The Hound at the Gate (13 page)

Lochlan didn't move. White spots appeared on either side of his mouth. Finn started to speak when his friend shook his head and stormed away in the opposite direction.

“Go with him,” Gideon said.

With a grateful glance at his master, Finn hurried after Lochlan. Weaving through the crowd, he reached his friend just as he stepped outside and fell in beside him.

Hands shoved in his pockets, Lochlan kept walking. He headed toward the river, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. “What do you want?”

“Just thought you'd want some company.”
And you shouldn't be outside by yourself
.

They walked in silence across the field, dragging their moon shadows behind them. The sounds of the feast faded as they reached the edge of the gorge, the growl of the churning water muting voice and music. Stray drops splashed Finn's face. He wondered why the
water seemed quieter at night. About ten yards upstream, the bridge, pale in the moonlight, seemed to float over the black chasm.

With a sigh, Lochlan bent over and collected a handful of rocks. He began pitching them across the chasm into the bushes on the far side.

Finn glanced over his shoulder at the barn. Light spilled from the open doors and through the gaps between the planks. He turned back and cleared his throat. “About your dad—”

At that moment, a hoarse caw sounded overhead. Both boys' heads jerked upward. On ebony wings, the crow circled overhead, so close Finn could see its yellow claws tucked tight against its belly. With a final croak, it soared over the river and disappeared into the treetops on the opposite bank.

Finn reached behind and whipped out his knife. Lochlan's own blade flashed in his hand. Side by side, they stared across the water. A willow shook violently. It stopped, then shook again. Then, a rock sailed out over a bush and landed on the ground next to them. It bounced away. A second one followed.

Finn frowned. “Something's trying to get our attention,” he whispered, peering into the shadows.

“Something's doing a good job,” Lochlan whispered back.

Then, the hairs on the back of Finn's neck stiffened as a stench filled his nostrils. His mouth went dry. “Don't move,” he breathed to Lochlan. Lochlan gave a curt nod and held his ground, knife at the ready. Holding his breath, Finn tightened the grip on his blade, and slowly turned around.

An Amandán stood a few yards away, swaying from side to side. “By bog and fog. Looks what we gots here.” It smacked its lips. “Supper.”

Gideon waited impatiently as Mac Roth straightened to his full height and scanned the crowd for a second time. “Well?” He frowned in frustration when the other Knight shook his head.

“No sign of either of them.” Mac Roth glanced toward the open door. “Do you think they returned to camp? A few other families have headed back already—perhaps our boyos went along.”

“Possibly,” Gideon said absently. He stepped up on a hay bale and looked around for himself, trying to catch a glimpse of red hair.
Of course, looking for a redhead in the midst of
this
crowd is like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack
. He hopped down. “Let's try outside.” His jaw tightened. “And if I find them wandering about alone in the night…”

“Make that
two
of us, Lir.”

After winding their way through the crowd, the Knights paused on the threshold and pulled their weapons free. A figure joined them.

“Arming yerself is never a good sign.” Toryn Mull raised his eyebrows in question.

“We've a pair of missing apprentices.” Gideon stiffened when an alarming thought shot through him. “And I did not see Jack Tully inside.”

“I did. Just a moment ago,” Mull said, poking a thumb over his shoulder. “He and young Ennis are in there even now.” He fought a smile and lost. “Our Knight is enjoying some of the
softer
foods, for 'tis not easy to chew with a sore jaw. Now, ye two go find yer lost lambs. Call out if ye need help.” He disappeared back inside.

“Where to start,” Gideon muttered under his breath. He walked farther away from the barn. After letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, he scanned the area.

“I'll go check our camp,” Mac Roth said. “Perhaps—”

“There!” Gideon pointed. Several figures stood by the river. Even as he watched, one of them turned. Bronze flashed in the moonlight.

Shifting his stance so that his back was against Lochlan's, Finn pointed his blade at the goblin. “We've got a problem,” he said over his shoulder.

“Um…make that
two
problems,” Lochlan said. A hollow thumping sound followed. “There's another stinky coming across the bridge.”

“Well, here's a chance to earn your torc.” Finn hoped his voice didn't sound as shaky as he felt.

“Wow. Lucky me.”

Finn swallowed through a dry mouth. “Remember to keep your knees bent. Stay loose.”

“Knees bent. Stay loose,” Lochlan repeated.

“Hang on to your weapon, no matter what.”

“Got it.”

“And keep your feet moving. Don't stand in one—”

“Dude, shut up! I'm trying to concentrate here!”

In spite of the terror making him wish he hadn't eaten so much, Finn grinned. “Shutting up.”

“Finally.”

Finn's smile fled when the Amandán curled back its lips, revealing yellow, square teeth. With a grin, it cracked its knuckles, then launched itself at him. Black-tipped fingers scrabbled for his face, eager to land the
poc sídhe
, the killing touch. He ducked, swinging his blade at the beast to keep it at bay. “Lochlan! Don't let it touch your face or head!”

“It's not my first fight, you know!” Lochlan shouted back. He thrust his knife at his attacker, catching it across the arm. The goblin howled from the burn of the bronze blade. The reek of scorched hair filled the night.

