Free Maggie Get Your Gun by Kate Danley

started
down the side of the embankment, rocks sliding beneath our shoes.
    “I am here only in a backup capacity.”
    We went in together.
    I flipped on my headlamp and flashed my light deep into the
tunnel.  It appeared we were alone.  I hated that neither of us would put
“crawling through dark places” on our Top 10 List of Awesome Things.  Someone
needed to be the spunky cheerleader on this adventure.  I looked at Killian, “I
wish you were a mountain dwarf.”
    “The feeling is mutual.”
    I tried to soothe myself with the notion that as soon as we
nabbed the hair doodad, we could get the hell out.  I reached out with my
senses to get a lock on the comb, but I couldn’t feel it.  I hoped to god that
it was just all this silver masking its whereabouts and not that we had been A)
beaten to it or B) lied to.
    Other than a couple spots that had seen some fantastic
little cave-ins, the passageway was tall enough for us to walk down, minding
our feet didn’t trip over the ore cart tracks.  Last thing either of us needed when
crawling through an abandoned mine that we weren't supposed to be in was a
sprained ankle.
    It’s hard to tell the passage of time when your whole world
exists about twenty feet in front of you and you've forgotten your watch.  It
seemed like we were walking forever.
    “Listen, I always look at the clock on my cell phone,” I explained. 
“I just didn’t think to remember that 4G coverage probably didn’t extend down
into the bowels of the earth.  What’s your excuse?”
    “My sundial does not work underground.”
    That’s when my little magical radar pinged.
    “I got a lock on it, Killian.”
    The call felt like it was coming from the “left” and “below
us”, so I turned us at the next intersection.
    I stopped Killian, “Did you hear something?”
    He got really tense, “Like what?”
    “Just sounded like a rock…” I reached out my tracker senses
and didn’t feel anything.  “Probably just gravity collapsing the place on our
heads.  Come on.”
    The path dead ended into a drop.  And I could feel the comb
was absolutely in a you’re- going-to-have-to-climb-down-this-shit direction.
    “Crap,” I said as I pulled a rope and some wires out of my
bag, “Looks like I’ve gotta go below decks.”
    Killian placed his hand on my shoulder, “Maggie, I cannot
allow you to proceed alone.”
    I looked up at him and grinned.  He actually looked
worried.  The goofball really did care.
    “Listen, I’ll be fine," I said, handing him my pack,
"Watch my shit and make sure I can get back up.  It’d suck pretty bad to
get stuck inside a hill for eternity because of one lousy job neither of us
wanted.”
    “How important is this object?” Killian asked.
    I set the line and stepped into my harness, “Important
enough to strap a rope around my waist and lower myself into a hole.”
    He looked like he might want to hug me for good luck, so
before he went turning this mission into some awkwardly mushy moment, I jumped
over the edge.
    I rappelled down the side, trying to keep things going at a
controlled rate.  My feet finally touched the ground.
    “I hit bottom!” I called up.
    Distantly, I heard Killian reply, “I shall await your
return!”
    So, my sister Mindy and I used to play this game.  She would
hide Mom's tarot cards and I’d sniff them out like a bloodhound.  You know,
with less floppy ears and drool.  My sister might fight you on the drool.
    Technically, this should have been just like that game,
except that the area of play was considerably larger and the whole place was
enshrouded by silver, which caused all sorts of weird echoes.  It didn’t mask
the magic all together.  I could feel the comb was somewhere, but it created
these weird pings every time I sent out my bat radar.
    I pulled out my wooden stake, figuring I needed something
to ground myself with.  The sterling one my sister got engraved for me at
Things Remembered would definitely have