Finn's Choice

by Darby Karchut

  Finn almost gagged as he forced down a few forkfuls. He noticed that the Knight was crumbling bacon between his fingers, but not eating it, as he took sip after sip of tea. “Looks like it’s going to snow later.” Finn nodded toward the kitchen window as he poked holes in his scrambled eggs.

  “Aye. One more thing to worry about; the weather and such.”

  They both pushed food around their plates for a few more minutes. Finally, Gideon gave up. Rising, he gestured toward the platter of mostly uneaten bacon sitting in the middle of the table. “Help yourself to the rest. You need your strength.”

  Finn choked down one slice, then gave up as well. In silence, they cleaned the kitchen. While Finn washed, Gideon dried and put away. Finn realized that the top of his head was now level with his master’s shoulder. I wonder when that happened.

  Gideon noticed, too, for he smiled briefly. “You may have inherited your father’s height.”

  Which father? The thought came unbidden. It was followed by a sudden flare of anger. Why do I have to lose Gideon, too? It’s supposed to be an honor to train with the Scáthach. But it’s not. Not to me. To me, it’s a sentence.

  Hands still buried in the soapy water, Finn clenched his fists. “It’s not fair,” he said in a low tone. “I don’t want to go.”

  “And ye will not, boyo. I promise ye.”

  They both tensed when a low rumble filled the air, the glass in the window rattling. Without a word, Gideon dried his hands, then passed the dishcloth to Finn.

  As they opened the back door, a cloud, like a piece of the pending storm that had broken free, floated into the yard and touched down on the grass. A gust shredded the cloud and revealed the Scáthach standing to one side of the practice dummy. The burlap bag swung gently to and fro, as if shaking its head at the goddess.

  With panic turning his muscles into something akin to mashed potatoes, Finn took a knee next to his master on the cold earth and waited, his eyes fixed on a tuft of dried grass. His skin broke out into goosebumps from the chilly air.

  Son of a goat—it’s too early! Iona probably doesn’t have the brew ready. And we can’t get a message to Griffin! What little breakfast he had eaten turned into a lump and stuck to the sides of his stomach, like oatmeal when it’s been microwaved too long. Ye gods, if I ever needed a guardian angel, this is the time!

  Finally, movement. Grass crunched under soft boots. “Rise.”

  At her command, they stood up. “Greetings, Lady,” Gideon said.

  “Knight.” She nodded curtly, then turned to study Finn, her eyes beautiful as emeralds—and as cold. “Finnegan MacCullen. Stand ye ready.”

  Another breeze, oddly warm and sweet like a breath of summer, blew through the back yard and stirred the remnants of the goddess’ cloud. It ruffled Finn’s hair. Beside him, Gideon stiffened. An exclamation died on his lips. Before Finn could ask, his master spoke.

  “And thus it begins? With no more formality than that?”

  The goddess curled her lip. “Formality is for the pretty ones. Danu and the others.”

  “May I offer you refreshment first? I could send the boy for tea…”

  “Nay. Although I thank ye for yer hospitality. Now, move aside, Black Hand.” She eased back a few paces and pointed at the burlap bag. “Burn it.”

  Finn licked his lips. What am I supposed to do? He shivered, both from certainty of failure and the cold.

  “Allow the boyo to fetch his jacket, at the least. ’Tis a bitter morn.” Gideon tried again. Finn suddenly realized his master was trying to get him back inside. Why? Does he want me to contact the angels?

  “’Twould be less so if he would light a flame,” the Scáthach said dryly. She hesitated. “Never let it be said that I am a cruel mistress. Go. Fetch yer cloak. No, Black Hand,” she added when Gideon started to go with Finn. “Stay.”

  “Why? Do ye not trust me?”

  “I do not.” She smiled coldly at him, then waved Finn away. “Speedily now.”

  Walking to the back door as slowly as he could, Finn chewed on his lip, trying to remember where his master had placed the piece of paper with Basil’s phone number. He slipped inside and hurried into the living room toward Gideon’s desk.

  He almost screamed when a figure moved in a corner of the room. Truth be told, he squeaked like a hamster.

  “Easy, Finn,” a voice whispered. “It’s just me.”

