Keech and Duck hurried to Cutter’s side and dropped to their knees.
“Cut!” Duck yelled. “Talk to us!”
At first, Cutter didn’t move or make a sound—but then he moaned.
Nearby, Coward struggled to his feet. In his hand, he gripped the Fang of Barachiel. A gathering of enraged townsfolk surrounded the dazed outlaw, pinning him against a far corner of the cavern. He looked subdued, with no more struggle left in him.
Stunned by their twist of luck, Keech turned back to Cutter. His friend’s eyes were frightened and surprised—but clean of Ignatio’s darkness. The Devil’s mark on Cut’s forehead was gone. Keech flung his arms around the boy’s neck. “I’m so glad you’re all right!”
Cutter rubbed his head weakly. “What happened?”
“Coward sliced you with the Fang. It was his only way to stop you from killing him, but it also freed you from his brand.”
Cutter peered at the tear in his shirt where the healing dagger had penetrated, but there was no blood, not even the hint of a wound. He blinked up at them, stunned. “Duck?”
“Hey, Cut. Welcome back.”
Disoriented, Cutter scrubbed a grimy palm over his face. “Where’s John Wesley? He said he was comin’ to find me.” He glanced around the cavern.
Duck handed Cutter his dusty hat, which had fallen off his head during the skirmish. “He ain’t here, Cut. John left months ago. He’s a Chamelia now.”
Cutter shook his head, bleary-eyed. “I’ve been trapped in a bad dream.”
“But you’re awake now,” Keech said.
Cutter continued as if Keech hadn’t spoken. “John was there, in the dream. He talked to me. Told me everything was gonna be okay.” A deep gurgle rose in Cutter’s throat, and he sobbed. Throwing his arms around his knees, he rocked back and forth in the dirt. “I did terrible things. I never wanted to, but I couldn’t help it.”
“Coward had you under his control. He’s to blame for anything you did.” Duck gestured across the cavern, where Coward was muttering curses at the townsfolk holding him prisoner.
“Let’s go fetch the relics from Coward,” Keech said—but was interrupted as a jubilant bark echoed across the cavern. Keech turned to see Achilles strolling proudly next to Quinn, who lifted his homemade ax high when he saw Keech and Duck. Walking behind him was Strong Heart, gripping her silver amulet shard and a jagged piece of her longbow, which had been broken in half. Her buckskin dress was torn in places, and the leggings around her calves had come untied. But she looked unharmed.
Keech and Duck greeted the pair with triumphant calls.
“Hah-weh, Keech,” Strong Heart returned, her voice weary. She held out her palm to show a shard now dormant and dim. “The dead men are gone. Skeleton Peak is safe.”
As if to prove her point, Quinn’s aunt emerged from one of the tunnels, limping slightly and still holding the hammer she’d been wielding during the battle. The moment Ruth saw her nephew, she dropped the tool and quickened her pace to reach him. Crying joyfully, Ruth enfolded Quinn in her arms, and they embraced. Beside them, Achilles perched on his haunches and waited, his tongue batting the air.
“My dear Quinn! We did it! Just as you promised,” Ruth said, rocking back and forth with Quinn in her arms. A small trickle of blood streamed down her cheek, but otherwise, she appeared unblemished. “We owe our lives to you and the Protector.”
“You don’t owe nobody, Auntie Ruth,” Quinn said. “You fought your own battle to be free. I’m just so glad you’re safe. I’ve missed you something terrible.” Stepping back a bit, he examined the woman’s face and wiped the blood off her cheek. “Do you have the strength to go a little farther? Most of the townsfolk are headed out to the main camp. Somebody needs to help them.”
“I ain’t leaving your side again,” Ruth said.
Quinn grasped the woman’s hand. “It’s okay, Auntie. My friends and I are gonna mull over what to do next, then we’ll meet you outside. Get out of this awful place.”
Reluctantly, Ruth nodded. “Come fetch me as soon as you can.”
As the woman limped out of the cavern, Keech gazed around Ignatio’s devastated mining camp. “How on earth did y’all manage to stir up such a fight?”
Quinn shrugged. “When I found Auntie Ruth, she was itching to spring a revolt on the Big Snake. She’d already been scheming, so when we showed up, it didn’t take much to get the camp organized.” He paused to take a breath, then turned to Duck. “My eyes must’ve been fooling me earlier. I thought I saw you chuck a boulder the size of a cow.”
Duck’s cheeks reddened. “Thank the Char Stone for that.”
“You never thought the Stone affected you, but I reckon it did,” Quinn said, looking astonished; then he spotted Cutter and dropped to one knee beside him. “Cut, it’s so good to see you again! We thought you was a goner.”
