Flames of Mana

by Matt Larkin

  Kama mopped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Here he was, slaving away in the hot sun building a boardwalk. Shit, he’d spent all day chopping down trees. Chopping down trees was shitting work.

  Especially with a club.

  No, but all the others could think about was getting vengeance. For him, of course. Shitting Pele had gone and insulted him. His crew figured that insulted them too.

  Worse than that, though, the Boar God took it personally. It had basically given Kama two choices—claim Pele as a mate, or kill and eat her. Kama generally preferred the first one but didn’t see how that was possible at the moment.

  Shit, would the Boar God accept Malie as a mate instead? A sudden sharp pain in his balls was his answer, drawing a grunt out of him. Felt like a rat gnawing on them.

  “Boss?”

  “Yeah?” he managed through gritted teeth.

  “What are we gonna do?”

  Kama shook his head. “I’m gonna come up with a plan. And to do that, I need some time alone to constipate on my options, all right? Gotta work with what we have.”

  “Uh …” She quirked her mouth to the side. “You want to do what now?”

  “Remediate! Give me some shitting time. ‘Aumākua, girl.” Kama huffed and stomped down to the shoreline.

  Things were just not quite right, really. Here he was, banished from home, and supposed to be murdering Poli‘ahu so he’d be welcomed back as a hero and get rewarded with shitting bananas and sex and stuff. Maybe a coconut. Instead, the Boar God was forcing him to go conquer or murder the love of his life.

  And what were his shitting ‘aumākua doing about his dilemma? Probably swimming in the damn Worldsea. Kāhuna said they could become sharks and rays and sea turtles. And shit.

  Little dead shitters.

  Kamapua‘a huffed and flung a stone into the ocean. “Take that, Worldsea! You want some more, huh?” With a snort, he kicked a pile of sand off the beach and into the water. Just for this, he’d fill up their whole damn ocean with sand. Let the ‘aumākua swim then!

  Grunting, he began shoveling great heaps of sand off the beach into the ocean. If the shitting ‘aumākua wanted it to stop, let them show up and actually help him out for once. He heaved great two-handed chunks of sand between his legs, flinging it far out into the waters. “Come and stop me,” he grumbled under his breath. “Come on, shitters!”

  “Uh, boss?” Ioane chimed in behind.

  Kama was so intent on his project he’d barely noticed the man’s scent. Huffing, he turned to his second-in-command.

  “Malie said you weren’t quite yourself.”

  He snorted. “Who the shit else would I be?”

  Me.

  That primal growl. The Boar God was growing restless. Sunset drew near. Sometimes, in the moonlight, Kama saw things. Things that didn’t make any shitting sense. Like memories from a dream. A bad dream after far too much awa.

  “Scouts say that mermaid left Puna.”

  “Huh.” Well, that ought to make it all easier. “Look now,” he said after a moment. “I want to marry this woman, right? Give her a chance to make me King of Puna. That way, no one gets hurt. We have a luau, make some piglets, everyone’s happy.”

  “If it works out that way … I can’t help but feel like something’s bothering you.”

  “Well, shit yes, lots of things. First, I asked Malie to rut with me and she said no.”

  Ioane narrowed his eyes. “She’s with me these days.”

  Kama craned his neck to look around. “What, where? She invisible? Anyway, that doesn’t matter. I was hoping for rain and it didn’t rain. I’m gonna blame the ‘aumākua for that pig shit, too, you know. Maybe I’ll piss in it!”

  “The rain?”

  “The Worldsea! That would show those ghost gods.”

  Ioane rolled his eyes. “Indeed. I’m quite certain no one has ever pissed into the ocean before.”

  “Yeah, well, I got a big bladder and a big cock and I can piss more than most, all right?”

  His second-in-command cleared his throat. “I’m not really interested in discussing your cock. Actually, I’m interested in when you turn into the giant boar-man-thing and slaughter our enemies.”

  “Eh …” Speaking of other things troubling Kama. The Boar God seemed to take it as an invitation and pushed hard against Kama’s brain. “It’s not even that big, really.”

