Fire in the Ocean

by K. D. Keenan

  A few mo‘o showed up and were respectfully greeted by all. They were obviously known here. The mo‘o tucked into a gleaming pile of whole, fresh fish apparently provided just for them.

  Ah well, thought Sierra. If Kama wants to put on a luau, we just have to go along with it. I know we’re not getting any real business done until this is over. She accepted a coconut shell of ‘awa and placed a scoop of ‘opihi on tī leaves offered to her by a young Hawai‘ian man with melting brown eyes and the physique of an elite athlete. We just need to wait until this is over. I think I could enjoy this.

  Sierra began to sing along with the chants.

  Chapter 24

  Houghton Roberts was having a bad day, but all of his days had been bad since the accident at Jack of Diamonds. Work at both sites had been suspended while they investigated the accident, but so far they had found nothing to account for what had happened. The delay in construction was costing Ahi Moana a great deal of money, and contractual deadlines were in peril.

  Now he was trying to decide whether or not to proceed with the work. There was nothing to indicate that what happened that day was likely to happen again. On the other hand, they didn’t know what had caused it, so there was no assurance that it wouldn’t happen again. Well, he had wanted a top position, with all the responsibilities that came with it. Now he had to make the right choice. Whatever that was.

  Despite his worries, his thoughts occasionally went back to Sierra. She was definitely a tree-hugger type, not that he objected. After all, he was devoting his own time to alternative energy, and he felt good about it. She was interesting, though. Smart and passionate. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful­—although perhaps not in a conventional way. Her shiny, dark hair wasn’t fashionably styled, and it looked like the only thing she did with it was plait it into a single, long braid down her back. She had worn no makeup the times he had seen her. She was fit and tanned from hiking. Her high cheekbones and large, almond eyes gave her an exotic look, but her manner was down-to-earth. She had never flirted with him, which in his experience was unusual. At the company parties or industry events he attended, lovely women always flirted with him. These women, he had noticed, put a great deal of effort into their clothes and makeup. Sierra didn’t even bother to paint her nails, much less grow them long. He had noticed, though, that she usually wore jewelry. It looked handcrafted, with unusual stones and creative designs. He had been surprised to learn that she designed and fabricated the jewelry herself.

  He felt comfortable around Sierra in a way he usually didn’t around women. Women often seemed to have a hidden agenda. Sometimes they seemed to want to get close to him as quickly as possible. Sometimes they seemed to be playing hard to get. Sierra had an agenda, but she had told him immediately what it was—she wanted him to stop construction on WestWind. Other than that, she had seemed interested in many of the same things he was, and she had enjoyed her visit to the jack ship until the accident occurred.

  This thought reminded him of Clancy, and he frowned. Was Clancy her boyfriend? He wasn’t sure. Sierra and Clancy had seemed close but hadn’t been particularly affectionate with each other on their tour of Jack of Diamonds. Of course, and cooing on a tour of a construction site would be inappropriate, so that was no indication.

  Roberts wrenched his thoughts away from Sierra and back to WestWind. He still had a decision to make.

  • • •

  Sierra woke up gradually the morning after Kama’s luau. The evening had been warm and rain-free, so she had eschewed her tent in favor of sleeping under the lanai. Kama had his own hale, as did his many friends, scattered about the forest nearby. As she opened her eyes, she heard a clear, ascending whistle. A brilliant red-orange bird with black and white wings sat on a vine growing next to the lanai. It had a long, downward-curved beak. Sierra knew without thinking that the bird was an ‘i‘iwi. She hadn’t seen one on Moloka‘i, but the knowledge was clear and present in her mind. Another aspect of Kanaloa’s gift? She lay on her mat, staring dreamily at the bird until she smelled coffee and sat up. Bless him, Chaco was approaching with a mugful of caffeinated bliss.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the mug. “You know, I really like this particular talent of yours.”

  “I have lots more,” he said, smiling broadly.

  The subject needed changing. “Where’s Kama?”

  “He’s still asleep. But breakfast is ready.”

