Finn Finnegan

by Darby Karchut

  I hate this part, he thought, looking down between his knees at the narrow strip of grass. He swallowed. Just do it, before anyone sees you. He eased upright and balanced on the very edge, singing softly, arms stretched like wings. Here goes.

  He stepped off the roof, and out into thin air.

  Landing with a grunt a moment later, Finn blew out his breath in relief. He glanced back up and shuddered. I don’t care what Gideon says about it getting easier—it still freaks me out.

  “Whoa! That was insane.”

  He spun around.

  Rafe stood by the corner of the house, eyes wide and the basketball tucked under one arm. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then finally shook his head. “Okay. How?”

  “How, what?”

  “Dude, how did you get up there and then jump down, without breaking a leg or something?”

  “How did you think I did it?”

  “Let me guess. Wings?”

  “You mean, like on a bird?”

  Rafe growled and threw the ball at Finn. Hard. It smacked him in the gut.

  “Okay, okay, I get the message.” Finn rubbed his stomach and walked over to Rafe. “I used the…um, the tree.” He pointed to the tall cottonwood flanking the far corner of the house. Its limbs brushed against the bricks. “I got high enough on the trunk, then pulled myself over the rain gutter and then just wiggled onto the roof.” Finn tensed as he waited. He is so not buying this.

  Rafe raised his eyebrows as he stared at the tree. “Well, I guess that makes sense,” he said doubtfully, scratching the back of his head. “But what about you jumping—”

  “Finn?” Mr. Steel strolled from the backyard, wiping his hands on a rag. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I just got the barbeque working.” He looked over at Rafe. “What do you say, son? Shall we torch some meat tonight?”

  Rafe laughed. “And leave the insides all bloody, and watch Dr. Mom freak out? Sure.” He turned to Finn. “Want to stay?”

  “Thanks, but Gideon wants me home by four.”

  “Is your guardian pretty strict with you about being on time?” Mr. Steel asked, a curious expression on his kind face.

  “I guess.” But not as strict as he is about holding my weapon correctly when I’m hunting goblins.

  “So will you be going to Red Rocks Middle School in the fall? With the twins?”

  “No, sir. I’m homeschooled.”

  “I see.”

  Before Mr. Steel could ask another question, Finn checked his watch. “Thanks again for asking me to dinner. I better go.” He nodded at Rafe. “See ya.” He spun on his heels and trotted across the street, aware of their gazes on his back.

  Pulling the gate securely behind him, he checked the bronze wire, then looked up at the slap of the screen door. Gideon appeared on the porch carrying a glass of iced tea in one hand.

  The Knight sank down on one of the battered lawn chairs, with a contented sigh. The frame creaked as he settled back. “‘Summer afternoon. The two most beautiful words in the English language,’” he quoted, offering the glass to Finn as he walked up the steps.

  “Shakespeare?” Finn took a big gulp, then handed it back.

  “An American. Henry James.”

  Finn nodded, distracted. He hoisted himself up on the porch rail, one arm looped around the post as he swung a foot. Something about Mr. Steel’s questions niggled at him.

  “Hey, Gideon? Why would Rafe’s da ask me—?”

  He froze when several crows sailed into their yard, landing with a flap and flutter of midnight wings. The birds strutted around, croaking, jerking their heads to and fro. As the De Danaan jumped to their feet, a dozen more landed on the nearby power line, jostling for position. The wire sagged under their weight.

  “Get inside,” Gideon shouted, over the deafening cawing. His knife flashed in his hand.

  Finn bolted for the house, his master on his heels. As the Knight stopped to secure the bronze-clad door behind him, Finn raced through the house. Sliding across the kitchen floor, he kicked the back door shut, the glass panes rattling from the impact. After throwing the dead bolt, he hurried to the sink and peered out the window Cloud shadows drifted across the yard as another storm brewed over the mountains.

  Crows lined the stone wall like blackened teeth.

  Finn stared, the hairs on his arms standing straight up, unable to take his gaze off the birds. After a few moments, he tore his eyes away and leaned over. Tugging up his pant leg, he slid the knife free, then straightened and looked out.