  Griffin stepped out of the shadows, panting slightly. To Finn’s everlasting relief, the kind that made him want to sit down on the nearest piece of furniture, or go upstairs to use the bathroom—or both—the angel held up a familiar brown bottle. Steam rose from his hand.

  “How…how did you know?”

  The angel grinned. “You called. I came.” At Finn’s frown, he shook his head. “Later. Right now, you need to drink it and get back out there. I’ve been keeping it hot for you.” He started to pass it to Finn, then stopped. “Wait, you’ll burn yourself.” With that, Griffin thumbed the cork out. “Open wide.”

  Without thinking, Finn tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and gulped it down. Warmth spread throughout his body and swelled up in his chest. He wiped his lips. “I think it’s working. I can feel it…”

  “Dude, go!” Griffin pushed him back toward the kitchen. “And remember what we practiced.”

  Finn dashed over to the front door, yanked his jacket from the coat hooks, then raced back through the kitchen and out the door. Pulling on his jacket, a jacket he no longer needed due to the heat from the potion, he hurried over to take a stand a few yards away from the dummy.

  Glancing surreptitiously at his master, he noticed Gideon was staring intently at him, as if he was waiting for Finn to tell him something. The master’s gaze flitted once toward the house. An eyebrow twitched in question.

  He knows Griffin is inside. Finn fought to keep his face as worried-looking as before. Pretending to be nervous, he scratched his nose to cover up a brief nod.

  Schooling his face, the Knight took a deep breath. “Good luck to ye, boyo. Do the best ye can.” He stepped away.

  “Fire the bag,” the Scáthach ordered again.

  Finn took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Closing his eyes, he imaged a ball of flames growing inside of his chest, pushing his ribs out and sending sparks along his limbs. It’s kind of like the warp spasm, but not. He raised his right hand. Okay, I can do this. I did it before. I just have to not fall on my butt.

  Squeezing his eyes tight, he tensed his body, imagining a torrent of fire pouring from his fingertips. Suddenly, warmth, like he had slipped on a wool mitten, enveloped his hand. At twin exclamations from both goddess and Knight, he opened his eyes.

  Flames danced on the tips of his fingers. He jerked in surprise, then forced himself not to panic. Still, there was something so not right about his hand being on fire. Just do it already, he ordered himself. He pointed his fingers at the bag. Smoke swirled from the tips with each movement. And…NOW!

  KA-WHUSH! Flames exploded out of his hand with a roar. It was like being kicked in the chest. Finn’s feet left the ground as he was thrown backward. Even as he flew through the air, he saw the burlap bag, stuffed with old newspapers, disintegrate in a fiery explosion, sending ash swirling like snowflakes.

  He hit the ground hard, his teeth clicking together. Gasping for breath, he barely remembered to close his fist before he lit himself on fire. He extinguished the flames, then staggered to his feet. The rope dangled bag-less, its lower half burning like the wick on a stick of dynamite. Even as Finn watched, the fire died down. Black smoke trickled from the charred end of the rope.

  Gideon walked over. “Ye all right, boyo?” he asked in a low tone.

  Finn nodded. He glanced down at his palm. It was streaked with black. He rubbed it along his jeans, then checked it again. “Just ashy. Not burnt or anything.”

  “Finnegan MacCullen.” The goddess pointed the tip of her spear at him. “You have passed the first trial.”

&nb
sp; Well, duh, Finn thought. He wondered if all gods and goddesses always stated the obvious. He tensed when she walked over. Uh-oh. Can she read my thoughts? Next to him, he spotted, out of the corner of his eye, Gideon’s hand inching toward his sheathed knife. The goddess stopped a few feet away. She started to speak, then leaned closer and sniffed. Her eyes narrowed.

  “And where did ye learn to do such a thing?”

  “Does it matter?” Gideon said. “You gave him a task. To demonstrate the ability to control fire. He did so. Successfully.”

  The Scáthach sniffed again. “Ye smell of something…sweet under the smoke.” Finn wished she would stop sniffing him—it was getting creepy. “Nay, wholesome.”

  “Maybe it’s my mortal blood?”

  “Perhaps,” she said doubtfully. Straightening, she gave a curt nod. “All in all, ye did fulfill the first task.”

