Finn's Choice (21 page)

“You must be getting dotty, Gideon Lir, if you think you can sneak up on
me
.” A large form stepped around the rock's shoulder. “And is that any way to greet an auld friend who has flown across the bleedin' Atlantic to save yer miserable self?”

The sight of Mac Roth, his red hair and beard beaded with moisture, an enormous pack on his back and his hatchet in one
hand, made Finn grin. But it was the sight of Kel O'Shea right behind him, carrying her bow and quiver in one hand, followed by Lochlan and Tara, that made his whole body sing. All of them toted bulging packs of various sizes.

“I'll bet he's just cranky because he hasn't had supper yet.” Kel O'Shea smiled as she walked over and took Gideon's hand in hers. “You two okay?”

“Outside of a damp night and a long day of manual labor, we're fine. How did you get here?” He let go, then clasped Mac Roth's forearm.

“How do you think?” Kel O'Shea pointed upward.

“Our angelic friend?” Gideon guessed.

She smoothed a strand of hair from her face. “Sort of. Actually, his master—Basil, is it?—and some older angels. They weren't too keen on the idea. Griffin told me before we left that he had spent half the night trying to persuade them. Whatever he said must have worked, because here we are.”

“Once we arrived in these hills, I knew you and Finn would make for your old home,” Mac Roth added. He raised his eyebrows in expectation. “Have you a plan?”

“The beginning of one. Come inside and I'll explain.”

Letting the Knights go ahead, Finn and Lochlan bumped fists, then lightly punched each other's shoulders. He turned to the other apprentice.

“Hey, Tara.” He glanced at her throat.

“Hey, yourself.” She flashed him a crooked grin. “And, yeah. I
got it.” She unzipped her jacket a few inches and lifted her chin. The rays of the setting sun danced along the gold torc in jubilation. “Kel put it on me this morning.”

“Can't believe you're not dead, Finn,” Lochlan said, clearly trying to change the subject. “Or locked up in the
Scáthach's
dungeon. If she has one. From what I could see from the top of the hill, it doesn't look like she has one, though.”

“I owe Griffin for that.”

“What do you mean?” Tara hoisted her pack higher, holding her strung bow and a quiver of arrows in one hand.

Finn started to offer to carry it for her, then stopped himself in time after glancing at her bow. Instead, he fell in between them as they followed the Knights to the cottage. As they walked, he filled them in on what had happened since he'd arrived.

“So we have to wait until Monday to get over there?” Lochlan shook his head. “More time for her to discover we're in the neighborhood.”

“But it will give us more time to plan how we're going to help Finn get to those bones. And anyway, what's the rush to get back to Colorado, O'Neill? This is Ireland!” Tara looked around. “I'm so stoked to be here. Well, I mean,” she quickly amended, “except for the whole goddess wanting to steal Finn and all that. That part's not so good.”

“Remember Rafe and Savannah? And their folks?” Lochlan snapped. “Amandán wanting to eat them?”

Tara waved her hand in dismissal. “The Steels are out of town,
doofus. Kel told me San Diego is a goblin-free zone. And even if they return before we do, Griffin and his friends have got it covered. Oh, wait.” She stopped, her eyes wide with mock realization. “Could it be that you're
scared
, O'Neill?”

Lochlan slammed to a halt. Even in the growing dusk, Finn could see the flush of color darken his friend's face. “You know, you might try thinking of others instead of just yourself, Butler,” he snapped. “People might like you better. No. Wait. Might like you
at all
.”

Hurt flitted across Tara's face. Her lips tightened.

Suddenly, Finn was done with it. Done with the constant battling. Done with having to first defend one friend, than the other. Back and forth, until he wanted to explode.

Then, he did. “Shut up! Both of you!” He could feel the warp spasm simmering deep inside of him. “I'm sick of it. Sick and tired of you two sniping at each other.” Chest heaving and face hot with frustration, he glared at them. “For the love of Danu, can you just give it a rest? Because I really need you guys on my side right now and not…” For some reason, Finn's throat tightened. He clenched his jaw.