  The crows had vanished.

  Twenty-One

  Finn whirled around as Gideon rushed into the kitchen. The Knight sighed with relief at the sight of the back door, bolted and secured.

  “Did ye see anything?” Gideon took a stance next to Finn, scanning the yard. The afternoon darkened as the rainstorm approached the city.

  “Just a few seconds ago, the crows were all over the place, but then they disappeared when I wasn’t looking.” Finn peered up at his master’s profile. “Does that mean the Amandán are gone?’ he asked, hopefully.

  “Not bleedin’ likely.” Gideon gestured with his chin. “Look, ye.”

  Finn whipped his head around. “Oh,” he breathed, eyes widening as he stared back out.

  Crows fought for position along every inch of the stone wall, their sharp beaks needling each other. As Finn watched, a dozen more crash-landed into the flock. Hoarse cawing battled with the first rumble of thunder. The gloom thickened; a bolt of lightning speared the sky. Finn flinched, almost dropping his knife.

  “Steady.” Gideon clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We are well protected here. Nonetheless, we’ll stand vigil tonight, just to be certain.” He let go and ran a thumb along the blade of his knife, as he studied Finn.

  Finn nodded. “So, what do we do now?” He hoped the Knight didn’t catch the faint quiver in his voice.

  “The first order of business during a siege is to secure the walls or perimeters. We’ve done that. And now…” his voiced trailed off as he searched through a drawer. Pulling out a whetstone and a small bottle of honing oil, he handed them and his knife to Finn. “Here. Give the blade’s edge a kiss.”

  Finn screwed up his face. “You want me to do what?”

  Gideon laughed. “I want ye to sharpen it a bit more. Which is the second order of business.” He waited, expectant.

  “Make sure your weapons are ready?” At Gideon’s nod, Finn dribbled a few drops of oil on the stone, smeared it around with his thumb, then began drawing the weapon across it, first one side, then the other. A rhythmic sweesh, sweesh filled the kitchen, muffling the sound of the falling rain.

  “Flatten the angle of the blade a bit more.” Gideon observed him for another moment, then went over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a platter of cold roasted chicken and a loaf of brown bread and placed them on the table, next to a basket piled with apples. After a moment’s thought, he added several carrot sticks.

  Continuing the task, Finn clenched his jaw at the next explosion of lightning. After the thunder faded a few seconds later, he glanced out the window and cleared his throat. “Looks like the birds have taken off again,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Aye, they may do that from time to time, depending on the Amandán’s location, back there in the woods.”

  “Is it normal for them to surround a house like this?” He laid the whet stone on the counter and wiped the blade on a clean cloth.

  Gideon hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly. “No, boyo, it is not.” He finished setting out the impromptu supper and turned to face the apprentice. “I’ll tell ye the truth of it—I’m not sure what the beasties are up to.” He walked over and took the weapon back. Grunting with satisfaction, he put it away, then gestured toward the table. “We should eat whilst we can. It may be a longish night.”

  Gideon shifted his weight to his other leg as he stood watch in the darkened kitchen. Dragging a hand down his face, h
e grimaced at the stubble along his jaw. Perhaps I should grow a beard again. T’would save time shaving, to be sure. Why, I haven’t worn one since…

  He shoved the rest of the thought away and kicked it back into the corner of his heart. Clamping down on his memories with an iron will, he glanced through the window to scan the yard for the thousandth time. He frowned when a single crow appeared, almost invisible in the inky night. It flapped awkwardly, with soaked wings, before landing on the wall.

  “Finn,” he called over a shoulder. “It appears the beasties are drawing near again.” At the lack of response, he turned and hurried through the shadowy house to the living room.

  A figure sat slumped on the wide sill, silhouetted against the front window. A whuffling sound echoed through the silent room.

  Fast asleep, I’ll warrant, Gideon thought. Well, I cannot expect an old head on young shoulders. I best wake him, though.

  With the stealth of a hunting wolf, he edged around the furniture and eased closer. Narrowing his eyes, he peered into his apprentice’s sleeping face pressed against the glass. A line of drool slid from the corner of Finn’s mouth and trickled down the pane. A knife was loosely clasped in one hand.

