by Matt Larkin
Upoho clucked his tongue. “Locals have some fish roasting in the imu. Come eat. Then we can all discuss things. No use worrying on an empty stomach.”
She glanced at him, wincing again to see the scarred ruin of his missing eye. Pele had done that. She had maimed Namaka’s foster brother in her desperation to rescue Lonomakua. But then, maybe Namaka should never have abducted someone so dear to Pele.
Namaka allowed Upoho to guide her back to Puna, toward the palace Pele had taken over. Namaka’s younger sister now reigned here, though Namaka had gathered the place had once belonged to the woman’s advisor, Naia. If the former queen held any bitterness over the loss of authority, she hid it well.
Slaves laid out meals in both the men’s and the women’s houses within the palace, and Namaka joined her sister in the women’s house, along with Naia. Upoho left her to head to the men’s hut where Makua and Moho—a visceral dread crept into her mind to even consider the Fire spirit—were no doubt resting.
Beyond, Lonomakua had taken over another house to hold Hi‘iaka’s body. The kahuna engaged in continuous chanting to keep her soul from fleeing into the dark of Pō, aided at times by the sorcery of Kapo. The mermaid part of Namaka could feel it—the distortion in reality their actions created, a psychic reverberation through the currents of Pō, leaving her ill-inclined to venture near to that house. Despite her desire to speak with Pele’s kahuna and push him to reveal his secrets.
“We are disadvantaged this time,” Pele said around a mouthful of poi. “We don’t know this land nearly as well as we did Uluka‘a, nor have anywhere to start. My best suggestion at present is to consult the local kahuna.”
Namaka frowned at that. Naia—or Pele, perhaps—had sent out their head kahuna, Kamalo, all around the district trying to send the souls of the fallen lest they linger. Everyone had more than their share of work to rebuild this place.
She slunk down across from her sister, ignoring Naia, unable to suppress her glare. All of this had happened because of Pele’s betrayal of their truce. Her sister had made a habit of betrayal, hadn’t she? Indeed, she had murdered Leapua, and that Namaka could never forgive. Still, Namaka had agreed to work with Pele to save Hi‘iaka. Their youngest sister meant more than their grievances.
Pele seemed to take no notice of Namaka’s dour mood, though, swallowing before blathering on. “Kapo’s been here far longer. She spent most of that time on Mau‘i, enough to believe the Waters of Life don’t lay there. There are powers, she tells me, on Lana‘i. Strange powers from Pō and beyond, things men have feared since coming to Sawaiki. On Moloka‘i as well, sorcery seems stronger. I hesitate to head to either island while things remain uncertain, so I expect to consult all the kāhuna in Vai‘i first. I’ve already sent messengers calling any who would come in friendship, even from the old dynasty.”
Namaka sat in silence, watching her sister prattle on. She cared very little for the dynastic struggles between the prior immigrants to Sawaiki and those more recently come from Kahiki. The part of her that remained Nyi Rara longed to find the mer who had fled Mu and go to their aid, but she could not abandon Hi‘iaka.
Naia motioned to the plate of ahi poke set between the women. “Please, eat. You need your strength.”
That much was true, though Namaka was now more accustomed to eating fish raw. And alive. Still, she grabbed the fish and bit off a great chunk of it, head and all, savoring the look on Naia’s face almost as much as the overcooked flesh. Even Pele was staring at her now.
Namaka crunched fish bones in her mouth and swallowed it all. Like a shark, she no longer required her food to be so carefully masticated as a human would. Knowing it was petty but unable to help herself, she intentionally left the shark teeth descended when she spoke. “Speaking with the kāhuna may offer some insight. I’d suggest consulting all kāhuna around.”
“I just said that,” Pele pointed out.
“Including Lonomakua.”
Pele shrugged. “He’s from Uluka‘a, like us. He might use his pyromancy to gain some insight, but I hesitate to distract him from his efforts to kept Hi‘iaka’s soul nearby.”
