Finn's Choice

by Darby Karchut

  Do they know how lucky they are? Speaking of luck, Gideon found a place that repairs broken instruments. Looks like I can get Tara’s fiddle fixed after all.

  Gideon said he is going to take the cost out of my allowance.

  I told him I don’t get an allowance.

  He said I can do more chores.

  I told him I already do all the chores.

  He said he will think of something.

  Great. Just great.

  “It’s like boxing,” Griffin said.

  Gathered in the back yard, Lochlan and Tara stood staring at the angel while Finn nodded in agreement. The mid-afternoon sun was a cap of warmth on the top of Finn’s head, counterbalancing the chill of the air.

  “Boxing?” Tara asked. “You mean like the sport?”

  “You asked me what it was like to control earth. It’s like boxing with the ground. Or, at least the way I do it. I punch the earth and the earth moves.”

  “Show them,” Finn said. He motioned his friends back.

  Griffin glanced around. Then he knelt down, cocked his fist back, and rammed it into the lawn. KAA-RAAACCK! The ground split open. A crack raced north and south from the point of impact. To Finn, it looked like a wound in the ground. The stink of wet earth filled the air.

  “Whoa,” Tara said. Lochlan simply stood with his jaw sagging.

  Griffin stood up. “Finn, do you think you could summon up enough power through that Song of yours to do something like that?”

  “I wish. Gideon and I had the same idea yesterday, but when I tried it, I about broke my wrist.”

  “What about using the warp spasm?” Tara suggested.

  “Tried that, too. I can’t turn it on and off on command. Gideon thinks we’re going to have to—”

  “Are you two ready?” Mac Roth stepped out of the back door, his favorite weapon, a bronze hatchet, in his hand. Kel O’Shea walked behind him. She carried a pair of hunting knives.

  Finn kicked at a clod of freshly turned soil. “I wish I was going hunting with you guys instead of this.” He waved his hand at Griffin’s handiwork.

  Lochlan leaned closer to Finn. “Yeah, I wish you were going, too,” he muttered, cutting his eyes at Tara, “instead of someone else.”

  Tara scowled. “And that makes two of us.”

  Sick with envy, Finn watched as his friends trotted into the woods after the Knights. As the shouts of “see ya, Finn” died away, he sighed and turned back to a patiently waiting Griffin. He frowned at the angel’s crooked grin. “What’s the joke?”

  “It’s your nickname. Cracks me up every time I hear someone else use it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s my nickname, too. It’s what Basil used to call me. ‘Fin.’ Short for Griffin.” He smiled to himself, as if remembering something, then shook his mind free of the memory. “Okay, back to work. Now, how to teach you to manipulate the earth element?” Running his fingers through his hair, he studied Finn, then the ground, then Finn again. “Um…” He clicked his tongue a few times. Finally, he shrugged. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

  “Of course you don’t.” A voice spoke from the far side of the wall.

  Iona.

  Finn’s hand darted for his knife. Next to him, Griffin snapped his fingers. A fireball blazed up in his right hand with a whoosh.

  “Hey!” The sorceress held up her hands, palms out. “Chill, boys. Especially you, Torch,” she said to Griffin. “Gideon asked me to stop by.”

  “Why?” Finn asked. He kept his knife at the ready. A witch is a witch. No matter what.

  The back door opened. “To help with the next trial,” Gideon said. He walked to the back gate. “You may come in.” As he started to open it, he added, “the yard only.”

  “She cannot enter unless we invite her,” Finn whispered to Griffin. “So Gideon is always careful to only let her in the yard so that she can’t just show up inside our house.”

  “Paranoid much?” Iona sashayed past Gideon and into the yard and over to the picnic table by the back door. “Especially when I’m the one who knows how to help the kid.”

  “It’s Finn,” Finn started to growl, then gave up.

  Iona took a seat on top of the picnic table. “This next trial is going to require even more exquisite timing and luck.”

  “How so?” Gideon asked.

  “I’ve got a really old spell that actually works for anyone, human or Fey. It allows them to be able to move large amounts of earth, including stone. But it’s tricky. You need the ashes from the remains of a freshly destroyed Amandán, mixed with shredded cedar leaves and water.”

