Where the Waters Turn Black (Yarnsworld Book 2)

by Benedict Patrick

  Kaimana shifted uneasily. “Well… he has, my lady-”

  “Then I use the phrase correctly, child. Do not seek to reprimand me again.”

  “I would never dare to, my lady. And I see your point. Still, there is no malice in how Rakau kills, has killed. He does it to protect himself, or for food.”

  “You have no issues with your taniwha killing humans. For food?”

  Kaimana shifted uneasily again. “I… I do not like it. He had agreed to stop for me. For my companionship.”

  “But he has killed, and recently.”

  “Yes. I freed him from his promise.”

  Leinani nodded, raising her body again, a look of satisfaction on her face. “Then you have realised - realised it is in his nature to kill. Make no mistake, my child - this is a monster beside you, this is a monster you have foolishly allowed yourself to care for so deeply. It is in his nature to kill. You know this, and so you have allowed him to do so again.”

  Kaimana winced. She felt Rakau shift beside her, and she knew she should continue to defend him. However, she did not want to further annoy the goddess, and she also found it difficult to disagree with what Leinani was saying.

  “Just as it is in my nature, my child,” the goddess continued. “And my brother’s nature, and the rest of our brethren. We shape the world, and in return we demand worship, fealty and respect. Do I not speak the truth, my brother?”

  “You do, sister,” Yam replied. Kaimana could not help but notice the angry glare on Yam’s face directed at Leinani.

  Please don’t do anything stupid, Kaimana begged silently. Let us mortals get out of here before the gods begin to argue.

  “My lady,” Kaimana said, turning to Leinani once more. “Whether or not I can ever be truly friends with Rakau, I have realised there is no place for him in the human world. He is being hunted by… by hunters. Something of his size cannot be hidden for long.” Kaimana had almost mentioned Nakoa by name. In Leinani’s presence, mentioning her former lover could have been a fatal mistake.

  Thankfully, Leinani raised a fiery eyebrow, inviting Kaimana to continue.

  “We are looking for a safe haven for Rakau, a home for a taniwha. I sought out your brother, and he directed me to you.”

  “My brother?”

  Yam nodded. “I know not of such a place, sister, where this taniwha could remain hidden and happy. But you, having created the Atoll from the Earth Mother, you would know if such a place exists.”

  Leinani nodded again. “It does.”

  Kaimana’s heart leapt. Rakau will be safe. “Please, my lady, tell me where. Where shall we head?”

  The goddess narrowed her eyes and outstretched one arm, with a finger pointing east. “That way,” she told them.

  Kaimana thought of all of the maps of the Atoll she had ever been allowed to see, and grew puzzled.

  “The sea god’s temple? That is all that I know of that lies in the east, just north of… of the more violent peoples. Is there something hidden near there I do not know of?”

  Leinani shook her head. “No. For this task, you must widen your eyes, expand your gaze. Travel to my brother the sea king’s home, yes, but travel further still than that. Finally, then you will reach the island of the taniwha.”

  Kaimana’s eyes widened. “But… you’re talking about the Outer Sea. Sailing on the Outer Sea? There’s nothing out there.” Even as Kaimana said this, she knew it was not true. Stories told that her people came to the Atoll from somewhere else, although details of this location are sparse.

  Leinani looked at Kaimana, not responding to her outburst, waiting.

  Eventually Kaimana bowed to the goddess and said, “Thank you, my lady. This is the information we were looking for.”

  The goddess smiled and pulled herself back up to her rocky wall. “I wish you well, taniwha girl. And, little Kaimana?”

  Kaimana looked at Leinani in surprise, shocked that the goddess had used her name. “Yes, my lady?”

  “Your gift to me, it is not finished yet.” Leinani played with the amber spark that was Kaimana’s song, still dancing on her fingertips, but then blew it and watched it float across the chamber, back to Kaimana. “It is mine now, but it is forged from you as well. It will not be complete until your story is too. Take it back and finish it for me.”

  The light melted into Kaimana’s chest, and she felt a glow of happiness as her spark returned. It was forever changed, but was still with her.

  “If you should survive this trip, I will take it as a great kindness if you return to me in the future. I would dearly love to hear my gift again.” The goddess smiled a beautiful smile of dancing fire, breaking Kaimana’s heart with it.

  “Yes, my lady,” Kaimana answered, bowed to the goddess, and then left, followed by Rakau and Yam.

  “Well,” Yam said, once outside, “she wasn’t everything you’d built her up to be, was she, mouse?”

  Irritated, and aware that Yam himself was still pale after the encounter with his sister, Kaimana glared at him as much as she dared, and then began the long walk down the volcano path.

  They headed east on the Inner Sea, Rakau pulling Yam’s canoe with a rope in his teeth. The yam god’s journey was done, now. His sister had as much confirmed that the seeds of his story had been sown, and it would soon be time for him to leave.

  “We would take you back home,” Kaimana said to Yam, “but Nakoa lies that way.”

  Yam looked out over the Inner Sea, to the south and his small island.