Maybe she should just tell Pele. Maybe it would save them all a lot of trouble. Except Namaka had to believe it would be better for Pele to hear it from Lonomakua himself. She thought of the man as a mentor, as more than that. Namaka could only imagine how she’d have felt if someone revealed to her that Milolii had not been who she claimed to be.
Namaka rubbed her brow. “Based on what we saw in Uluka‘a, it’s possible the Waters will have some connection to the sea.”
“So you want to search the whole godsdamned ocean for secret tunnels?” Pele asked. “I’ve heard the ocean is big.”
A conscious effort allowed her to keep from lashing out at Pele’s obvious provocation. As if the other queen actually had more reason to hate Namaka than Namaka had to hate Pele. “Considering all you’ve done, I’d learn to guard your tongue.”
“All I’ve done, Fish? All I’ve done?” The cook fire across from them flared, spewing embers that had slaves racing to clean them up. “I seem to recall you playing your part in our conflicts.”
“I didn’t seduce your husband! I didn’t burn out the eye of your foster brother! I didn’t murder your kahuna!” Namaka rose to her knees, hands curling into fists. There was not enough water here for this. She’d be at a severe disadvantage. “I. Did not. Betray the truce after fighting a godsdamned taniwha!”
Pele climbed to her feet, fingers twitching like she planned to summon the fires to herself. “It strikes me this alliance may prove difficult to maintain. That, perhaps, I’m better off solving this issue on my own, without your arrogance and provocations.”
Namaka glared at her sister. “I swore an oath of peace in Hi‘iaka’s name. I don’t intend to break that. But you may be right. Maybe we are better off on our own, each working toward a separate solution. You consult the kāhuna on land, and I shall seek the wisdom of elder mer.”
“Suit yourself.”
Namaka rose, shaking her head. “While you’re questioning kāhuna, maybe ask your precious mentor where he really comes from.”
“What in Lua-o-Milu does that mean?”
Baring her teeth, Namaka threw a final glare at Pele, then stormed from the house and to the palace gate. At the threshold, though, she hesitated.
Damn it.
Damn it!
She couldn’t just go dive in the ocean if there was a chance she could save Hi‘iaka. Grumbling, she made her way to the house where Hi‘iaka’s body lay. The closer she got, the worse the psychic distortion grew. It echoed inside her skull like a discordant drum, leaving her brain hurting. Whether intended to keep spirits away or not, the ritual certainly had that effect.
Kapo was dancing the hula inside, perhaps giving Lonomakua the chance to rest in his own efforts. So far as Namaka knew, neither of them had slept in two days.
“Lonomakua,” she snapped. “Lonomakua!”
A moment later, the man slipped from the house and came out to face her. She’d half expected him to hide, avoid this confrontation. Maybe that wasn’t his way.
“You still haven’t told her,” Namaka said softly. She couldn’t take the chance of Upoho or any others overhearing. Tempting as it was to break Pele by revealing this man’s secrets, surely he had a reason for not telling the other woman. But what reason? “Why in Lua-o-Milu haven’t you told Pele the truth?”
“Because she’s not ready to know.”
“Uh, huh. While you dither about what lessons she is prepared for, our sister’s life and soul hangs in the balance.”
The kahuna fixed her with his startlingly blue gaze. Blue as the ocean, almost glittering. He towered over her, too. So tall. “I know the stakes. I’m not sure you realize just how high they are.”
“Where are the Waters of Life?”
“I cannot tell you that.”
Namaka grabbed the sides of his face and yanked it down to her level, trustin
g in her mermaid strength. Maybe the man could have still overpowered her if he chose to, but he did not resist. A mermaid’s voice could entrance men, sometimes even compel them to her will … but she wasn’t sure it would work on a kupua. She pitched it hypnotically anyway. “My sister needs you, kahuna. Firebringer. Whatever you are.”
Lonomakua jerked away and blinked once, giving no other indication of her power resonating in him. “The answers you seek are in Mu. You must uncover them yourself. I will keep Hi‘iaka’s soul from drifting off.”
Namaka frowned. “What the fuck happened to you? How did you become so callous?”
