They watched as Quinn’s long-lost aunt stepped off the bridge and entered a tunnel across the distance, followed by the thrall guard. As Keech observed the woman, he couldn’t help recalling the night Quinn had joined the Lost Causes, telling the young riders how he and Ruth had escaped from Tennessee. Auntie Ruth is all I got, he had said. I’ve got to get her back, no matter what. And now Ruth was here, within his reach.
“I need to go to her,” Quinn said.
He hopped to his feet, but Keech held up his hands to stop him. “Hold on a second. We need to make a plan.”
Quinn was already sidestepping around him. “Go ahead and make your plans. This time you’ll do it without me.”
Keech turned to appeal to Strong Heart and Duck. “You both know he shouldn’t go alone,” he muttered, but neither girl spoke up as Quinn rounded the nearest bend with Lightnin’ in tow. “He’s gonna get himself killed.”
“No he won’t,” said Strong Heart. Swiveling, she started down the tunnel after Quinn, leading Flower Hunter behind her.
“Not you too!” Keech said, his stomach twisting.
Holding out O’Brien’s map, Duck took off running after Strong Heart. “Wait! You need to know where to go!”
Keech followed Duck down the passage, leading Hector and Irving by their straps as he went. Strong Heart stopped momentarily in her own sprint to join Quinn.
“O-nah-lee,” she said. “I don’t want to lose him.”
Duck spread O’Brien’s map across the tunnel floor, and Strong Heart crouched to study it. “This big circle appears to be the open chamber.” Duck pointed to a scatter of hectic lines radiating out from a thick ring. “Looks like Ruth is headed down this channel.” She traced a penciled line that stopped at the right edge of the paper. “That path leads outside, likely to Ignatio’s mining camp. If you headed down that passage, I’d wager you and Quinn will find her there.”
Strong Heart peered closer at the map, then pointed to another line. “What does ‘Old Beggar’s Trail’ mean?”
“That’s the trail O’Brien told us to take after we fetch the Key,” Duck answered. “Looks like the path Quinn’s aunt is taking meets right up with Old Beggar’s Trail.”
“Once we’ve found Ruth, Quinn and I will take the horses to this trail. Meet us there.” Seizing Irving’s reins, Strong Heart prepared to scuttle off again, but Achilles suddenly pushed his furry nose into the center of their huddle and wagged his head. The pouch around his neck jangled.
Keech couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Milos Horner had left the Lost Causes two small tokens of his appreciation. “The last two shards!” Keech reached for the bag around Achilles’s neck. The dog raised his head a little to give Keech room to open the purse.
Inside were two silver fragments.
They weren’t crescent-shaped like Pa Abner’s and Noah Embry’s, and they didn’t have a triangular shape like the one Doyle had used in Wisdom. These were more uneven, like two pieces of jagged flint, yet they both carried the same embellishments of arcane swirls and symbols. Leather cords had been threaded through holes in each silver piece.
Keech handed both shards to Strong Heart and she wrapped their cords around one hand, cinching the ancient metal to her palm. Before turning to leave, she drew the Fang of Barachiel from her robe and offered the dagger to Duck. “Red Jeffreys may still be out there, hunting for this. If so, he will come after me. The relic will be safer if you carry it.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Duck said, and slid the Fang into her belt.
Keech tried to tuck down his humiliation, but he felt his face burn red anyway. He turned to pat Hector’s muzzle. “I’ll see you soon, Heck. Go with Strong Heart.” He passed her the reins.
“Get the Key and find us,” Strong Heart said.
“We’ll see you soon,” Duck said. “Now go help Quinn.”
Strong Heart led their horses along the passage. Achilles trotted after them. Soon they disappeared into the darkness.
Keech and Duck scurried down a passage that sloped away from the vast cavern. As they made their way through a dark tunnel, Keech watched his amulet shard for signs of increasing light—the telltale sign of a thrall’s presence—but both charms remained dormant.
Moments later the tunnel opened into a small, square room lit by suspended lanterns. Thick cedar planks reinforced the limestone walls, and dozens of crates were stacked to the ceiling, along with piles of horse bridles and ropes.
“A supply room,” Duck murmured. Muddy pickaxes stood along the walls, many of their heads broken or bent from all the whittling at mountain stone. She examined one of the tools. “Ignatio sure is serious about digging out this mountain peak.”
“They need the Key to free Rose as much as we do to stop him,” Keech replied. He grabbed a coil of rope off the wall and hooked it over his shoulder. When Duck gave him a curious look, he said, “You never know when a rope might come in handy.”
Suddenly a recognizable disquiet returned to Duck’s eyes and she tossed away the tool she’d been studying. “I need to get something off my chest.”
Keech felt his stomach twist. “My shard’s starting to glow. Can it wait?”
“No it can’t. You’ve been reckless, Keech. Your anger’s been hurting folks.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“We’re gonna make time. Ever since you took up reading Doyle’s journal, you’ve been taking us down a dark path. It’s time to end that. Give me the journal.”
