Gideon's Spear

Gideon's Spear

Book Two of The Adventures of Finn MacCullen

 

Darby Karchut

S
PENCER
H
ILL
P
RESS

Copyright © 2014 by Darby Karchut

Sale of the paperback edition of this book without its cover is unauthorized.

Spencer Hill Press

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Contact: Spencer Hill Press, PO Box 247, Contoocook, NH 03229, USA

Please visit our website at
www.spencerhillpress.com

First Edition: February 2014

Darby Karchut
Gideon's Spear: a novel / by Darby Karchut – 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary:
Summary: A thirteen-year-old boy and a mythical knight fight a sorceress and goblins in modern-day suburbia while discovering the truth of an ancient Celtic weapon of magic.

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this fiction:
Disney, Gore-Tex, Guinness, Jeep, Jello-O, Lightsaber,
Lord of the Rings
, NBA, Pop-Tarts, Tinker Bell,
The Lion King
, The Weather Channel, Volvo, Wal-Mart, Winchester

Cover design by Lisa Amowitz
Interior layout by Marie Romero

ISBN 978-1-937053-94-9 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-937053-95-6 (e-book)

Printed in the United States of America

 

To my mother, Mary Louise Maes
1937-2013

The Song of the Tuatha De Danaan

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
.

Also by Darby Karchut

Finn Finnegan
(Spencer Hill Press—March 2013)

Griffin Rising
Winner of the 2012 SharpWrit Book Award
(Twilight Times Books)
Griffin's Fire
(Twilgiht Times Books)
Griffin's Storm
(Copper Square Studios)

Non-fiction with Wes Karchut from Copper Square Studios:
Money and Teens: Savvy Money Skills
Winner of the 2013 EIFLE Award

Celtic Pronunciations

Fáilte (fall-sha) Welcome

Céad mile fáilte (kad meel-a fall sha) A hundred thousand welcomes

Gle mhaith (glay moth) Very good

Codladh sumh (culla sovh) Sleep well

Poc sídhe (poke she) Fey or fairy stroke

Sláinte (slawn-che) health

Faugh a ballagh (FOW-an BALL-ah) “Clear the Way!”

Eireann go braugh (aerin guh BRAWKH) “Ireland Forever.”

Zulu Pronunciations

Nants ingonyama bagithi (nants en-ven-ya MA ba-gee-tee) “Here comes a lion.”

Words and Phrases

Tuatha De Danaan (tua day dhanna) An ancient warrior race of mythical beings from Ireland

Amandán (Ah-mon dan) Goblin-like creatures

bodhran (bow-rawn) Irish frame drum played with a double-headed stick

mielie pap (mee-lee pap) A traditional South African porridge made from corn and meal. It can be served with meats and vegetables

assegai (ass-a-guy) A short stabbing spear with a long spearhead traditionally used by the Zulu and other peoples of southern Africa

Praise for

FINN FINNEGAN

“Overall, a great choice for adventure-loving readers who prefer their battle scenes with a hefty dose of ancient weaponry, ground-fighting skills, and just a touch of magic.”

— School Library Journal

“If Lloyd Alexander had written
The Ranger's Apprentice
, the result might have been something like Finn Finnegan. Fantastic!”

-- Mike Mullin, author of Ashfall and Ashen Winter

“The blend of adventure, Celtic lore, and modern times make this an engaging choice for young and adult readers as well.”

— Booklady's Booknotes

“This is another fabulous book by Darby Karchut, again set in Colo-rado and revolving around a young boy who is just beginning to find out who he is and what he can be.”

— A Reader's Ramblings

“Finn Finnegan brings classic adventure into a modern day setting for a great read. The Celtic lore in the story is fascinating and gives it an extra richness. This will appeal to all those readers (myself included) who love the idea of a hidden and dangerous world within our own sometimes too ordinary world.”

— Dee Garretson, author of
Wildfire Run
and
Wolf Storm

“Finn Finnegan is a Fine Folio of Fantastic Fiction!”

— Middle Grade Ninja

One

S
creaming bored out of his mind, thirteen-year-old Finn MacCullen blew a long sigh as he wandered around the clearing in the woods. The late-afternoon rays of the summer sun lit the trees surrounding him, tinting the trunks of the Ponderosa pines with the same shade of bronze as that of the large knife, almost the length of his forearm, he held in one hand. With a snap of his wrist, he flipped it into the air and caught it by the handle.

Holding the weapon level with his eyes, he tilted it to and fro, trying to view his reflection. For just a moment, he caught a flash of blue eyes in a boyish face dusted with freckles, and a mop of hair the same flaming color as the blade. Adjusting the angle downward, he grinned as he was further rewarded with a glimpse of a twisted rope of gold, as thick as the Knight Mac Roth's thumb, that encircled his throat just above the collar of his T-shirt. “You are, Finnegan MacCullen,” he murmured to himself, adjusting the torc so that the twin knobs on each end of the neckpiece were dead center under his Adam's apple, “one kickbutt warrior.”

Gravel crunched behind him.

He whirled around. “Oh, crap.” His heart rammed against the roof of his mouth at the sight of his worst nightmare.

His master, the Knight Gideon Lir.

Pissed off.

Again.

Dressed in a denim shirt and work boots, Gideon stomped down the path toward him, slashing at the undergrowth on either side with an enormous hunting knife when it dared impede him. To Finn, the black-haired Knight seemed to grow twice as large with every step.

While still a few yards away, Gideon yelled, “What the bleedin' ‘ell are ye doing?”

