The Hound at the Gate (17 page)

The Knight held up three fingers and pointed in the opposite direction. “I see we need to spend more time on your tracking skills.”

“Add it to the list.” Finn glanced around. “Hey, Gideon? Why is everyone hunting separately? Wouldn't we do better all together—like an army?”

“The beasties would hear us and simply scatter. We'll have more success if we—”

At that moment, an angry shriek echoed from the woods.

Finn's stomach did a backflip. Vague shapes dashed to and fro, flitting in and out of the shadows. Voices shouted commands. Goblins snarled and howled. Once, he heard Mac Roth bellow Lochlan's name. Pulse roaring in his ears, Finn peered through the
trees. The sound of the hunt grew louder with every thump of his heart. The underbrush shook as if in fear.

“Here they come!” Gideon shouted. “Get behind that tree. Give the others a chance—”

A figure burst out of the bushes on the far side of the clearing. Galloping on all fours in an ape-like, slightly skewed gait the Amandán barreled right toward them. Behind it, Mac Roth and Lochlan struggled to keep up.

Without thinking, Finn scurried to one side, trying to keep the goblin from escaping before Lochlan could get it. Running at an angle across the goblin's path, he waved his arms. “Hey, ugly! This way!”

Snarling in defiance and fear, the Amandán bared its teeth. It seemed to double in size with every stride. Finn became aware of every detail of the beast—the string of slobber dangling from its canines, the eye-watering stench, the mossy-green pelt decorated with bits of twigs and grasses, the rasping of its breath. Dimly, he heard Gideon's roar of anger. A corner of his mind wondered who was going to kill him first—his master or the goblin.

The Amandán sped up. In desperation, Finn straightened his knife arm, his blade pointed at the beast. Green fur filled his vision. A violent blow almost dislocated his elbow as his weapon found its target. A second later, he was flying backward, weaponless. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He even had time to register a second knife flying past him through the air.

He hit the ground with a
whump
and skidded a few feet, just missing cracking his skull on a tree. The impact drove the air from him. He laid there, opening and shutting his mouth with not much happening. After an eternity, his lungs finally decided to work again. He sucked in a wheezing breath, then another, conscious of a rock digging into his back.

A shadow fell across him.

Lochlan's face was twisted with fury. “You had to ruin it for me again, didn't you!” Before Finn could move, his friend kicked him in the ribs.

Speechless from both pain and guilt, Finn stared wide-eyed, only half-aware of the hurt. For a brief moment, he wondered if Lochlan was going to kick him again. A part of him hoped he would.

“What is it with you?” Lochlan's voice rose to a shrill pitch, then cracked. It seemed to make him angrier. He pulled back his foot.

“Lochlan O'Neill!” Mac Roth appeared. He caught the boy by the arm before he could land another blow. “What the bleedin' ‘ell are you doing?”

“All right, boyo?” Gideon knelt next to Finn and helped him sit up.

Finn nodded, gaze locked on his friend. He watched as Mac Roth dragged Lochlan to one side. The apprentice struggled to break free, then succeeded and stormed away, making sure to stomp Finn's knife deeper into the mound of goblin ash as he left. With a growl, Mac Roth took off after his apprentice.

Remorse swamped Finn. Pulling his knees up, he buried his face in his hands.
That was stupid, real stupid
. He cursed under his breath, trying to ignore a tiny voice in his head wondering aloud to itself.
Does he really think I did it on purpose
?

“Finnegan MacCullen, just what were you thinking—”

“Leave me alone,” he snapped at Gideon, more harshly than was safe. He found he didn't care. Ignoring his hurts, he lurched to his feet and walked over to the pile of ash. After kicking his knife free of the mess, he picked it up and tried to clean it on the grass, then on his jeans. Guilt made him want to drive the blade into his own leg.

“Finn.”

