Finn Finnegan (20 page)

Asher sighed and looked down, scuffing the dirt with the toe of his shoe. “Please? Please, let me go with you?” he whispered.

Mac Roth placed his huge paw on Asher's head. “No.” He pushed the boy back toward the outcropping, ignoring the rest of his pleas. “Stay here. And I want yer moonstone out, and in use.”

I don't like the guy
, Finn thought as he watched,
but I know how he feels. I'm sure glad I get to go, though
. Tightening his grip on his weapon, he walked over to Gideon. “Okay, I'm all set.”

“And just what do ye think ye're doing?”

“I'm…I'm going with you.”

Gideon shook his head and pointed toward the other apprentice. “No, ye are not. I want ye guarding Asher's back. And vice versa.”

Disbelief nailed Finn's feet in place. “But, that's not fair. I've earned my tore—I have a right to hunt with you!” His voice cracked in frustration.

“This isn't a bleedin' democracy,” Gideon growled back. “The only rights ye have are the ones I give ye. And tonight, I am giving ye the right to stay alive. Now, get yer arse over by that rock.”

Body rigid, Finn stomped over to Asher. He took a stance a few yards away from the other boy. Scowling, he muttered something under his breath, just low enough to avoid his master's wrath.

Gideon turned away, fighting a smile. He nodded at Mac Roth. They eased through the undergrowth surrounding the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness.

Finn blew out a long breath. His anger at being left behind drained away as he listened to the fading rustle of the departing Knights. He shifted from foot to foot as the woods grew silent.

Looking around, he noticed the remains of an old campfire, tucked back in a slight depression at the foot of the outcropping.
I guess this is a popular place
. He took a few steps away and glanced up at the rock towering over his head. As he watched, a barrage of fireworks exploded in a grand finale, then faded away.
Well, at least they can't: ambush us from behind
, he thought as he craned his neck, trying to gauge the rock's height.

“Nervous?” Asher said with a sneer in his voice. Without waiting for an answer, he hurled his knife across the clearing and buried its point deep in a sapling. The tree shuddered from the impact; a few leaves fluttered down.

“No. Why—are you?” Finn watched as Asher walked over and yanked the weapon free. “Is that why you keep messing around with your knife?”

“Just keeping my skills up. I might have to save your sorry butt tonight.”

Finn snorted. “Right. That's why the Knights left you in my care. I should get paid for all the baby-sitting I'm doing.” He studied the edge of his weapon. “I could buy a…” he began, then froze.

Branches snapped in the bushes at the far side of the clearing. As both apprentices stared wide-eyed into the night, a hulking figure rose from the center of the thicket. Its thick body was half-hidden in the underbrush. It swayed from foot to foot as if studying them, and then turned and crashed away, vanishing into a stand of pines. The lower branches waved wildly for a moment, then stilled.

Finn tensed. He tried to remember to breathe as he backed toward the cliff, his gut squirming and the knife held out in front of him. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow. Gravel rattled. He jerked his head around and stared down the trail, eyeing the far bend.

The path was empty.

“Finn.”

He whirled around at Asher's whisper. The other apprentice pointed toward the opposite side of the clearing. Finn nodded and eased over, matching Asher's cautious movements, as both boys pressed themselves against the rock wall. Standing side by side, they glanced at each other.

“Now, I get to see if you're really that good.” Asher fished in his pocket for the moonstone. He held it up. Light welled out from between his fingers. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he called.

In spite of himself, Finn laughed. Asher grinned back reluctantly, his sandy hair almost white in the moonstone's glow. Swinging his arm, he scanned the area. The beam darted from one shape to another, from tree to boulder to bush.

They jumped when the light caught a pair of eyes glowing neon green, like a cat's. The eyes seemed to float, bodiless, in the shadow of an ancient pine tree. Finn cursed when the eyes blinked and disappeared. Asher held the stone higher, widening the search. As branches cracked off to their right, faint laughter jerked their heads to the left.

“There's two,” Finn whispered.

“Or more.” Asher swallowed, his throat making a clicking sound. “Um … maybe we should find the Knights. Let them know where all the action is.”

“No way! Gideon'll kill me if I leave this spot.”

“Yeah, I suppose you're right.” Asher shook his head. “I'd rather face a whole pack of Amandán than Mac Roth when he's pissed off.”

Finn nodded as he squinted into the dark, grateful to be talking. To keep the fear at bay. “When Gideon is really mad, his accent gets so thick I can't understand him,” he joked, trying to keep his voice steady. “Once, when he was yelling at me for something, I thought he said to get him a broom. So, I did, and then he got even madder because he thought I was making fun of him.” Even as he spoke, Finn swiveled his head from side to side. He tightened his leg muscles to keep them from shaking.

“What did he really say?”

“‘Get to yer room.'” Finn shrugged. “Who knew?”

Their heads jerked up at the sudden
kaw-kaw
from overhead. Black shapes wheeled against the stars, blotting out the points of light.