  A snort of laughter escaped the Knight.

  At the sound, Finn lurched to his feet, then stumbled, wind-milling his arms for balance. As he fell backwards, the tip of his knife snagged the curtain next to him. With a cry, Finn crashed to the floor. A moment later, the drape followed in a puff of dust, the drapery rod a second after that. It whacked him on the head with a sharp crack.

  “They’re in the house,” Finn shouted, his voice muffled by yards of fabric. He began kicking frantically.

  Dodging the flailing feet, Gideon peeled the curtain off his apprentice. Once Finn emerged, the Knight took a step back and tried to quell his laughter. He failed.

  “It’s not funny.” Finn shoved the rest of the material to one side and scrambled to his feet. He glared up at the Knight before retrieving his blade from under the pile. “What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that and then growling in my face? You’re lucky I didn’t knife you.

  “Aye, that I am.” Gideon waved a hand in dismissal when Finn started to pick up the drapery and rod. “Leave those for now. We need to reconnoiter a bit, outside.”

  “Are the crows back?”

  “Only one, as yet.” Gideon led the way to the kitchen door. He peered out, then slid the bolt, slowly and silently, and inched the door open. “Behind me, now,” he whispered. “And instant obedience if I order ye to retreat. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gideon swung the door further ajar and stepped out into the night.

  The stars winked in and out of view as the last of the storm clouds drifted away. Rain-soaked pines perfumed the air. The solitary crow fluttered its wings, then stilled.

  Signaling Finn to wait, Gideon stalked further into the yard and paused by the picnic table. He cocked his head to listen for a moment, then motioned for Finn to come along.

  Knife at the ready, he joined the Knight. Together, they crept toward the stone wall; Finn winced with each step as his shoes squelched in the sodden grass.

  When the De Danaan reached the center of the yard, the crow opened its beak. Master and apprentice froze. The bird closed its beak again.

  “Make up yer bleedin’ mind, ye manky bird,” Gideon said, under his breath. He relaxed when the bird heaved itself into the night and flapped away. “Stay here, Finn.” He walked toward the far edge of the yard, his knife gleaming softly in the starlight. Reaching the wall, he paused, then leaned over it.

  Finn gasped as Gideon hoisted himself up on the wall and swung a leg over. Before he could move, the Knight disappeared on the other side. Twigs snapped and leaves rustled as he tracked back and forth, then the noise ceased. Silence filled the night.

  “Gideon?” Finn whispered. On shaky legs, he crept forward; the woods beyond seemed crammed with goblin-shaped shadows. His pulse hammered in his ears. Reaching the wall, he laid his palm hesitantly along the top.

  A hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed his wrist.

  Finn yelped and swung his knife. It was deflected with a clang and a twist, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Gideon’s grinning face appeared a moment later. He let go of Finn’s arm and jumped back over the wall, landing next to the apprentice.

  “Now, I’ll place a fair bet that ye just wet yer trousers.”

  The Journal of Finnegan MacCullen: July 2

  What I Learned Today Yesterday:

  Man, am I tired. We were up all night, but nothing ever happened.

  Between all the stuff about the Spear, the fight with Asher, Rafe catching me doing my De Danaan thing, and the Amandán trying to get us all night, I don’t know where to start.

  I can’t even think what I really learned. Except that Gideon thinks it’s funny to scare the piss out of me.

  Literally. (I just didn’t tell him that.)

  Twenty-Two

  “And, with yer own knee,” Gideon said, trying to control a smile as he crouched down on the front lawn next to Finn. He held a handkerchief to Finn’s injured nose, the apprentice’s blood already smeared across his knuckles. “‘Tis a pity. Yer bruises were just starting to fade from the fight with Asher two days ago, too.” His lips twitched as he readjusted the cloth; his morning mug of tea sat abandoned on the edge of their porch.

  “Stop laughing at me. It hurts!” Finn leaned back on his hands, legs stuck out in front of him. He tilted his head forward as Gideon pinched gently. “I feel so stupid,” he said, voice muffled by the Knight’s hand.