  “How fresh?” Finn asked.

  “Why cedar?” Griffin inquired.

  “Why Amandán?” Gideon wanted to know.

  “Between sunrise and sunset of the day it’s destroyed. Because cedar is the tree associated with this element. And because they are not called Bog-born for nothing—they are the creatures most connected with the earth,” she said, answering each question in turn. She crossed her legs and leaned back on her hands. “You mix the two items in a bowl, add water to make a paste, then spread the mixture over your hands and arms, and poof! You’re a two-legged bulldozer.” At their doubtful expressions, she added, “Hey, how do you think Stonehenge got built?”

  Gideon rubbed a thumb along his jaw. “The cedar leaves we can have on hand. And certainly, Mac Roth and Kel O’Shea can stand ready to find and destroy an Amandán at dawn, which should give us enough time.”

  “When is the next trial?” Iona asked.

  “Day after tomorrow,” Gideon said.

  Finn’s head spun around from the logistics. And the impossibility. “Wait. Let me get this straight. One of us has to destroy an Amandán the exact day the Scáthach shows up to test me. Then, we have to find a way to get the creature’s ashes here, and mix it with cedar so I can rub it on my hands and arms. All the while, hoping the Scáthach doesn’t notice what we’re doing?” He snorted. “I might as well go pack now. Because there is no way I can—”

  “I can get the ashes here from where the Knights are hunting,” Griffin said. “Just like before, I’ll hide in the house.”

  “We cannot use the same strategy,” Gideon said. “The goddess is already suspicious. No, we must be more clever.”

  “How?” Finn could tell his master didn’t know. Yet. But he will. I hope.

  A soft beeping sound. Griffin pulled out his cell phone and studied the screen. “Dang,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s Basil. I’ve got to go.” He texted a message back with his thumbs as he spoke. “We’re on stand-by duty today and we just got called up. I’ll try to get back here as soon as I can.” He tucked his phone away. “Mr. Lir. Whatever you need me to do, I will.”

  “Right. And you best call me Gideon like the others.”

  Griffin snorted. “You have met my Mentor, right?” With a grin and a wave, the angel vanished in a blast of wind that sent Iona’s hair swirling around her head.

  “Stupid angels,” Iona said, her eyes narrowed as she untangled her hair and smoothed it into place. “Okay, I’m out of here as well. Let me know what the plan is once you’ve come up with something.” She sauntered back out the gate. Once in the trees beyond, she dug a handful of gold dust from her pocket and flung it up into the air, then stepped into the glittering cloud. With a soft poof, she disappeared as the dust drifted away—daytime fireflies.

  “‘My, people come and go so quickly here!’” Finn joked. He looked up at his master. “Get it?”

  “I do not.”

  “She’s a witch,” Finn prompted.

  “Just so.”

  “A wicked witch. Now, do you get it?”

  “Ah, yes. A quote from the Lords of the Two Rings, is it?”

  “No, it was…never mind.”

  An hour later, while the lowering sun’s rays filled the room with a golden light, Finn stood over the sink, finishing a sandwich. Why get a plate dirty?

  Movement at th
e back gate caught his attention; Mac Roth was swinging it open and waving the apprentices through. Finn swallowed the last bite, then shouted to the ceiling above him. “Hey, Gideon? They’re back.”

  Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Finn started for the door, then paused and peered more closely through the window. “No way,” he breathed. He sprinted to the door and flung it open.

  Tara, knife in hand and her face and the front of her clothes dusted with goblin ash, hurried across the yard. The spring in her step sent her ponytail bouncing with every other stride. Trailing behind, Lochlan, just as dust-covered and his jeans coated with mud, was scowling.

  Spotting Finn, Tara stopped and thrust her knife toward the sky in a dramatic gesture. “I did it!” She beamed through a mask of sweat-streaked powder, its greenish color giving her skin a sickly hue. “I bagged one!”

  A twinge of envy. Now she’s the youngest apprentice to earn her torc. It faded almost immediately at the look of joy on Tara’s face. Finn high-fived her. “I knew you would sooner than later.”