When she reached out, Keech swiveled away. “If you haven’t noticed, we’ve been surviving. My magic’s been keeping us alive.”
“Your magic wounded O’Brien,” Duck reminded him. “Likely got her killed. And you corrupted that poor buffalo in the hills. I know you used the Black Verse.” She held her hand out again. “Give me the book, Keech. We’ll burn it. Each time you’ve used it, you’ve brought Rose down upon our heads.”
“The Black Verse only helped us. And it brought me Sam!”
“Sam led us into Black Charlie’s trap. And when you used the Black Verse on Doyle, La Sombra found us right away.”
Fiery tears bubbled up in Keech’s eyes. He didn’t know if they were tears of humiliation or anger. “My brother’s real, Duck. He comes to me. He wants to help.”
“Let’s burn the journal right here.” She pointed to a torch. “It’s dangerous.”
Keech scrambled backward. “No! The Black Verse is the only way I can call Sam!”
Duck lunged for Keech’s coat, reaching for his pocket, but Keech jumped aside. As they stared each other down, he recalled the words he’d spoken to Duck after battling Big Ben in the bonfire. I won’t leave you alone. Not ever. We’re partners. But she wanted to take Sam, wanted to sever Keech’s connection to his brother.
A sudden bolt of ice cascaded up Keech’s arm as a pale soldier shambled into the room. The goon looked up in surprise.
“Who in tarnation are y’all?” the thrall asked. “Where’s yer chains?”
Neither of them had the chance to answer; the dead man’s face contorted in fear as the call of the amulet shards energized his flesh. “Yer those kids! The Lost Brawlers!”
The creature raised his musket, but Keech bounded across the room and slapped the thrall’s cheek with the amulet shard. The resurrected man shrieked and collapsed as a swirling fog of black poured out of his nostrils.
Duck said, “Somebody heard that.”
Keech pointed to the passage sloping away from the supply room. “Let’s get back to work.”
“This conversation ain’t finished,” Duck said.
They hurried down the passage and moments later stumbled upon a large hole in the floor. A rickety ladder stood inside the opening, and when Keech and Duck descended, they found themselves in a narrow, torchlit shaft.
“We’re near the main chamber,” Duck whispered.
They pushed through the cramped shaft till the mammoth cavern leaped into view. The collective murmur of shouts and groans touched Keech’s ears again. The heat from all the fires around the site boiled up into the honeycomb crevices. A narrow walkway appeared at the lip of the shaft, slanting down into the main chamber, like the gangplank of a ship.
“We have to go down that?” Duck asked.
“No choice, lest we want to find another way.”
They slunk down the rickety platform. When they reached the bottom, Keech followed Duck onto the muddy chamber floor, and they took cover behind a rock pile. Throngs of workers and guards milled about the camp like a disturbed anthill, frantic with movement.
Duck said, “The entrance to the House has to be one of the tunnels around here.”
Keech peeked around the rubble. “There’s too much activity, though. We’ll get caught for sure if we poke around each tunnel.”
“We could start there.” Duck pointed to a deserted passage with an O-shaped mouth.
Before they could move, three figures emerged from the O-shaped tunnel. Keech felt the cold of the shard deepen on his palm. Two pistol-wielding thralls were marching on either side of a boy wearing dusty brown clothes. A blue bandana hung around the boy’s neck, and a red sash girded his waist.
“It’s Cut!” Keech said. Cutter was not only alive, he was also being escorted by a pair of armed guards. Their friend hadn’t betrayed them after all.
Keech pulled back behind the rubble. “We’ll have to move fast. Those thralls will feel the shards any second now. They’ll probably kill Cutter to force us out. You take the closer guard; I’ll finish the other. Then we’ll collect Cut and scoot.”
“How do you know we can trust him?” Duck asked.
“I know you’ve got your doubts, but Cutter’s one of us.”
Duck gripped her pulsing amulet shard. “I sure hope you’re right.”
Stepping out from the rock pile, Keech dashed toward the thralls. Their rotting faces flashed surprise. Tucking low, Keech slid past the first brute and slammed into the second, toppling the creature with a swift kick to the shinbone. He leaped on the dumbfounded soldier, slapping his shard against the thrall’s forehead. The monster bellowed a final cursed breath, released a cloud of black smoke, and lay still. Beside him, Duck had finished off her target.
“Keech? Duck?” Cutter faced them in a kind of stupor, the shadows of the tunnel masking his features. “Where did y’all come from?”
“We’ve come to rescue you!” Duck said.
But Cutter’s shocked expression was short-lived. He grabbed at his forehead with quivering hands and cried out. When he lowered his fingers, Keech saw the spiral-like brand of the Reverend Rose charred into the boy’s flesh.
“The Devil’s mark,” Keech moaned.
Cutter pulled his bone-handled knife. “Dead or alive, Blackwood, you’re comin’ with me. Master’s orders.” He charged at Keech.