Gideon's Spear (22 page)

* * *

“For once, will ye listen to me?” Gideon shouted, tightening his grip around the bars of the cell. He glared at his apprentice standing a few feet away, then rattled the door in frustration when Finn shook his head. “Ye know she'll not keep her word. Yer sacrifice will be for naught.”

“It'll get you out of here. Alive,” Finn yelled back. A faint tremor ran through his voice. “Seems like a pretty good deal to me.”

In the light of the bonfire, the Knight could see freckles standing out too starkly on Finn's pale face, hands fisted to hide their trembling.

Gideon's heart twisted.
Oh, lad. What makes you think I would ever trade your life for mine?
“Come here, Finn.” He sank down and leaned sideways against the bars. Finn joined him on the other side, their shoulders touching. “I'll think of something, boyo. Some way to get us
both
out of here.”

Finn nodded and sighed wearily. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Man, I feel like sh—”

“Mind your tongue.”

“I don't believe it.” Finn shook his head. “We are about to be fed to a bunch of Amandán if I don't agree to become a blood donor for that crazy witch, and you're telling me to
watch my language
?”

“Impending death is no excuse for poor manners.”

Sitting in silence for a few minutes, Gideon listened to the faint creaks of aged timbers settling into place. A breeze wafted from the tunnel, bringing the scent of night.
It's getting late. If I could just get free, then I could—

“I've got it, Gideon!” Finn leaped to his feet. “I know how we can get out of here.”

The Knight rose. He frowned as he listened to his apprentice's hurried explanation. “A wild strategy,” he said doubtfully.

“Well, do you have a better plan?”

Gideon started to speak when Iona's voice echoed from the tunnel, ordering the goblins to follow her. Master and apprentice looked at one another.

“Right. We'll do it your way.” Before Finn could walk away to take his position, Gideon reached through the bars and placed a hand on his apprentice's shoulder. “And, Finn?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Lay it on thickly or she'll not be believing us.”

Finn grinned. “Hey, I'm Irish, remember? I can lay on the blarney with the best of them.”

In spite of everything, Gideon laughed.

Thirty-One

W
ith a
bodhran
pounding in his chest, Finn waited to one side of the bonfire. He wiped sweaty palms on his jeans as the
twaptwap
of goblin feet on stone grew louder. The flames flickered, sending shadows dancing around the cavern.

Iona stepped out of the tunnel, the pack leader behind her. A dozen more Amandán followed and fanned out around the cavern.

“Time's up.” The sorceress halted in front of Finn. “So, what is your decision?”

“Let Gideon out first. And give him his knife back. Once he's free and armed, then I'll do, you know, what I should do.”

“No, Finn!” Gideon shouted, right on cue. “You will not sacrifice yourself for me.”

“It's the only way, master.” Finn turned away, head bowed and shoulders slumped in mock resignation. Behind him, Iona began giving orders.

“You. Unlock the door and let the Knight out. Oh, for Danu's sake, he's not going to bite you. But if he makes one false move, end him. You, go get his knife. I don't know—pick it up by the handle, I suppose. That part's wood, not bronze. No, you idiot, don't give it to him
now
. Wait until he's above ground.”

A chill went through Finn as Gideon was marched past him to the tunnel.
Crap—I was counting on him having his knife. Now what do I do? I need to find some way to
… His eyes fell upon another pile of old tools heaped on the ground near the tunnel entrance. Several short spikes, used a century ago to drill blast holes for dynamite, lay on top. He began edging toward his master.

“Stop right there.” Iona snapped her fingers at him. “Where do you think you're going?”

He turned around and pasted on his most wide-eyed innocent look. “I-I want to say goodbye before he leaves.”

“Finnegan MacCullen, for the last time, I order you not to…”

“Enough, Lir. He has obviously made his decision. Say your farewells and get out before I change my mind.” Iona crossed her arms over her chest, her foot tapping as she waited. “And spare me a melodramatic scene.”

Finn dashed over. Gideon opened his arms with a dramatic gesture and swept him into an embrace. For a moment, the hug was real.

“Change of plans,” Finn whispered. “I'm going to go for that spike by the wall.”