  Sierra saw a large bundle of kapa cloth under the lanai. It was snoring loudly, so she assumed it was Kama. She left the lanai and entered the clearing where the luau had taken place the night before. Based on her earlier experience in Kama’s valley, she expected to see sleeping revelers, the remains of the feast, trampled leis, and other detritus you might find after an enthusiastic all-night luau. But the area was immaculate. There were new bowls of freshly prepared food waiting for them. There were no flies or other obnoxious creatures flocking to the food for their share. The benefits of magic, she supposed.

  After a breakfast of fish, poi, and fruit, plus Chaco’s excellent, bottomless mug of coffee, Sierra and Chaco sat waiting for Kama to appear. As the sun approached the zenith—without diminishing the glory of the permanent rainbow overhead—the bundle of kapa cloth under the lanai stirred, stretched, and unrolled, revealing Kama. He bounded up with enormous energy and came to join Sierra and Chaco.

  “Good morning!” Kama said, tucking into a dish of fried plantains. “I hope you had fun last night. I did!” He ate with enthusiasm. After demolishing the plantains, he went on to devour the fish and poi, then cracked a coconut, drank its milk and scooped out the crisp, white flesh.

  “That’s better,” he said finally, patting his flat, hard stomach. He peered at Sierra’s steaming mug. “What’s that?”

  “Coffee. You should try it—they grow a lot of it over in Kona.” She offered the mug to him.

  Kama took a huge mouthful. He held it in his mouth for a few beats, then turned and spewed it into a bush. “That’s bitter! It’s horrible!”

  “Sorry.” Now you know how I feel about ‘awa.

  “So, what brings you to see me, friends?”

  “I’m sure you remember the luau on Moloka‘i, where the Menehune were the guests of honor?” Sierra said. Kama nodded.

  “Now there was a party!” he exclaimed, rubbing his big hands together with glee. “I won the javelin toss, did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t. Congratulations. Do you also remember why the Menehune came to talk to you?”

  Kama sat back, eyes cast upward in thought. “Hmm. They had some sort of request, didn’t they? Oh, I remember now! They were worried about the whales, was that it?”

  “Yes,” Sierra confirmed. “Do you remember what they asked you to do?”

  “Um, no. Not really. It was a pretty wild luau.”

  “They said there was construction going on in the ocean west of Moloka‘i,” said Sierra. “The whales are unhappy about it. You said you would look into it for them.”

  “I did? I don’t remember saying that,” said Kama, looking sheepish.

  “You gave your sacred word,” put in Chaco. “That’s why we came. People are building a wind farm in the ocean on top of Penguin Bank—the extinct underwater volcano west of Moloka‘i.”

  “Wind farm?” asked Kama, his brow furrowing like earth beneath a harrow. “What’s that?”

  It took quite a while to communicate everything they had learned, and it was late afternoon when Kama, still looking bemused, stood and blew his conch.

  “Time for a break,” he explained, as the beautiful men and women began bringing bowls and platters of food and gourds full of ‘awa, coconut milk, and fresh water. “Let us eat and refresh ourselves, friends, and then we will talk some more.”

  Chaco and Sierra were more than ready to take a break. Sierra’s growling stomach had more than once interrupted her serious explanations of the situation on Moloka‘i. As she ate, she looked around the clearing. Kama’s
hale and several others were tucked in among the sheltering trees. The sky was a clear, bright blue, set off by the rainbow overhead. Small, wispy clouds floated past. The sun was warm, but not too hot, and the winds carried the sweet perfume of flowers. The entire place had a sense of peace and perfection that had never been features of Sierra’s world.

  “Does it ever rain here?” she asked Kama. “It was raining, or about to, when we left…where we were. But it’s not storming here.”

  “Sure it rains here,” replied Kama, sitting cross-legged on a mat and enjoying some roasted coconut.

  “When?”

  “At night. As long as there’s nothing else going on. We don’t want it to rain if we’re night fishing or having a luau, or something like that.”

  So I’m in Fairyland, thought Sierra. Well, well. And she drank some ‘awa without thinking about it, the bitter taste becoming sweet in her mouth.

  When everyone had eaten and drunk all they wanted, Kama sat up, alert once more.