  “And I saved O’Neill’s butt in the process. He was about to become a Happy Meal for a goblin—”

  “I was doing just fine.” Lochlan glared at her. “I only slipped in the mud and—”

  “And I did this ninja move and nailed the stinky. Right in the chest. Man, this is the best day of my life.” Tara hugged herself.

  “Pretty close to being mine, too.” Kel O’Shea joined them, her own smile just as wide. She tucked back a strand of hair from Tara’s face, then tried to wipe the muck off her apprentice’s face. “You’re a mess. Stay here. I’ll get some rags.”

  “You as well, boyo,” Mac Roth said to Lochlan. The Knights disappeared inside the house.

  “So, how did it happen?” Finn tried not to look at Lochlan.

  “Miss I’m-A-Girl-Which-Makes-Me-Automatically-Better-Than-A-Boy here tried to shove past me on the trail…” Lochlan began.

  “Someone with the coordination of a walrus and a brain the size of a vole stuck out his foot just when the goblins…” Tara said at the same time.

  Finn laughed. He started to speak, then froze.

  A growing rumble, like a storm roaring down from the mountains to pummel the plains, filled the air. The hairs on the back of his neck leaped to attention as it grew louder.

  “Get in the house!” He lunged for Tara. Before he could reach her, a fist of icy wind punched him in the chest. He flew backwards and hit the ground, tumbling head over heels. With a gasp, he struggled to his feet, head spinning. A few feet away, Tara and Lochlan were sprawled motionless on the ground. Finn staggered over to them.

  BOOM!

  Like a giant bat, a black cloud zoomed into the yard. The Scáthach’s Shadow. Teeth bared, the goddess leaped out from the inky boiling mass, one hand holding her spear. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the cloud thickened and spread out, engulfing Finn in a chilly darkness, like an inky fog bank. Condensation coated his bare skin with a clammy touch. He could just make out his home, a shadowy mass in the fog.

  Gideon shouted his name, but it seemed to come from underground or far away. Other shouts as well, including Mac Roth’s deep roar. Finn tried to move toward the sounds, but it was like trying to push his way through a mattress.

  “Gideon!” His voice rebounded back to him, as if he were shouting into a pillow.

  He tensed when the dark mist closed in, wrapping damp, cold arms around him in a tight squeeze. With a jerk, he could feel himself rise, swinging from side to side. His stomach swooped.

  Then, a red flash out of the corner of his eyes. It burst like a firecracker in a hot July night, swelling larger and larger until the reddish glow filled his vision.

  WHAM! The fireball hit the side of the cloud, lighting up the area. He spotted a dim figure through the fog—for a moment he heard a voice calling his name. With a violent jolt, the cloud changed direction. Finn flipped around, like a sock in a dryer.

  The tumbling seemed to go on forever. Finally, it slowed. He staggered as his feet landed on something solid. A pale light, like that of a moonstone, grew around him, as did a low wheezing, rhythmic hiss. For a split second, Finn felt nauseous. Like he had just ridden on a rollercoaster and had stepped off. Or maybe it was the odd smell of water and something else. He tasted salt on his lips. The light grew brighter as the fog lifted.

  He was standing by himself on the top of a hill under a full moon, its face veiled by wisps of clouds. A cool, moist wind ruffled his hair and sent the grass rippling around his feet. All around him was a mix of enormous flattened limestone slabs, like pieces of giant cracked pavement, the cracks intersected with more tufts of grass determined to make their mark, and low scrub. Some of the limestone slabs were set on edge like tombstones in the world’s largest graveyard; they dotted the landscape as far as he could see. At the foot of the hill, a narrow two-lane blacktop ran north and south. But it was the view across the road to the west that made Finn gasp.

  The view of an ocean.

  Waves hissed ashore as they beat a tune on the beach. Tiny whitecaps dotted the expanse all the way to the horizon. Off the shore, he could make out a low island. A mound swelled up from its flattened center, and its top was crowned with rough stone pillars, massive fingers of a buried giant clawing toward the sky.

  I have a feeling I’m not in Colorado anymore, Toto, he thought. And when did it go from dusk to full-on night? How long was I tumbling? Not sure what to do, he started down the gentle slope toward the road. Making his way around one of the boulders, he stumbled to a stop when he spotted a familiar bush. He reached down and plucked one of the pointed leaves from the hedge, wincing at the prick from a sharp spine. He sniffed it. “Sláinte nettle.”