To his credit, now he winced. “It is not callousness nor any lack of empathy that stays my hand.”
“Then what?”
“Desperation. The need to align events as they must align to promote the best possible outcome, to avoid the mistakes of the past.”
Namaka flashed a mirthless smile. “If Hi‘iaka suffers because of your inaction, kahuna, I will come back here and I will eat you alive. And not before I tell your precious Pele all I know of you.”
Surprisingly, he seemed more sad than worried at her threat. “I have to attend to your littlest sister now. I suggest you hurry to Mu.”
The mer of Mu now lay scattered across three camps, hidden in reefs off Sawaiki, seeking shelter in trenches, hiding in undersea caves. The largest group had retreated to Ulu-hai-malama, commonly called Uluhai, an abandoned colony site north of Vai‘i, left untended since the days before the Rogo War.
Other refugees, Nyi Rara had heard, had even fled far to the south seeking solace in Hiyoya. Perhaps they thought even enemy mer were better than being hunted down by the he‘e. The octopus people had sent out occasional scouting parties, taking out stray mer. The ability to change the color and texture of their skin meant the creatures were nearly impossible to spot until they attacked.
At least for most people. Nyi Rara sensed something was off the moment she entered Commander Ake’s chamber in one of the trenches. The grotto had been bored out of the side of the rock wall, and the passing of ages had worn away some of what she imagined as the former grandeur.
The water around the room was disrupted, the current slightly off.
“It’s good you’ve returned, princess,” the commander said.
Nyi Rara kept her eyes locked on Ake, trying not to reveal what she knew until she could determine the spy’s exact location.
“Is something wrong?” Ake asked when she didn’t respond.
By now, the spy would be wondering the same question. He‘e were clever—quite possibly smarter than humans or even mer. That, of course, was their whole problem. The he‘e ambassador had manipulated Nyi Rara into believing they sympathized with the plight of Mu, had tricked her into asking for assistance the he‘e had no intention of giving. And then, while Mu was already breaking itself in the war against Hiyoya, the octopuses had taken the city. The people of Mu had underestimated the he‘e simply because it never occurred to them that any mortal race might prove more cunning, more devious than beings of the Spirit Realm. The he‘e were mortal, yes, but they were ancient too. And guided by Kanaloa, they had become the implacable foe no one had prepared for.
Moving so slowly as to be—she hoped—imperceptible, she raised her hand, summoning a jet of water around her fingertips. Ake glanced down at her hand at the same moment she felt the waters shift, as the spy began edging toward the grotto’s side entrance. Nyi Rara spun, launching the jet forward like a blade slicing through the ocean. At once, Ake jumped back, shouting, but it took the merman only a moment to realize she wasn’t attacking him.
Her blade impacted the grotto wall, mixing a shower of rock, dust, and sand with an explosion of blood and ink as it sliced the he‘e in half. The creature flopped around for a moment, its severed arms trying to crawl away on their own.
Nyi Rara grimaced. “I suppose I should have tried to take it alive.”
Ake, eyes still wide, looked back and forth between her and the dead he‘e. After a moment he visibly composed himself, then shook his head. “Temperance is a virtue, but I doubt it would have mattered in this case. He‘e do not generally break under interrogation. Better it’s dead. Who knows how many of our war meetings these creatures have spied on?”
With luck, very few. Nyi Rara could only hope the he‘e didn’t know any of the other points the Muians had retreated to. One other of those places, like this one, they had abandoned centuries ago. Such places now lay beyond the official borders of the Muian kingdom. One, in fact, now lay within the kingdom of Hiyoya, making the position of the refugees precarious in the extreme. If discovered by Hiyoyan forces, they might face capture or execution. The truth was, her kingdom had been in decline for centuries. With her powers she might change that, but only if she was able to defeat the he‘e first.
She rubbed her face. “I cannot attend to the war yet.”
Ake sighed. “Your people need you.”
“I have more than one people now. My human people have an even more pressing need, Ake. I swear I will come back as soon as I can. I just have to take care of one more thing, and then we can find a way to stop Kanaloa.”