“Be fast. Be fearless,” Gideon murmured in his ear. “But if you get an opportunity to flee, take it. And, for once, obey me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You're just saying that, aren't you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Finn could feel his master's chest rise and fall with an involuntary chuckle. A final squeeze, then Gideon let go and stepped back. The Amandán crowded close.

Pretending to be overcome by emotion, Finn buried his face in his hands and stumbled away. He dropped to his knees by the jumble of tools.

With hands still covering his face, he began chanting. “I am a spear on the attack, pouring forth combat,” he whispered.
No, I am
the Spear
on the attack
, he thought.
You wanted the Spear? Well, here it comes
. Strength from the Song poured into his back, then flowed down his arms.

He lunged for the spike. With a quick slash, he dragged the pointed tip across his palm. Blood welled up. He hissed at the pain. The words
tetanus shot
flashed through his mind. Switching hands, he did the same thing on his other palm. Eyes watering, he leapt to his feet and spun around.

“
Faugh a ballagh
!” With a cry, he slapped his hands on the two nearest Amandán.

They went down in a tangle, limbs flapping and muzzles spewing foam. The other goblins flung themselves back in an effort to avoid him. Finn pressed closer, slapping at anything with green fur. Spotting the Amandán holding his master's knife, he charged. The beast dodged to one side and started to make a run for the tunnel. In desperation, Finn clawed at its retreating back. He missed, then lunged again. His bloody fingers raked down its spine. With an ear-splitting cry, it convulsed in agony. The weapon spun from its flailing paw, flying toward the ceiling in a flash of bronze.

Gideon snatched it out of mid-air.

Shouting the Song, the Knight stabbed the goblin nearest to him, then ducked under another as it lunged for his face. Using his shoulder as a battering ram, he drove it backward into its companions and dove for Finn's side. Shoulder to shoulder, they backed toward the tunnel. The Amandán milled around in front of them, wary of both knife and Spear.

“Out of my way, you idiots!” The Amandán parted. Iona appeared. Her face was twisted into a horror-movie mask. Raising both hands, she pointed at them. Gold threads shot out from the tips of her fingers. The strands twisted and coiled together, forming a pair of gleaming ropes. With undulating movements, they zoomed through the air toward the Tuatha De Danaan.

The Knight lifted his knife. “Flee, boyo. Now!” With a free hand, he pushed Finn toward the black hole.

“Yeah, right,” Finn retorted, digging in his heels. He raised his hands. The cuts throbbed and burned.

Iona called out in a strange language with not enough vowels and too many consonants for Finn's taste. The ropes reared up like cobras preparing to strike.

Then they did.

The first rope whipped through the air. It lashed Gideon across the face, leaving a bloody welt along his cheek before wrapping itself around the Knight's throat like a noose. Gideon slashed at the rope, careless of the skin under his jaw. His blade bounced off. He cut at it again. No use. It encircled his chest as well as his neck; golden flickers danced along the rope as it moved. The knife tumbled from his grip. Grasping the rope, he tried to pull it loose, muscles straining. Still struggling, the Knight fell to his knees. Blindly, he searched the ground with a free hand for the fallen blade. His face reddened.

“Gideon!” Finn leaped for his master. At that moment, the second rope snapped around his wrists, trapping his hands. Cursing, he strained to pull at least one arm free. At another command from the sorceress, the rest of the rope whipped around his body and pinned his legs together. Finn flung himself from side to side. Losing his balance, he fell backward, whacking his head on the stone floor. For a moment, he lay stunned. With bleary eyes, he watched Iona walk over to them.

She peered down at the Knight, still kneeling on the ground, then gestured at the rope. “Oops, too tight.” She waited until Gideon hitched in a breath. “There. That's better. I want you to die slowly. It'll make more of an impression on your oh-so-impressionable apprentice.” She leaned closer. Finn could hear her whispering in his master's ear. “Too bad it has to end this way. We could have been a formidable team, you and I. No telling what we could have accomplished with my powers and your battle skills. It's not too late, you know.”

“Then, by the gods, kill me now,” Gideon rasped.