  I sometimes miss the sea and wind and wild hills of home. Gideon’s voice whispered in his head. In disbelief, Finn looked around once more at the island and the waves, then knelt and dug his fingers into the sod. A thrill went through him at the touch of the soil.

  The wind picked up, coming straight out of the west and bringing more clouds with it. Finn rose and zipped his jacket tight under his chin, nose and tips of ears prickling from the cold. He pulled his knife from his sheath, grateful he still had it. I better find shelter. Plus, why make it easy for the Scáthach to find me? I wonder if she is going to kill me…

  Not knowing what else to do, he continued down the hill. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes from the force of the wind as he went, head swiveling as he kept a watch for the Scáthach. He wondered where she was. All the while, dread beat black wings at him.

  What if Gideon tried to fight the Scáthach? What if she…? He shoved that thought away. No way. He’s too good a warrior. And he has Mac Roth and Kel O’Shea with him. Those three could take on a goddess. Gideon said she was a goddess of this world and that she can be fought with weapons, plus we’ve got the Song. He clung to that thought.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Slamming to a halt, he held his breath, weapon raised. Several creatures, four-legged and with coats a pale hue, hurried past him. A click of hoofs on stone. Then, one of them bleated.

  “Smooth move, MacCullen,” he muttered. “You almost took out a sheep.” Following the herd, he continued, his breath fogging in front of him.

  Suddenly, a shadow flitted across the ground in front of him, as if a giant creature, with too many heads and limbs, had flown between him and the moon. He spun around in a crouch, knife held up to ward off whatever was about to attack. A few yards away, the creature hit the ground, landing heavily on a patch of grass. To Finn’s horror, it split in two, the halves tumbling apart. One of the halves rolled over and leaped to its feet. Moonlight flashed red along the blade of a bronze knife as it was pulled free with a ringing warning.

  “Ye gods, you call that a landing?”

  The sound of Gideon’s voice made Finn’s knees suddenly buckle. He sank down on the soft sod. The Knight hurried over and knelt down next to him.

  “Finn, lad.
Are ye all right?”

  “Yeah. Just confused as all get-out. What in the world…” His voice trailed off.

  The other shape rose more slowly, gasping for breath. In the light of the moon, Finn watched as Griffin staggered over to them, chest heaving.

  “Sorry…about…that,” the angel panted, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. “Never done that before—flown that far with a load. Plus the whole non-mortal thing really dragged me down.” He blew out a long breath. “Mr. Lir? I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her. Getting Finn, then you, to this place, was the best I could do.”

  Gideon rose and held out his hand. “You did grand. My apologies for speaking sharply to you. Will there be repercussions for your actions?”

  The older teen shrugged. “Maybe. But we Terrae Angeli have free will. I chose to exercise mine today.”

  “Because of Finn’s mortal blood?”

  “Mostly.” Griffin looked away, as if remembering something. “But for other reasons, too,” he said softly. “Okay, I better get back. I’ll let the other Knights know what happened.”

  “And the Steels?” Gideon asked. “You’ll continue to watch over them?”

  Griffin smiled. For a moment, the air around his head gleamed with a silvery light. “Oh, don’t you worry about them—Basil and I are one heck of a team. Plus, we’ve got some back up of our own.” Amusement filled his face and voice.

  With a word of farewell and good luck, Griffin turned with his back to the wind, took a couple of running steps, then leaped into the air. With a faint whoosh, he disappeared into the night.

  Finn glanced at Gideon. Just having his master next to him alleviated half of his fears and all of his nervousness. We’re one heck of a team, too. “What just happened? And where are we?”

  Instead of answering, Gideon tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath. Rain, which had been threatening, began to fall. He let it wash his face. Then, he ran his hand along the turf, almost a caress, before digging his fingers into the soil, much like Finn had done earlier. Only this time, Gideon scooped up a handful and held it tight in his fist.

  “Gideon?” Something in his master’s manner confirmed what Finn had thought earlier. “Are we where I think we are?”