Finn. “What the heck?” His gaze swept up and down.

  “Our truck rolled off the high road. Gideon’s hurt and the Amandán have him. I can’t get a hold of Mac Roth. I need your spear to take back so they’ll let him go. Can I have it?” Even as the words spilled out in a jumble, Finn realized how crazy they sounded.

  Rafe hesitated for a moment. “No.” Before Finn could plead, he added. “I mean, yes, you can have it, but I’m coming, too.”

  “No way. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Whatever. Come inside while I get it. You’re lucky Mom and Dad are picking up my grandfather at the airport.”

  “But…but…”

  “Shut up,” Rafe said with a grin, taking the sting out of it. “I’ll be right back.” He dashed down the hall to the stairs.

  “What’s going on?” Savannah walked toward them from the kitchen, a bottle of water in one hand. She froze at the sight of Finn dripping water and mud all over the entryway floor.

  He hastily told her what happened. “So Rafe’s getting his spear for me,” he finished explaining. “I don’t know what’ll happen, but at least Gideon and I’ll have a couple of weapons.” He licked his lips, aware of a sudden raging thirst. “Hey, can I have a drink?”

  Savannah thrust the bottle at him. “Here, have it all. I’ll be right back.” She ran down the hall, darting around her brother as he reappeared.

  “What are you doing?” Rafe shouted at her as she dashed past. He carried the spear in one hand and a bronze blade in the other.

  “Getting my knife—I’m going with you guys.” Her voice faded as she pounded up the stairs.

  “No, you’re not,” both boys yelled back.

  “Just watch me.”

  A few moments later, she joined them. “Okay,” she panted. “All set. I left a note for Mom.”

  “Neither of you are coming.” Finn glanced around, then set the empty plastic bottle on the entry table. With speed born of hours of training, he snatched the spear from Rafe’s hand before the boy could move. “Thanks, Rafe. With any luck, I’ll get this back to you.” Spinning on the balls of his feet, he left.

  Cutting across the lawn, he ran back toward his house. He glanced up as sunbeams broke through between shreds of clouds. A band of fresh-washed blue, the last of the day, showed above the western mountaintops. He picked up the pace at the sight and hurried through the front gate.

  Jogging around the side of the house to the back yard, he paused at the picnic table and gazed back. The house was dark and empty and not-home. It was simply a house. Gideon made it home.

  Tightening his jaw, he shook off the sense of foreboding and squared his shoulders. The thought of charging back into those woods, by himself, and with his master’s life depending on him, made him want to throw up. “Move yer arse, boyo,” he whispered in unconscious imitation of his master, took a deep breath, then sprinted toward the back wall. He began chanting. With a leap, he cleared the top stones.

  Two figures stepped directly in his path.

  “Hey, watch it!” Rafe yelled, pushing his sister to one side for safety.

  Finn landed between them, almost going down. Rafe grabbed his arm and saved him from a faceplant.

  “Couldn’t have just used the gate, could you?” Savannah shook her head. “Boys.”

  “How did you get back here?” Finn looked from one to the other.

  “We cut through the empty lot next door.” Rafe held up his knife. “Since you can’t reach Mac Roth, it would make the most sense for us to come with you. We may not be Tuatha De Danaan, but we do know something about fighting. We’re backup, you see,” he said in his calm, practical way, as if explaining a science experiment.

  “But—” Even as Finn protested, hope flooded his chest at his friend’s words.

  “And you said Mr. Lir was hurt.” Savannah interrupted. “How are you going to help him home if you don’t have a rear guard?” She flipped her blade up in the air. It flashed in the light of the setting sun before landing in her palm with a slap. “Look, we’re wasting time. So you better stop arguing and getting busy chanting.” Her dimples danced. “Cause it’s going to take all you got to keep up with me on a cross-country course.”

  * * *

  Gideon shifted on the rock, more weary from the wait than he would admit, as the daylight slowly faded around him. Well, at least the lad is safe. Now I best get myself out of this situation before Mac Roth arrives, or I’ll not hear the end of it. He hissed when cracked ribs protested the movement. Any movement. Like breathing.

  Blinking, he tried to focus through the concussion caused by his head hitting the steering wheel. And the side window. And then the steering wheel again. Fighting the overwhelming desire to simply topple over onto the ground and fall asleep, he glanced at the two goblins squatting in the mouth of the cave. They stared back.

  “Looks like yer whelp ain’t going to make it by sunset,” one of them growled. It smacked its lips. “I be guessing fresh meat’s on the menu for tonight.” They elbowed each other with delight.

  Gideon tightened his jaw, secretly agreeing with them. But, if this is to be my last battle, I’ll go to my long sleep knowing the boy will be well cared for—Mac Roth will see to that. Finn will become a clever hunter and stalwart warrior, to be sure. Still, I wish I could have watched him grow into manhood. Regret pulled at the corners of his mouth. Ah, well. Danu did not promise us the easy life, just the warrior’s life.

