Challenge of the clans (10 page)

"Well, Cian, what do you think of the lad now?" he asked.

"He is as good as you told me, my fiiend," Cian replied, all his doubts gone. He grinned at Finn. "My lad, if you can learn the other fighting skills as well as that one, you could be a champion someday."

He turned toward the warriors in the yard. "Caoilte, come here," he ordered.

The young warrior Finn had noted before moved forward. As he came closer, Finn saw that he was

perhaps five years older, a dark, lean, dour-faced man with sleek raven-black hair tightly plaited at his neck.

"This is Caoilte MacRonan," Cian told Finn as the warrior joined them. "He is the finest of all my warriors." He turned to the dark man. "Caoilte, this lad wishes to join our company. Would you be willing to train him?"

"Caoilte gave Finn a long, slow scrutinizing look. His expression was one of disinterest. He shook his head.

"No, my chieftain," he said flatly. "Throwing spears at a post is one thing. Throwing them at something alive is another. Trying to train this boy would be a waste of time."

"Fm not a boy!" Finn shot back, annoyed by this warrior's superior attitude.

"He could hunt for us in exchange," Cian suggested hopefully.

Caoilte was unmoved. "We've no need of more hunters," he countered. "Besides, this *boy' is too old to begin warrior training. He'll never master the skills."

"I will!" Finn insisted hotly. "I'll work hard at it.'*

"I'd like you to agree to give the young man a chance," Cian put in. His cajoling tone surprised Finn. It seemed as if it were the warrior in charge here, not the chieftain.

"I'm sorry," Caoilte told him firmly. "We're helping neither him nor ourselves to accept him here."

"But there must be some way I can prove myself to you," Finn said desperately.

"If he's such a hunter, let him go against the Dovarchu," one of the other warriors called.

"Aye! Aye!" more of them shouted in agreement, many grinning. "Let him fight the Dovarchu. That'll prove his worth!"

Finn had never heard the name Dovarchu—Master Otter—before. But that made no difference. This might be his only chance.

"I'll go against this thing if you'll give me a place and train me in fighting skills," he said with determination.

The grins vanished. The men exchanged looks of wonder at this unexpected acceptance of a challenge made in jest. Caoilte fixed a disbelieving eye on Finn.

"YouVe not meaning what you say," he accused, "or else youVe no idea what were speaking of It would be madness."

"Listen to the man, Finn," said the Little Nut earnestly. "He's making great sense."

"iVe made an offer to you," Finn said stolidly, meeting Caoilte's eye with a bold stare. "Will you take it or not?"

"You must agree, if he defeats the Dovarchu, he's earned our acceptance here," Cian put in.

"He would that," the dark warrior said, shaking his head. "But what he'll gain fi*om us will likely be a grave."

"All right, lad, just climb into the boat," Caoilte said as another warrior held the prow to steady it.

Finn handed his weapons to Caoilte and clambered over the side into the vessel. It was a curragh, a small leather-sided boat shaped like a round, concave shell. Of a size to fit no more than two passengers, and then uncomfortably, it wobbled as he dropped into it. Finn quickly sat down, and looked up at those grouped closely around.

All the Bantry warriors had trooped downi fi*om the fortress to the nearby lakeshore with him. They were watching his preparations now with expressions of interest, curiosity, and, in some cases, amusement. He didn't like the smiling ones at all.

"Just paddle out into the lake a way," Caoilte said, passing Finn's two spears and then some short wooden paddles to him. "Your disturbance of the surface will be enough to draw it. It'll rise as if you were a fly and it a trout come to strike."

"How do I know it'll come?" Finn asked.

"Oh, it'll come," a grinning, gap-toothed warrior said with confidence. "There's nothing crossed this lake in years without its being attacked."

The man's smile was nearly gloating. Finn wanted to know why, but he was reluctant to say anything that might make him seem uncertain or even afraid to these hard men. Still, it would be foolish to go against an enemy without knowing something of its nature. No one could begrudge him that.

"Could you tell me what this Dovarchu looks like?** he said, trying to sound casual.