“
Tsk-tsk
. If you keep talking like that, I might think you don't like me very much. A lady can only take so much rejection, you know, before she gives up.”

“You were never a lady.”

Her eyes narrowed. Without another word, she straightened as the pack leader approached her with a question. “No, not yet,” she replied. “I've got a new plan. We'll keep the kid alive for now. We still might be able to convince him if we kill enough of his friends. Mac Roth and the others.”

A goblin guffawed. “Good. That big Knight could feeds the entire pack for a week.”

“I'd rather feast on those whelps,” snarled another. “I likes me meat young and fresh.”

Iona laughed. “You guys can start on this one. But, before you do…” She drew back her hand and struck Gideon across the face.

At the sound of the blow, a fist opened in Finn's chest, a fist releasing a monster made of black rage. Suddenly, his master's voice spoke in his head: a memory of the day he became an apprentice.

“We Celts,” Gideon had said, “be we Tuatha De Danaan or mortal, are famous for our tempers. And some, like you and I, are gifted with more than our fair share. You must let the rage go or it will be a black hobgoblin riding your back all your long life. I would know. And we've enough monsters to battle as it is.”

Finn clenched his jaw.
Bring on that hobgoblin
.

He squeezed his eyes tight, focusing on the heat welling up inside him. Even bound tightly, he could feel it surging from his chest, along his arms, and down his legs. His scalp tightened. Sweat popped out on his forehead and neck. A droplet ran down his face. It plopped with a sizzle on the stone floor. “I am a boar enraged,” he whispered, giving the warp spasm an extra boost. “I am a boar enraged,” he said again, louder.

Iona laughed again. One of the goblins shuffled over. “
Nar
, ya be no boar, but a wee piglet, all tied up for our supper.” It spat to one side, then drew back its hairy foot and nailed him in the ribs.

Finn cried out. Even as his eyes watered from the pain, he laughed soundlessly.

That blow was just what he needed.

* * *

Panting for breath, Gideon managed to wedge a thumb between the rope and his throat. Gaining a reprieve from the cord choking him, he glanced around. His knife lay forgotten near his knees. Even as he readied himself to lunge for it, the goblin kicked Finn.

At his apprentice's cry of pain, his own warp spasm, always simmering below the surface and eager to claim him, flared up. With a snarl, he lunged for the knife. Strengthened by the growing warp spasm, he slashed through the ropes. Again and again. Finally, they parted and fell away.

As he leaped to his feet, the warp spasm burst into a firestorm with a roar.

Engulfed in a red haze, Gideon stabbed at anything that moved. Or cowered. Or tried to flee. The air became thick with goblin ash. All the while, he snarled the Song through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Finn appeared beside him, red hair sticking out from his head in miniature spikes. Pieces of torn rope dangled like bracelets from his wrists. With a shrill “
Faugh a ballagh
,” he took out the first goblin he could reach.

Fighting to control his own rage, Gideon grabbed Finn's arm just as the boy started to charge the remaining Amandán huddled in the far corner of the cavern. He pulled him back.

“No, Finn,” he gasped. His throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. “We need to get out of here.” He dragged the apprentice toward the tunnel.

Finn struggled against his grip. “Iona,” he growled.

The Knight glanced about the cavern. “She's gone.”

Backing step by step, they reached the tunnel. Whirling around, Gideon grabbed a torch from the wall, then pushed Finn into the black gap ahead of him.

P
anting from both the steep slope of the tunnel and the aftermath of using his blood in the fight, Finn stumbled along in front of his master. The light from the torch in the Knight's hand did little to help him avoid rocks and timbers strewn along the tunnel. Every cut and bruise from the last eight hours screamed at him, begging him to just lie down and curl up into a ball. He almost said
yes
.

The angle of the incline grew steeper. Finn's legs wobbled. Vision blurring from dizziness, he blinked and shook his head.
I've got to hold on. Can't lose it now
. Catching a toe on a crack in the tunnel floor, he tripped and almost went down.

Gideon grabbed his elbow with the hand holding the knife. The other still held the torch. “Steady, boyo.” He squeezed past Finn. “I'll lead. Take hold of my belt. Keep upright and keep running.”