Eighty

Joara had been easy to find. The trails were deeply worn, the occasional farmsteads occupied by helpful people, some of whom spoke a smattering of the colonial tongue: Cahokian.

Just ask, “Joara?” And they’d point to the right trail.

The town itself was a crossroads located in the midst of a web of creeks that ran down from the eastern slope of the Blue Mountains. To the immediate west was the gap that led to Beautiful River and the Wide Fast. To the northwest lay a more precipitous pass through the mountains where a trail descended to one of the many headwaters of the Tenasee. East was, of course, Cofitachequi proper and the trail that led to the great Eastern Ocean.

Joara should have been bustling. The fields—all on fertile soil up and down the creek—were lush, the ears of corn full enough the locals should have been preparing for the Busk: the sacred Green Corn Ceremony. Instead of people preparing for games, fasting, ritual purification, and finally, the feast that would celebrate the relighting of the sacred fires and the cooking of the first green corn, the place was occupied by a few skinny dogs that wandered about the houses.

And of course, there was the palace on the east end of town atop its low mound.

Night Shadow Star had arrived just before dusk after a hard day’s travel, most of it done at a trot.

Rather than rush right in, she’d kept to the forest, eased from tree to tree, taking her time, learning the layout of the town.

As night fell, she slipped in among the buildings, finding ample cover. She prowled from house to house, finding many left as if the people had just walked away. One had a hunting bow still standing in the corner next to a quiver of arrows. Others had jars of tea, bowls of shelled corn, a pot of pitch, blankets and bedding untouched. Weaving on looms left as if the owner had stepped away for but a moment.

A whole town, abandoned.

From dark doorways she could survey the plaza. Watched as warriors—there appeared to only be five—loitered on the palace veranda. The chief—a Cahokian who wore North Star House designs on his apron—was a small man, wiry. Despite the darkness and distance, she immediately recognized the exiled Fire Light. Why would he be here? And since he was, what was his deal with Walking Smoke?

Across from her, the Clan House couldn’t be missed given the flayed human skin hanging from a framework built of sticks standing out front. Two human skulls, missing the lower jaws, had been impaled upon poles at either corner of the building. An inverted elk skull was resting on its heavy rack of antlers, the bone white in the gathering night.

Her heart jumped a beat as she saw movement at the door. Watched the figure of a man emerge from the shadowed veranda.

“Yes!” Piasa’s harsh whisper sounded just behind her right ear.

She eased farther back into the darkness, letting the doorway mask her outline. A cool tingle of fear danced lightly through her as Walking Smoke stepped out, head cocked in that old inquisitive manner. Lightning flashed in the night, and Walking Smoke raised his hands, throwing his head back.

In another white flash, she could see the bent smile, realized something was wrong with the side of his face.

“I know you’re out there!” he called. “I can feel you! Like I felt you last night. You know. I had you by the waist. Held you tight. I was just about to drive my shaft all the way into that warm and soft sheath of yours!”

He laughed, almost cackled.

The warriors on the chief’s palace veranda had stepped out, watching in curious silence.

Night Shadow Star took a deep breath. Tried to still the pounding inside her. What kind of magic was that? Had he really been there?

Once again lightning flashed across the sky.

“I need you to come to me,” Walking Smoke called. “It’s this Power. Playing us. Sky Power, Underworld Power. They expect us to kill each other.”

He circled around, staring this way and that. “Where are you?”

Well, at least he wasn’t headed her way at a run. She shifted the copper-bitted ax. She’d shoved the slim hickory handle through the rope belted at her waist. Ensured it would be easy to rip free at a moment’s notice.

“Think about it,” Walking Smoke cried into the darkening night. “We’re gaming pieces. But what happens if we change the game? Underworld crossed with Sky World. Male and female. White and red. Brother and sister. Not just any brother and sister, but the most important ones in the world!”

She made a face.

“You want to end this?” He lifted his hands in the gloom. “Come to me, sister. What if instead of killing each other, we melted your Power into mine? You and me. In union. Our Power mixing, becoming stronger and stronger. Together.”

“You’re still a twisted and abhorrent excuse for a human being,” she whispered under her breath.

“I’ve just given you the key,” Walking Smoke bellowed. “The reason they fear us so much. The reason they want us to murder each other. The moment we merge our Power, we destroy them!”

The warriors in front of the palace looked uncomfortable as they shifted back and forth.

“I’ll be inside,” Walking Smoke told her. “I have roast meat and black drink on the fire. However you want to do this, I am ready. Let’s finish this once and for all.”

With that, he turned, walked back into the building, leaving the door open so that the glow from the fire inside could be seen.

Night Shadow Star sagged back into the darkness.

Now that she was here, faced with his madness, her courage had fled.

She dropped her face into her hands, wishing Fire Cat was with her. She’d always been brave when Fire Cat was at her side.

Remember? That’s who Piasa thinks is going to finish this.

“Just walk across the plaza. Walk in the door, and all I have to do is drive my ax through his skull.”

She flexed the muscles in her right arm, ran her fingers down them. She’d never been stronger. Day after day, she’d paddled, carried a pack, climbed up and down tortuous trails in mountain country.

Walking Smoke would have been here, playing the part of a witch. Lounging, eating well, being lazy. Of her two brothers, Walking Smoke had always been the one to take the easy route.

“He won’t be expecting my strength. My agility.”

“Come to me,” his words echoed in her memory.

And in that instant, a slow smile crossed her lips.

That’s what Walking Smoke, the Thunderers, and Piasa were counting on.