Without turning around, Finn spoke. “I know. I'm in trouble. And I really don't give a flip.”
Because I just ruined my friend's chance to get that jerk of a father off his back. So bring it on, master. Because there's no punishment you could give me that would make me feel lousier than I do now
.

Gideon placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “Let it go, lad.”

For some reason, his master's understanding made it worse. His eyelids prickled. Furious at the tears, he scrubbed an arm across his face. “I keep screwing up, Gideon,” he whispered.

“No more than the rest of us. And less than many. About middling, I wager.”

In spite of himself, Finn chuckled. “What about you?”

“Lad, I've lost count of the number.”

The guilt eased. Just a little. He glanced up at his master standing next to him. “Thanks.”
For a lot of stuff
.

“My pleasure.”

At the sound of excited voices, they looked across the clearing. The rest of the hunters, with O'Donnell and O'Shea among them, emerged from trees. Two apprentices strutted in the front row, grinning through sweat-streaked masks of goblin powder. Their masters walked behind them, beaming with pride as congratulations were offered. Less fortunate apprentices, their faces surly with disappointment, stumped alongside other Knights who were exchanging good-natured jabs about missed strikes and poorly thrown knives.

Spotting Gideon and Finn, O'Shea waved her knife, then shouted something. “I
said
,” she repeated as she and O'Donnell drew nearer, “did you
see
all of them? By the Goddess, that was the biggest pack ever!” She glanced down at the pile of ash. “Oooh, did Lochlan get one? I sure hope so. I'm sick of hearing Martin go on and on about—”

“Ye gods.” Gideon peered past them. “Trouble.” They all turned.

Mac Roth was pushing his way through the crowd heading back toward the direction of the bridge. Irritation creased his face. “Has Lochlan returned this way?”

Alarm shot through Finn when Gideon shook his head.

Mac Roth grumbled like a bear awakened too soon out of hibernation. “He's ignoring my call. Why, when I get my hands on
that boyo…” He clenched his fists. “'Tis no place to go off in a snit. Not with all the beasties about.”

“Come. I'll help you locate him,” Gideon said. “He's most likely sulking nearby behind a bush.”

“Need some help?” O'Donnell and O'Shea asked at the same time.

“Aye, that would be grand.” Mac Roth gave a nod of gratitude. “We'll split up. Cry halloo if you find him.” As the younger Knights jogged back toward the woods, Mac Roth stomped away in the opposite direction.

Finn watched as the giant slapped a sapling aside. It snapped in two with a crack and fell to the ground. “Mac Roth's going to kill him.”

“Better him than an Amandán. Come along.”

Leading the way into the trees, Gideon angled away from the other searchers. Walking behind and slightly to one side, Finn scanned the shadows for a glimpse of blond hair. In the distance, he could hear Mac Roth hollering for his apprentice to get his arse out here. Right. Now.
If I was Lochlan
, Finn thought,
I would
stay
hidden
.

After walking for only a few minutes, the Knight paused and pointed to waffle-patterned shoe prints in the soft ground. “Luck is with us.”

“How do you know those are Lochlan's?”

“Because I've seen his footprints enough times at our campsite. And, also because…” Gideon gestured ahead.

Several yards away, Lochlan stepped out from behind the trunk of a towering Ponderosa, a knife in each hand. He opened his mouth, then snapped it closed when Gideon stabbed a finger at the ground by his heel.

Uh-oh. I know what
that
means
, Finn thought.
It means get your butt over here so I can knock your head off
.

Lochlan hesitated, then dragged himself over. “Sorry about running off like that—” At a stern look from the Knight, he
swallowed the rest of the apology and stood shuffling from foot to foot. “Is Mac Roth mad?”

“Oh, aye.” Without warning, Gideon cuffed Lochlan hard enough to make him stagger a step. Finn winced in sympathy. “But not nearly as angry as I am.
Never
do that again.”

Lochlan rubbed his head. “No, sir, I won't.”

