“Quiet, all of you,” a commanding voice growled. “Anyone who could destroy War Chief Makes Three and the Morning Star’s squadrons so effortlessly isn’t to be taken lightly.”
Someone cleared his throat and said, “It would be worth it to be there when the Lady Night Shadow Star gets her hands on him. When she heard Makes Three had been killed … Well, it’s said she’s been crazy with grief ever since.”
“The lady Night Shadow Star deeply and truly loved her husband.”
“Some people say she was unnaturally attached to him. Like an obsession. Devotion like that isn’t healthy.”
The commander growled, “Shut up. All of you. We’re not out of this yet.”
And then, moments later, the voice had announced, “Here come the others. They have the Matron.”
Not ten heartbeats had passed before Fire Cat felt his mother’s body dropped in beside him. Then the voice ordered, “Take them to the Morning Star.”
The sick fear in Fire Cat’s gut had left him nauseous. The Morning Star’s forces had taken Red Wing town, and in doing so, had crushed the last bastion of Petaga’s descendants.
Fire Cat’s Red Wing Clan had its origins in Cahokia, but his ancestors had fled two generations ago after the defeat of High Chief Petaga’s Moon Moiety in a terrible civil war.
Being followers of Petaga and the terrifying priestess Lichen, Fire Cat’s ancestors had escaped northward up the river. Far beyond the reach of Cahokia, they had established Red Wing town, carved it out of virgin wilderness. Despite those first tenuous years of starvation, warfare with the local Oneota tribesmen, and brutal winters, they’d survived.
Then, everything had changed when the Morning Star had blazed for nearly a moon’s time in the midday sky. Borne by Traders, the miraculous story filtered up the river. At Cahokia—it was said—the Four Winds clan had attempted, and achieved, the impossible: They had resurrected the souls of the Hero Twin, Morning Star, into the body of a living man! It had been accomplished at great cost. Calling a soul—especially one so exalted—from the Sky World required that something had to be sacrificed to maintain balance between the Sky World and earth. Grisly reports of the elaborate ritual told of tens of young women who had been clubbed, strangled, or bled to death before being deposited in a mass grave—all offerings to the Powers of the Sky World to atone for the “borrowing” of Morning Star’s celestial presence.
All of Red Wing town had scoffed at the wild tales. People didn’t just summon a hero’s Spirit soul to fill a human body! Ridiculous! This was but one more trick perpetrated by the evil Four Winds Clan on the gullible people of Cahokia.
How—the Red Wing had asked—could a mortal body hope to contain the life-soul of a supernatural hero as Powerful as Morning Star? It had to be fraud, a hoax perpetrated to concentrate and solidify the Four Winds’ hold on volatile Cahokia with its fractious politics.
Over the years even more stories made their way upriver—tales of the massive leveling and rebuilding of the old town, of thousands upon thousands of pilgrims, all picking up pots, packs, and portables, and moving from distant lands to Cahokia to bask in the presence of the living god.
When Fire Cat had been a boy, the first sign of trouble came when River-Washed-Mountain—one of the upper river’s landmarks a day’s travel south of Red Wing town—was claimed by Cahokia as an outpost.
“A base from which the blasphemous dogs can launch attacks against us!” Fire Cat’s uncle had cried. And forthwith, an assault was planned and launched, overwhelming the small party of Cahokians who’d begun clearing land on the craggy hill that jutted up from the river.
Blood forever calls for vengeance. Over the years, Red Wing town had beaten off various attacks. Sometimes years would pass before some slight would goad the so-called “Morning Star” to send his forces north again. Then had come word that the god’s human body had died. All of Cahokia was said to be in mourning.
“At least that’s over!” Uncle had proclaimed with relief.
Until the news burned its way upriver the following spring: The soul of Morning Star had been resurrected yet again. This time in Chunkey Boy. And, by so doing, the hero was now guaranteed immortality. His human bodies might age and die, but Four Winds Clan would always have another ready to act as host to the god’s souls.
The night of his capture Fire Cat had heard the warriors clambering into the canoe, wooden oars clunking as they were picked up. Men chuckled among themselves, soft voices laden with the rich delight of victory.