  “Looks big to me.”

  “It’s uh … more of an obstinate illusion kind of thing.”

  “No doubt.” Ioane pointed off to the south. “Are we doing this thing or what, boss?”

  The Boar God wasn’t going to give him a choice, was he? Plus, marrying Pele would be more fun than trying to fill in the ocean. That would have taken all shitting day. “I’m a boar of his word.” Most of the time. When it was convenient. But this was a promise he intended to keep. “She marries me or …” Shit. Shit, pig shit! “She marries me and makes me King of Puna, or we take the throne from her.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear, boss.” Ioane hesitated. “You, uh … you’re pretty much invincible, right?”

  “No, shit-brains. You’re looking at me right now.”

  “I mean, doesn’t seem like much could actually kill you.”

  “Aww, you worried the Flame Queen could burn me?” That almost sounded like a relief, if it would work. Except Kama got the feeling nothing would permanently stop the Boar God. It wasn’t like other shifter kupua. There was something older and darker about it.

  No, Kama got the impression he was stuck with the Boar God … at least until the Boar God was all that was left.

  They came to him, clad in green robes this time, hoods up so he couldn’t see their faces, though he fancied he knew some few of them. They came, and they bound him to the altar, wrist and ankle and even head. “So you won’t hurt yourself,” one of them said.

  Moccus almost laughed.

  Hurt himself.

  It was hard to believe anything that required him being tied down was for his own protection.

  The chanting started as the moon turned red, completely filling his vision, and he found himself unable to look away, unable to even blink. No, not even when they took the boar and placed it on his chest, still he couldn’t tear his gaze from that brilliant crimson orb in the sky.

  Grunting, Kama stumbled from the house out into the moonlight. Almost full. And these dreams were getting more frequent, more vivid, more unstoppable. Like a kai e‘e closing in around him, waters rising from all sides.

  Malie was there, staring up at the moon. Maybe she was pretending to be lost in thought. Maybe she was just enjoying the moonlight. The moon was the best thing in the sky, after all.

  Or at least Kama used to think so.

  Now, sometimes, he wondered if those were his thoughts or those of the Boar God. Moccus … somehow he associated that name with the Boar God, except, in the dream, he was a man.

  The bandit looked to Kama as he struggled in her direction. “Are you all right, boss?”

  “Sure, sure. Got a smile wide as a banana, Malie.” Would’ve been more convincing if he could’ve said it without wincing, but a boar had to work with what he had.

  She folded her arms. “Nightmares? Happens sometimes, the life we lead and all.”

  “Uh huh.” That was definitely all this was. Sure. “Ever ask yourself if we’re good people?”

  “Oh, ‘aumākua! Not if I can help it.” She chuckled. “I don’t know if there is such a thing as good people, boss.” She pointed to a scar below her collarbone. “This one was my first. I was twelve when the raiders came and killed my parents. I saw them dying and thought I had to do something and I grabbed this bone knife my mother had always kept nearby. The man caught my wrist, though, and did this with my own knife.”

  Kama rubbed his beard, hardly knowing what to say.

  “So I … I followed them into the jungle, and when he was drunk on awa, I put the blade through his throat.”
r />   “Guess he had it coming,” Kama said.

  Malie shrugged. “Sure. That’s my point. His men came back and burned down the rest of the village for it. What few villagers survived … well, some pledged to other chiefs, and others became chiefless warriors like me. Now I do exactly what started me out like this. Was I ever a good person? I don’t know. But once you’re caught in it, it’s a maelstrom, boss. There’s no escaping, there’s no going back. Like, you lose enough blood, and you have to keep claiming blood from others, as if you might get it back.”

  “What if you could go back?”

  “You can’t unsee what you’ve seen. You can’t unfeel the pain, the loss. Nothing’s ever bringing back my parents, and nothing’s ever bringing back the little girl I was back then. She died, too.” She pulled back her shoulders to show off a dozen more scars earned in the intervening years. “You stop to think too much, it’ll all swallow you like a frenzy of sharks.”

