The Hound at the Gate (29 page)

“I'll bid ye farewell, then, Gwydion Lir, son of Black Hand. The last leaf fall shall mark the first task. Remember, he must not fail any. Or he is mine.”

He bowed his head. “Lady.” He waited until she walked over to the
Rath
and began speaking with them. Then, with a silent sigh of relief, he hurried over to Finn. The apprentice was hanging on to the platform as if his legs were having trouble holding him upright. His eyes widened as Gideon approached.

“Well?” Finn asked, a faint quaver in his voice. “Do I have to go or…?”

Gideon wrapped a hand around the back of the boy's neck and pulled him close, their foreheads touching. “Ye will stay with me, son,” he whispered.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

With a final squeeze, Gideon let go and stepped back, clearing his throat while Finn swiped an arm across his face. He raised a brow in amusement when the boy mumbled something about dust bothering his eyes.

“So, is that it?” Finn asked. “The
Rath
just changed their minds?”

“Not quite. We've some difficult days ahead—” Gideon paused when the goddess finished speaking with the
Rath
. He waited until she strolled past them without a glance. A low boom, a puff of smoke, and she vanished.

“What do you mean,
difficult days
?”

“The
Scáthach
has agreed to—” Reining in his frustration, Gideon stopped again when, a moment later, the Council walked over.
I best get this over with
. “Martin O'Neill.” He held out a hand to the man. “My gratitude for what you did for Finn.”

O'Neill shrugged. “I didn't do it for him. I did it for…someone else,” he said stiffly. Ignoring Gideon's proffered hand, he left.

O'Shea shook her head as she watched him head back toward the campsite. “I still can't believe O'Neill did that. By the Goddess, I'm
still
in shock.”

“As am I.” Mull clasped forearms with Gideon. “And since the Festival has ended, I'll be taking me leave after I inform the others of the
Rath's
decision. We will speak more in the coming days, Gideon. Finnegan.” With a nod for the apprentice, he turned and followed O'Neill.

“Well, this was certainly the most insane Festival ever.” O'Shea slipped out of her cloak and draped it over one arm. “Guess I'd better go see if Tara's done packing up our gear. By the way, Gideon,” O'Shea said with a grin. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“Apprentices. And the free labor. Finn, I may be seeing you sooner than later.”

With a wink, she, too, headed for the campsite. She waved a greeting at Mac Roth and Lochlan hurrying past, the apprentice carrying a bulging plastic bag. Gideon watched her until Finn jiggled his arm.

“Gideon? What's going on? What did she mean by—?” He grumbled when Mac Roth arrived and began talking.

“I take it by the lad's presence that you dinna need my help after all,” the giant boomed. “Did the
Scáthach
change her mind, then?”

“In a way,” Gideon said. “But there is more to it.”

“Then we shall feast whilst you tell us the tale.”

Taking seats on the platform, the Knights made themselves comfortable while the boys sat on the grass at their feet. Lochlan handed out apples and handfuls of trail mix. While everyone crunched away, Mac Roth used his hunting knife to slice chunks of cheese from a round wheel.

Gideon looked dubiously at the wedge presented to him balanced on the flat side of the blade. “I trust you cleaned the blade before using it on our food.”

“And what kind of Knight are you to shy away from a sprinkling of goblin dust? The Goddess knows we've all eaten our share during battle.”

Taking the slice, Gideon blew it somewhat clean, then popped it in his mouth. “The
Scáthach
has agreed to a solution. Proposed by your father, Lochlan.”

Lochlan choked. “Y-you're kidding.”

“I am not.” He gazed down at Finn. “Finn, because of Martin O'Neill's suggestion, you will be allowed to complete your apprenticeship where you began it. At my side.” Gideon paused, then added, “With a stipulation.”

“What's a
stipulation
?” Finn asked.

“A condition or requirement. Actually, more than one. You will need to successfully complete a series of tasks or trials to prove to
the
Scáthach
that you are being trained as you should. In a way, those will be tests not only for you, but for me as well.”

“What tasks?” Finn's voice cracked.

“She dinna tell me.”

“What happens if I don't pass them?”

“You
will
pass them, I promise you that.”

“But what if I don't?” he pressed.

Gideon hesitated. “Then she will claim you,” he said softly. “You will be taken away to train under her guidance until you come of age.”

“Can I help?' Lochlan asked.

Gideon smiled down at him. “In a way, you have, Lochlan O'Neill. The idea of the tasks was your father's. 'Twas a right clever compromise that allowed Finn to remain with me and for the
Scáthach
to claim her right if needed.”

Lochlan frowned. “Why would he do something like that? Being nice to Finn isn't exactly his style.”

“I think your father did it for you.”

“You mean, my dad came up with that just to—what—
impress me
?”

“Every man,” Mac Roth said, “wants to be a champion in his child's eyes.”

As Lochlan chewed on that notion along with the rest of his apple, a new worry poked at Gideon. It must have shown. Or his old friend knew him too well.

“What has put another thundercloud on yer brow?” Mac Roth asked.

