A shape moved in the heart of the Big Snake Saloon wreckage.
A crack of snapping wood sounded inside the smoldering ruins, and wooden beams creaked as if under pressure from an intense weight. Scraping metal knocked, then rattled as a pile of slag shifted.
Big Ben Loving rose, his steaming body covered with ash. Char and cinder had smeared his skin, and his long red beard had been singed. He surfaced with slow agony as each joint in his body creaked. Gashes crisscrossed his arms and face, and his riding coat and shirt were in tatters, exposing his shoulders and chest to the frozen rain.
The fires at the center of Wisdom were burning out, and thick smoke ascended into the cursed sky. The Reverend’s crows circled above, watching in silence, and a few perched on the rooftops of leftover buildings that looked down on the devastation.
Wisdom’s remaining troops, a pathetic smattering of thralls, had gathered on Main Street. They didn’t speak as Big Ben shook himself free of the rubble and stepped onto the avenue. Many of them scurried back as if hoping to hide from his frightful gaze.
He had survived flame and destruction, but now the Prime inside him was weak, and he was cold. He gestured to a nearby thrall. “Give me your coat.”
The dead man obeyed, fumbling out of his jacket with haste. Like all the other thralls in town, this rotten creature was a product of Ignatio’s necromancy, under orders to obey Big Ben.
One of the circling crows descended to street level, resting on a crooked hitching post. It screamed a wicked Ack! and turned a red oily eye to Big Ben.
Always devout in the Reverend’s presence, Big Ben bowed his head.
“You’ve done well, Ben.” The crow spoke aloud so that all present heard the Reverend. “You cornered the traitor Jeffreys, and now Coward has recovered my Stone. But your work in this territory is not complete.”
“The Fang of Barachiel,” Big Ben answered.
“Yes. Retrieve the Fang and destroy Bonfire Crossing. It can no longer serve as a sanctuary to Enforcers.”
Spasms of pain coursed through Big Ben’s body, and he felt he might collapse. “Master, I spent the last of your Prime mending my bones and resisting the bomb. I’m worthless till I’ve taken time to rest and heal.”
“No.” The crow flapped its wings, a gesture of irritation. “We must push our advantage.”
“But what can I do like this? I’m empty.”
The crow regarded the small company of thralls that had gathered around Big Ben. The creature’s red eyes glowed with a fierce inner light. With a deafening screech, the bird took to the air. It flapped in small, vicious circles, then the Reverend’s terrible voice thundered down upon the dazed dead men.
“You all cowered during the battle, watching from safe corners as your brethren fell. You betrayed the Prime that your master, Ignatio, granted you.”
Trembling, the pack of thralls screamed denials. Some begged for another chance, and others turned in panic and stumbled over themselves to get away from the crow.
A freezing wind kicked up around the scrambling congregation, blowing the reek of decay into Big Ben’s face. The thralls began to shake. Black veins coursed over their flesh, turning the sight of them even more monstrous. Unearthly wails arose from the pack.
Thick wisps of black smoke poured off the soldiers. The dark tendrils floated out over Main Street, wrapped together to form a single pillar, then curled back down to cover Big Ben like a blanket. The fog seeped into his nostrils, his open mouth. Waves of vigor charged his once agonized muscles. The hot ache in his joints eased, his back straightened. Fury and purpose filled every corner of his mind.
Every last thrall tumbled to the ground, their bodies empty husks, their Prime withdrawn.
Big Ben lifted his head and shouted to the crows in the sky. “Thank you, Master!”
The birds released a collective cackle.
A moment later, the Reverend’s voice grated directly into his mind. “Summon your Man Slayer. Send it to track the Enforcer children from a distance, but they are not to be killed. Not till they find the door to the Crossing. Once they yield the location, the Man Slayer may finish them.”
“Yes, Reverend.”
“Red Jeffreys must not be allowed to retrieve the Fang.”
Big Ben shook with newfound power and rage. “There will be no quarter given.”
“Once you secure the relic, you will join Ignatio and Black Charlie in the mountains to search for Enoch’s Key. They will be waiting for you. Lost Tucker will be holding her position farther north.”
“Your will be done, Master.” Big Ben closed his eyes and bowed his head.
“Go now. I will be watching.”