"Well, there's no one too certain about that,** the chieftain answered regretfully. "Some think it's like a great otter; of course, that's where the name comes from. Others say it's a giant serpent or an eel. But we've only had glimpses of it from the shore. No one's ever had a good look at it."

"What do you mean?" asked Finn.

Cian shrugged. "Those that've come close enough to tell have never made it back to speak of it."

"I'm sorry, lad," Gnu Deireoil said, greatly distressed. "I tried to warn you before. I'm sorry I brought you into this. "

"You mustn't be," Finn told him stolidly. "It's my own choice. " He looked at Caoilte. "I'm ready now."

The dark warrior looked down at the lad, seeing the determination in the young face. He sighed and shook his head.

"All right then. But you are a fool.'*

He and two other warriors shoved the little vessel off the shore. As Finn took up his paddle and began to push the curragh away, he told himself that there was nothing to fear. For all its strangeness, this Dovarchu was just a beast. Still, it gave him little extra confidence to see the Bantry warriors—once they had seen him well out into the lake—retreating quickly to a safe distance from the shore to watch.

Lough Lein was a large-sized lake to Finn, accustomed only to the pools of his glens. The shoreline he had left was low and marshy, softly fringed with reeds. The for shore was hemmed in by low hills covered with a forest so heavy it seemed like a thick, shaggy coat of dark green wool upon them.

It was late in the day now. The sun was sliding

toward a cozy haven in the soft cradle of the hills, sending its long, sharply slanting rays skittering across the w^\e tops. It created an effect dazzling and confusing to the eyes, witfi die points of light and the dark patches in the troughs shifting constantly.

He paddled out steadily until he was the length (rf two spear throws firom the shore. The watching company of bright-cloaked warriors now looked Hke a flock cf varied birds fluttering there. He stopped, putting down his oars, leaving (he tiny boat to drift and rock shghdy in the gentle swells. It was ver\* quiet here at sunset, the breezes nearly stilled, the sounds of birds hushed in anticipation rfthe rising night.

He picked up his spears and sat motionless, squinting his e\es to see across the bright surface, all his hunter s senses sharp for the sound or sight or smell of anything unusual.

It seemed an etemit>' that he sat tensely waiting, but the sun Cfawied cmly a tiny span nearer to its final goal. He began to wonder if the thing would come.

Then his eye cau^t a movement on the surface. It was as if somediing were being dragged along, just below the v^-aves. But in a moment, a smooth hump came into \'iev,\ breaking the surfece, rolling the water back on either side. He stared at it intentiy. It was like a cow's bade, heaNing up. or like the coil of an enormous serpent, black and shiny with water.

It changed shape as he watched, swelling up higher and then sinking back in a smooth, regular, fluid motion, as if die creature were undulating through the water. Behind it was \isible for an instant a white line of spra> as from a whipping tail or thrashing i>aws. W'hatev er the means of propulsion, it moved the thing along with great speed, drawing a foamy wake on either side as it shot across the lake's sur&ce direcdy toward him.

He could get no clear idea of its shape or size, but his impression was that it was larger than his curra^. That was quite large enough for him. .\s it came steadily on, he rose upright in the boat. His hand lifted the spear. When it was close enough, he would fire his

weapon at the hump. It was almost close enough. He set himself. Just a bit closer . . . closer . . . closer . . .

It vanished.

The hump sank with a final surge of water and it was gone in an instant, leaving only a widening ripple to indicate where it had last been. He stood, spear still upraised, staring toward the spot. He could see no sign of it, no shadow beneath the waves. He scanned the surface to either side expecting it to reappear. There was nothing. Where had it gone?

There was a tremendous impact on the bottom of the curragh. It heaved upward from the lake, turning as it rose, slinging Finn violently out. The sudden shock knocked the spear from his hand. He fell back, crashing into the waves, sinking far beneath the surface before he could recover.

Quickly he stroked back to the surface and spewed out a great mouthfril of water. He gasped for breath, shaking his head to clear his vision. He found himself looking up into the face of the Dovarchu.

Chapter Ten

DOVARCHa

The head of the creature was suspended above him on a long, curving neck that rose the height of two men from the water. It was flat and broad, rather doghke in appearance, with small, upright ears, dark eyes surrounded by patches of lighter coloring, and a short muzzle with bristhng whiskers. The mouth was open in a sort of malevolent grin, revealing teeth that were doglike as well, quite adequate for tearing him apart.

