After a few short steps through absolute darkness and the deepest silence Keech had ever known, they emerged from a solid wall into a torchlit mine shaft.
“Did we just walk through stone?” Duck asked, stunned.
Keech reached back, expecting his arm to disappear as before, but his hand slapped jagged rock. Confused, he said, “I don’t understand. The wall’s hard again.” He peered at the mystical chain—the Key of Enoch.
Duck said, “We’ll figure it out later. For now, let’s get out of here. We need to find Quinn and Strong Heart.”
Keech peered up and down the tunnel. “But which way do we go?”
Before they could decide, two thrall soldiers wandered into the shaft. The dead men skidded to a halt. “The greenhorns are back!” one shouted, reaching for his pistol.
Duck grabbed Keech’s hand and yanked him in the opposite direction. They took off at a hard sprint as alarmed shouts rose up from the soldiers. The passageway soon widened, and another small group of thralls stepped in front of them, blocking their path. One of the scoundrels, a ghoulish man without ears or a nose, grumbled, “No way out, kittens. You’ll have to go through us.”
Keech tightened his grip on one end of the chain. “Watch your head, Duck. I’ll clear us a path.” Duck stooped as he started swinging the shackle around his head, the wrist fetter whistling through the air.
“Look out!” another soldier warned. “He’s got a chain!”
Leaping, Keech swung at the monster who was missing his ears and nose. He worried the iron manacle might swoosh right through the soldier’s skull, just as the metal had passed through the corridor wall, but instead it smashed into the creature’s head with a sickening thunk and the soldier crumbled. “Don’t call us kittens,” Keech said.
“C’mon, Keech.” Duck hopped over the fallen guard and dashed up the tunnel.
Yanking at the chain, Keech flung the shackle toward the other thralls. When the soldiers flinched away, he hurried after Duck. As they dashed up the tunnel, he looped the curious chain back around his forearm.
A moment later, they emerged into the main cavern of Skeleton Peak, where Ignatio had established his underground camp.
Duck stopped in her tracks.
At least a dozen rotten soldiers crowded before them, pointing muskets and bayonets. Standing at the front of the company, Ignatio crossed his tattooed arms in casual repose. Coward lurked behind the sorcerer like a child peeking out from behind his father’s legs. Cutter waited a few steps behind them, the torchlight of the cavern painting his harrowed face a deep bronze.
Ignatio clapped his hands in delight. “I have spent months digging through Skeleton Peak in search of the Key, and in one hour you two accomplish what only one other could do!” He held out his hand. “Now, bring it to me. It must be a heavy burden.”
Keech clutched the chain even tighter. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it.”
Coward shouted, “Give us the shackle, Keech! I want to leave this wretched place.”
Before Keech could respond, Ignatio backhanded Coward. The man stumbled, squawking in surprise. “I didn’t say nothing wrong!” Coward barked, but when the sorcerer raised his hand a second time, Coward recoiled with a pathetic whimper.
Shaking his head, Ignatio returned his attention to Keech and Duck. “You’ll have to forgive my compañero. He lacks manners. Now bring me the Key, and I’ll release you.”
“You think we’re gonna believe that?” Duck growled. “For all we know, you’ll use this Key to chain up the whole world.”
Ignatio chortled, his gold tooth flashing in the firelight. “The Key is not for binding, niña. It is for liberación.” He took a gentle step closer to Keech. “What you hold, Mr. Blackwood, was first used to liberate three men from the flames of Nebuchadnezzar, the great king of Babylon.”
“Wait a second, I know this story,” Keech said. He recalled Sam’s jubilant voice—the real Sam, the Sam of his fondest memories—reading him a story from the book of Daniel as they sat on the riverbank near the Home for Lost Causes. This one’s about standing true, Sam had said, holding Pa’s old Bible. The Lord delivers the brave from the fires of evil.
Ignoring Keech, Ignatio continued. “When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego would not bow to the king’s golden image, Nebuchadnezzar bound them and cast them into a fiery furnace. But inside the flames, an angel of God delivered them from death.” The sorcerer paused to raise a thick eyebrow. “Surely you can guess the name of the angel.”
Keech pondered for a second, then realized the answer was obvious. Before he could voice his reply, however, Duck beat him to it.
“Barachiel. The same angel who blessed Abraham’s dagger. He also turned Nebuchadnezzar’s chain magical.”
Ignatio’s shiny tooth flashed again. “Yes, Barachiel shielded the men from the fire. He turned the very shackle holding them into the instrument of their liberación. As long as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego held the chain, the fierce heat and burning fire could not harm them.”
“And they walked through the walls,” Duck added. “Which is why you want the Key.”
“Betrayal trapped the Reverend inside the Palace of the Thunders,” Ignatio said. “That chain shall finally set him free. But enough talk. Hand over the Key.”
Thrall soldiers advanced up the tunnel behind them. Letting out some slack in the chain, Keech started swinging the shackle above his head. “Anybody comes close, I’ll drop them.”
The thralls slowed their approach.
A boisterous shout made Keech and Duck spin on their heels. Cutter was rushing them at full charge. His outstretched arms slammed into Keech and Duck, and they both went tumbling to the jagged floor.
Dazed, Keech tried to rise, but Cutter’s fist clipped his jaw. The boy’s knee pressed against his chest. “Stay down, Blackwood,” Cutter said as he yanked the chain free. The Key in hand, he straightened, adjusted his red sash, and strolled back to Ignatio and Coward.
Duck rolled onto her side, her brow dark with blood. “Keech, are you all right?”
Keech blinked a few times. “I think.”
“¡Silencio!” Ignatio called out. Turning to Cutter, he lifted the clump of chain from the grimacing boy’s hands. “The Key of Enoch. At last, all the relics!” Shaking with joy, he offered Coward the chain. “Take the Key and the Fang back to my cabin. Wait for me there.”
Coward accepted the coil, wrapping the metal around his waist and tying the loose end in a makeshift knot. “Finally, we can leave this wretched mountain. On to the Palace!”
“There is one more thing to be done,” Ignatio said. He addressed one of his thralls, a bearded thug with a dough-pale face. “Clear this mountain. Start with the prisoners, then eliminate the niños. Spare no one.”