“The Steel family,” Gideon said. “I am still uneasy about the Amandán coming after them. We could use additional help guarding them.” He hesitated, knowing what was coming next. “Kel O'Shea has offered to help us.” He winced when Mac Roth poked him in the ribs.

“Why, grand 'twill be to have her company more in the coming months. Eh, Lir?” Another poke. “Eh?”

“Ah, shut yer yap.”

The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: Sunday, Sept 22

It seems like we've been gone for four
years
, not just four days. All the way home today, Gideon and I tried to guess what the trials were going to be. Mac Roth came up with a good idea—he's going to do some research about what the other heroes (I
hate
that term!) did when they trained with the
Scáthach
and see if there are any clues. I always forget he's good at that sort of thing—he did a bunch of research about the Spear this past summer.

It's like what Gideon told me last week—that we Tuatha De Danaan have two sides. Sure, we're all warriors, but Gideon is also a singer, Mac Roth is also a scholar, and Lochlan is really good at languages (he's going to tackle Spanish next).

I didn't tell Gideon, but I'm really freaking scared about the trials. What if I fail? I don't think I can take spending years with the
Scáthach
. I know it's supposed to be this big honor and all that, but it feels more like a punishment to me. And what would I learn from her that I can't learn from Gideon, anyway? Why can't everyone just leave me alone and let me be…
me
?

You know. The halfer.

I wonder—did
they
know? Did my mom and dad know about the legend? If they did, would they have kept it a secret? Or would they have sent me to the
Scáthach
?

Lying in his bed with the pillows bunched behind him, Finn stared down at the last few sentences. He sighed, then closed his journal and placed it on the bedside table. A moment later, knuckles rapped on his half-opened door.

Gideon's head appeared. “Unpacked and showered?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Right.
Codladh sumh
, then.”

“Hey, Gideon? Can I ask you something?”

His master stepped over to the bed. Nudging Finn's legs out of the way, he took a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Is it about the trials?”

“Well, kind of. Just something I've been wondering about.” He kept his eyes locked on the far corner of the room. “Do you think my dad and mom knew? About the whole me-being-the-Spear thing?”

Gideon rubbed his chin. “I do not know. And I have spoken about that very subject with Mac Roth, since he knew your da—he does not know for certain, either.” He paused, then continued. “However, you
should
know that when your Uncle Owen contacted me to ask if I would take you as my apprentice, he mentioned that Fergus MacCullen had expressed a wish that his son train with me. I dinna think anything of it at the time, but now…” He shrugged.

“So maybe he knew about the legend after all.” For some reason, knowing his father wanted him to live and learn with the Knight made Finn's heart lighter.

“Perhaps.” Gideon rose. “But I do know that a certain apprentice has a full day of training ahead of him tomorrow, and that particular apprentice had best get some sleep.”

“But we just got home this evening.” Finn stifled a yawn. “Don't I get a day off?”

“Why, certainly.” He headed to the door.

“Really?”

“Aye. You can do chores instead.”

Finn groaned.

“H
ey, Finn!”

Walking up the porch steps with the morning newspaper in hand, Finn paused and squinted into the sun. He brightened at the sight of Rafe jogging across the street toward him. Entering the yard through the wrought-iron gate, Rafe closed it behind him with a
clang
and a tug, making sure it was secure.

“Don't you have school?” Finn asked as the boy approached with his easy grin.

“Teacher work day—Dad already left.” With a loping stride, Rafe took the steps two at a time. “I saw your truck in the driveway, so I thought I'd come over and— Whoa!” He stared at Finn's face. “That must have been some Festival!”

He reached up and touched his cheek. “Wait till you hear the details.”

Rafe followed Finn inside. The aroma of toast and bacon summoned them to the kitchen. They obeyed. It
was
bacon, after all. “When did you guys get back?”

“Last evening.”

“So, how was it? Did Lochlan get his torc?”

Before Finn could answer, Gideon greeted the boy from his seat at the table. Breakfast dishes littered its surface. “Good morning, Rafe. Is your family well?” he asked as he opened the newspaper Finn had handed him.

“They're fine, thanks,” Rafe said vaguely as he tried not to stare at Gideon's fading bruises.

“Good.” With that, he rose and gestured at the dirty dishes. “Finn. The kitchen, then be ready to train in thirty minutes.” Taking his tea mug and paper with him, he disappeared into the living room, already scanning the front page. His desk chair squeaked a moment later.

Careful to make a face
after
his master had left the room, Finn plopped down in his usual spot while his friend took Gideon's chair. Rafe snagged another strip of bacon from a mostly empty platter, then pushed it over to his friend.

“The Festival?” Rafe prompted around a mouthful of pork.

“Yeah. Okay, first of all, when we got there—” Finn began.

A knock on the door interrupted him. They listened, then Rafe scowled at the sound of voices talking. “What's
she
doing over here?”

A moment later, Savannah sauntered in. She smiled a dimpled greeting, her face as warm and cheery as her yellow sweater. At her expression, a tingling started from the top of Finn's skull and trickled down all the way to the tips of his toes.

You like Savannah
, whispered a voice in his head.

So, what if I do?
He answered it back.

What about Lochlan? He likes her, too
.