The Hound at the Gate (25 page)

Plunging through the cloud of goblin remains, Gideon slid to a stop beside his friend. Snatching his blade from the ashy pile, he reached down for her. “Kel?”

She rose to her knees with a groan. “I'm okay.” Bits of dirt and dried vegetation stuck to her braids. Blood was smeared across her forehead from a cut on her right temple. She picked up her dagger lying nearby and held out her free hand to Gideon. “By the Goddess, that was embarrassing. Were the cameras rolling?”

He hauled her to her feet. “We need to hurry—”

She winced, favoring a leg. “Get out of here, Lir.” Her mouth tightened when she spotted the charging pack. “Make a run for the—”

“Save yer breath.” Gideon wrapped an arm around her waist. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the back end of the truck approaching. Coming at an angle to the Amandán, it grew larger, its taillights red eyes in the dark.

Gideon half-carried, half-dragged her along, trying to shorten the distance between them and their rescue. The goblins sped up too. Cries and hoots filled the night air.
He'll not reach us in time
, he thought. The prospect of dying didn't bother him as much as what his death would do to Finn.
The lad will forever carry the guilt on his shoulders
. As they stumbled over tufts of grass and rocks, he could hear O'Shea chanting softly. He joined her. Like a long drink of cool water, strength flooded his body. He tightened his hold on the Knight.
Then you best stay alive, Gideon Lir
, he told himself.
For Finn's sake
. A tiny voice added.
And for
her
sake, too
.

The whine of the engine rose to a scream as his apprentice pushed the vehicle faster. Hope rose in Gideon's heart. Glancing over O'Shea's head, he picked up the pace.
Maybe. Just maybe…Finn might reach us first
.

He did.

Dust and dried grass billowed in the air as the boy hit the brakes. With a grunt, Gideon scooped up O'Shea in his arms and practically tossed her into the bed. Even as he jumped in after her, she was already scrambling on her hands and knees for her bow.

“Down!” she shouted.

Gideon threw himself flat.
Wheesh!
An arrow whispered overhead. Another. Then another. The Amandán sang a chorus of yowls and shrieks. Lifting his head slightly, he looked up. O'Shea knelt awkwardly by the cab, her injured leg stuck out in front of her while she rained destruction. Keeping low, he scrambled to her side, then leaned over and thumped the driver's door.

“Go, Finn!”

“Y
es, sir!” Finn wrenched down on the stick shift. He winced at the harsh sound.

“Mind the gears,” Gideon shouted.

“I'm trying!” Finn jiggled the stick until it slipped into first, then pressed down on the gas as he released the clutch. The vehicle gave a jerky lurch in protest, then decided to cooperate. It snarled its own war cry as they raced back across the field toward the barn.

We're going to make it
, Finn thought. He glanced in the rearview mirror. Amandán ash drifted across the meadow like a low fog. More goblins exploded as O'Shea sent another volley arcing through the night—Fey air strikes.

With a wheezing cough, the engine sputtered, roared back to life, then changed its mind and died. Finn cursed in rhythm with his foot pumping the gas pedal. “Go, you stupid truck!” The truck ignored him. It slowed, then rolled to a stop.

Gideon's head appeared in the open window. “
What the bleedin' ‘ell are ye doing?
”

“I'm not doing anything! The truck just…” His voice trailed off when he noticed the gas gauge. A tiny arrow was pointing at a red
E
. “Oh, crap.”

“The tank must have hit something hard enough to cause a leak,” Gideon said.

“Guys? They're coming back!” O'Shea warned.

Grabbing his knife from the seat beside him, Finn climbed out of the cab. He paused before climbing into the back and looked up at his master. “Aren't you going to tell me to stay inside?”

Gideon made a hurry-up gesture. “Some still have clubs—they'll eventually break through the windows.”

Finn clambered over the side and joined the Knights. He took a stance between them. Fear crawled around his stomach and made itself at home. Determined to ignore it,
to shake his fist under its nose
, he flipped his knife into the air and caught it by the handle. “I bet I can get more than either of you,” he joked, rather proud his voice didn't quiver.

O'Shea snorted. “Like that's fair. I'm out of arrows.” She rose awkwardly, balancing on one leg, and leaned back against the cab.

“Knives only, then. Loser has to buy a pizza for the winner.”

“Mushroom and sausage, thank you,” Gideon said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And be generous with the cheese.”

Drawing nearer, the goblins slowed, puzzled by the unmoving truck. They grunted to each other, snarling in confusion as they milled around.

Then the leading Bog-born spoke, lip curled in contempt. “Cornered like rats, ye be.”

“'Cept rats taste loads better than ye Tuatha De Danaan,” said another.

“How's it feels to be the ones hunted, eh?” a third jeered.

The rest of the pack moved forward. Pushing and shoving, they spread out, encircling the vehicle, teeth gnashing and knuckles popping.

Gideon pointed his dagger at them. “Ye best flee whilst ye've the chance.”

The leader guffawed. “
Nar
. Bold words from the main course.”

“I wants the female,” said the second goblin. “I hears they be more tender than the old males.”

“The young whelp is whats I want,” the third growled. It flapped its tongue at Finn. “'Course, this one looks to be more bones than meat.”

O'Shea nudged Finn. “Don't you hate being talked about?”