  “So you asked Kanaloa and Kauhuhu for help,” he said, “and they tried to kill the men building the, the…farm of wind. But you say that’s not what you wanted. Did you tell Kanaloa and Kauhuhu not to harm the men?”

  Sierra felt a pang of chagrin. “No. It didn’t occur to me. I asked them to stop the building, not hurt the workers.”

  Kama shook his head. “What about you, Avatar? Did you not warn her?”

  “I am not of your land or your ways, Kama,” Chaco replied. “I didn’t know the character of these gods, or how to deal with them. I regret this, but it’s true.”

  “Kanaloa and Kauhuhu are dangerous. Unpredictable. Did no one warn you?”

  “Yes,” said Sierra. “Auntie Keikilani warned me, but she also said she thought they were interested in me and wouldn’t harm me.”

  “She was right about that,” said Kama, “but apparently, they had no qualms about hurting others. You have been stirring the hornets’ nest, haven’t you?”

  Chaco gave Kama a stern look, his golden eyes darkened to amber. “Sierra wouldn’t have resorted to asking Kanaloa and Kauhuhu for help if you had kept your promise to the Menehune of Moloka‘i.”

  Kama straightened his spine and nodded his head, “You’re right, friend. But I have no power over Kanaloa or Kauhuhu. If they have decided on a course of action, I can’t stop them.”

  Chaco, seated cross-legged across from Kama, leaned forward with deadly intensity. “You may not have the power to combat those two, but you have a friend who can.”

  Kama stared blankly at Chaco. “What do you mean?”

  “Pele. Pele has enormous mana. She shaped this land. She continues to shape this land and exert her will throughout these islands. Who can stand in her way? Kanaloa can quench her fires, but he can’t stop her; Pele stops only when Pele wishes. Am I right?”

  Kama paled a bit and shifted uneasily on his mat. He gestured to an attendant to bring him more ‘awa. “I can’t go to Pele,” he said flatly. “She’ll kill me.”

  “I thought Avatars can’t be killed?’ Sierra asked.

  “He’s speaking metaphorically,” replied Chaco. “But I’m sure she could make things pretty unpleasant for him.” Returning his attention to Kama, he said, “You’re a handsome kane—as you’ve told us more than once—and Pele still yearns for you. We could tell that when we saw her in Moloka‘i. Right now, she’s angry with you, but perhaps if you were considerate of her, behaved like a lover, she might warm up, er, be more amenable to your enormous, ah, charms.”

  “And for heaven’s sake, don’t go telling her about her sister’s ma‘i! Or anyone else’s ma‘i, for that matter,” Sierra added hastily.

  Kama looked resolute for a moment, then drooped. “I can’t do it,” he said. “I know I promised the Menehune, and I’m sorry I forgot about that, but I can’t face Pele. You saw her. She’d burn me to a crisp if she could.”

  “Well, then,” Chaco said, rising easily from his cross-legged position and stretching elaborately. “I guess I’ll just have to go have a talk with her myself.”

  Sierra and Kama gaped at him. “About what?” Kama asked suspiciously.

  “I’m afraid I will have to tell her how to find you,” said Chaco with a malicious gleam in his eyes. “I bet she’ll be interested.”

  Kama seemed to swell, reminding Sierra of a puffer fish. Sierra didn’t know what he was capable of, but she was sure Kama controlled more mana than he had ever shown them.

  Kama’s face had grown dark and he scowled fiercely at Chaco. “You threaten me?” he said in a low growl. “Remember, I am a god!” His powerful shoulders hunched like a bull’s.

  “Yes. As it happens, I’m by way of being a god myself,” said Chaco, shifting rapidly to coyote form. His black lips were drawn back from white fangs, his legs were stiff with tension, and his thick fur bristled around the tan vest.

  A black and white hog stood where Kama had been sitting. Its heavy yellow tusks dripped foam, and its little piggy eyes were furious. The boar squealed and pawed the ground with a cloven hoof. The coyote crouched low, prepared to spring forward.

  “Stop it!” yelled Sierra. “Don’t go crazy on me. No fighting! Please!”

