The Hound at the Gate (27 page)

“Enough!” His voice rang out. After everyone had quieted, he continued. “It appears we are cut in twain about the fate of the lad.” He looked around the circle. “But, for now, we are weary from battle
and loss. Let us retire for what is left of the night. We will meet at midday.”

The crowd began to disperse, still muttering about the astonishing turn of events. Several of the Knights volunteered to stand guard at the bridge to prevent any remaining Amandán from crossing, while others offered to patrol the campsites. The rest of the warriors and the families drifted back to their tents. The barn slowly emptied.

Eyes still snapping with anger, O'Shea limped past, one hand on Tara's shoulder for support. “I'm going to go crash for a while. Come get me if you guys need me to whack some sense into O'Neill's head.” She waggled her bow with a meaningful look, then added, “No offense, Lochlan.”

Lochlan shrugged a shoulder. “None taken.”

“'Tis time we retire ourselves.” Gideon spoke a quiet word to Mull, then started for the door, the others on his heels. They halted at a voice calling Lochlan's name and looked back.

O'Neill was walking toward them, showing enough teeth to make a politician jealous. “I haven't had a chance to congratulate you, son. Oh, well done. Well done indeed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mac Roth told me you've earned your torc—eight Bog-born. Eight. And possibly more, eh?” He clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. “A true O'Neill.” He beamed even wider. If that was possible.

Lochlan jerked free of his father's hand. “You know what, Dad? Right now, being an O'Neill kind of sucks.”

O'Neill's face whitened, then flushed. His eyes flickered once to Finn before he whirled around and stormed away. An awkward silence followed.

“Lochlan, lad—” Mac Roth began.

Lochlan shook his head, then sighed. “Man, am I going to pay for
that
.”

“Come.” Gideon led the way out the door. They headed across the field toward the campsite.

As they reached the trees, Finn eased back behind the Knights, who were speaking in low tones. Next to him, Lochlan walked along in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

Toryn Mull's words kept reverberating through Finn's head.
But if he truly be the Spear, a hero as large as Cuchulainne, then like the other champions of old, he must be sent away for the remainder of his apprenticeship to be trained by the one who has most experience
. He swallowed hard.

Keeping his eyes forward, he tried to ignore the stares and whispers as he threaded his way around destroyed shelters and scattered debris. Arriving at his tent, he slipped inside without a word and flopped down on his sleeping bag. Too tired to even take off his shoes, he lay with his face to the wall, half-listening as Lochlan rustled about the tent.

I don't care what they say or do, I won't leave. I'm going to finish my apprenticeship with Gideon
. He drifted asleep, saying the words over and over in his head.

Like a prayer.

T
he Journal of Gideon Lir: Sunday, Sept 22

I will not lose another son.

Gideon stared down at the single sentence, the mid-morning sun glaring off the mostly blank page of his journal. With a snap, he closed it, then stood and tossed it on the chair. Careful not to wake Mac Roth and the boys, who were sleeping in, he walked toward the perimeter of the campsite, still enraged over the events from last night. Fuming at Martin O'Neill, at his people, and at a custom that would leave another hole in his heart, as well as Finn's, he picked up his pace. He marched along at a speed that he knew would have had his apprentice jogging to keep up.

Reaching the open field, he veered toward his truck, still sitting in the middle of the meadow. The dents and scratches looked worse in the light of day. He slowed at the sight of the young Knight who had brought news of the Amandán's attack, walking around in circles
near the abandoned vehicle, eyes to ground. He looked up when Gideon approached.

“Lir.”

“Douglas.”

“Last night, I dropped my— Oh, here it is.” He plucked an empty sheath from a patch of tall grass. Blowing it free of dust, he nodded toward Gideon's truck. “Out of fuel?”

“Aye.” He squatted down and checked under the engine.
Just as I feared—it looks like the gas tank was damaged. Probably by driving over those rocks
. He straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. “Due to a slow leak.”
Now, how am I going to get my vehicle out of here without—

“I've got a spare gas can, mostly full. It should be enough to get you to the nearest town, or even back to High Springs. I'll drop it off here later today before I head home.” He waved aside Gideon's thanks and offer of payment with a grin. “No way. I owe you.”

“I do not recall—”

“Don't you remember? I was one of those apprentices Jack Tully used to torment when he was a new Knight. So, thanks for knocking him on his ass then. And for knocking him on his ass again. He deserved it both times.” He gave a nod and sauntered off, whistling off-key.

Gideon watched him walk away. Then, he turned and walked back to camp, both step and heart lighter. Nearing their tents, he slowed at the sound of Mac Roth and Finn talking and paused behind a pine tree when he caught his name.
You are eavesdropping
, he scolded himself.
Aye, I am
, he replied.
Care to do something about it? And anyway, Mac Roth knows I'm here
.

“But, I don't understand,” Finn was saying. “Why can't Gideon train me? Why does me being the Spear make any difference?”

“'Tis tradition that those with extraordinary abilities are sent to the
Scáthach
for training.”

“Who or what's a
ska-ha
?”