With a roar, the goblin burst out the bushes in front of them. It barreled into them and knocked them aside like bowling pins. The boys tumbled apart. Asher's stone flew out of his hand and plunged the area into darkness.

“
Poc sídhe
,” the Amandán screeched, as it skidded to a halt. It swung around toward Finn.

A sour stench filled Finn's nostrils as the creature closed on him—it scrabbled for his face with black-tipped fingers. Dodging to one side, Finn twisted under the goblin's reach. “I am a spear on the attack, pouring forth combat,” he shouted. With a grunt, he thrust his blade into its side.

Letting go of the handle, he jumped back and squeezed his eyes tight. Powder coated his face. “Oh, gross!” He spat, trying to clear his mouth. “Man, they taste just like feet smell.” He blinked and wiped his watering eyes, then picked up the blade. “You okay?”

Asher nodded, scrambling to his feet. “Yeah, thanks.” He bent over and ran the fingertips of one hand back and forth across the ground; the other hand clutched his knife. He worked his way further from the rock to the edge of the clearing. After a few minutes, both boys breathed sighs of relief when the light blazed under Asher's palm. With a cry of triumph, Asher turned around and held it up.

As the beam flickered over Finn, Asher gasped. “Duck!”

Finn flung himself down as Asher's knife whistled over his head like a flash of bronze lightning. It flipped twice, end over end, before burying itself hilt-deep in the chest of the Amandán creeping up behind Finn. The beast exploded, coating Finn for the second time and dusting the rock wall. The blade fell to the ground with a metallic
clink
.

Raising his head, Finn squinted into the light streaming from Asher's stone. “Wow,” he breathed, still sprawled on the ground. “Nice throw!” They looked at each other for a minute. Asher's growing smile matched Finn's.

At that moment, a pair of thick, hairy arms shot from the darkness and grabbed Asher from behind, jerking the boy off his feet. The stone tumbled from his hand, its light winking out.

Asher's scream split the night.

Finn scrambled to his feet and tore across the clearing. “Let him go!” He slashed at the retreating form.

With a roar, it whirled around, dropping the limp figure as it faced the new threat. Asher lay crumpled on his side, a boneless heap at the Amandán's feet. The goblin laughed as it sized up Finn. “
Nar
, yer nothing but a whelp.”

Finn glanced down at Asher, then raised his head. Narrowing his eyes, he gripped his knife. “And you're an ugly git,” he said hoarsely. Before the goblin could move, he charged.

Ducking under the swinging arms, he dropped to one knee. The stink of the monster's hide burned his nostrils. Shouting the Song, he thrust upward and buried the blade to the hilt. With a screech, the beast exploded.

Finn flung himself backwards. Rolling to his feet, he snatched the weapon from the pile of remains. Sprinting over to Asher, he fell to his knees beside him.

He's just hurt
, he thought, his heart punishing his ribs like a crazed boxer.
That's all—he's just unconscious
. He reached out with numb fingers, then hesitated, afraid to turn him over.

Sucking in an unsteady breath, he placed a hand on Asher's shoulder and pulled. The boy flopped over like a rag doll. His pale face was relaxed, as if he were asleep.

Finn sank back onto his bottom. He stared at Asher's chest, willing it to rise and fall.
Maybe if I keep watching, he'll start breathing again
. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them, his gaze locked on Asher.

After a moment, he began shaking.

“Odd for them to have kept fleeing from us.” Gideon picked his way around the heavy underbrush. He led the way back up the hill.

Mac Roth swung his dagger like a machete, clearing small bushes from his path as he stomped along behind the other Knight. “Cowardly beasties. We should've brought the lads along after all. With the four of us, we could've cornered them and allowed Asher to bag his first one.” He smacked another branch aside. “He's been in a fever to earn the torc, ever since Finn won his.”

“Well, I hope we find those two firebrands still alive after leaving them alone without a referee.” Gideon craned his neck as he continued up the slope toward the outcropping. They hiked along in silence for a few minutes, both relaxing at their first glimpse of the cliff silhouetted against the stars.

“‘Tis certainly quiet up there,” Gideon said after a moment, a look of unease growing on his face.

“Aye. And dark, too.”

Without another word, they broke into a sprint.

Finn's teeth chattered as the shaking grew worse. He found himself missing Gideon's presence so badly he ached. Hugging his knees tighter, he tried to stop trembling as he kept his gaze fixed on Asher. The scene looped through his head over and over: the look of terror on the other boy's face as the Amandán yanked him back, his shrill cry, and the way it had so abruptly ended.

It's my fault. He died because of me. I should've gone with him to find his stone, since he didn't have a weapon. I should have been guarding his back. It's my fault
. He wiped his face on his shoulder, leaving a damp smear on the tee shirt sleeve.

A growing horror twisted his heart. “Oh, gods,” he whispered, eyes widening in shock. “It was
me
. I made this happen.”
I
let
him get killed because I didn't like him. I told Gideon that I wished Asher was dead. And now he is!