The Hound at the Gate (23 page)

“Like many peoples,” Gideon began in a low voice, “we Celts believe life is a circle, weaving around and around until it brings us back to our beginning. Life and death and life, again. Such is the nature of this round world.”

“I don't want either of us to die.” He cringed when he realized he had spoken the words aloud.

“Nor I. But the Goddess dinna promise us a long life…” Gideon began.

“…just a warrior's life.” Finn finished. He sighed.

The mourners fell silent. While the two of the Knights tenderly refilled the grave, the other Tuatha De Danaan scattered about and began collecting rocks. Stone by stone, they built a cairn over the mound of dirt. When it was finished, Mull took a stance at the foot of the small knoll. A moonstone shone in his hand like a captured star.

“May Danu grant ye a swift journey and a safe journey to the Otherworld.” He laid the moonstone at the foot of the grave. It flared brightly, then faded, leaving behind a darker dark.

With a clap and a flutter, a crow landed on the grave. Scrabbling for balance, the bird's claws sent several rocks tumbling free. It gave a bow, as if apologizing. Then, lifting its beak up, it cawed once. Twice. Thrice.

“Ye gods,” Gideon and Finn breathed at the same time.

Amandán sprang out of the night on all sides.

Yanking his blade out, Finn leaped back and swung at the nearest goblin. Off-balance, he stumbled over one of the stones that had rolled off the cairn and almost went down. A grab from his master saved him.

“Steady, lad!” Letting go, Gideon staved off a pair of over-eager goblins with his blade. He jabbed his dagger into the first beast, ripped it free, and then stabbed the other in a one-two move, before he disappeared in a cloud of ash. Using the haze as camouflage, another Amandán attacked.

“Gideon!” Jumping to his master's defense, Finn darted in low, slashing at the beast's belly. The goblin leaped back, shrieking from the burn of the bronze blade. The stink of singed fur mingled with the vinegar reek of goblin breath. Eyes watering, Finn stabbed again and again, cursing each time he missed. All the while, the Knight's voice, from hours of drills, echoed in his head.
Keep your feet moving. And hold firm to your blade—'tis easy enough to lose it during battle
.

“Keep moving,” Gideon shouted, taking out another goblin.

“What do you think I'm doing?” Finn hollered back, ducking and weaving like a boxer to avoid black-tipped fingers.
I can't believe he's lecturing me during—

“And hold firm to—”

“I know!” Finn stabbed at the goblin trying to scramble his brain. “And I can't concentrate with you talking!” His voice rose in frustration. He danced to one side, swinging his blade in an arc to create some space in the mob.

Around them, the rest of the warriors slashed and stabbed. Knights shouted at their apprentices, parents at their children. Feet knocked over the lanterns, plunging the fighters into a semi-darkness distorted by moonlight. In the gloom, Mull's voice rose, commanding everyone to retreat to the barn. Over the yells of the Knights and the shrieks of the goblins, Finn could hear O'Shea ordering Tara to stop arguing and get her butt “in that barn, missy.” And, naturally, Tara was arguing back.

Another wave of crazed beasts forced Finn and Gideon away from the others. Standing back to back with his master, he pulled at his pant leg for his second knife, fingers clumsy. Ripping it free of the ankle sheath, he gripped a blade in each hand. A goblin rushed at him, mouth gaping open and screeching like the door on their old truck. He gritted his teeth and raised both knives.

Ppfffttt!
An arrow whistled past his ear and buried itself in the Amandán. Boy and beast looked at each other in surprise. Then it exploded. Finn winced as dust slapped him in the face. He hawked and spat. A second later, Kel O'Shea appeared next to him.

“Lir, take Finn and go! I'll hold them off.” She let loose another arrow.

“Not bleedin' likely,” master and apprentice yelled back in unison.

At that moment, more Amandán surrounded them. Leery of blade and arrow, they circled the threesome standing back to back to back. Beyond the ring, the other warriors retreated, shadowy figures fighting a running battle back to the barn. Finn could hear Tara
screaming in protest and Mac Roth ordering Lochlan inside. Risking a peek back, he saw Gideon glancing over as well.

The giant had Tara tucked under one arm, struggling to hold her as she fought and kicked to break free, whacking the Knight on the shin with her bow. Next to them, a wounded Knight limped along as fast as she could, Mac Roth supporting her with his free arm. Walking backward behind them as rear guard, Lochlan was carrying both his knife and Mac Roth's hatchet. They disappeared into the haze.

Finn gulped, then tightened his grip as he turned back. Sweat made the knife handles slippery.

Gaze locked on the beasts in front of her, O'Shea asked the question. “Gideon?”

“Aye, she's safe, Kel,” Gideon said. “Mac Roth saw to that.”

“Looky here, mates.” An Amandán halted in front of Finn and licked its lips. “A tender lamb, lost from the fold.”

“
Several
strays, ye mean,” said another. “And just in time for supper.”

“Keep yer distance from the old ram.” The first goblin sneered at Gideon and leaned closer to poke fingers at the Knight. “He looks like he gots a nasty temper and a quick—”

A grunt and a thrust. Then, the goblin blew apart.

“—and a quick hand,” Gideon finished. The rest of the pack edged back nervously.

Finn grinned. It faded when he noticed O'Shea slinging her bow over her shoulder, pulling out an impressive-looking dagger. At Finn's unspoken question, she explained.

“I'm down to two arrows,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “I want to save them for when we
really
need them.”

Don't we really need them now?
Finn thought.

“Finn. Kel.” Gideon spoke in a low voice. “When I give the word, we'll make for that boulder. It'll give us more protection and the beasties will not expect us to flee in that direction.” He motioned toward a nearby massive granite outcropping, its pale gray sides ghostly in the moonlight.