  “‘Course, if the pup does show up, then we gets a main course and dessert.” They hooted again.

  The Knight raised an eyebrow. “Or ye gets a Spear in yer chest,” he said, mocking his enemy. Pushing off the rock, he stood up, then swayed. The nearby trees faded in and out of focus. He waited until he was certain he wouldn’t fall face-down in the mud, then began pacing back and forth.

  The guards snarled at him. “Where does ya think yer going?”

  “Just strolling about. It’s a bit tiresome sitting here.”

  Turning his back on the Amandán, he limped toward the edge of the clearing and faced the forest, looking eastward. He tilted his head back
and closed his eyes, whispering the words to the Song.

  I am a wind on the sea,

  I am a wave of the ocean,

  I am the roar of the sea,

  I am a bull of seven battles,

  I am a hawk on the cliff,

  I am a teardrop of sunlight,

  I am a gentle herb,

  I am a boar enraged,

  I am a salmon in a pool,

  I am a lake in a plain,

  I am the vigor of man,

  I am the meaning of poetry,

  I am a spear on the attack, pouring forth combat,

  I am the god who fires your mind.

  When he reached his favorite line, the one he would never admit was his favorite, warmth welled up in his chest, easing the ache along his ribs and the pounding in his head. Breathing more freely, Gideon continued to chant.

  His eyes flew open at a rustle in the bushes a few feet away. His voice faded away. A branch waved once. Water droplets scattered from its leaves like miniature diamonds, then stilled. He stiffened when a shape moved, low to the ground in the shadow of the scrub oak. Dismay knifed at him as he peered more closely. “Oh, bleedin ‘ell,” he breathed.

  Twenty-Seven

  Finn crept along through the underbrush, unable to see much more than green leaves and muddy ground right in front of his nose. Rafe’s spear, clutched in one hand, hampered his movements through the vegetation. He grimaced at each snap and rustle. Cold droplets, dislodged by his passing, splashed onto his head and neck and trickled down his shirt. Several yards behind, Rafe and Savannah waited on the other side of the trail behind a stand of pine trees. Slowing his movements even more, he inched closer to the clearing in front of the Amandán’s cave.

  He froze. An odd lump pushed up in his throat at the sound of a familiar baritone singing softly. He looked up through the low-hanging branches when the voice stopped.

  Gideon stood a few feet away. Staring at him.

  Finn couldn’t help grinning back. He pointedly glanced down at Rafe’s spear lying on the ground next to his hand.

  With the slightest of movements, Gideon shook his head. “Knife,” he mouthed, then shuffled his feet and pretended to stretch while keeping himself between the guards and Finn’s position in the bush.

  Finn nodded. Reaching for his ankle, he clawed at his pant leg until he managed to slip the knife free. “Now what?” he mouthed back.

  “Slide it toward me.”

  Awkward from lying on his stomach, Finn tossed the blade toward his master’s feet. He held his breath at the slight tink it made when it landed. Gideon coughed loudly, covering up the noise.

  Curling his fingers around the shaft of the spear, Finn waited, pulse humming in his ears. When his master looked down at the knife and flicked a finger toward the guards, Finn nodded his readiness. Stillness swept over the forest.

  In a blur, Gideon snatched the blade from the ground and spun around. Both guards leapt to their feet from his unexpected movement. Too late. A flash of bronze flew through the air and impaled the nearest Amandán through the chest. Goblin ash exploded everywhere.

  Even before the Knight’s blade found its mark, Finn was up and running toward the second goblin. With a shriek at the sight of the raised spear in the boy’s hand, it whirled around and disappeared into the cave. Its voice echoed as it howled the alarm to the rest of the pack.

  Finn slid to a stop and snatched the knife from the ground. “Here.” He ran back to Gideon and held it out. “Or do you want the spear?”

  The Knight grabbed the knife and led the way down the trail, breaking into a run after a few feet. Finn frowned at his master’s limping gait.

  “What the ‘ell are ye doing here?” Gideon growled over his shoulder. “And where’s Mac Roth?”

  “Couldn’t find him. But I brought us some backup.”

  “It best not be—” At that moment, Rafe and Savannah stepped out from behind the tree. Gideon groaned and slowed to a walk. “Ye gods, I should have guessed.”

  Weapons raised, the twins took a stance on either side of the path and waved the Tuatha De Danaan past. “Keep going,” Rafe hissed, his eyes sweeping the woods. “We’ll be rear guard.”

  “No—it’s better to stay together. We might be facing a running battle all the way home. Finn, give Rafe the spear. He’s more familiar with it than you are.” The boys switched weapons. “And you two, right behind me. Finn, you know what to do. Savannah, I want you in front.”

  “Is it because I’m a girl? Look, Mr. Lir, I’m just as good as—”

  “Lass, if things go awry, I need the fastest runner out front. You’re to run like the wind if we get attacked. Do what you can to find Mac Roth.”