  “Yes,” he said eventually. “He’s a persistent bugger, that one. By my judgement, he has found my home, and possibly even that mess we left on the Broken Island.” His eyes narrowed, as if trying to pick out something that had just breached the horizon. “I’m sure it wouldn’t take him long to make his way out here in those war canoes of his. Not sure if he’d risk coming close to my sister, however.”

  Kaimana nodded. “You’ll notice, though, that staying here was not one of the options given to us. Either Leinani thinks it would not put him off forever, or she just doesn’t want us here. Either way, it’d be foolish for us to stay any longer. But, as I said, we cannot bring you home.”

  Yam shook his head. “Not a problem. Didn’t want to go back anyway.” He stretched, took out his flask and made to drink from it. Then, with a puzzled look on his face, he held the liquid in front of him, allowing some to dribble onto the sand. He put the stopper back onto the bottle, turned to Kaimana and smiled. It was an unusual sight on the grumpy god’s face, and Kaimana felt it improved him markedly.

  “I think it’s about time I walked the Atoll for a while,” he said. “You know, get my name out there, meet my people.”

  Kaimana gave a little grin. “You know your story won’t have grown just yet, right? I have to tell it to a few people first.”

  Yam nodded in agreement, but looked around slyly as he did so. “True. Maybe you’ll be beaten to it, though. After all, I can’t imagine Nakoa is travelling by himself, is he? What kind of story are those warriors going to get once they find and interrogate the natives of the Broken Island, I wonder? What will be left once they find those yam trees - the only bloody yam trees on the whole Atoll, mind - and the bodies held within? You might be beaten to the telling of your story, little mouse.”

  He grinned. “Either which way, I’ve spent enough time with my farm and my coconuts. That’s no way to live a life, especially one that lasts as long as mine. No, I’ll do this, visit my people, story or no. I’ll teach those damned islanders I’m not a god to be laughed at.”

  Kaimana raised an eyebrow, looking concerned.

  Yam let out a barking laugh. “Don’t you worry, mouse, they’ll get fair warning. I’ll give them a generation or two of gentle chiding before the real punishments begin.”

  Kaimana rode on Rakau’s back as they travelled east, and Yam left them at the first inhabited island they found. Kaimana needed the canoe, to row herself back from wherever she found for Rakau, but Yam did
not seem that worried.

  “Oh, I’m certain my people will gift me with something or other, once I decide to move on,” he muttered as he gave his goodbyes to the girl and the monster.

  Despite his constant pessimism, Kaimana had grown fond of the god, but she could tell he was raring to leave them now, his head continuing to twitch towards the thatched huts that lay on the other end of the beach.

  “Until we meet again, my lord,” Kaimana said to him, giving him an awkward bow.

  Yam smiled at this, and then grew more serious. “Little mouse, my sister is one of the most important creatures on the Atoll. That doesn’t mean, however, she is always right. She told you a human can’t be friends with a taniwha. I used to think that too. But the two of you, I’ve watched you together. Kaimana, you are happiest with him, and he with you. Sickeningly so. In all my years, I’ve rarely seen a bond like this, and certainly never between a taniwha and… well, between a taniwha and anything. Don’t trust every word my sister gave you.” He prodded one of his stubby fingers at Kaimana’s chest. “Trust this, instead.”

  Then Yam turned without saying goodbye, and jogged off to the village, to hear them exalt his name.

  A tale from the Crescent Atoll

  Eneti was a carpenter’s son. He was young, but already he was being trained in the ways of his father. Young Eneti, little more than four years old, would watch his father in his workshop, shaping canoes from whole tree trunks, or carving fine figures for the chief’s daughters. Eneti’s father had a Knack for woodwork, and he used his magic to find the shape that would best suit the wood that was brought to him. Eneti was destined to inherit his father’s Knack.

  All of this changed on the day Eneti first met the goddess Laka.

  Little Eneti was walking along the shore close to his village. It was not unusual for the children of the village to wander the beach by themselves. They had all learnt to swim before they could walk, and no taniwha or enemy islanders had been sighted on these shores for generations. Indeed, Eneti would not be harmed on this day, but he would forever be changed.

  Laka had taken the form of a young girl, clothed in a black dress that wrapped itself tight around her from her neck down to her ankles. Only her hands, feet and face were visible, and Eneti could see straight away that her skin was the purest white.

  She was dancing.

  He sat and watched her for hours. Eneti did not hide from the goddess. He sat in plain view, close enough to see every footstep and delicate play of her fingers, but she did not react to him. The goddess must have known, however, the effect this performance would have on such a young mind. Eneti was entranced by the goddess, entranced by her perfect flowing motions. From that moment, he was doomed to fall in love, with both Laka and with her dance.

  The goddess looked at him only once, at the end of her dance, and she stared at him briefly with her black eyes. Then she was gone, and so too was Eneti’s freedom.

  It would be many years before Eneti met Laka again. As he grew, he became obsessed with dancing, and with any spare time he had he would run back down to the beach, back to where Laka had bewitched him, and would attempt to copy the memory of her movements. Even when he dutifully watched, and later helped, his father at the carpenter’s workbench, Eneti’s mind continued to wander back to Laka on the sand.