He had only an instant to make this assessment, for, upon seeing him, the head darted down toward him on its flexible neck, the mouth opening wider to bite. He dove away and the head struck harmlessly against the water, but it lifted away instantly, water dripping from the jaws, and swept around to strike again.

Once more he dodged away, dismayed by the agility of a thing so large. The neck was like a serpent, powerful muscles rolling beneath the shiny, dark hide as it moved. It lifted, and the Dovarchu voiced an angry sound—part cow bellow, part deep bark—as if impatient with this prey who would not stay still and be eaten.

Finn used the brief respite to look around. He was weaponless, defenseless, and alone. He might be able to escape with his own swimming and diving skills, but he would not try. He had made a bond to fight the thing, and that he had to do. But how?

Behind the smooth mound of the creature's back he glimpsed the curragh, overturned and bobbing on the waves. If he could reach it, he would have some protection, and perhaps a way to strike back. He took a deep breath, slipped beneath the waves, and swam down, using all his power to dive right beneath the Master-Otter. If it could use that trick, why, so could he!

He glanced up at it as he passed under. It was like the rounded hull of a ship lying on the surface. At its fi*ont, short, broad flippers thrust out. At its back was a wide-bladed tail, notched like that of a fish. All were now beating the water as the creature, realizing he was gone, paddled its body in a circle. Their action made the water seem to boil.

Then he was past it, slanting upward to the surface and the curragh. He broke th^ waves beyond it and peered out past it cautiously. The creature was still looking the other way, the head swinging slowly back and forth as it scanned the lake for him. For the moment he was safe, but the Dovarchu would soon turn.

He needed some means to fight back, and the curragh oflfered none.

Then he noticed something bobbing on the surface not far away. Just a recurrent flash of something showing at the top of each passing swell. A stick? He looked more closely. No! The end of a spear pole! One of the thick wooden hafts had been buoyant enough to keep the weapon afloat, its point and forward three-quarters submerged.

He moved out fi-om the shelter of the curragh, reaching for it. But his move attracted the attention of the beast. Its head swung around and struck down at him in a single, graceful move.

He ducked back. The head splashed harmlessly down upon the water again, the jaws grazing the side of the boat as he moved into its protection. The curving neck lifted and the head arched high above as the Dovarchu vented another and much angrier roar.

Finn started for the spear again. This time he stroked with one hand and pulled the curragh along with the other, keeping his body beneath it, making a great turtle of himself. This did not deter the beast. The head swooped down, jaws wide. They slammed upon it, the force of the blow driving curragh and warrior down. Then the jaws tightened, the sharp fangs puncturing the thick leather hide of the boat. The Dovarchu pulled its head up, easily lifting the fi*ail craft fi-om the water, pulling it from Finn.

The creature rose up to the ftill height of its neck, the curragh clamped firmly in its jaws. It shook the boat savagely, like a dog shaking a rodent, then let go, casting the smashed curragh far across the lake.

But while the beast vented its anger on the boat, Finn had a chance to act. He swam with all his speed for the floating spear.

He was nearly to it when the head descended upon him once more, with the force and speed of a great boulder plummeting from the sky. He glanced up to see the open jaws, the twin rows of jagged teeth dropping toward him. He made a desperate grab, his hand closing around the end of the spear pole, and then

rolled sideways as the jaws crashed into the lake where he had been.

He was behind the massive head now, the neck a great curve above him. This might be his only chance to strike. He seized the weapon in both hands and, before the Dovarchu could lift its head again, drove forward, slamming the point against the underside of its jaw.

The spear penetrated the soft hide there, and Finn threw his whole weight against it to force it farther in, angling it up into the creature's head. His action drove the sharp point through the mouth and through the narrow head, into the base of the skull, into the brain.

Mortally struck, the Dovarchu jerked its head up. The neck began to shake as it bellowed its agony, blood pouring from the distended mouth. The body began to convulse, flippers and tail working in an uncontrolled, wild manner.