Wrenching out of the vision, Keech staggered to his feet, his eyes burning with tears. He stumbled backward, away from O’Brien’s bewitched fire. His companions continued to sit unconscious, staring fixedly at the sapphire flames, making no move to stir from their own visions.
Sitting on her stool, O’Brien frowned. “You came out too early.” She had been cleaning the barrel of her Kentucky rifle and now propped the gun back against the wall. “I feared the shock of seein’ how your folks died might push you out.”
“Pa Abner. Pa killed my parents! With his own hands.” Keech tried to take a breath but couldn’t. He panted for air. Wheeling about in circles, he clutched at his throat as if he, too, were being strangled by Pa’s terrible hands. Finally the air came, but horrid memories of Bone Ridge tumbled in with it. Pa Abner’s furious fists lashing out at Keech, walloping his face, following the commands of a cackling Bad Whiskey. That had been the second time Rose and his Big Snake had gotten their fangs into Pa Abner.
O’Brien shook a stern finger at Keech. “Make no mistake, tadpole. The fault belongs to Ignatio. You saw it yerself. The sorcerer drove Isaiah to do what he did.”
Remarkably, Keech’s next thought of Pa was not one of betrayal or death, but a memory of the man’s tenderness. Keech had been sitting on the bank of the Third Fork River one day, clutching his bowler hat and sobbing over a terrible dream he’d had the night before. Pa heard the whimpering and walked over. My boy, what’s wrong?
Keech slumped into Pa’s embrace, breathing in the comforting smells of pine wood and sawdust on his foster father’s clothes. It was the dream again, Pa.
The one about the dust whirlwinds and the heat?
Yessir. And my real folks were dead, but you saved my life, and your silver charm was cold on my cheek, and we were running.
Pa Abner pulled Keech’s hat from his grip and placed it back on his head. Pa’s rugged hands, usually so confident, so calm, trembled. Hush now, Keech, there’s nothing to fear and no need to run. You’re safe with Pa Abner. You’re safe.
This memory used to fill Keech with tranquility, but now he knew the truth. Everything he ever believed had been built upon a lie. Pa’s unflappable wisdom, his promises of safety and peace, the training in the woods, a decade’s worth of instruction—all had been burned to ash by O’Brien’s flame.
Keech stood breathing into his hands, staring at the blue fire and his three mesmerized companions.
“The others’ll wake soon,” O’Brien said. “The vision lasts a smidge longer. It’s like readin’ a book. There’s a beginnin’ and end, and the watcher has to read all the way through to get the full story.”
Keech’s head teetered with confusion. “How do you remember what happened? Didn’t you take the Oath of Memory that hid the information?”
O’Brien shuffled over to the fireplace, the enchanted flames painting her red hair a lustrous amber. Fetching a hooked metal rod, she fished up a small black kettle from the hearth and hung the pot over the flames. “The others took it, but not me. I took another task upon me.”
“What task?” Keech said.
“Why don’t we wait for yer trailmates? Then we’ll talk.”
The others soon rose out of their separate visions, disorientation awash on their faces. O’Brien retrieved her black kettle from the flames. Holding its handle with a thick mitt, she poured steaming liquid into four brass mugs and invited the young riders to sit at the table and drink her sour tea.
Quinn’s face scrunched. “After what I saw, I don’t know if I can stomach that.”
“Go ahead. It’ll settle yer guts,” O’Brien said.
Strong Heart sniffed her tea, tilted her head away from the odor, then drained her cup in a single gulp. “Tastes terrible,” she muttered.
Small sobs hitching in her throat, Duck stared at her tea. She said, “I saw my father. And Keech’s folks.” She looked at Keech and shook her head. “And I saw what your pa did.”
Keech pushed his cup away. “Sorry, I don’t think I want mine.” He stared at the table, fearing that if he met eyes with his trailmates, there would be no stopping his tears.
O’Brien spoke again. “The patch of ground under the trapdoor is a special place unsullied by Ignatio’s curse. But the rest of the meadow is deeply tainted. I’ve spent the last decade of my life workin’ to keep the curse contained. I planted the leech trees to hold the darkness at bay. They pull the rage out of the ground, keep it from spreadin’.”
O’Brien said more, but Keech barely heard. She explained the parts of the fire vision he had missed—that the other Enforcers had driven Ignatio away using their magic, and that Red Jeffreys had used the Fang of Barachiel to free poor Isaiah from the rage curse. “After Red freed him, Isaiah felt burdened.” She paused to draw in a deep breath. “He swore to raise ya, Keech. He left in Milos Horner’s wagon, loaded with…” Her voice trailed off.
“My folks,” Keech finished.
“He buried ’em along with the Char Stone and took the Oath of Memory to hide their restin’ place,” O’Brien said. “After that, the two of us lost track. Isaiah had been my closest friend for years, but I lost him to his guilt.”
