The Hound at the Gate (15 page)

“Mac Roth, wait—” Gideon tried again.

Before he could finish, Lochlan stepped out. Already dressed and with a large hunting knife in one hand, he joined them at the fire. “Do I have time for breakfast first?” He flapped his arms, warming
up. “And before you ask, yes, my arm is better. So, shouldn't we get going? I hear the goblins are sluggish in the cold—”

“I am sorry to tell you this, Lochlan,” Gideon interrupted, “but the hunt has been postponed.”

Lochlan froze, his arms extend in midair. “Since…since when?”

“What are you talking about, Lir?”

The look on his friends' faces made Finn feel like throwing up. The feeling grew worse while Gideon explained.

“Can't we go later today?” Lochlan asked in desperation.

“No, lad,” Mac Roth said. “I promised to help with the annual repairs on the barn.”

“Sorry, Lochlan,” Finn said. His heart twisted when his friend gave a curt nod.

“It
will
give your injury another day to heal,” Gideon pointed out. “There are plenty of goblins about. They'll still be there tomorrow.”

When Lochlan nodded again, eyes fixed on the knife in his hand, Finn made a silent vow.
I swear on Danu's name—this is the last time I do
anything
that messes with Lochlan earning his torc
.

“M
ore?” Gideon held out a cup of water as Finn jogged past, boxing into empty air.

“No, sir, I'm good.” Finn made another lap around the tents. His feet left streaks in the wet grass as the midmorning sun, having burned off the early clouds, worked on melting the frost. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he slowed to a walk, swinging his arms and panting from both the exercise and the high altitude.

“Then we best leave. Put your jacket on until we get there to stay warmed up.”

As Finn pulled on his fleece, Gideon studied his face. “Nervous?”

“Are you kidding?” He held up his fingers less than an inch apart. “I'm this close to throwing up.” He grinned weakly when Gideon eased a step back.

“'Tis the same for all of us. Fear is blackest right before the battle.”

“Even for you?”

“Oh, aye.” He shook his head at Finn's snort of disbelief. “You think becoming a Knight means you leave dread behind? It does not.”

“So, how do you deal with it?”

“Why, ye shake yer fist in its face and tell it to get the ‘ell out of the road,” Gideon said with a mock growl in his voice. “
Faugh a ballagh
.”

“‘Clear the Way.'” Finn murmured the Irish war cry.

“Aye, boyo. Think of fear as simply another enemy to defeat.” With that, the Knight picked up the gloves and mouth guard and ushered Finn ahead of him.

Even before they got there, Finn could hear the murmur of voices. It sounded like the roar of the river churning through the gorge. Clearing the trees, they walked over to the crowd already forming a large circle in the middle of the field. As they eased through the throng, hands patted him on the back, reminding him of every scrape and bruise from yesterday's hurling match.

“Gideon!” Mac Roth's voice boomed over the hubbub. The Knight waved at them from a few yards away and pointed to the ground in front of him. Next to him, Lochlan stood holding Mac Roth's old-fashioned canteen. Nearby, the
Rath
stood in a row, all three wearing their gold cloaks. Toryn Mull nodded gravely before turning his focus back to the center of the circle, while Martin O'Neill stared fixedly ahead. On the far side of the chieftain, Kel O'Shea leaned forward and flashed Finn a quick smile. Beyond her, a few rows back, Tara stood craning her neck as she talked to another girl.

After dumping his jacket on the ground at Mac Roth's feet, Finn held up his hands. He peeked around while his master laced up the boxing gloves. Across the grassy circle, Ennis shifted from foot to foot, smacking his gloves together while Tully spoke to him in an undertone.

Gideon gave a final tug on the lace. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, sir.” Finn began bouncing on his toes, unable to stand still another second.

“Tell me.”

“Gloves up. Chin down. Move my feet. Remember to breathe.”

“Your cousin is taller, so be wary of his longer reach.”

Still jogging in place lightly, Finn nodded, eyes on Ennis. He sucked in a shaky breath, then another, trying to calm his galloping pulse. A high-pitched whine filled his ears. He stopped moving when Gideon placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close until their foreheads were almost touching.

“Do you want me to call this off, lad?” his master whispered.

Yes, please, before I get the crap beat out of me!
“N-no. I can handle him.” He looked up, forcing a smile that he was sure looked more like a grimace. “I be the
Spear
, ye ken?” he said, trying for the best brogue he could.

“Aye. I ken.” Gideon gave Finn's neck a squeeze, then stepped back.

Dennis O'Donnell walked into the circle. He waited until the crowd settled down, then motioned the two apprentices to join him. They faced each other, both bouncing in place to stay warm. “If it weren't for Ennis being taller, I couldn't tell you two MacCullens apart,” he joked, signaling for the traditional exchange of insults.

“It's easy.
I'm
the good-looking MacCullen,” Finn said loudly, thankful his voice didn't crack.

“Is that what your half-breed mommy told you?” Ennis sneered.

“No, that's what
your
mommy told me.”

His heart swelled when Lochlan shouted, “Finnegan, one. Ennis, zero!” The spectators laughed.

Ennis slammed his gloves together. “You're going down. Hard.”

O'Donnell waved a hand for silence. “All right, boys. Here's the rules. Straight-up fighting—nothing below the belt. Clean punches only. You will fight two three-minute rounds, with a break between. First one on the ground loses. If neither of you go down, we call it a tie and then it's done. Now, go back and wait by your masters for the signal.”

Finn jogged back over. He nodded as the people around him wished him luck.
They probably think I'm going to need it
, he thought as
he watched Ennis take a swig from a water bottle his master held for him.

“Open.” Gideon placed a mouth guard in between Finn's teeth. “Neither of you will be able to chant the Song with those in your mouths.”

