Finn Finnegan by Darby Karchut Read Free Book Online Page B

than an inch from the same spot. Still chanting, Gideon pulled it free. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the blade over and caught it, hilt forward and blade back. He spun on his toes and drove his weapon blindly into the target now behind him, releasing the handle as he completed his rotation. He left it sticking out of the beast’s eye.
    â€œWhoa,” breathed Finn. He stared at the knife buried halfway to the hilt in the plank.
    â€œFetch the weapon,” Gideon said, breathing easily.
    Finn walked over, grasped the handle, and pulled. Nothing happened. Bracing his other hand and a foot on the board, he tried again. This time, he managed to yank it loose. He studied the target. “I think I can do that.”
    â€œâ€˜Tis more difficult than it appears. Ye might not be successful yer first time.”
    â€œCan I at least try?”
    â€œStab away, then.”
    Holding the knife the way his master had, Finn squared his shoulders and began chanting. “‘I am a spear on the attack.’” Crouching down slightly, he tightened his grip until his knuckles whitened. Then, with a grunt, he attacked.
    Pain zinged up his arm from the impact. “Son of a goat,” he cursed and let go of the handle. The knife wobbled in place for a moment, then fell to the ground. Shaking his throbbing wrist, he glared up at the Knight.
    Gideon stepped closer and plucked the blade from the tall grasses fringing the wall. “Milk before meat.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œIt means we best begin with something a bit easier.” Tucking the weapon away, he led the way over to the middle of the yard. They stopped in front of the burlap bag Finn had seen his first day here. “Arm yerself.”
    Finn reached behind and slid his knife free. “Now, what?”
    â€œLock yer hand tightly against the tang.” Gideon re-positioned Finn’s grip closer to the crosspiece separating the blade from the handle. “That way ye won’t break a thumb if the beastie jerks suddenly. That being the beastie.” He pointed to the bag cram-packed with balls of newspaper. Bare dirt surrounded the dummy in a wide circle. “When ye thrust, extend yer arm fully. Bury yer blade, but remember to hold tight.” He took hold of a long rope attached to the overhead cable and stepped to one side.
    Finn nodded. Taking a stance in front of the bag, he licked his lips. Here goes nothing . “‘I am the roar of the sea,’” he whispered.
    At first, nothing. Then pressure, like a mounting wave, surged through his back and shoulders. He bounced on his toes a few times; darting forward, he stabbed at the bag. The target twirled about, dodging his attack. It swung up in a looping arch when Gideon yanked on the guy rope.
    Still chanting, he slashed again. The tip of his knife sliced a few strands before the bag spun out of range. Gritting his teeth, he lunged over and over, chasing it in a circle as it danced about. Dust puffed up around his ankles. For ten minutes, he stabbed and lunged and missed. Sweat began to trickle down his face, stinging his eyes.
    â€œAre ye planning on waltzing with the Amandán?” Gideon teased.
    â€œStop moving it,” he rasped, stumbling to a halt, his chest heaving. He forced frustration down a dry throat.
    â€œThen quit mucking about and stick the bleedin’ thing.”
    Maybe I’ll just stick you instead , he thought, blood humming in his ears. He blew his hair out of his eyes as he stalked the target. The Knight jiggled the bag enticingly. With a sudden charge, he plunged the weapon into the sack. “Gotcha,” he gasped, still holding the knife.
    With a powerful tug, Gideon sent the bag flying; the movement ripped the blade out of the boy’s hand. The knife flashed in the sunlight as it spun end over end across the yard and sailed over the stone wall. It vanished into a stand of scrub oak on the other