“I'll not have that fine Knight suffer through the loss of another apprentice, nor will I have Finn and me grieving over a fallen companion. A companion who decided, in an act of great stupidity, to get himself killed. Now, do I make myself clear? Or do you need another clout to
drive the message home
?”

“N-no, sir. I got the message.”

The Knight pointed back the way they had come. “Move.” He motioned for Finn to fall in behind Lochlan. “And weapons at the ready.”

As they walked along in single file, Finn cleared his throat.
I wonder if he's still angry at me
? “Um…” He sighed when Lochlan sped up.
Yup—still mad
.

They hiked in silence all the way to the bridge. Once they reached it, Gideon cupped his hands around his mouth and called a ringing
found
. Mac Roth shouted back. Even at a distance, Finn could hear relief underlying the annoyance in the giant's voice.

While they waited, he wandered over to where Lochlan stood studying his knives as if he could read his future in the polished surfaces. Kicking at a tuft of meadow grass, Finn tried again. “Look, I didn't do it on purpose.”

“Whatever.” Lochlan turned away in a clearly delivered get-lost-before-I-punch-you-out message.

At that moment, Mac Roth came charging out of the forest, beard bristling. Lochlan blanched and backed up a step.

“Lochlan O'Neill!” Mac Roth's bellow seemed to shake the ground. “Move another inch and you'll find yourself wishing one of the beasties had found you first!”

Behind the giant, the younger Knights appeared. Both grinning in relief as well, they strolled over and joined Gideon and Finn.

“Glad the kid is okay.” O'Donnell shook his head in amusement while Mac Roth yelled at a cringing Lochlan.

“Speaking of which, I better go check on Tara. I've a fifty-fifty chance she
actually
obeyed me and stayed put.”

“Fifty-fifty?” Gideon said in disbelief.

“Okay, a thirty-seventy chance. See you guys later.”

“I'll go with you. Toryn Mull will be happy to hear a couple more apprentices will be wearing torcs by tonight.” O'Donnell left with O'Shea. They both acknowledged Mac Roth with a wave when he paused in the midst of berating Lochlan at the top of his lungs to thank them.

“Come, Finn. Mac Roth may take a while.”

With one last glance at his friend, Finn followed his master across the bridge and back to camp, feet as heavy as his heart. He went straight to the tent after arriving and fell back on top of his sleeping bag. For a long while, he lay staring up at the canvas ceiling.
Now, because of me, not only did Lochlan miss a chance at earning his torc, he's getting yelled at in public by his master. I should've just let the Amandán kill me
. He looked around.
And he'd have the tent to himself. Bonus point
.

The door flap parted. Finn raised his head.

Scarlet with anger and embarrassment after being chewed up and spat out, Lochlan entered. Ignoring Finn, he tossed his knives on his cot. One of the weapons landed on the edge of the sleeping bag, then slid off onto the grassy floor.

Without thinking, Finn rolled off his bed and reached for it just as Lochlan bent down for it. Their heads banged together with a dull
thunk
.

It was like throwing gasoline on a campfire.

Both boys staggered from the impact, saw stars, then swung blind fists at each other. They missed. Off-balance, they crashed down on each other's cots. With a loud
crack-snap
, both cots promptly collapsed beneath them. Flailing arms and legs clobbered the corner tent poles.
The poles shuddered, then swayed, and then the tent folded in on itself with a sigh, grateful for the rest.

For a long minute, Finn laid pinned facedown amongst the ruins of cot and canvas. Wincing, he tried to move, head and ribs throbbing from new and old injuries, then gave up. Next to him, Lochlan struggled to free himself of the debris.

“Nice move, MacCullen.”

“Nice move yourself, O'Neill. What do you call that punch? ‘Shooing a fly?'”

“Look who's talking. You totally missed, too, and took out not only my cot, but the tent as well.”

Finn kicked a section of canvas off his leg. “Yeah, it was a TKO.”