  Boar and coyote, startled, looked at her, then Kama and Chaco were back in their human forms. Both were still panting and casting nasty glances at each other, but the fight was over before it began.

  “Thank you,” Sierra said, drawing a long breath of relief. “Now, let’s settle this like gentlem…like the good, kind Avatars I know you both to be, okay?”

  Feathers began to unruffle. The Avatars sat down again. Kama brushed imaginary dust from his arms while Chaco ran long fingers through his dark hair. Neither looked at his erstwhile opponent.

  “I think as Avatars you two are evenly matched. Neither of you will win a fight here. So, Kama, I am asking you again to speak with Pele, implore her to intervene. Chaco doesn’t want to spill the beans to Pele. He’d much rather you go speak to her. Right, Chaco?” She glanced at her friend.

  “Right.”

  “Please, Kama? Then you will have kept your promise to the Menehune, people’s lives will be saved, and maybe you and Pele can come to some sort of mutual agreement.”

  Kama rose majestically. “I will think on it overnight,” he said grandly. “If you desire food or drink, you have only to ask one of my people.” He strode with conscious dignity to his hale and disappeared into the interior.

  Chapter 25

  Sierra and Chaco glanced at one another as Kama retreated. “What do you think?” Sierra asked.

  “He’ll do it. He’s just miffed because we called him out for forgetting his promise to the Menehune. Also, Pele scares him spitless. But she’s also his true love. Outside of himself, I mean,” said Chaco.

  Sierra reflected that it takes a thief to catch one, but she said, “Well, now what shall we do? While we’re waiting, I mean.”

  Chaco looked up at the fading sunlight and the unfading rainbow. “I vote we walk around and see what we can see. I’d be willing to bet there’s nothing here that will harm us. Have you noticed there are bugs, but none of them land on us or our food? And they don’t bite? It’s never too hot or too cold. It rains only when Kama says it can. We’re in paradise, or something close enough.”

  They began to stroll about the little village. All the people were gorgeous, with liquid brown eyes, full lips, and smooth brown skin. The women wore their hair long, rippling down their slender backs in blue-black waves, festooned with flowers. They wore kapa skirts, but left their upper bodies uncovered. Sierra noticed that Chaco kept his eyes fixed firmly above shoulder level, and was proud of him for his restraint under such trying circumstances. The men, all of the same tall, solid, stocky build as Kama, wore malos. Their long hair was tied back in a variety of interesting ways, and they wore lavish flower leis. Some also had kapa cloaks, stamped with geometric patterns. Both men and women sometimes wore shell leis, ropes of yellow, red, white, brown, black, a
nd pink shells, strung together to form patterns.

  “One thing is odd,” whispered Sierra to Chaco. His eyebrow rose like a dark wing as he cocked his head at her.

  “Really? I mean apart from the rainbow that never fades, the perfect weather, the polite insects, and all?”

  “Yes. There are no kids here.”

  Chaco looked around. Men and women were busy doing various tasks or chatting. They seemed happy and occupied. But Sierra was right. No children.

  “That might be one reason this is paradise,” Chaco whispered back. Sierra elbowed him. “No, seriously. These aren’t humans living here. These are all immortals. If you don’t die, there’s no need to reproduce, is there?”

  “If they aren’t human, what are they?” asked Sierra, a little uneasily.

  Chaco considered this. “I’m not sure you have a word for it. Fairies. Good Folk. Some of them might be ghosts.”

  “Ghosts?”

  “Not in the sense of wearing white bed sheets and clanking chains and moaning, no. But many of these people were once mortal. Now they are immortal. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Why?” asked Sierra.

  “What did I just say? There could be a million reasons. Maybe some man in ancient Hawai‘i was a brave warrior and saved his village and Kama made him immortal. Maybe a maiden fell in love with a shark god and he devoured her but made her spirit immortal. Could be anything.”

  “Oh.” As usual, the more Sierra tried to figure out how the supernatural worked, the more it eluded her. It would be so much more convenient and comfortable if they just had a user’s manual, she thought. As it is, I never know what to expect.