“Yes, sir.” Finn began chanting. Behind him, Gideon took up the Song, then O'Shea. Their voices mingled together as they sang strength into weary muscles.

The goblins pricked up their ears at the words. Baring their teeth, they shuffled in place, pushing and shoving to hide behind pack mates.

“Now!”

The Knights and apprentice charged one side of the ring. With a yelp, the Amandán closest to the warriors scattered, stumbling over each other to escape the deadly blades.

Taking advantage of their enemy's confusion, they raced to the safety of the boulder, Finn taking two strides for every one of his master's. He concentrated on not tripping over the rock-strewn ground as he pounded along. The Knights ran on either side of him. The boulder grew larger, its shadow a black hole at its base.

With a screech, another group of goblins boiled out from behind the rocks. Each of them carried a stout club. Hooting with glee and waving their bludgeons, they charged.

“This way!” Gideon yelled.

Finn's feet left the ground as his master grabbed his arm and yanked him in a new direction. With O'Shea on their heels, they sprinted between the two converging packs of Amandán and bolted for the campsite.

“We're going the wrong way,” Finn gasped as they ran for the shelter of the woods. “The barn is back—”

“In here!” Gideon pulled him into a dense stand of spruce trees. Needles raked his face as O'Shea pushed him deeper into the shadows. Wedged between the two Knights, he stood panting while his master peered out between the branches.

“Too many of the beasties between us and the building—” the Knight whispered, then paused. Twigs cracked and snapped. He motioned for silence.

“They can't be far,” said a rough voice. “Spread out, mates. We'll flush thems out, then drive thems towards the center of the pack.”

“What abouts their blades?”

“That's what yer club be for,” the first voice said. “Ye break their arms, see? Then, when they drops their nasty stickies, ye kill them. Easy as squashing a flea.” Cruel laughter followed.

Now
we're
being hunted
, Finn thought. His sweat turned to ice water as the tramp of feet grew louder. Forcing himself not to so much as twitch an eyelash, he tried to become one with the shadows as Gideon had taught him.

'Tis the movement that attracts the eye of your enemy
, his master had instructed him on a midnight training exercise.
Let the darkness be a shield
.

Finn held his breath when the goblins drew closer, then halted by their hiding place. A faint hiss. Silence. Then, a snuffling sound.

“I gots a scent.” More sniffing.

“Of Tuatha De Danaan?”

A chuff of exasperation. “No. Of yer armpit.” A slapping sound was following by a yelp. “'Course I meant Tuatha De Danaan. Fey stink is hard to miss.” Another sniff. “They be close.”

The branch nearest Finn's face trembled as a goblin brushed against it. He bit his lip to keep from flinching and sent a silent plea to Danu for protection.

And to his deodorant.

No such luck.

A paw shot through the bough.

Leaping backward, Finn slammed into Gideon, who was standing less than an inch behind him. Even as he fell back, he slashed downward. A howl. Then the stink of burnt beast filled his nostrils.

“To our truck!”

At Gideon's shout, Finn bolted out of the trees, one eye smarting from the slap of a pine branch. The pack raced after them, pouring through and around the copse, whacking at tree limbs with their clubs and gibbering from the thrill of the hunt.

The truck?
Finn thought as he dodged through the woods.
Why the truck?
High-stepping to avoid tripping over fallen logs and ducking to
avoid having his skull cracked by low branches, he struggled to keep up with the Knights. He gasped a few lines from the Song, then gave up, deciding it was more important to breathe than sing. Next to him, Gideon chanted his favorite line in rhythm with his stride while, on his other side, O'Shea ran with a thrift of motion that reminded him of Savannah. A random thought zipped through his head.
Are all girls good at running?

“Time to use my last ones!” Pulling her bow free, O'Shea nocked one of the remaining arrows, then skidded to a stop, spun around, and fired point-blank. All in one motion. Even before the leading Amandán exploded, she reloaded and shot her final arrow. The rest of the pack flung themselves to ground, screeching with rage.

With a burst of speed, she caught up with Finn and Gideon. They pounded along, taking advantage of the fleeting respite. “What's your plan, Gideon?” she asked,

“Truck.”

“Truck?” Finn gasped.

“Aye, truck,” Gideon replied.

Zigzagging around the collection of tents, they ran through the piney arch where they had first met Dennis O'Donnell. Lungs burning, Finn fought through the growing stitch in his side as he raced alongside the Knights toward the parking area. Behind him, the shrieks and howls of the hunting Amandán grew louder, echoing through the forest like demented wolves.

They reached Gideon's truck a few yards ahead of the goblins. Clawing the handle open on the passenger side, Finn threw himself inside and scooted over. O'Shea, bow in hand, scrambled in after him and slammed the door. A split second later, Gideon joined them from the driver's side. For a moment, they sat gasping as goblins raged and snarled outside, slobber spattering the windows. One goblin perched on the hood and tore at the wiper blades in frustration.

Gideon wiped his forehead. “Lock your door.”

“Already did.” Her bow propped between her knees, O'Shea blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Gods, I hope Tara's okay.”

“Heck, I hope
Mac Roth
is okay,” Finn blurted out. He cringed. “Um…sorry.”

O'Shea snorted a mirthless laugh. “No worries. My apprentice can be a bit of…well, you know.”

Finn simply nodded.
Never miss an opportunity to keep your mouth shut
, he said to himself, quoting one of Mac Roth's favorite sayings. A saying he used a lot around Lochlan. Without much success. “So, what do we do now, Gideon?”

Digging the keys out of his pocket, Gideon inserted them into the ignition, then glanced over with a rare smile. In the light of the moon, Finn could see the gleam of battle blue in his master's eyes. “Fasten your seatbelt.”