“She is one of the most formidable warriors of the Old Ones. Some say as good a warrior as the Goddess Danu. Think upon the
stories told of our heroes of old. Each was given over for special training, most often to her. It is where the tradition of apprenticing our sons and daughters to other Knights came from. Many would consider it a honor.”

“But I'm not a
hero of old
. I'm just…just…
me
.” A long pause, then more quietly. “I don't want the honor. I want to stay with Gideon.”

“As does he.” A creak told of Mac Roth shifting in a camp chair. “You've brought a light back into him that I thought was gone forever. Under all that temper and armor, Gideon Lir has a heart as large as the mountains. That heart was broken twice, once for his beloved wife and once for his son. You, lad, have made it whole again.”

“I have?”

Really and truly, Finnegan MacCullen
, Gideon thought. The thought of his home empty of growing teen boy tightened his throat.

“Aye. So, we'll thumb our noses at tradition this time around the circle. Your master and I will make sure you finish your apprenticeship at his side. For who has a better claim to Gideon's Spear than the descendant of the Black Hand?”

A long silence. “Does that mean Gideon and I are…you know…
related
in some way?”

“Possibly. In a very complicated way. We'd need to research both yer father's and mother's family lines. But, for now, best keep yer eyes on the hill before ye, not on the mountains beyond. And go wake Lochlan before the boyo sleeps through the rest of this adventure.”

“Yes, sir.” A rustle of movement as Finn moved away. Fading footsteps, then silence.

“You heard, then?” Mac Roth asked quietly.

“Aye.” Gideon stepped around the tree and took a stance in front of the Knight who had risen to his feet. Their gazes locked. “Ye are, Mac Roth of the Hundred Battles, the finest of friends.” He let his brogue run free in honor of the man. “To meself and to young Finn.”

“
Whist
.” Mac Roth flicked away the compliment. “No more than you would do for me and mine.” He locked eyes with Gideon. “Now, about these events. How far are you prepared to go in this?”

“As far as I must.”

“Even to the point of defying the
Rath
?”

“Even so.”

“'Tis a dangerous game you play. You know they have both the power and the right.”

“I know, but—”

A horn blew in the distance, interrupting him. At that moment, the boys emerged from their tent. Still dressed in his clothes from yesterday, Lochlan yawned as he knuckled his eyes, then stumbled over to accept a lukewarm cup of tea from his master.

Meanwhile, Gideon motioned Finn nearer. He peered at his face, ashen under the dusting of freckles. “It will be okay, lad.”

Finn nodded. Ducking his head, he kicked at a clump of grass. “But what if the
Rath
decides…you know. Do I
have
to go?”

Gideon hesitated.
Do I tell him what the stakes are
? Nearby, Mac Roth cleared his throat in warning.

“Bleedin' redheads,” Gideon muttered. “Finn, you should know that there will be a price to pay if we defy the
Rath
outright.”

“What kind of price?”

“I will be most likely stripped of my Knighthood, and you and I will be shunned. In effect, we will be cast aside by our people. Any Tuatha De Danaan who tries to stand with us may suffer the same fate.”

Finn paled even more. His gaze flicked from Mac Roth to Lochlan and back to Gideon, then he shook his head. “No way. There's no way I'm letting that happen to you guys. I'll go with What's-her-name, if it comes to that.”

“It will not come to that, lad. The
Rath
would not chance losing both me and Mac Roth. And, in spite of his earlier words, I do not believe Martin will go so far as to jeopardize his son's future Knighthood. In
that
, we have him on our side.”

“Thank the Goddess he's good for
something
,” Lochlan joked weakly. His face was as white as Finn's.

The horn blew again.

They were the last to arrive. On the platform, the three Council members sat stiffly on their chairs, their gold cloaks making them look like figures on a medieval tapestry. The rest of the Tuatha De Danaan milled around, talking. Overhead, the mid-morning sun beamed down from a blue sky, unmindful of the seriousness of the moment.

At each puff of breeze, wisps of goblin ash drifted from the piles upon piles littering the ground. Someone had actually shoveled a path through the largest mound blocking the doors of the barn. A distance away in the field, a pile of goblin bodies lay heaped together like green plastic garbage bags left on the curb for trash pick-up. Streaks of bent grass marked where workers had dragged them. Arrows bristled from the heap.

Keeping his eyes fixed ahead, Gideon made his way through the crowd, Finn by his side.
As he should be
. Some Knights murmured a greeting to him; most simply stared. He stopped in front of the platform, forcing himself not to look at Kel O'Shea.
She does not need to be dragged further into our troubles
, Gideon thought.
She needs to remain neutral, as much as she can, for she is still a member of the
Rath
and has an apprentice to think of now
. A few yards behind, Mac Roth waited with Lochlan. The murmur of the crowd died away. A child started to ask a question and was shushed by its mother. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Finn tense as Toryn Mull stood in a swirl of gold. The other two Council members joined him on the edge of the platform.

“Gideon Lir,” the chieftain began without preamble, as if he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. “The
Rath
has made its decision. In keeping with our customs, Finnegan MacCullen shall be given over to the
Scáthach
for the rest of his apprenticeship.”