Gideon's Spear (21 page)

Rafe and Savannah exchanged looks of dismay. “Were they mad?”

“Confused, more than anything. It seems yer grandfather may have told them more than they were ready to believe. But, even so, yer da wanted to come with me—he was armed with a shotgun. Yer grandfather convinced him he would be more of a hindrance than an asset.”

“Your dad has a shotgun?” Finn asked in surprise.

“Sure. A Winchester pump-action shotgun.” Rafe shrugged. “What can I say? He's from the north side of St. Louis.”

After arranging themselves into two groups, they started for home. Mac Roth and the Steel twins led the way. The woods darkened around them as they walked, then jogged, then walked again. Overhead, the clouds drifted away, revealing the first stars of the night. Ahead of them, the lights of High Springs winked in and out through the trees.

Letting Lochlan go ahead, Finn dropped back to walk alongside Gideon, relieved to see his master moving more easily. “Feeling better?”

“Aye, I am. Right clever of Mac Roth to bring some potion. I'm no longer seeing two of you. Which is a good thing.” He gave a mock shudder. “Two Finnegans. May the Goddess protect me from
that
.”

Finn laughed. He started to make a retort when the Knight slowed to a stop and held up his hand. A quiet fell over the forest.

Then all hell broke loose around them.

The woods came alive. Amandán poured out of every shadow, from behind every tree, as if the very earth gave birth to them. Separated from Mac Roth and the others, Finn and Gideon whirled around to stand back to back. Over the snarls of goblins, Finn could hear his master cursing as the Knight stabbed and thrust at the wall of green fur encircling them. Nearby, Mac Roth bellowed the war cry, while Lochlan screamed at the twins to run for it.

The Amandán pressed closer. Finn slashed at hands and muzzles, trying to gain some room in which to fight. Goblin stench burned his eyes. He struggled to keep his footing when several Amandán rushed him, brandishing thick branches like clubs. Gasping the Song, he swung his knife at the nearest one. Gideon shouted a warning.

Suddenly, stars exploded across his vision.

Then blackness.

Then nothing.

Twenty-Nine

A
t first, Finn thought he had fallen asleep face-down on the hearth in front of the fireplace. Cold stone chilled his cheek while a flickering yellowish light gleamed through his closed eyelids.
Why didn't Gideon wake me up? Why did he let me sleep here
? The thought of his master sent a jolt of alarm through him. He opened his eyes. A pair of high-heeled boots greeted his vision.

“Good. You're awake. I was getting bored.”

Iona.

Finn gasped. He started to rise, until a white-hot pain on the side of his head threatened to rip the top of his skull off. Tears blinded him. “Son of a goat.” He curled up into a ball as he waited for the agony to pass. When he was certain—well, ninety percent certain—that he wasn't going to throw up from the pain, Finn pushed himself to his knees.

Dressed in black jeans and a black leather jacket, Iona stood a few feet away, leaning against a stone wall. Several head-height torches were jammed into handy cracks in the wall, their flames adding light, but not warmth, to the tiny cave. Weathered timbers held up sections of the wall and ceiling. Beyond the cave's narrow opening, Finn could see a larger cavern with a bonfire in the center. Amandán milled around it.

Finn swallowed through a dry mouth. The air reeked of goblin and smoke. “Where's Gideon?” He hoped the sorceress didn't catch the hitch in his voice.

Iona waved a hand. “Oh, he's around here somewhere. They've so many of these alcoves in this den of theirs; I wasn't sure which one they penned him in.” Pushing off the wall, she walked over and squatted in front of Finn, studying him.

“What do you mean,
penned
?” He kept his hands splayed on the stone floor to keep from keeling over.

“I mean ‘penned,' as in caged up.” She shook her head in amazement. “I finally saw the famous Celtic warp spasm in action. When that Amandán knocked you unconscious with its club, your master went berserk. Literally. He must have destroyed a dozen before I was able to convince him to stop. Of course, I had to hold a knife to your throat to persuade him.”

“Where's Mac Roth? Where are the others?” Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stand up, one hand on the wall behind him for support.