Keech rubbed a shaky hand across his face, wanting so badly to unsee what he’d witnessed in the vision. He turned to his trailmates. “What else did you all see?”
Strong Heart said, “I saw the Enforcers work with the elders to create Floodwood, the place where my brother died.”
“And I saw Ranger Doyle help create the fire at Bonfire Crossing,” Quinn said.
“Seems like the fire gave us all the same vision,” Duck said. “But there’s one thing missing. We saw the other Enforcers hide the Char Stone and the Fang, but we never saw what happened to the Key. Or for that matter, where to find the House of the Rabbit.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “She’s right. It’s like the vision skipped right over that part. Like it didn’t want us to see the Key or something.”
“O’Brien, what are we missing?” Duck asked.
A ferocious gust of wind rattled the tiny cabin, putting everyone on edge. O’Brien said, “The vision don’t show the Key of Enoch because I told it not to.”
“You can do that?” Quinn took a sip of tea.
The woman chuckled. “I can do lots of things, tadpole. I’m what’s known as a Harvester. Red Jeffreys can manipulate the wind. Milos was a Diviner, so he could sense things from great distances. I can take plants and herbs from nature and make ’em do what I ask.”
“Like the herb you scattered on the fire,” Strong Heart said.
O’Brien nodded.
“Big Ben Loving could do that,” Keech noted.
O’Brien glowered at the name. “Yes, he was a powerful Harvester, but he concocted most of his brews usin’ the Prime, the terrible power that fuels the Underworld. My magics come from the positive forces found in nature.”
“We’ve heard of the Prime,” Duck said. “Edgar Doyle told us about it. He wanted to use the Prime to resurrect his daughter.”
Keech had figured the news would surprise O’Brien, but it didn’t seem to rattle her. “I know. I’ve looked into the Prime and seen his deeds.”
Strong Heart’s head tilted in curiosity. “You saw him?”
“Seein’ is what I do, tadpole. It’s one of the reasons I stay here in the mountains. Ten years ago, Ignatio cursed this ground with a mighty wallop of Prime. I can peek into the dark energy that lingers here, see what’s happenin’ in other places.” O’Brien pointed to the fireplace. “I use the fire as you just did. Except I don’t use the Cerridwen Herb.”
“How do you look, then?” asked Duck.
O’Brien gestured toward the clearing outside her cabin. “The leech trees. When I burn a branch from one of the cursed trees, I can see all sorts of terrible things. It’s how I saw that Red Jeffreys had tapped the Prime to break his Oath of Memory. It’s also how I’ve tracked the movements of the Big Snake.”
“That’s why you rode down to Hook’s Fort,” Quinn said. “The leech trees gave you a glimpse of Rose’s gang hauling explosives, and you went down to stop them.”
O’Brien smiled. “I certainly didn’t make no friends out of his wagon drivers. But when y’all met me at the fort, I wasn’t there to sabotage Rose’s latest wagon train. I was there ’cause Milos told me to be at the fort. He said friends were headed my way.”
“How could Mr. Horner have told you about us?” asked Duck. “He died in November in the streets of Wisdom. He pointed us to you—or your fake name, McCarty—an hour before his death. How could he have warned you about us?”
O’Brien pointed to Achilles, who sat by the front door, fast asleep with his head tucked into his front paws. “Because Milos sent me a message through Achilles,” she said. “He could communicate with animals.”
Keech had forgotten the critter was still in the cabin—the hound never made a sound, except when he was barking his head off or jangling his leather-pouch necklace.
“Does the dog speak?” Strong Heart asked, her tone more curious than skeptical.
“Not with words. But Achilles made it clear enough I was to go to Hook’s Fort. When I saw you tadpoles, I told that old hound there was no way I’d work with kids. I rode off, but he refused to head back with me. I reckon he wanted to lead y’all up to my cabin.” She chortled, the laughter ringed with tinges of sadness. “He’s always been loyal to Milos.”
“This still don’t explain why Mr. Horner sent us to find you,” Quinn said. “He didn’t send us marching down the Santa Fe Trail just to stare at a magic fire.”
“Maybe he figured y’all might be capable of stoppin’ the Big Snake. Maybe y’all ain’t just innocent little tadpoles. After all, you’ve been touched by the Prime.”
“What?” Duck frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Don’t bother to deny it. I can feel Prime power nestin’ inside ya. You’ve been near the Char Stone. Three of ya, leastways.” One by one, O’Brien pointed at Keech, then Duck, then Quinn. When her finger settled on Strong Heart, she said, “You haven’t.”
Keech pondered their travels the last couple of months. “We were near the Char Stone when we rode along with Doyle all the way from the Kansas River to Wisdom. We never knew he was carrying the Stone at the time, but it was in Doyle’s knapsack till Coward stole it.”
Realization dawned on Duck’s face. “You’re saying that being near the Char Stone changed us.”
“Yes, tadpole. That’s exactly what I’m sayin’.”