Holding the Bundle woman’s hand, Night Shadow Star’s heart tore as she watched Fire Cat face the Natchez. From the moment she and the woman had grasped hands and guided Fire Cat’s chunkey lance, their entire concentration had been directed toward the fiery Power radiating from Waxaklahun Kan’s presence in the kukul. Countering it was like a Spirit Dance. The southern god would recede, conserve its Power, then unleash it. It might be to strengthen one of the Itza warriors, or perhaps to slow Fire Cat, or confuse his thoughts at a critical instant.
The Bundle—for Night Shadow Star had no other name for the age-shifting figure she clung to—would draw on its Power; and from Piasa Night Shadow Star would somehow channel her own. Block and parry. They had neither the time nor energy for anything else. Cunning and crafty, the War Serpent kept her from aiding Fire Cat. Her fear for him continued to grow.
Each combat had been won through his superior skill as a warrior, but for how long? When would his remarkable string of luck run out? How long could she and the Bundle continue to stymie the War Serpent’s ever-more-subtle attempts to alter the combat as she and Bundle had managed to affect the chunkey match?
That victory had only come as a result of the War Serpent’s surprise at their use of Power. Immediately thereafter, the southern god had stunned them with its rage, diverted only by Swirling Cloud’s execution.
The entire rest of the night, she, Piasa, and the Bundle had been locked in a mortal combat. Time had ceased. She existed only in the eternal moment, her senses heightened, awaiting the next thrust, the next feint. Now the Natchez were slinking forward.
“What can we do?” Night Shadow Star asked in desperation.
“We can only hold the War Serpent back, Lady. All of us, Singing together, our Song rising from a thousand throats going back to the past.”
“The Natchez will kill him!” Night Shadow Star cried. “He’s outnumbered! This is treachery!”
“Nothing is ever certain,” Piasa’s cold voice whispered from the darkness around her. “But where, we must wonder, is the Sky World’s Power in this? Or has your worldly counterpart tired of playing the game?”
“If the Morning Star no longer cares,” Night Shadow Star whispered in defeat, “we are all lost.”