  “That he did.” Gideon placed a hand momentarily on Finn’s shoulder. “And now, might we know the second trial, Lady?”

  “Eager to bid me farewell, Black Hand?” A corner of her mouth twitched.

  Heck, yeah, Finn thought.

  “No, not at all,” Gideon said, meaning anything but. “And my offer for refreshment still stands.”

  Finn tensed. Son of a goat! Griffin’s still in the house! He willed his master to read his thoughts. He sagged with relief when the Scáthach simply reached into the leather pouch hanging from her belt. She pulled out three discs this time and held them out to Finn.

  Feeling more nervous than before—because I barely passed this one and that’s only because Griffin showed up in time. And, by the way, I want to know how—Finn selected another disc. He flipped it over.

  A slightly oval shape was etched on its smooth side. “Um… air?” He showed it to Gideon.

  “The Stone.” Gideon glanced up at the goddess for confirmation.

  She nodded. “In three days’ time, then. Stand ready, MacCullen.” With that, the goddess made a beckoning gesture. Clouds formed by the back wall with a swirl and a flourish. Even as she lifted her foot, the dark mass darted forward and slid under her boot just in time. Then, the cloud engulfed her, hiding her from sight. With a low sonic boom, she vanished. Wind slapped them in the face.

  “Our neighbors are going to start wondering about that noise,” Finn said.

  “Aye,” Gideon said absently. He stared down at the disc.

  “Gideon? What is it?”

  “Fate may have given us a bit of a break here.”

  “How so?”

  “Your next trial involves manipulating earth, yes?” Gideon looked over as the back door opened. Griffin stepped out. “I believe we know someone who might give us another hand.”

  “Well done, Finn!”

  Finn turned around at the voice, which had come from the wall separating their property from Kel O’Shea’s. That very Knight was standing on the other side, grinning. Next to her, Tara balanced on tiptoe, peering over. They boosted themselves up on the wall—the Knight helping her apprentice—then hopped down and joined them.

  “I take it you were there the entire time?” Gideon asked.

  “Yup. I heard the Scáthach arrive—like that was hard to catch—and Tara and I snuck over to watch. And be on hand. Just in case.” She tilted her head. “You know, for being a goddess, she’s not all that omniscient.”

  “What does omniscient mean?” Tara asked.

  “It means ‘all-knowing.’” Griffin walked over to the group. He held out a hand to Kel O’Shea. “Hello. I’m Griffin.”

  “Knight Kel O’Shea.” She shook his hand. “You’re the apprentice angel.”

  “I am.”

  “Thank you. For everything you’re doing. Not just for Finn, but for you and your master helping watch over the Steel family.”

  “It’s what we do.” Griffin grinned. “Guardian angels, twenty-four, seven. But we’d like to keep our true identities a secret from the Steels. As my Mentor, Basil, would say, we’re not asking you to lie, just not to offer the information.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “Thank you.” Letting go, he turned to Tara and smiled at her. “Hi. You must be Knight O’Shea’s apprentice.”

  Tara studied him as she took his hand. “Tara Butler.” She glanced up at the top of his head, then past his shoulders. “So, you’re really an angel?”

  “Yup.”

  “Finn told me you’re a Tera-something kind.”

  “Terrae Angeli. That’s Latin for earth angel.”

  “What the difference between your kind and the other angels?” Tara asked.

  “Free will. We can choose to be obedient or not. Plus, we control the four elements. My specialties are Fire and Earth.”

  “Can you fly?” Her gaze drifted back to his shoulders.

  “Like the wind.” Griffin grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that Finn could tell charmed both Kel O’Shea and Tara. “You just can’t see me.”

  A realization hit Finn. “Wait. Did you just… Was that you? Earlier? That warm breeze?”

  The angel nodded. “I was nearby. Just in case. I knew you were in trouble the moment the Scáthach arrived, so I tore over to the witch’s. Luckily for all of us—although we angels don’t believe in luck—she had the brew ready to go. After reminding me how much she can’t stand angels, and how vengeful we are, and why can’t we all just live and let live, and yadda yadda yadda, she tossed me the bottle, and I made it back here just in time.” He looked over at Gideon. “Clever idea to send Finn inside for his jacket. I couldn’t figure out how to get the bottle to him without the goddess finding out.”