Just make sure it's not your last
, Finn thought. Dancing to one side to give himself fighting space, he tightened his grip on his weapon and began chanting the Song, the ancient words that gave his people strength and speed and endurance in battle.

I am a wind on the sea
,

I am a wave of the ocean
,

I am the roar of the sea
,

I am a bull of seven battles
,

I am a hawk on the cliff
,

I am a teardrop of sunlight
,

I am a gentle herb
,

I am a boar enraged
,

I am a salmon in a pool
,

I am a lake in a plain
,

I am the vigor of man
,

I am the meaning of poetry
,

I am a spear on the attack, pouring forth combat
,

I am the god who fires your mind
.

A tingling started at the soles of his feet. As he sang, the tingling grew. It rose, winding around his legs, did two loops around his torso, then shot out the tips of his fingers and even to the ends of his hair.

Still chanting, Finn lunged at the Amandán. Caught by surprise, the creature sprang backward. Dropping to all fours, it scurried to one side, using its long ape-like arms as a second pair of legs.

Finn charged again.
Make your weapon a part of you
, Gideon's voice whispered in his head. “…a spear on the attack,” he panted. Power sang through his body; his muscles seemed to swell, tightening his skin. With a cry, he pushed off the ground, arm extended like a spear, his knife the spear point.

The Amandán threw itself flat with a yelp. Finn soared over its head. Hitting the grass, he rolled once, then scrambled to his feet, stunned he had managed to hang on to his weapon. Swinging wildly as the goblin rushed him, he tripped and fell.

His elbow slammed against a rock. White-hot pain zinged along his arm, numbing his grip. Willing his fingers to hang on to the weapon, no matter what, he looked up in horror. A dark shape blotted out the stars. The goblin leaped for him, limbs splayed like a flying squirrel. In desperation, he stuck his knife out, both hands clasping the handle. He locked his elbows just as the Amandán landed on him. The impact almost buckled his joints in half.

With a moist
pop
, the goblin exploded. An ashy powder, smelling exactly like the sour stench of gym socks worn too many days in a row, smacked him in the face. Eyes burning, he staggered to his feet. A tiny part of his brain was thanking the gods that the touch of a bronze weapon, while it didn't kill the goblins outright, it did turn the creatures into piles of Amandán residue. Temporarily, that is. Until the creatures' remains dissolved into the ground to reform and emerge from the earth again.
Hence, the term Bog-born
, Gideon had once explained.

A few yards away, an Amandán stood towering over Lochlan, who was down on one knee, blade in hand. Even as Finn sprinted toward him, the apprentice threw himself sideways, rolling out of reach of black-tipped fingers just in time. The goblin started for him again.

Desperate to redirect the Amandán's attack, Finn lifted the blade over his head and screamed. “
Faugh a ballagh!
” The beast whirled around.

For a moment, all Finn could see were the eerie green eyes of the goblin, glowing like a cat's. When it opened its mouth to snarl, threads of saliva dangled from its teeth. He almost gagged at the smell.

The goblin charged. Finn charged faster.

Whomp!
Dust blew everywhere. Waving his hand in front of his face, he looked around for Lochlan. He spotted him on the ground a few feet away, scowling.

“You okay?” Finn panted. Relief made him dizzy. He leaned over and rested his hands on his knees for a moment. “Ye gods, that was close! I didn't think I would reach you before—”

“You son of a goat!” Lochlan leaped to his feet, eyes wild with rage. “Why the heck did you do that?” he yelled.

Finn's jaw sagged. He stood speechless as Lochlan stormed over and waved his blade in Finn's face, almost nicking his nose.

“I almost had it!” Spit flew from Lochlan's mouth.

“B-but, I was trying to…” Finn's whisper trailed off. For a moment, he saw Asher's face overlaid on top of Lochlan's.

“Trying to
what
?” Lochlan's voice cracked. “Stop me from earning my torc? What—you can't stand a little competition? Heck, maybe I should just stab
you
!” He waved his knife again.

“Lochlan O'Neill!” called a deep voice. “Enough!”

Both boys looked up.

Mac Roth and Gideon were running toward them, weapons at the ready. They slowed as they drew nearer.

“Finn was simply trying to save your life.” Mac Roth gently forced Lochlan's knife arm downward. “And just what are you doing waving your weapon about like that, eh?”

With a curse, Lochlan whirled around and stormed off. Mac Roth exchanged looks with Gideon, then followed after his apprentice.
After a few strides, he caught up and draped an arm over the boy's shoulder. The pair disappeared into the darkness.

Finn waited as Gideon pulled out his moonstone. Light swelled. He swept the area with its beam. “Weapons all accounted for?”

Finn nodded absently. He kept his eyes fixed on the path Lochlan and Mac Roth had taken.
Does he really think that? That we're in competition with each other?
This
is what I get for saving his life?
A faint resentment dug at him.

Gideon slipped the stone back into his pocket, then led the way back to their campsite. In the distance, voices and music continued to roll across the meadow from the barn.

As they walked with weapons drawn, their shadows ran before them, scouting the path. A cold breeze picked up and began blowing down from the western pass. Finn shivered from both the cold air and the hot anger of his friend.

“He hates me now.”

“'Tis the anger speaking, nothing more. And besides, I do not think Lochlan's bitterness is for you.”