“How am I to wait for you, princess? Our people are dying. With every passing day they are more likely to be discovered by the he‘e or by Hiyoya. We’re rapidly running out of places to hide. If we do not turn this around, find a way to make an offense and take back our city, our kingdom will fall.” He seemed like he would say more. Whatever it was, though, it died on his tongue.
“What of the queen?”
“Queen Aiaru hopes to begin gathering our forces for a mass assault on Mu. However, many of our ‘ohana have lost all confidence in the queen, following this debacle.”
That didn’t sound good. Even if the he‘e army could be defeated, how did Aiaru intend to fight Kanaloa himself? No one had begun to find a solution to that problem. They had to assume he would have prepared for such an attack.
“Do we have a chance?”
“We’d have a better chance with you at our side. Regardless, I’d consult with your sister. Everyone is looking for someone to blame at the moment.”
Of course she had a duty to her mer kin. But she could only be at one place at a time. “I have to solve an issue on Sawaiki first. I just need information here.”
“You give too much care to these humans. Their lives are short, mortal. Even if you save them from whatever their current crisis is, they will still die in a few years.”
There was a painful and unavoidable truth in that, she knew. With Nyi Rara possessing her body, Namaka might live for centuries beyond any other kupua. And in those centuries, she would watch her loved ones die. Still, she was lucky—most hosts lost everyone including themselves.
“Because a life is shorter than yours does not mean it has less value,” she said.
“Of course it means that. Do you imagine a minnow’s life compares to a whale’s? Humans are lesser beings. Just as they prey upon fish, devour them to sustain themselves, we use human bodies to sustain our existence. And they no more compare to us than a fish roasted for their supper compares to them. It is the order of the world, of all worlds.”
Nyi Rara shut her eyes. She refused to believe that. Ake had lived long, yes. It surely made him knowledgeable. Did it make him wise? Or, in the passing of so many years, in their blurring together in endless procession, had he lost perspective? Perhaps he had spent so long taking in the vastness of the sea he no longer appreciated the splendor of life within its waters.
“You should be with … us. By our side, by your real people’s sides.”
“When the time comes, believe me, I will deal with the he‘e. Delay things until then.”
She didn’t care what the commander had to say on the matter. She was going to find a way to help both her mortal and her immortal peoples. Because neither had a great deal of time left.
2
Flame was the purest of the elemental powers. Fire alone
could protect mankind from the perils of the cold, of the dark. A purifying conflagration could destroy evil and preserve good, save life. If harnessed properly, of course. If left to run rampant … fire became an all-consuming force of nature, devouring the source of its own sustenance along with anything Pele might hope to protect.
These things, Lonomakua had taught Pele long years back. Now, her mentor knelt before her sister Hi‘iaka, incanting prayers, beseeching the ‘aumākua and desperately trying to hold Hi‘iaka’s soul in her body.
While Pele lingered in near uselessness.
But Lonomakua could not have helped her now, regardless. He’d come from Uluka‘a, like her, and thus would not know enough of these lands. She needed a local kahuna. Pele walked through the streets of Puna, watching as villagers tried to reconstruct the damage done by the taniwha’s attack. And by her and Namaka’s own powers, both against the monster and against each other. The memory of that made a muscle in her face twitch.
Their war had now cost Hi‘iaka her life.
Naia met her outside the palace.
“Kamalo is back,” she said.
Thank the ‘aumākua. Many of the nearby villages had lost their kāhuna to the taniwha, so Kamalo had been traveling about, helping to send the dead. Those who lingered too long might be damned, transformed into lapu. A kahuna’s work was never done and no village could truly afford to be without one. Unfortunately, more and more settlements now found themselves bereft of much-needed spiritual guidance and protection.
While Kamalo was certainly needed abroad, he was also the best place she had to turn to for advice.
Pele looked to the former queen. Naia had never shown any outward resentment for Pele usurping her authority. She couldn’t understand how the woman could offer her anything save loathing, and yet Naia seemed almost grateful to have retained position as Pele’s advisor.