“Um…” Lochlan blinked in surprise. He glanced at Tara, then back at Finn. “I didn't really mean anything by it. Tara?” He turned toward the girl. “Most of it was just…you know. Joking around.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Tara said in a quiet voice, staring wide-eyed at Finn. She studied Lochlan, hesitated for a moment, then stuck out her hand. “Truce?”

To Finn's astonishment, Lochlan clasped her forearm in the ancient manner. “Truce.” He let go and cleared his throat. “Listen. I never really said congratulations for you earning your torc. So, you know, congratulations. That was a wicked sweet move. And, yeah, you saved my butt with it.”

Tara shrugged. “I think I was just lucky.” A faint smile. “But thanks.” Her smile grew. “And now, all
three
of us have our torcs.”

Relieved, Finn let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “That goddess doesn't know what's coming for her.” On impulse, he pulled his knife free and raised it in the air. Lochlan followed, then Tara, her bow and arrows in her free hand. With a ringing clash, they brought the tips of their blades together. Once. Twice. A third time. Sparks flew from the bronze blades.

“
Faugh a ballagh
!” They cried in unison.

Their shout brought Mac Roth to the door. “Enough of that foolishness! Do you wish all of County Clare to know the Tuatha De Danaan have returned? Inside with you.”

Finn followed the other apprentices through the doorway. The scent of peat moss greeted him; in the hearth, a fire cracked and snapped. Nearby, Kel O'Shea and Gideon spoke together as they emptied the packs. They had sleeping bags for everyone, and dry clothing for Finn and Gideon—including wool caps and gloves—and even a few cooking utensils and packets of freeze-dried foods and other non-perishables. Meanwhile, Mac Roth hung a small pot of water over the flames.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in a semi-circle in front of
the hearth on sleeping bags padded with straw and sipping scalding tea from tin mugs. Finn cradled the mug, grateful for the warmth.

Kel O'Shea passed out granola bars and beef jerky. “Sorry about the limited choice of food. We grabbed whatever we had on hand.” Taking a sip of tea, she looked around the cottage. “Cozy place. A bit battered, but still sturdy for its age.” She cut her eyes at Gideon. “Of course, I could say the same thing about you.” Mac Roth roared while Gideon raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, not sorry. Couldn't resist. Okay, so what's the plan?” she said, back to business.

After Gideon finished explaining about Sean Murphy, he added, “Once on the island, we'll create a diversion and engage the
Scáthach
in battle long enough for Finn to find the Burnt Bones and use them.”

“I don't think that's going to work, Gideon,” Kel O'Shea said. “Mac Roth and I just went toe-to-toe with her after you and Griffin managed to hide Finn from her. She'll be über-suspicious if we all show up suddenly and starting waving our weapons at her. She'll know we're up to something.” She cocked her head. “This calls for stealth and guile, not a frontal assault.”

“Your suggestion, then?”

“I haven't thought of it. Yet.” She leaned back on one elbow and crossed her legs at the ankle. “Luckily, we've got a little time.”

“How do the bones work?” Finn asked. He looked at Mac Roth. “I mean, do you have to be touching them for the magic to work?”

“Do you have to say your wish aloud,” Lochlan added, “or can
you just think it?”

“And what if there is more than one person?” Tara piped up. “Once the first person is done, can they just hand the bones over to the next person in line?”

“One at a time.” Mac Roth poured more tea and settled himself more comfortably on his sleeping bag. “Now, to answer your questions: Yes, aloud, and only once between the rising and setting of the sun.”

Finn frowned. “Why only once a day?”