Cutter said nothing in return. He simply rocked back and forth on the ground.
Kneeling, Strong Heart placed a hand under Cutter’s chin and lifted his face so she could have a better look at him. He didn’t seem to notice her touch. “What has happened to him?”
Keech explained the frenzied events leading up to Ignatio’s death, including the rage curse the sorcerer had placed on Cutter to wield him like a weapon against Coward.
“He would’ve killed him if Coward hadn’t used the Fang to stop the attack,” Duck added. “The Fang released him from the curse, but it also freed Cut of the Devil’s mark.”
Keech went on to explain the rest of their story—their infiltration into the House of the Rabbit, the discovery of the Key of Enoch, and their forced surrender of the relic to Ignatio.
“And now Coward’s got it,” Duck said.
“He’s got the Fang, too,” Keech added.
“And don’t forget the Char Stone,” a quivering voice muttered.
Everyone turned to see Cutter struggling up from the ground. Quinn helped the boy to his feet, and when Cut finally gained enough strength to stand, he said, “Ignatio ordered Coward to take the Stone to his cabin at the main camp.”
“Then we’ll need to go get it after we relieve Coward of the Key and the Fang,” Keech said, turning again to Cutter: “Do you think you can ride?”
Cutter’s face brightened. “You’ll still ride with me? After everything that’s happened?”
Keech said, “You belong beside us. Always have.” Then Ignatio’s body on the ground caught his attention. The bone handle of Cutter’s blade still protruded from the sorcerer’s chest. Keech moved to retrieve it, but Cutter stopped him.
“No, Blackwood. This is my burden. Let me.”
Keech stepped back, letting the boy move closer.
Cutter peered down at the knife, which had pierced Ignatio’s eye tattoo. He shook his head. “The prophecy came true after all. In Missouri, Bishop and I learned that the knife would someday kill ‘the Eye,’ but I’d always thought it meant Bad Whiskey. Now I know the knife’s true purpose was to stop Ignatio.”
“I can’t believe that old thing was magic,” Duck said.
“When we first met, it wasn’t,” Cutter said, then went on to explain his nighttime attack on Coward and how the blade had changed after striking the Char Stone. “The Stone must’ve filled it with enough power to stick Ignatio, and Coward knew it. Afterward, he let me keep the knife, told me I had a purpose. I think he wants to be Rose’s lieutenant and was willing to kill anyone standing in his path.”
Suddenly, a clamor echoed through the cavern—a booming sound, like the crack of a musket, only it sounded more like a human cough. The noise blasted over the Lost Causes with the force of a detonation, throwing all of them to the ground. Even Achilles tumbled off his paws, landing with a startled yelp on the rocky floor. Keech felt his head go fuzzy and dark, and a strange paralysis overtook his body. Against his will, his eyes fluttered shut.
When he could finally open them, Keech glanced around the camp, bewildered. “What in blazes happened?” he muttered.
Duck and Strong Heart were already back on their feet, gazing around with confused expressions.
“It was Coward!” Quinn shouted. “He knocked out the whole danged camp!”
Keech glanced across the cavern. Sure enough, the Wisdom prisoners who’d been holding Coward were scattered unconscious on the ground. Coward was gone. As were the Key and the Fang.
“No!” Keech exclaimed.
Duck’s face clouded over with dread. “I’d wager he’s headed to the summit.”
“To catch the door,” Quinn finished.
Strong Heart quoted the words from her elder, Buffalo Woman: “The land will lose the sun.”
“Not if we can help it,” Keech said. “It’s a long way to the top, and Coward’s tired and beaten. We can head him off.”
“No time for standin’ around, tadpoles!” shouted a voice.
Em O’Brien emerged from the mouth of a nearby tunnel. Her face was bruised from her scuffle with Black Charlie, the tangle that Keech had assumed was her last. But the fierce fire in the woman’s eyes told him the Enforcer still had plenty of fight left. She shuffled toward them, clutching her stomach and favoring one leg. Blood spattered the bull hide of her batwing chaps, and the brim of her hat looked mangled. As she moved closer, O’Brien scrutinized each of their battle-worn faces.
“I’m afraid Coward put y’all down longer than ya think.”
Keech felt the terrible wash of dread return to his heart. “How long, O’Brien?”
“I have peered into the Prime, and as we speak, Coward’s almost to the mountaintop. Which means the relics are one step closer to the Palace of the Thunders.” The Enforcer wiped a splash of blood off her cheek. “Collect yer horses and gather yer grit. We’ve got ourselves a door to catch.”