As if he wants the entire state of Colorado to hear him
, Finn thought.
Which he probably does
.

“I ordered ye to stand safe by that tree, not mince about admiring your beauty.”

Finn noticed that his master's accent was about as subtle as a supernova, a sure sign of trouble. “I'm sorry, Gideon. I was just stretching my legs.” Hoping to deflect the Knight's anger, he added, “And you asked me to remind you to tone down the whole Irish accent thing so that—” The rest of his sentence was cut off when his master grabbed him by the arm and hustled him backward, pushing him none too gently against the massive trunk.

The Knight's eyes, the same uncanny blue as his apprentice's, narrowed when he reached out and tapped the torc around Finn's neck. “If
this
is distracting you from our evening's hunt of the Amandán,” he said, mimicking Finn's American inflection, “then we should just be rid of it. I know of an abandoned gold mine, not three miles from here, I could pitch the thing into.” He held out an open hand.

Finn reached up and clutched the torc protectively. “Ah, come on, Gideon. I've only had it for a few days. Look, I'm totally focused now.” He shifted his wiry body into battle stance, legs shoulder-width apart and weapon held across his body at the ready. “Just show me one of those ugly goblins and I'll—”

They both froze when a shape alighted on the ground next to them in a clap of ebony wings. Muttering to itself, the crow strutted closer. It reached out and pecked at Finn's athletic shoes as if trying to untie them.

“Steady, boyo,” Gideon whispered.

“I hate these things,” Finn muttered back, curling his toes inside his shoes. The crow cawed as if laughing at him.

“Aye, but they're bleedin' useful, warning us if any Amandán are near. When they're not playing us for fools.” As the bird aimed another peck, Gideon stomped a boot at it. “
Whist
! Flee unless you have something to caution us about, you black devil.”

The crow hopped back with a squawk of indignation, then spread its wings and hoisted itself into the air. They watched as it made a loop over the treetops. A second bird joined it. Both crows whirled around each other in anticipation before soaring away.

Their heads whipped around when a branch snapped a few yards up the trail.

Gesturing for Finn to stay put, Gideon eased across the clearing and along the path on silent feet. Finn noticed how his master paid close attention to the shadows, how his eyes swept the area. He tilted his head, a wolf on the hunt, to listen to the rustles and scratches of the late afternoon.

As Finn watched, exhilaration and dread wrestled with each other inside of him, as they always did when he and his master were hunting the Amandán.

Or being hunted by them.

A figure burst out of the bushes. With a growl, a creature, not quite human, not quite ape, launched itself at the Knight. Its black-tipped fingers scrabbled for Gideon's face.

Twisting to one side, Gideon dodged, and the Amandán hurtled past him as he stuck out a foot. A yelp split the evening as the goblin tripped, hit the ground, and tumbled end over end into the undergrowth. Scrambling to its feet, red-eyed with rage, it charged the Knight again, running slightly sideways on all fours, its dark-green pelt blending in with the vegetation. “
Poc sídhe
,” it hissed through yellow teeth. Dirt and twigs spewed up behind its feet as it came.

“Ah,
poc sídhe
yourself.” Gideon shifted his grip on his knife and made a
come along
motion with his hand. As the goblin sped up, he began chanting the Song of the Tuatha De Danaan, the ancient, magical words giving him strength and speed. Just as the Amandán leaped for him, Gideon dropped to one knee. With a grunt, he buried the weapon in the goblin.

The Amandán exploded into a cloud of grey-green ash. Gideon ducked his head, trying to shield his face from the worst of the powdery remains. He waited until the cloud drifted away with the breeze before rising. “
Bah
.” He spat to one side. Wiping his mouth, he strolled back to Finn waiting by the pine. “Amandán taste as disgusting as they smell.”

Finn nodded, taking his master's blade when Gideon handed it to him. “Kind of like burnt rubber.” He thought back to his first encounter with a goblin. The second day of his apprenticeship.

“Is-is it dead?” he asked his master after one of the beasts had attacked them during a rainstorm in the local Wal-Mart parking lot
.

“Oh, ‘tis not dead.” Gideon bent over and picked up the weapon. He held it between thumb and finger to rinse it off in the diminishing rainfall, the cloudburst as quick to leave as to arrive. “Amandán are almost impossible to kill. All I've done is weaken it. ‘Twill take some time for that one to gain enough strength to re-form and attack again.”

He watched as the Knight peeled off his overshirt, gave it a brisk shake, and draped it over a tree limb. A Celtic knot tattooed on his master's right arm peeked out from under the sleeve of his T-shirt. Finn stared at the tattoo, the ancient symbol of Knighthood amongst their people, the Tuatha De Danaan.
Ye gods, I'll never be as good at hunting or fighting as he is. Of course, if he would let me do
more
hunting and
fewer
drills, I might get better at it
.

Gideon took back the blade and wiped it clean on his jeans. “Now, since the beasties often hunt in pairs, we'll see if we can't catch the second one before it goes to ground.”

“Can I circle around and flush it out?” Finn shifted from foot to foot.

The Knight hesitated, then shook his head. “I'd rather you not track that far ahead of me.”

“Why?”

“Because it's too dangerous.”

“Ah, come on, Gideon, I want to—”

“I said no.”

“But how can I learn anything if all I do is follow you around?”

Gideon's face darkened. “Arguing with me is as dangerous as hunting the Amandán.”

“But I've fought them before.” Finn's voice cracked in frustration. “I know—”

“You know less than you think. A few skirmishes with the goblins do not make you ready to hunt alone.”