  “And I thought you wanted me to call Basil or something,” Finn said to his master. “But you knew Griffin was already here, didn’t you? That warm breeze earlier.”

  “Aye. I wasn’t sure, but I had suspected it might be our young friend here.” Gideon held out a hand to Griffin. “Gle mhaith.”

  “Glay moth?” Griffin frowned and looked at Finn.

  “It means ‘well done’ in Gaelic,” Finn said.

  “Shall we go inside?” Gideon motioned toward the house. “I, for one, could use a cuppa.”

  “Or something stronger,” Kel O’Shea added.

  “Thank you, but I need to get back,” Griffin said with a grin. “Basil and I are on call today.”

  “Hey, Griffin?” Finn said. “Thanks.”

  “Like I said, it’s what we do. Call me when you need me.” He nodded politely at the Knights and Tara, then turned and began walking toward the back wall, breaking into a jog after a few steps. He leaped into the air and vanished. A moment later, a blast of wind blew Finn’s hair into an even messier mop.

  “Whoa,” Finn and Tara breathed at the same time. They turned and looked at each other, both wide-eyed.

  “Who would have thought angels could be so cool?” Tara said. She fell in beside Finn as they trailed their masters inside. “I thought they would be more…”

  “More what?” He moved to one side to allow Tara to precede him.

  “More stuck up. Like they were better than everyone else.”

  Finn started to speak, but a knock interrupted him. At his master’s gesture, he hurried through the house and opened the front door.

  “A fine morning to you,” Mac Roth boomed. He stepped inside, followed by Lochlan carrying a bakery box in both hands. “We brought an extra treat to break your fast. Do you know yet when the Scáthach is due to arrive?”

  “She’s been and gone.” Finn couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face.

  “What?” Lochlan looked Finn up and down. “Wait. You passed, right?”

  “Barely. Thanks to Griffin. C’mon.” He led the way back to the kitchen. “By the way, Kel O’Shea and Tara are here already,” he whispered over his shoulder at his friend.

  Lochlan scowled. “Why?”

  “They heard the Scáthach arrive in our back yard and they hid on the other side of the wall. Just in case.” Finn didn’t bo
ther to elaborate on the just in case and Lochlan didn’t ask.

  They stepped into the kitchen. Gideon and Kel O’Shea were seated at the table, heads close together as they examined the disc. Mac Roth joined them. Meanwhile, Tara worked at the counter preparing tea. Placing the box of bear claws on the table, Lochlan, at a pointed look from Mac Roth, went over to help her carry the mugs and teapot. They worked in a frosty silence.

  Finn lingered in the doorway. A relief so sweet he wanted to shout and cry at the same time filled him. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll pass the rest of them.

  Twelve

  The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: Friday, October 25

  I did it!!! I passed my first trial yesterday!!! With some help from my friends, as the song goes.

  What I Learned Today Yesterday:

  The Scáthach’s Shadow: The goddess has the power to summon this magical dark cloud thingy that she uses to ride from place to place. She can’t just appear and disappear on a whim. It’s like Gideon told me last week—while she has some magical powers, there are limits and constraints on her abilities because she is a goddess of this world.

  Then, he reminded me again that we are the children of Danu. And that we’ve got some magic of our own.

  More about the Four Treasures that the first Tuatha De Danaan brought to Ireland:

  Javelin = Fire. It is supposed to be unbeatable in battle. Did it inspire the legend of Gideon’s Spear, I wonder? I’ll ask Mac Roth.

  Stone = Earth. According to legend, it will scream or something when the true king of Ireland stands on it. Gideon mentioned that he had met a descendent of the High King here in High Springs. Some Knight named Bannerman Boru.

  Sword = Wind. No warrior ever escaped from it once it was drawn. Handy weapon.

  Cauldron = Water. It never gets empty. Like a symbol of plenty, maybe?

  While the Javelin, the Sword, and the Cauldron are lost—no one knows where they are—the Stone is still on a hill in Ireland. The hill is called Tara.

  Better finish this entry. Griffin’s coming over later today to show me some tricks while Lochlan and Tara get to go hunting with their masters this afternoon.