Finn nodded. He bit down to adjust the guard, then jogged to the center of the circle and stood facing Ennis. A hush fell over the spectators. All Finn could hear was his breath rasping in and out around the mouth guard. He raised his gloves and tucked his chin.

“You may begin when the word is given.” O'Donnell stepped back. “And…NOW!”

Finn staggered a step as Ennis's right glove hammered into his, trying to both break through Finn's defense and break his nose. Shock waves zinged up his arm and into his shoulder. He punched back, landing a solid blow to Ennis's jaw that stunned him more than his cousin. As he sidled to one side, avoiding the other boy's jab, he was suddenly aware of the crowd cheering.

A spark of hope fluttered inside of him.
He's not as fast as Gideon. Maybe I won't get beaten too bad
. The taller boy swung again. Finn ducked under the punch and came up fast while his opponent was off-balance, just like his master had taught him. He hammered at Ennis's gloves in a flurry of blows, driving him back. The look of surprise on his cousin's face blew the spark of hope brighter.
Yeah, that's right, jerk face. I've learned a thing or two since we were kids
. He danced from side to side and smacked his gloves together, silently telling Ennis to Bring. It. On.

Ennis obliged. Lowering his head, he plowed into Finn. A white-hot pain almost tore Finn in half when a glove sledgehammered his ribs. Gasping for breath, he pushed away, struggling to suck enough air through his nose. Each breath was a knife cut.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Finn struggled to land a blow while trying to block Ennis's punches. Both boys were breathing hard, T-shirts stained with sweat. Ennis's lips were swollen
from a glancing blow, while Finn's ribs ached more and more with each passing second.

“Time!” O'Donnell stepped between them and pushed them toward their masters. “Water break.”

Staggering over to his master on wobbly legs, Finn let Gideon pull the guard from his mouth. He spat to one side, his pulse thundering in his ears.

“What hurts the worse?” the Knight asked.

“My-my ribs,” Finn panted. “But not too bad.” Grateful for the chance to gingerly suck in a full lungful of air, he nodded when Lochlan offered the canteen.

Gideon took it and held it up for Finn. “Sip slow. Just a few swallows. Do you want to continue?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah.” He opened his mouth for the guard when O'Donnell signed the break was over.

“Three more minutes, boyo. Remember, he is just as weary and hurting as you are.”

I can last three more minutes
, Finn thought as he moved toward his opponent.
Or less, if I can bring him down
. Forcing his tired legs to keep moving, he circled around Ennis. His gloves felt like someone had poured concrete into them during the break. Sweat ran down his forehead, blurring his vision and stinging his eyes. He scrambled back as Ennis rushed him again, trying to use his superior weight against the younger boy.
The guy charges like a bull
, Finn thought. A sudden idea exploded in his head.

Dropping his gloves slightly in mock weariness, he pretended to waver. Ennis charged, right hand already swinging. Dropping lower into a crouch, Finn stepped inside Ennis's reach.

With a lightning-fast jab, he popped Ennis under his chin. The boy's head snapped back so hard Finn thought he heard vertebrae pop. Stunned, Ennis stumbled back on his heels, wind-milling his gloves for balance.

Still in a crouch, Finn drove with his legs, putting everything he had into the blow.

SMACK!

The force of the punch to his chin spun Ennis clear around, tangling his legs. He crashed to the ground. Shaking his head in disbelief, he rolled over and gaped up in astonishment.

Just as astounded, Finn stared down. He stepped back when O'Donnell waved him off. The Knight knelt down. As he spoke to the older boy, Finn became aware of cheers and shouts from the crowd. As well as a few angry voices. He stiffened when he caught a few “halfer” remarks. Exhaustion threatened to drop him to the ground next to his cousin. Swiping the sweat from his face with the back of his glove, he watched as O'Donnell hauled Ennis to his feet and clapped him on the back.

At that moment, Toryn Mull walked into the ring. He gestured for both boys to stand before him. “Now, 'tis finished. I want no more trouble with ye two.” He waited until they both nodded, then sent them back to their masters.

On legs complaining about having to walk, much less keep him upright, Finn shuffled back to where Gideon waited with a look of pride. Next to him, Lochlan jumped up and down, shouting, while Mac Roth was taking money from another Knight with a grin.

“
Gle mhaith
, lad.” Gideon gently removed Finn's mouth guard. “Hold out your hands.” He began unlacing the gloves. After pulling off the first one, he handed Finn the canteen, then began working on the other. As Finn gulped down the
slainte
nettle tea, spilling more down his shirt than he actually got in his mouth, the audience dispersed around them. A few stragglers remained, including O'Shea and Tara.

Nearby, Tully was ripping at the ties on Ennis's gloves, the whole time snarling at his apprentice. The apprentice stood, swaying at each jerk, exhaustion in his stance. With a final tug, the Knight gave up. He spat something at the older boy, then spun around and stormed off. Catching Finn looking at him, Ennis stiffened, then began following after his master.

“MacCullen.” Gideon beckoned to the older apprentice. Ennis hesitated, then walked over. At a quiet word from the Knight, he held up his hands.

As his master worked on the stubborn laces, Finn watched, swirling the half-empty canteen. Suddenly, he found himself moving even before he realized his heart had made the decision. As the first glove came off, he held out the canteen.

“Want a drink?”

Ennis's eyes widened. “Uh, yeah.” He took the container. “Thanks.” Taking a quick sip, he started to hand it back when Finn shook his head.

“Go ahead and finish it.”

Ennis gulped the rest. He sighed in relief, then passed the container back. With a polite word of thanks to Gideon, he gathered up his gloves and left. Finn watched him head back to the campsite.
I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost
. A shoulder bumped his.

“What made you offer a drink to your cousin?”

“The same thing that made you help him with his gloves.”