Finn grinned weakly. He nodded, hoping he sounded braver than he felt. “Especially by something that wants to eat us for supper.” He tightened his grip on the knife's haft as the goblins edged even closer, shuffling for position. Next to him, Gideon suddenly looked toward the barn, stiffening in surprise.

“Ye gods,” the Knight said. Before Finn could ask, Gideon turned back and raised his dagger. “Sing with me, Finn. Trust me.”

Too stunned to question why, Finn joined in at the second line of the Song. A moment later, O'Shea's voice soared with them, her brow wrinkled in bewilderment. As they sang, Gideon thumped a booted foot against the metal flooring, turning the bed of the truck into a
bodhran
.

Half-convinced—well, mostly convinced—that his master had lost his mind, but still singing, Finn spied something in the darkness behind the goblins—shadowy figures creeping low, and sporadic flashes of dim light.

Moonlight on bronze.

Comprehension slapped him upside the head. He began stomping his own feet, trying to make as much noise as possible.

Unnerved by the Song and the odd performance of the Tuatha De Danaan, the Amandán hesitated. Bad move on their part. Actually, the
last
move on their part.

“
FAUGH A BALLAGH!
” With a shout, the other Knights sprang out of the night.

Mac Roth led the charge. With a shout, he swung his hatchet and lopped off four goblin heads in a row as he plunged into the pack, his bulk and blade clearing a path. Lochlan followed on his heels, his knife a blur of movement as he protected his master's back. Behind the boy, Toryn Mull and the rest of the warriors fanned out. The Amandán scattered, most of them with a Knight or an older apprentice on their tails, shrieking as they fled to the bridge.

Finn sank down on the side of the bed, his legs all rubber band-y and pulse still pounding in his ears, and raked his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. He looked up at the sky, wondering what time it was and wishing he could determine the hour from the position of the stars or sun. Like Gideon could.
Now, that's
real
magic
. Sighing, he knuckled his eyes.

Lochlan clambered up and joined him. “You owe me. Big time.”

“What? No ‘hey, glad you're alive' or anything? And, by the way, how do you figure I owe you?”

“Because.” Lochlan glanced at Kel O'Shea leaning over to ask Mac Roth about her apprentice, then lowered his voice. “While you got to be out here where all the action was, I was struck in the barn with Tara.”

Believe me, you don't want this kind of action
. “What's wrong with—”

“She never shuts up! She was either complaining to Mac Roth about not being with her master or telling the rest of us how to fight.” He made a face and pointed his chin at Mac Roth. “See what I mean?” Looking past Lochlan, Finn listened.

“All is well, lass,” Mac Roth was saying. “Young Tara is fine. And spitting mad as a wet cat since I ordered her to wait in the barn. Although she dinna earn her torc this evening, much to her vexation, she defended her position stoutly, berating the other apprentices into…” He paused as if trying to recall her exact words. “…into growing backbones when they showed fear.”

“I'm surprised she said
backbone
,” Finn whispered to Lochlan, who immediately started choking with laughter.

“That's my Tara.” O'Shea beamed, then patted Mac Roth's massive arm. “And thank you for watching out for her.”

“
Whist
.” Mac Roth waved her words away. “No more than you would have done for Lochlan.” He looked up and met Finn's gaze, a smile splitting his ash-covered beard. “And grand it is to see a certain boyo and his master safe and sound.”

Finn grinned back.

After a few minutes the other warriors returned to the truck, Toryn Mull among them. One apprentice strutted along with a wide smile on her face. While the Knights clustered about, bragging and mocking and dusting their clothes off, O'Shea began arguing with Gideon.

“Oh, for the Goddess's sake, Lir, I can walk. It's just a twisted ankle.” She swung a leg over the side of the truck and eased herself to the ground. “See?”

“I did not recall you were this stubborn.” Gideon gathered up her weapons, then hopped down next to her. He handed over the bow and empty quiver.

“I'm not stubborn.” She kept one hand on the truck for balance as she pulled the quiver strap over her head and tugged it into place behind her. “I'm independent.”

A corner of Gideon's mouth twitched. “As I said.”

Finn watched the exchange, partly amused and partly…something else. Unsure what. As he started to join them, Martin O'Neill appeared, elbowing his way through the crowd.

“Kel O'Shea.” He greeted the Knight, ignoring the boys as usual. “Well done. Well done, indeed. However did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Kill all those Amandán.” O'Neill pointed toward the barn. “There's least a dozen or more bodies, not piles of ash, but actual
bodies
all over the place. With arrows sticking out of them and foam on their lips. Did you find a way to poison them?”

Silence followed.

“Before the tale can be told,” Toryn Mull stepped over, “I'll speak with the
Rath
first. Mac Roth, hold fast as well. Everyone, please assemble in the barn.” He waited until the rest of the Tuatha De Danaan left, then turned to O'Neill. “'Twas not Kel O'Shea that destroyed our enemies.”

“Then what did?”

“'Twas the Spear. It has been found. The legend of its ability to slay the beasties is true.”

“A joy for our people, eh?” Mac Roth added, leaning against the truck next to the boys, still seated in the back.

“To be sure.” O'Neill glanced about. “Where is it? Who found it?”

“I found the Spear,” Gideon said. “A few months gone.”

O'Neill stared at the Knight, face tight with suspicion. “So, it's true. I had heard rumors that you might have it. Why didn't you tell us?”