The Hound at the Gate (11 page)

“Come out of there, kid, before you get hurt.” O'Donnell, one eye already turning blue-black and swelling shut, pulled him free. He looked Finn up and down. “Well, more hurt than you already are.”

At his words, Finn became aware of a pair of bloodied elbows, an abrasion along his back, a cut lip that continued to seep blood, and a kneecap that creaked as if someone had pried it up, looked underneath, then slammed it back down again.

He felt wonderful.

Grinning at the babble of voices behind bragging about the point or complaining about the loss, he shook his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “Ye gods, that was intense!” He glanced back at the crowd. “Hey, where's Gideon?”

O'Donnell looked up, then stiffened. “Oh, crap. They're going to kill each other this time!” He took off at a sprint across the field.

At the Knight's words, Finn whirled around.

In the center of the field, Gideon and Tully circled each other, hurleys tossed to one side and fists raised. The younger Knight's nose was already bleeding. As Finn watched, frozen in place, his master punched the younger Knight in the jaw with a right cross. Tully's head snapped back. Staggering a step, he raised his arms just in time to block Gideon's left fist. He ducked under the next blow and hammered the older Knight in the ribs.

Even from a distance, Finn swore he could hear the thud of impact. He found himself running after O'Donnell.
They're going to kill each other this time
kept echoing through his head. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spied Toryn Mull racing from the barn area.
It's going to take more than those two guys to stop Gideon, especially if the warp spasm's got him
.

Finn's heart leaped when a huge figure appeared from the far side of the field. Mac Roth. Barreling along with a speed that belied his bulk, the red-headed giant pounded toward the two combatants. A few yards behind, Lochlan struggled to keep up.

Skidding to a halt at the edge of the fight, Finn stood panting for breath. Lochlan joined him, his friend's shaken expression a mirror of his own. They watched as Mac Roth shoved between Gideon and Tully, placing a massive paw on each of their chests. With a grunt, he thrust them apart.

Eyes wild, Gideon slapped aside the restraining hand. He snarled something in Gaelic. Next to Finn, Lochlan gasped in shock.

“What did he say, Lochlan?” His eyes widened when Lochlan leaned over and whispered it in his ear, too embarrassed to say it out loud. “Whoa,” Finn breathed, half-stunned and half-impressed.

Meanwhile, Mull had dragged Tully back a few steps while O'Donnell kept a firm grip on Gideon's arm. Mac Roth stood like a mountain between them, daring either of them to make a move.

“Lucky thing that Mac Roth showed up, Lir,” Tully taunted over the chieftain's shoulder.

Chest heaving, Gideon struggled against O'Donnell's hold. “Lucky for
ye
. Or they would have sung songs over yer burial mound this very evening.”

“Take him back to camp,” Mull instructed Mac Roth. “I'll deal with this one.”

As the leader of the
Rath
began speaking to Tully in an undertone, Mac Roth stepped over to Gideon. Finn noticed a faint smile in the red beard. “Why, it cannot be a true Festival of the Hunt without a fight or two, eh?” he said with a wink to the apprentices. “First you boyos this morning, and now these two.” Clapping a hand on Gideon's shoulder, he chuckled. “At least this time, I dinna have to toss our fine Knight here into the river to cool his temper.”

“Thoughtful of ye,” Gideon said hoarsely. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then ran a hand down his face. “Ye gods,” he sighed. “'Twas a right powerful warp spasm, that was, eh, Finn?”

“That's for sure.” Finn nodded back. Something about the savagery of the men bothered him. It was like he was starting to see yet another side of his master that he never knew before. He didn't know if he liked it or not.

As if reading his thoughts, Gideon beckoned to him. “Come.”

Finn walked closer. “You okay?”

“Oh, aye.” His master squeezed his shoulder. “Just a brawl, nothing more. And congratulations on your point.”

“Yeah, good thing he scored,” O'Donnell said. “Since it looks like the match is over. I'll chalk that up as a win.”

Gideon nodded toward the
Rath's
platform. “Now, fetch our clothing, there's a good lad. Lochlan, go with him.”

The boys jogged toward the piles of shirts. Finn kept glancing back over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Tully arguing as Mull continued to speak with him. A cold finger stroked his spine when the younger Knight glowered across the field at him. In spite of his guts roiling around inside of him from the malicious glare, Finn raised his chin and stared right back.

Hold your ground, Finnegan MacCullen
, Gideon had instructed him more than once.
Stand firm on the field of battle or by the side of your convictions. And if life hands you a beating, take it on your feet
.

Finn shook himself in relief when Tully spun around and stormed off, Mull trailing behind. Snagging his and Gideon's shirts, he hesitated a moment, then picked up O'Donnell's as well. He and Lochlan hurried back to meet the trio of Knights still making their way across the field toward the platform. Other Knights and apprentices eyed them as they passed.

As they gingerly pulled on shirts over cuts and scrapes, Kel O'Shea ambled over, her apprentice at her side. “Too bad Mac Roth showed up. I was betting on you to win, Gideon.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Gideon tugged his shirt in place, then looked around for his knife. He gave a nod of thanks when Lochlan unearthed it and the rest of their belongings. “How much was the wager?”

“Fifty bucks.”

“Fifty bucks?” O'Donnell let out a low whistle. “Would you have bet that much if it were me?”

“Why, of course, Denny.” She smiled up at him. “Fifty bucks
against
you, that is.”

