This world has many crows, and those crows can see far and take what they see to dangerous places.
—PA ABNER
They were halfway down the switchback when the crows attacked.
The descent was frightening enough, given the steep drop. Keech worried most about Hector; the path was particularly narrow for such a large stallion. But despite Hector’s unmistakable discomfort, he progressed steadily down the path, following the others with his head up and ears alert.
A deafening Ack! Ack! made Keech jump in his saddle.
A spray of black erupted from the top of the far granite cliff like a whale spouting ebony ink. Dozens of Rose’s crows twisted together in the sky, forming a grotesque braid, then dived at the Lost Causes. Across the Rattlebrook River, a malicious cheer broke out.
“So much for the element of surprise,” Sheriff Turner moaned.
The lead crow swooped down on Cutter as he brought up the rear of their line. At the last possible second, the crow veered to the side, aiming its razor-sharp beak at Chantico’s hindquarters, and narrowly missed the horse’s flesh. Cutter lunged at the crow with his blade. The knife slashed the creature’s wing, and red flames engulfed it. The next crow tried to fly upward, but once more, Cutter’s blade sent the bird to a fiery death.
The rest of the crows pulled back, screeching their frustration.
Keech glanced ahead to see Duck and Strong Heart holding their amulet shards at the ready, the charms now glowing a bright yellow across their palms. Sheriff Turner pulled his revolver and squeezed off a few rounds at the crows, but his shots missed their marks.
“Hurry to the bottom!” O’Brien called. “If they spook the horses, we could tumble!”
Keech glanced down the side of the bluff and felt his stomach clench at the long drop. Trusting Hector, he released his reins and twisted in the saddle to better track the crows. A few of the creatures broke formation, swinging wide of Cutter and his deadly blade.
A pair of crows flashed past Sam and Minerva, cutting into the pony’s flank and slashing at the forearm Sam had thrown up to shield his head.
Keech realized he could best protect the troop by finding his focus. He lifted his hand, pointed at one of the crows, and felt a surge of energy flow from his core. “Bang!” he yelled.
The bird exploded.
Bellowing at the crows, O’Brien flung a handful of greenish dust over the drop. For an instant, the powder hung in the air like a lazy cloud of pollen. Then specks of green shot out of the mist. The grains flew like hornets at the crows. Though many missed their targets, dozens of the particles struck home, tearing into the flock.
Moments later, the group reached the bottom of the canyon. They gathered behind a long boulder near the riverbank and dismounted. They were banged up, but Keech supposed things could have been worse.
The crows continued to circle overhead. O’Brien had greatly reduced their numbers, but a new swarm of birds emerged from the top of the Palace and joined the others.
“Those rotten things just keep coming,” Sam said.
“As long as we have the amulet shards, we can keep them at bay,” said Duck. “My concern is Coward. Where in blazes could he be?”
As if to answer to her, Coward sprang into view on the opposite bank of the river. He approached a squad of thrall soldiers and yelled at the men. Keech searched the rabble for Doyle, but the Ranger was nowhere to be seen.
Then Coward pointed across the river, aiming his finger at the boulder that sheltered the Lost Causes. Quinn muttered, “Uh-oh. We’ve been spotted!”
Saluting the outlaw, the rotting soldiers raised their muskets. Thunder Pass erupted with the volley of musket fire. Though the boulder offered some protection, the posse still dropped to their stomachs as lead balls pinged off the rocks around them.
“That weasel’s almost to the Palace wall,” O’Brien grumbled.
“I’d wager there’s a place upriver where we could cross,” said Turner, “but by the time we find it, we’d be too late.”
Keech risked a peek around the boulder. Across the river, portions of the army had parted to allow Coward through. The outlaw had reached the stone wall of the Palace.
“I can’t see nothing over there,” said Sam. “Where’s your Ranger friend?”
Keech squinted for a better glimpse across the Rattlebrook and thought he saw a patch of brown leather behind Coward. But then a lead ball zinged past his face, and Keech pulled back. When he looked again, Rose’s horde had closed up the space around Coward, and any possible sign of Doyle was lost.
Turning momentarily from the wall, Coward shouted a quick speech to the undead mob. “My friends, today is the day!” His words boomed over Thunder Pass as if a giant were speaking. “The Reverend shall be made new!” Then Coward pulled the Key of Enoch from his saddlebag. Wrapping the shackle and chain around his arm, he shouted, “All who see the Master’s face shall tremble!”
“We’re too late!” Duck cried.
“We must cross the river,” Strong Heart said.
A fresh salvo of musket fire cracked the humid air, pushing the Lost Causes back down to their stomachs. High above, the crows whirled frantically through the violet sky. When Keech heard a break in the gunfire, he again lifted his head and saw Doyle stumbling behind Coward. A crowd of jeering thralls surrounded them.
“I see the Ranger! Coward’s dragging him in!” Keech yelled.
Time seemed to freeze as Coward stepped into the solid rock wall, hauling Doyle with him, and both men passed like phantoms into the Palace. Once they disappeared, Lost Tucker, her Weavers, and every thrall in Thunder Pass shouted waves of triumphant mirth that echoed up and down the canyon. The crows in the sky cawed with maniacal glee.
O’Brien dropped her head in defeat. “That’s it, then. The end of it. We’re done for.”
“Now hold on,” Quinn said. “Maybe there’s still another way.” He looked deep in thought as he turned his gaze upward.
“Well, spill the beans, Revels,” Duck said. “We ain’t getting any younger.”
Adjusting his forage cap, Quinn gestured to the top of the great wall, where the crows were swarming. “Those birds are flying out of the Palace, right? So maybe there’s something like a chimney. And maybe we can use it to sneak in.”
“Dios mío, you gotta be kidding,” Cutter mumbled.
Keech felt his insides bunch up like knotted ropes. “You’re suggesting we cross this river, stroll past that army, and scale a wall. Then face all those crows, and climb down a chimney—assuming there even is a chimney—to get to Rose.”
Quinn offered the group a feeble smile. “Yeah, I reckon that’s what I’m saying.”
Sam looked eager to weigh in. “While we were riding down, I studied the Palace wall. I think I spotted a way up. I could lead a team if we can get past Rose’s army.”
“Hiding us won’t be a problem,” Quinn said. “What I can’t figure out is how we’ll get across the Rattlebrook. The rapids are too heavy.”
Keech wanted to suggest they use a series of ropes to ford the river. But before he could start, O’Brien pulled a small leather pouch out of her coat and held it up to the light.
“Leave that part to me,” she said.
Quinn glanced at the pouch with interest, then said, “In that case, everybody listen up…”