Iona shrugged as she rose. “Who cares? Last time I saw them, they were still battling the rest of the Amandán.” She stuck a hand in her pocket. “Now, if you want to see your master alive, then hold out your arm.” She pulled something out of her jacket.

A syringe.

“W-what's that for?”

“For your blood,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. Uncapping the business end, she walked toward him. “Why do you think I went through all this trouble to capture you? Now, will you give me your arm?” She paused. When he didn't move, she continued. “Look, do you want Gideon to live or not?”

Finn backed up until he bumped again the wall behind him. Dirt filtered down on his hair when his shoulder bumped a beam. A faint creak sounded from the timber overhead.

Iona looked up at the ceiling. “Hey, be careful! This part of the mine is none too stable. And I need you alive. For a while longer, that is.”

At that moment, cheers and hoots echoed throughout the cavern. Beyond Iona's shoulder, Finn could see the Amandán rushing over to one side of the main room. The sorceress swore and shoved the cap back on the syringe, shoving it in her pocket.

“What are they up to now?” she muttered as she squeezed sideways through the opening. Finn followed.

Goblins clustered in front of another alcove, its narrow opening blocked off by a door crudely crafted from iron bars. A vague shape moved in the darkness beyond.

One of the beasts snatched an old mining pike from a pile of discarded tools nearby and poked it through the bars, guffawing as it jabbed at the shape. Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed the spike. For a moment, a tug-of-war ensued, the pike clanging against the prison bars, until the goblin ripped it free. Others snorted with amusement and slapped each other on the back.

“Stop baiting him,” Iona yelled, walking into the middle of the pack. The Amandán slunk back. “Go find something to do besides torment my prisoner.”

“
Nar
, he's not yours.” The leader stood its ground in front of Iona, its scar a pale badge in the dim light of the cavern. “We be the ones who captured him and the whelp. At the misery of some of our pack.”

“If you remember our agreement, you captured him on
my
orders in exchange for the Spear. One mythical weapon for you brutes to destroy as you see fit. Once I'm done with these two.”

“I hears a rumor that you ain'ts gots it.” Another Amandán growled.

“Well, I do,” Iona snapped back. “I know
exactly
where the Spear is.”

Finn held his breath. He braced himself, certain she was about to point a finger at him.

The leader bared its teeth. “You betters. We Bog-born don't likes being double-crossed.”

“You won't be.” Iona made a shooing motion. “Now, get out. I've work to do. Go give some hikers nightmares or something.” With a final snarl, the leader called the pack across the cavern to a black hole in the wall. In single file, the Amandán disappeared into it.

Iona turned back to Finn. “Now, where was I?”

“You were about to let me and Gideon go.” Ignoring the pain in his head that throbbed in rhythm with his heart, Finn jutted out his chin. “Before you get hurt.”

Iona grinned. “I do so admire the Tuatha De Danaan arrogance. Here you are, threatening
me
and you're, like, what, eleven years old?”

“Thirteen!”

“Oh, that makes
so
much difference. Did you learn this attitude from your master, or were you just born this way?”

“Both,” said a deep voice.

Darting around Iona, Finn ran over to the prison cell. Gideon appeared. Reaching through the bars, they clasped hands. His master's grip felt both awkward and comforting at the same time.

“Are you all right, lad?”

“Of course, he's all right.” Iona strolled over. “I'm not a monster. I don't hurt children. Well, maybe just a little,” she amended. “Of course, these days, they're more hardy than you think.”

“Let him go, Iona. Do what you wish with me, but Finn is naught but a boy.”

She snorted. “He's more than
just a boy
, and you know it.”

“What do you want?” Finn asked.

“What do I want?” Iona fastened her eyes on him. A cold, calculating look marred her beauty. “Why, your blood. Every last drop
and
freely given. Then, I'll let your master go.”

“And just why do you want his blood?”