“Nice win.” Tara joined Finn and Lochlan.

Finn shrugged, then winced when his shirt rubbed against raw skin. “I got lucky with that pass from O'Donnell. Um, Tara? This is Lochlan O'Neill. He's apprenticed to—”

“We already met,” Lochlan cut him off, a cold look on his face. To Finn's surprise, Tara scowled back.

What the heck?
Finn thought.
How do they know each other?

“I didn't see you playing, O'Neill,” Tara said. “Too rough a sport for you?”

Lochlan stiffened. Red splotches flared on his cheeks. Before he could answer, O'Shea called Tara's name. She grinned and sauntered away, following her master back toward the archery event.

“I was practicing tracking!” Lochlan shouted after her. He huffed out a breath in frustration when she turned and made a “whatever” sign, then continued on. “She is such a…a…” he sputtered.

“That's for sure.” Finn watched her all the way back to the barn.

T
he Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: Thursday, Sept 19

Since we got here to the Festival this morning, I've been stalked by an Amandán, almost got kicked out by the
Rath
, fought with my cousin, won a hurling match (I think), watched Gideon get in a fight (creepy), and met another apprentice who's even more hot-headed than I am. And it's not even supper yet.

What I Learned Today:

Rath
= council

Rí
= king

Ennis MacCullen = trouble

Jack Tully = more trouble

The reason the
Rath
is so strict about pulling a knife (or any blade) on another Tuatha De Danaan is because, with so many weapons around, it's easy for things to get out of hand. Gideon said centuries ago, Knights and even apprentices used to get killed at these Festivals.

I'm really glad Gideon and Tully weren't packing.

Lying on his stomach on his cot, Finn closed his journal. Just as he was tucking it under the edge of his sleeping bag nearest to the canvas wall, Lochlan slipped inside the tent.

“What's that?” Lochlan walked over to his own cot and flopped down. The wooden frame creaked.

“What's what?”

“That book. The one you just hid under your bag.”

“Just a book.” Pushing off his cot, he winced at his scrapes and bruises, then stood in the narrow space between the two beds and pulled out his backpack out from under the cot. Pretending to be looking for something, he rummaged around inside of it. “When are we going to eat? I'm starving!”

“We're heading over to the barn in a few minutes. They're having a big feast there.”

“Boyos!” Mac Roth shouted from outside the tent. “Come along.”

Finn and Lochlan grabbed their jackets and slipped out. The tall aspens cast long bars of shadow across the campsite as the sun sank over the western pass. Halfway up in the sky, a pale but full moon waited impatiently to trade places with the sun. Wood smoke perfumed the early evening air as the fire snapped and popped in its circle of stones.

In front of the Knights' tent, Gideon sat holding a dripping cloth to his face. At his feet was an open jar of
sláinte
nettle brew.

Finn walked over. “He really did a number on you.”

“Why, no more than I did to him.” Gideon pulled the cloth away. A bruise darkened his left jawbone. “This was from a hurley, not Tully's fist. And how are you feeling?”

“Just a little stiff. Not too bad.” Finn picked up an extra cloth, dipped it in the jar, and began dabbing at a battered elbow. He could feel his master studying him.

“Something troubling you?”

“No.”
Yes
.

“Bold-faced liar.” The Knight pointed to the chair beside him.

Finn sank down. Stalling for time, not wanting to appear a wimp, he watched as Mac Roth, with Lochlan's help, began fishing dozens of round objects wrapped in aluminum foil out of the coals. “What are those?”

“Baked potatoes. Our contribution to the feast tonight. And you are avoiding my question.”

Finn hesitated, then spoke. “Jack Tully is…freaky creepy.”

“Aye. He has a dark nature.” Gideon's brows pinched together. “I worry for your cousin.”

His mouth sagged open. “For…for
Ennis
? He's worse than he ever was!”

“Have you two always been at odds?”

Finn thought back to growing up in his aunt and uncle's crowded family of nine children. “Yeah, pretty much. He didn't like me much. He was always picking on me, hitting me, and telling the other guys to call me halfer when my aunt and uncle weren't around.”

“Well, it appears Tully has been
encouraging
that side of Ennis's nature.”

“Why does Tully hate you?”
And me?

“Because, lad,” Mac Roth spoke up before Gideon could answer. “Years ago, at another Festival, Tully was using his newly acquired status as a Knight to harass some apprentices just a year or two younger than himself, as green Knights are apt to do. However, a prank got out of hand, and an apprentice was seriously injured. Lir got wind of it and confronted Tully one afternoon when no one else was around.”

“What happened?” Finn asked, already certain he knew.

Mac Roth snorted. “What do you think? It started with knives. You probably noticed the scar on Tully's face—”

“I thought we weren't supposed to use knives against each other,” Lochlan said. “Toryn Mull jumped on our cases this morning about it.”

“Aye. And both Lir and Tully were banned from the Festival for ten years because of it.”

So that's how he ended up hunting with my dad during those Festivals
, Finn thought.
Gideon wasn't around
.

Mac Roth continued. “Fortunately, the fight ended with fists. By the time the rest of us got there, the warp spasm had captured your master so thoroughly that it took everything I had to stop Lir from pounding on an unconscious Tully. Since then, the two of them have been bitter enemies.” He looked pointedly at Gideon. “He still wants revenge for that.”