  “And why is that? Any apprentice could knock himself in the face with his knee whilst demonstrating a back flip off the porch. It’s perfectly normal.”

  “Really? Did your other apprentice ever do it?”

  “Well, no.”

  Finn rolled his eyes.

  After a few minutes, the Knight pulled the cloth away. “The gush has slowed to a trickle.” He ran a bloodstained finger along the bridge of Finn’s nose. “I don’t believe it’s broken.” Wiping his hands clean as best he could, he rose and grabbed Finn under the arm and hauled him to his feet. “Up ye get. Take a seat and I’ll fetch yet another poultice for ye. We might need to plant a second hedge of the slainte nettle, at this rate.”

  “That’s so not funny.”

  As Gideon disappeared inside the house, Finn walked over and sank down on the middle step. He wiggled his nose gingerly and winced. I’m glad Rafe didn’t see that.

  A movement across the street caught his eyes. “Son of a goat,” he whispered, watching as Mr. Steel and Rafe strolled toward him.

  “Hey, Finn,” Rafe called as they reached the gate. “We were just—holy moly, what happened?” He gazed wide-eyed at the blood drying on Finn’s upper lip and chin.

  Finn grinned sheepishly. “Oh, I was trying to show Gideon how I can do this move off the top step and I hit myself in the face with my knee.” He shook his head. “Talk about a klutz,” he said as they pushed through the gate and walked up to the porch.

  Mr. Steel frowned; his lips pressed into a thin line. He began to say something, but Gideon stepped out, a damp cloth in either hand. One was stained a dark greenish brown.

  “Good morning, Rufus. Rafe.” Gideon nodded politely, then handed the stained cloth down to Finn. “Hold it on for at least ten minutes, lad.” Turning to the Steels, he asked, “Did he tell ye what happened?” His blue eyes twinkled.

  “He did.” Rufus Steel stared back, eying the blood on Gideon’s knuckles. “It seems a bit farfetched.”

  “Oh, ye don’t know the boyo. He can injure himself sitting in a chair, reading.”

  “Hey! I’m not that clumsy!” Finn peered up at the Knight, his face partially obscured by the cloth.

  “Actually, ye are,” Gideon said.

  “I came over to ask if Finn would be able to collect our mail and newspapers for the next week,” Mr. Steel said. “
We’re going camping over the Fourth of July holiday.” He studied Finn, his face thoughtful. “We’ll pay you, of course.”

  “No problem. And you don’t need to pay me, Mr. Steel. I want to help.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. We’ll be back on the sixth.” He gazed at Finn for another moment. “Unless you would like to come with us? I know it’s short notice, but—”

  “No, we’ve plans of our own, but many thanks,” Gideon interrupted.

  “I see.” Mr. Steel started to speak, then stopped. “Perhaps another time. Well, come on, Rafe. Better go load up the car. Thanks again, Finn.” With a nod, he headed back across the street.

  “Camping. With my family,” Rafe said, making a face. “Kill me now.” He trudged away with a wave of his hand.

  “So what are we doing for the holiday?” Finn took the clean, damp cloth Gideon handed him and wiped his face. “Did I get all the blood?”

  Plucking the washcloth from the boy’s hand, Gideon swiped at a few missed streaks, then tossed it to one side. “There’s a pack of troublesome Amandán several miles back in the hills west of here. I thought we might do a bit of hunting tomorrow night—”

  “Yes!” Finn pumped his fist into the air.

  “—with Mac Roth and Asher.”

  “No!”

  Green stars burst in the night sky over the tree tops. The fireworks tinted the faces of the four De Danaan with a mossy light as they made their way through the woods. Purple and red and blue flashes followed. The thunder of the neighborhood fireworks show was magnified by the hills.

  “Now, do ye see why this is such a splendid night to hunt?” Mac Roth spoke over his shoulder to the two apprentices following him. Gideon stalked a few yards behind the party as rear guard. “The noise and activity covers up anything we do, while the fireworks confuse the beasties.”

  “I sure hope so,” Finn said. He dug in his pocket for his moonstone as they hiked along the narrow trail. In tugging the stone free, his elbow caught Asher in the ribs.