Page 14 of Sinistram
“Like the kind we usually keep on hand?” More than one type of creature required sturdy restraints if Brent and Travis weren’t able to deal with them right away. A locked box in the trunk held weapons and specialized gear. A blacksmith not far from Pittsburgh understood the supernatural and supplied them with the kind of equipment they couldn’t find at the hardware store.
“Yeah. I found sigils that are supposed to drain power from mountain creatures, which would include tommyknockers,” Travis replied. “I carved them into the set of cuffs we have in the back.”
“The challenge is going to be putting them on,” Brent pointed out. “I don’t imagine it’ll stand still if you ask nicely.”
“Probably not. That’s where you come in. Distract it. Weaken him with salt, iron, and silver shot. Give me an opening to slap the cuffs on him.”
Brent gave him a side-eye look. “Sure. You make it sound easy.”
“Never promised that,” Travis said. “But the lore didn’t give me other options. They can be bound, but they can’t be killed.”
“If that’s the case, what are the odds that whatever or whoever is killing hunters broke the binding early?” Brent asked. “The timing could be a coincidence…but it’s suspicious.”
“Agree. And I don’t know,” Travis admitted. “There’s no way to know how long ago someone bound the Darr creature, or how long the binding was supposed to last. It might have worn off…or someone could have taken advantage of an old, weakened spell to end it early. I can’t prove it, but I suspect our mysterious someone set the tommyknocker loose early.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing.”
They rode in silence for a while before Travis spoke up again. “Do you think the type of mine witches changed over the years? Because where the miners came from shifted over time. At first, way back, it was mostly from Wales and Cornwall. Later on, Germany, Hungary, and Poland.”
“Depends on what the witch was meant to do.” Brent wasn’t surprised that they had apparently been thinking along the same lines. “If it was to control any creature or spirit that was part of the mine itself, that wouldn’t matter. But if it was to bind the ghosts of the miners, then maybe magic from their home country worked better.”
“We already put out feelers with our witch friends for help,” Travis said. “Guess this is one more for the list, looking for people with knowledge about those magical traditions. Still plenty of people who hail from those places in Pittsburgh. I’m hoping it won’t be too hard to find some.”
They changed clothes at a rest stop, exchanging their more presentable jeans and shirts for harder-used versions and grabbing small protective bags of salt from the trunk to tuck into pockets. Travis and Brent always wore silver protective amulets, but they added bracelets just in case.
Brent glanced at his watch and the position of the sun. “Not far from here. Might be done in time for supper.”
“Don’t jinx us,” Travis replied, only partly in jest.
Close to the turnoff, a historical marker commemorated the disaster, a raised granite square with the name and date of the event. Brent figured it was better than nothing, but it seemed insufficient for a tragedy that claimed so many lives. He knew that a Hungarian civic organization had donated a tombstone to mark the common grave at a nearby cemetery where the bodies had been interred.
The road to the old mine entrance showed up on antique maps, but just looked like an unmarked driveway on the electronic version. Brent had expected chain-link fences and warning signs, but nothing kept them from pulling the car far enough onto the approach to not be visible.
They loaded up on weapons and other equipment and hiked in. The forest had reclaimed the land, but a close look revealed the remnants of development.
“There’s the mouth of the mine.” Travis pointed to a rocky overhang in a hillside that had filled with debris and largely overgrown with roots.
“Glad we don’t have to go inside,” Brent said with a shiver.
“Me, too.” Travis nodded to a cracked rectangular slab of old concrete near the mine mouth. It looked like something had been ripped free despite secure fasteners.
“Want to bet that’s where Ted’s engine sat? One of the accounts said that a miner was found pinned beneath a ten-ton engine that had been thrown from its moorings,” Travis said.
“Jesus,” Brent breathed. “Guess that explains the man’s ghost you saw with the Otto at the show.” He concentrated. “There are a lot of spirits nearby. They’re watching us. Maybe they’re used to hikers.”
“Except something killed three visitors,” Travis pulled what he needed from his bag to handle the magical part of the banishment. Brent readied weapons in case the attacks involved something more corporeal.
“You ready?” Travis asked when he had everything in place.
“As much as I’m ever going to be,” Brent replied.
They had already agreed to focus on whatever creature resided in the mine, not banishing ghosts unless the spirits proved dangerous.
“The ghosts don’t want us here, but I think they’re trying to protect us,” Travis shouted as the wind grew stronger, stirring the branches overhead and raising dust and dead leaves.
“Creature of the mine! You have caused enough harm. Leave this place and do not return.” Travis repeated the invocation in Latin and then again in Polish, like Mark had taught him.
The temperature dropped, and now the wind carried the echoes of the doomed miners’ shrieks and screams.
