Finn Finnegan by Darby Karchut Page A

skewed to one side, ape-like, on all fours. Finn locked his trembling knees and tightened his grip. For a moment, the goblin seemed to fill his vision. Every detail was enlarged, from the threads of slobber dangling from its yellow teeth to the twigs matted in its dirty green pelt. A rank stench filled the air—like someone’s breath just after they’ve vomited. Into dirty socks.
    â€œDrop, Finn!”
    Even before he hit the ground, Gideon’s blade flashed end over end past his head. With a moist thwack it buried itself hilt-deep in the creature.
    Curled on his side, Finn squinted as ash blew everywhere, coating him and the surrounding vegetation. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, grimacing at the sour taste of leftover goblin on his lips. He flopped over. A warm trickle ran down the side of his face. Staring up at the branches overhead, the world darkened around him. Vaguely, he wondered at the sound of footsteps crashing through the underbrush. His eyelids fluttered closed for a moment.
    A hand touched his shoulder. He blinked. Gideon was kneeling beside him, concern tightening his features. A second knife was ready in one fist. “Finn? Are ye with me, lad?”
    â€œD-did we get it?” Finn whispered back. His eyes slid shut before his master could answer.

Eight
    Standing at Finn’s bedroom window, Gideon gazed into the forest beyond the wall. The familiar anger tightened the muscles in his back and shoulders. It whispered in his head, urging him to strike out at anything. At anyone. He took a deep breath and relaxed the hands fisted by his sides. Glancing over a shoulder at the figure lying motionless on the bed, he frowned in surprise at the unexpected protectiveness that swept through him. He turned back to the window. “Come near mine again, beasties,” he spoke to the empty woods, “be it me home or apprentice, and I’ll—”
    â€œG-eon?”
    The Knight spun around at the slurred voice behind him. Hurrying over to the bed, he pulled the chair closer and took a seat. “And the hero awakes.”
    â€œMy head hurts,” Finn complained.
    â€œAye, no doubt. Since ye attacked a tree with it. The tree won, surprisingly, considering that thick noggin of yers.”
    â€œHa, ha. Funny.” Finn blinked as he looked around the bedroom. “How did I get here?”
    â€œI carried ye.” Gideon leaned over and pushed Finn’s hair off his forehead. He examined the wound for a moment, then reached for the rag soaking in a bowl on the nightstand. A spicy, earthy aroma, like coffee mixed with peppermint, wafted up from the warm potion. Wringing the cloth out, he folded it into a small square and pressed it against Finn’s injury.
    Finn winced. “I like the way the slainte nettle smells, but man, that stuff stings like crazy!”
    â€œAh, ye whine like a wee babe. Here—hold this on for a bit longer.” Gideon let go as Finn took over. After a few minutes, he took the cloth away. “Can ye sit up?” He waited until Finn pushed back against the headboard, then stuffed a pillow behind him.
    Gideon picked up a steaming mug sitting next to the bowl and held it out. “Sip it slowly. T’will speed up the healing of both yer head wound and any bruises or scratches.”
    Cradling the cup in both hands, Finn sipped cautiously. He smacked his lips. “Tastes like you put honey in it.”
    â€œAye—a bit of sweet. Some De Danaan do not enjoy its flavor.”
    â€œNot me! I could drink this stuff all day.”
    Gideon frowned when his apprentice took another gulp. “I wouldn’t become too enamored with the brew. Too much slainte nettle tea can came, problems for our kind.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œAn excess of slainte nettle makes us inebriated.”
    â€œInebriated?”
    â€œDrunk.”
    Finn stared down into his mug. “Like how much excess?”
    â€œSix or seven