“'Tis old magic. And old magic acquires most of its power from the earth and sea and sky, and the changing seasons,” Mac Roth said. “Like nature, there is an ebb and flow to that power.” He paused and took a sip of tea, then continued. “Now, the Burnt Bones, which are the remains of the powerful druid, Darach, are sheltered under a dolmen in the center of the
Scáthach's
Ring. This you all know.”

“Darach,” Lochlan interrupted. He scrunched up his face. “Doesn't
darach
mean ‘oak' in Gaelic?”

“It does. And, so, my fine scholar, why do you think he took that name?” Mac Roth waited, a look of expectation on his face.

“Oh, I know!” Tara sat up straight. “At least, I think I do. To the druids, the oak is the tree associated with knowledge and learning, right?”

“Right you are, young Butler.”

Kel O'Shea elbowed Gideon, then pointed her chin at Tara. “Taught her everything she knows.”

Wanting to get the conversation back on track—
not like it's the rest of my
entire life
at stake here
—Finn spoke. “Darach was the druid who could stop time and change things around, right?”

“Aye, that's right. Shortly before his death, and not wanting his magic to disappear from this world, he ordered his followers to burn his body down to the bones. He made them promise to protect the bones. They faithfully did so, and for centuries upon centuries, those bones have lain in the safest place they knew. The legend has slowly faded away, until only a few know of it.”

“Now, we must find a way to get Finn to those bones.” Gideon frowned. He started to speak, then stopped when Lochlan suddenly yawned.

“But not tonight.” Kel O'Shea pointed to the corner near the hearth. “You three. Bed down over there.”

In spite of everything, his sleeping bag called to Finn. He burrowed inside of it, then, feeling warm and dry for the first time since yesterday, he laced his fingers together and stared up at the thatched ceiling. Hope vied with fear.
They risked their lives coming here. I've got to be careful. I can't let anyone get hurt because of me
. He glanced over at Lochlan half-buried in his bag; the top of his head was a pale blur in the firelight.
Still, I'm really glad they came. I hope I do the same for them if they ever need me
.

Monday morning came too soon for Finn. They had spent most of Sunday coming up with a plan to get Finn to the bones while the others distracted the goddess. A stroll into the village for a hot meal—fish and chips that almost caused Mac Roth and Gideon to break into song. Or maybe it was the beer—at one of the local pubs… It had helped fill the hours that seemed to both crawl and race along.

Finn stretched, then raised himself to his elbows. Next to him, Tara was already sitting up, combing her fingers through her hair. Lochlan was still a motionless lump in his bag. Finn looked around.

Gideon knelt by the hearth, blowing on the coals left over from yesterday's fire. Nearby, Kel O'Shea was sharpening her knife. Mac Roth was gone.

“Where's Mac Roth?” Finn asked.

Braiding her hair, Tara shrugged. “I don't know.”

At that moment, the door creaked open. Mac Roth. He paused, shaking water from his hair and beard, then stepped inside. Joining Gideon by the hearth, he squatted down and held his hands out to the growing warmth.

“Up early,” Gideon said, a question in his voice.

“I wanted to speak a few words to her before we left. In case there was no time later.”

Gideon nodded, his eyes locked on the flames. “She would have liked to hear yer voice. Ye were always a dear friend to her.”

“Aye.” Mac Roth sighed. “A dear friend.”

Something in his tone made Finn become suddenly interested in the zipper on his sleeping bag.

After a meager breakfast of rolls and tea, they put out the flames, loaded up their packs, and stored them neatly in a corner of the cottage. Kel O'Shea and Tara, after a brief argument, left their bows with the rest of the gear.

“Too hard to explain to Sean Murphy why we're packing heat,” Kel said, sliding her knife into its sheath, then tugging her jacket over it.

“With luck, we'll be back here before noon to collect our things,” Mac Roth said, “and with no more worry than determining how we're going to return to America.”

“How
are
we getting home?” Finn asked his master.

“I've no idea.” Gideon raised an eyebrow at the other Knights. “Can we expect any help from our angelic friends?”