  The Knight herded them into position, and they took off again. In the lead, Savannah ran easily, her stride seeming effortless and smooth. Behind her, Gideon limped along. In the rear, Finn, with Rafe jogging beside him, kept one eye on his master while continuously scanning the area behind and on either side. The only sound was their breathing and the slurp-slap of their feet in the mud.

  “How long before they come after us?” Finn panted to the Knight.

  “Minutes, maybe. Although I’m hoping the sight of that spear will spread enough fear amongst the beasties that they’ll hesitate to follow.”

  “Maybe they won’t try at all,” Rafe said.

  “Not bleedin’ likely,” master and apprentice murmured at the same time.

  They ran on in silence. The path narrowed, forcing Finn to drop behind Rafe. After a mile, Gideon signaled for a rest stop.

  “Keep your weapons up,” he panted. He leaned against the trunk of a massive pine and closed his eyes.

  “Gideon?” Anxiety poked Finn at the sight of his master’s drawn face. “You okay? Well, besides the whole car wreck and the Amandán capturing us.”

  “Battered a wee bit.” He opened his eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and pushed off the tree. A harsh croak made them glance around, then upward.

  “A murder of crows,” Rafe murmured, his eyes fixed on a small flock weaving amidst the tree tops.

  “A what?” Finn asked. He sighed in relief when the birds wheeled about and disappeared.

  “‘A murder of crows.’ It’s what a flock of them is called. You know, like a pride of lions.”

  “Or a crash of rhinos,” Savannah chimed in.

  “A route of wolves,” Gideon added.

  A google of geeks, Finn thought.

  They all froze when the birds reappeared. They were joined by more and more, until the sky above was thick with them.

  “Ye gods,” Gideon breathed.

  The sound of heavy bodies crashing through the woods made them jump. Snarling and hooting made the gloom of the early evening even gloomier. Overhead, the crows croaked a warning.

  “Run!”

  Gideon gave Savannah a shove. She took off, Rafe sprinting after her. The master and apprentice followed on their heels.

  Gasping the Song between puffs of breath, Finn pounded alongside Gideon. Twice, he put out a hand to steady him when the Knight lurched sideways, almost knocking both of them off their feet. Side by side, they stumbled along, dodging rocks and jumping fallen logs. A branch raked Finn’s face, leaving a stinging cut across his chin. The path dived into a ravine, then back up the other side. Gideon struggled to make the climb, one hand pressed against his ribs.

  “Hurry!” Rafe looked down at them from the edge of the ravine; Savannah stood beside him. “They’re right behind…watch out!”

  Finn and Gideon whirled around. Galloping along, using their arms as much as their legs, a couple of over-eager Amandán appeared on the trail behind them. Racing toward the Tuatha De Danaan, they screamed in triumph.

  “Nants ingonyama bagithi!” A pair of voices shouted back in defiance.

  Rafe’s spear hurtled past Finn’s ear. It caught the leading goblin dead center, striking so hard the impact yanked the beast off its feet before it exploded. A split second later, Savanna
h’s knife impaled the second one. Weapons clattered to the ground. Goblin ash drifted over them.

  Further down the trail, more Amandán appeared.

  Finn hesitated. We need those weapons. Ignoring his master shouting at him to leave them, he whirled around and dashed back. Leaving Savannah’s knife for later, he snatched the spear from the pile of stinking powder, tossed his own blade aside, and took a stance on the path. Suddenly, an idea shot through him.

  Forge your rage into a weapon. Gideon’s voice whispered in his skull. In desperation, he mentally reached for the white-hot anger, the blinding rage that sent him into the warp spasm.

  Nothing happened.

  As the foremost beast neared, Finn ground his teeth together and tried again.

  Nothing happened. Again.

  “Ah, screw this,” he muttered. With a shout, he held the spear aloft. “Come along, ye manky beasties,” he yelled, throwing every bit of Gideon-ness he could into his voice. “I’ve a wee point to share with ye!” Gripping the end of the shaft in both hands, he swung it around and around over his head, creating a whistling sound. “Faugh a ballagh!”

  “The Spear!” Goblin voices screamed in panic. “The Spear of the Tuatha De Danaan!”

  “Yeah, you got that right!” He almost laughed aloud when the pack skidded to a halt, the front rank going down from the hindmost ones crashing into them. In a tangle of arms and legs and snapping teeth, they scrambled to their feet and raced back the way they came.

  “Finnegan! Quickly now,” Gideon cried from the other side of the ravine.

  Picking up the knives, Finn raced back to the others. Passing the weapons to the twins with a nod and a smile, he fell in beside his master as they started again, Rafe and Savannah a few steps in front.

  They hurried along in silence, ears straining for the sound of bodies in the underbrush. Gasping for breath, they crested another hill. Dusk filled the hollows under bushes and between tree limbs. Feet began stumbling over roots and rocks.