“Because I've recently discovered a spell. A spell that requires the blood of the Spear.” Pausing, Iona glanced back, then stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You see, not only does your apprentice's blood kill the beasts outright, but when used with this spell, it will also give me control over the minds of the Amandán without destroying them. Think zombie-like creatures with an affinity for underground work—the perfect slaves to re-open and work that old gold mine back in the hills.”

Something clicked in Finn's head—the image of Iona casting gold dust into the air before vanishing. Of golden threads flowing from her fingers. “You use gold as part of your magic.”

“Not
part
. It is the
source
of my magic. Why do you think I came to Colorado in the first place? For the skiing?”

“Why don't you just buy some gold?”

“Because raw gold, freshly mined from the earth, has incredible power. A power that mortals only dimly feel. They think its value lies in its beauty, when really it's something else. Something more primal.”

“Why not simply hire some modern-day miners to work the claim and share the profits with you?” Gideon asked.

“Because I don't want mortals to touch it. They would sully its purity and render it less powerful.” She smoothed her curls. “Plus, I am Iona of the Hills. I have a reputation to live up to, you know.”

“Aye, as a witch.” Gideon spat.

“I prefer the term
enchantress
.” She glanced from master to apprentice and back again. “So, here's the deal, kid. You agree to give me your blood, all of it, and I'll let your master go. I'll even make sure he gets his weapon back before he leaves my protection.” She waggled a finger at him. “But this must be
your
decision, Finnegan MacCullen, son of Fergus. That's the only way the magic will work. You have until midnight to decide.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I give your master to the goblins. In bite-size pieces. Of course, once he's dead, you still may not want to. Which means, I'll have to feed
you
to the Amandán as well,
and
I'll have to start all over again with a new plan, which is an extreme nuisance. But one must be ruthless to get ahead in this world.”

She spun on her heel and headed for the tunnel. “I'm going out for some fresh air. By the way, guards are posted at the entrance, so don't try anything,” she said over her shoulder before snatching a torch from the wall and disappearing into the black hole.

Thirty

“R
afe? Do you think they're alive? Finn and Mr. Lir?”

Rafe looked over at Savannah walking beside him on the trail. Even in the dim light of Lochlan's moonstone, he could see her face was coated with goblin dust mixed with dried sweat. “I don't know, Savannah. I hope so.”

Striding ahead of them with a knife in one hand and his stone in the other, Lochlan spoke over his shoulder. “We shouldn't have left them. We should have stayed and fought. I can't believe we just let the Amandán take them without—”

“We were outnumbered, boyo,” Mac Roth said for the fifth time, stumping along in the back as rear guard. “And I promised Lir before the beasties attacked that I would see the Steel children safely home.” Before Lochlan could complain some more, the Knight let out a growl. “So give yer tongue a rest, Lochlan O'Neill. We'll be going back as soon as I deliver these two to their da and mum.”

All four sighed with relief on reaching the ravine separating the woods from Gideon Lir's back yard. They paused at its edge. Lochlan tucked his moonstone in his pocket.

Mac Roth smiled down at Rafe and Savannah. “Ye've done well, today, bairns. Ye're as brave as any Tuatha De Danaan and a tribute to both Lir's training and yer people's bloodline. But now, ye're to go straight home,” he said in a firm voice, pointing with his dagger to the gate set in the stone wall a few yards away. “No striking out on yer own, trying to follow us. Ye promise?”

Savannah and Rafe glanced at each other. Then Rafe nodded. “We promise. We won't strike out on our own.”

“Give me yer hand on it, then.” The Knight shook one hand, then the other. With a nod, he turned and headed back to the hills.

“Be careful,” Savannah said to Lochlan. “I'd feel terrible if anything happened to you.”

Lochlan blinked in surprise. “Y-you would? Really?”

“Nah, not really.” She shrugged. “I was just being polite.”

Lochlan barked a laugh as he trotted after his master.

Rafe waited until the Knight and apprentice disappeared into the woods before turning to Savannah. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” he asked.

“Of course I am. And even though we promised Mac Roth not to strike out on our own…”

“…we
didn't
promise
not
to bring some backup,” Rafe finished.

“
Nants ingonyama bagithi
!” they shouted and raced each other to the gate.