  “So we just keep going, making more people like us?”

  She shrugged. “What’s your alternative? Let us die now?”

  Shit, no. Anyone who stood against them would catch a rancid lump of wereboar fury.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe the maelstrom had them all.

  All Kama could do was try to keep himself and those nearby afloat.

  5

  Screams rang out over the village as Pele made her way back toward the palace in the first rays of dawn. She burst into a run, but the screams had already become wails. By the time she reached the palace walls, the whole place was abustle with scrambling men and women.

  A boy raced past her mumbling some invocation to the ‘aumākua. Pele grabbed him by the arm as he tried to pass her. The boy was almost a man, perhaps thirteen or fourteen.

  “What happened?”

  The boy’s eyes widened, then he jerked his head toward the palace. Part of her wanted to ask the boy what she would find, to prepare herself for the horror no doubt lurking within those unadorned walls. Instead, she released her grip and the boy scampered off.

  Pele shut her eyes a moment before making her way to the palace.

  Kamalo knelt over a woman. As she entered, he pushed himself up using his kahuna stick. “My Queen.”

  “M-my Queen,” the woman rasped.

  Pele shoved the kahuna aside to inspect her. Naia. Lua-o-Milu! Half her face looked rotten and bloated, as though she were a corpse washed in from the sea. That side had swollen so badly one eye didn’t open.

  Pele fell to her knees at her friend’s side, hand trembling over her face, afraid to touch the wound. She looked to Kamalo, ready to demand he do something to help her advisor, when Milohai slipped into the house bearing a calabash filled with water. His eyes were red, face pale at what had happened to his big sister.

  Not that Pele even knew what that was.

  The kahuna took the calabash from the young man. “Mahalo, Milohai. Please wait with your sister. The queen and I have matters to discuss.” He paused to offer Naia a sip of water, then returned the calabash to Milohai.

  Her thoughts racing, Pele let the kahuna lead her outside. Damn, but maybe she should call Lonomakua for this. His ineffable, unshakeable calm could be infuriating, but at times like this it proved a boon, keeping her centered.

  Lonomakua had all but raised her, and she could not help but feel the need to retreat to him when faced with … whatever this was.

  “How—why? What happened?” she asked.

  “There was a presence here last night.”

  “An akua did this?”

  The kahuna frowned. “Or a ghost, I don’t know.”

  She’d felt it, last night. Something in the darkness she could not see. But it had left her when she kindled the flame, and it had gone after Naia. Why Naia? Why attack the former queen?

  A rumbling built inside Pele’s chest, a violence she could not still. Flames escaped through her clenched fists and the land itself began to shake with it. What monster would do such a thing? Why and how?

  Villagers gathered, murmuring in fear as the ground quaked. Whimpering as her hair burst into flame. Even the kahuna backed away, making a sign of warding. Others fell to their knees, begging for mercy. Pele ignored them, or tried to. She always tried not to let their fear bother her. They had reason for it, after all.

  “I want to know what exactly did this to her.” Her words came out almost as a growl. “And where to find it.”

  Kamalo lowered his eyes.

  With a long, shuddering breath, she beat down the anger simmering in her chest, and with it the flames. They vanished from her hands and hair in a puff of smoke, and with them gone, the land stilled. Quiet and calm.

  For a moment.

  Soon, she would burn. Burn very brightly, indeed.

  Pele knelt beside Hi‘iaka’s corpse, holding her dead sister’s hand. Lonomakua had once spoken to her of the dangers of perfect despair. That such extreme melancholy would create a self-sustaining maelstrom so powerful a part of oneself became attached to those currents and no longer wanted to break free. That, at a certain point, it seemed easier to drown, the cold darkness below more welcome than the bitter reality that had created the maelstrom in the first place.

  Though the man had clearly lost lovers and children, he did not elaborate on how he knew so very much of despair. The details of his life remained hidden behind a misty veil she had never penetrated.

  He looked at her now, though, eyes lined with weary shadows.

  “I find myself with too many fires to tend,” she finally said.

  The kahuna nodded, clearly empathizing but having no good answer for her. “Is that worse than a single conflagration grown all out of control?”

  Pele shrugged. “I’ll let you know when I find the answer.”

  “I wish I could do more to help your friend, but she’s in good hands with Kamalo. Even I can attend to but so many fires at once.”

  She nodded slowly. If Lonomakua didn’t have the answers she needed, she knew who might, though he wouldn’t prefer to walk in the morning sun.

  She’d already searched for Upoho—shifters knew things about the Otherworlds, Lonomakua had told her long ago—but the wererat had avoided her ever since Namaka had left. She could not blame him. Nor could she catch someone who could smell her coming unawares.

  Now, Pele made her way back to the palace, into the storeroom Moho had claimed as his own. The place had become tabu for any to enter, whatever goods it had once held now forfeited as offering to the akua living among them. A cloud of steam continually billowed out of the room, coating Pele’s skin in a thin sheen of moisture, though she didn’t sweat so much as other people.

  The steam was so thick she couldn’t make anything out, but she could feel the Fire akua’s presence here, saturating the air, almost like his essence was too big to contain in this room. Some part of him brushed over every bit of her flesh at once, tickling her shoulders beneath her kihei, coiling around her ankles, and spiraling up her legs like fingertips brushing over her in the hint of a caress.

  She shuddered at the touch, and in so doing, sucking down steam into her throat. Immediately, a piece of Moho was inside her, shifting around, warming and massaging her insides. For a bare instant, she wanted to invite more of him in.

  How easy to forget that, while she had made an ally of this akua, he was still a god and she—mostly—mortal. Given the chance, Moho would claim her, body and soul.

  “There’s something in the night,” she managed, her voice sounding husky and far away in her own ears. “A presence.”

  “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “Anger. Rage.”

  “But what is it?” Pele demanded.

  “I don’t know yet. But … it is wroth … and you have its attention.”

  Oh. Well, she couldn’t say whether that was good or ill at this point. Wait, did that mean it had attacked Naia to hurt Pele? When it couldn’t get to her because of the flames, it had gone after someone sh
e cared about? Oh, she had so very many people she cared about here.

  Naia and Milohai, Lonomakua, Kapo … and Hi‘iaka, dead, yes, but the kahuna desperately struggled to hold the girl’s soul here in Puna and not let it pass into the depths of Pō.

  “How do I stop such a thing?”

  “Akua, ‘aumakua, or something else from beyond Pō … They lack physical substance in this reality.”

  “I know that,” she snapped at the congealing steam. “That’s why I’m asking how to get rid of it!”

  “Banishment.”

  Pele groaned. She was neither a kahuna nor a sorceress, not really. And Moho clearly didn’t mean to offer much other help at the moment.

  A shout outside the palace had her spinning around.

  A hissing growl emanated from the storeroom, and Moho strode out from the vapors to stand beside her. “You must attend to this before it grows worse.”

  Attend to what?

  Knowing he probably wouldn’t elaborate, Pele strode from the palace and out into the village proper, only to find a great many people had gathered protectively around the structure. Milohai and Makua were among them, so she plodded over to meet them but faltered before she reached the pair.

  The crowd had gathered around a foreign war band, and among them stood the tallest, hairiest, most uncouth of all.

  Kamapua‘a.

  Pele stiffened at the sight of the wereboar, clenching her fists at her side. Her wrath already had the ground trembling, and in the distance, a fresh plume of smoke billowed out of Kīlauea, responding to her growing rage. How dare this savage, raping ghostfucker come into her domain? By what insane temerity did he think he could walk here and escape her?

  She pushed past Makua, who chuckled darkly, as if the prophet foresaw what was coming. Maybe he did.

  “Give me one reason not to reduce you and all your men to cinders.”

  Kamapua‘a grunted. “Well, some of them are women. Like three. Maybe four, there’s one I’d have to check under the skirt to be sure. I mean, I think he’s got tits, but he’s kind of hairy for a—”