  It surprised nobody when Eneti developed a Knack for dancing, but disappointed all in his family except for the boy himself. Despite his clear gift, Eneti’s father and mother continued to pressure him to follow in his father’s footsteps, to become a carpenter to support his family, and his future.

  It was during the time that Eneti was mulling over these pressures, when he was twelve years of age, that Laka visited him again, this time taking the form of a giant, white-faced spider nestled in the tree he had sat under to contemplate his future.

  “Why are you worried, little Eneti?”

  Eneti recognised the goddess straight away, and prostrated himself before her, daring not to look at her face.

  Laka tutted. “You do not have to be so formal with me. You, who have given me so much already, and who will give me more in the future.”

  “But,” Eneti said, daring to look upwards again, “I do not know what my future holds. My father wants me to become a carpenter like him, and I think I have no option but to do as he says.”

  The sky seemed to darken, and Laka’s eight legs lowered her fat body out of the tree, bending down towards Eneti. “I have given you a gift, young Eneti, and it is not wise to refuse a gift from the gods.” There was a pause, and Eneti realised he was holding his breath. Then, the goddess continued. “There is a troupe of dancers berthed at the village on the western end of this island. If you travel through the night, you should reach them before they leave. Tell them I sent you. Honour me with your dance.”

  Eneti nodded, and began to run, half-terrified of Laka’s threats, half-thankful she had once again robbed him of choice.

  Eneti found the dancing troupe and was adopted by them. He quickly made a name for himself as a strong dancing Knack, despite having no formal tutelage. Eneti learnt from his teachers quickly, and soon surpassed all other dancers in the troupe. Indeed, the troupe found themselves requested to perform at many different islands, all requests specifying that they bring the dancing boy that people on the Atoll had heard so much about.

  The women of the Atoll loved Eneti, and it was not long before Eneti learnt to love them back. He fell in love with one of his fellow dancers, and asked her to become his bride.

  It was on the eve of their wedding that Laka visited Eneti again.

  He was lying on his back, unable to sleep because of his anticipation of tomorrow’s events. Then he became aware he was not alone in his bed. Lying beside him was Laka, taking human form again, this time of a young woman. Under the covers, she was completely naked, and as she brushed up against him, Eneti was surprised to find how cold and hard her skin felt, like touching a smoothly polished clay ornament. Despite this coldness, and despite the unusual features of her face, which appeared to be painted on with black ink, Eneti’s body betrayed the fact that he wanted her.

  Laka did not need to tell Eneti what she wanted. She did not need to tell Eneti she wanted him to leave his bride and to focus on his dancing, on his art. Eneti knew all of this as soon as he saw her there.

  That night Eneti and Laka became lovers. He stole away from his troupe before sunrise, leaving a note of farewell to the woman who had hoped to be his wife, dedicating himself instead to honouring his goddess.

  After this, Eneti travelled the Atoll, both to escape the shame of jilting his love, but also to find inspiration. He was a skilled dancer, but now sought a story worthy of being captured in his movements.

  Eneti was in his thirties before he began to spark, and it was during his first ever performance of the dance born from this spark that Laka visited him for the final time, watching from the shadows as Eneti unveiled his masterpiece.

  Eneti’s dance was perfect. The small crowd that had gathered to witness him smiled as he moved daintily about the stage to show the rains falling, and gasped when he began to leap and fall, catching himself almost impossibly when it looked as if he would hit the floor, bounding again to signify the blows that fell in a great battle.

  Laka, for her part, was entranced. The story that Eneti told through his dance was one of love and loss, and Laka was surprised to find a single tear rolling from her painted eye as the dance finished.

  The goddess was the first to begin the applause.

  Eneti smiled, and bowed graciously to the audience. “Thank you, thank you. But please, I cannot take all the credit, as the tale that I tell is one of great importance to all of us on the Atoll, and it is dedicated to a god that we all must remain thankful to in our daily lives. I dedicate this dance to the Long God, for continuing to give us food from the earth, and for helping us find plenty on our small island homes.”

  On hearing these words, Laka’s mood dark
ened. From the shadows she was hiding in, black ribbons began to unfurl, whipping at those close to her, forcing a path to open between the goddess and the man who had forgotten her.

  When Eneti saw Laka’s white face glaring at him from the shadows, he collapsed to his knees.

  “You dedicate your dance to the Long God?” she spat, bitterly.

  Eneti could only shake his head at her. “I-I met him. I spent some time with him. He inspired me.”

  Laka’s black ribbons grabbed at Eneti’s wrists and ankles, and drew him to her.

  “He inspired you?” she whispered. “You were mine, young Eneti. I made you. And I can unmake you.”

  Laka’s ribbons tightened, and Eneti’s legs and arms shattered.

  The goddess faded from the shadows, and left a broken man in the dirt.

  Eneti never danced again, and nobody has since dared to recreate his dance celebrating the Long God’s harvest.

  Kaimana and Rakau enjoyed their final days on the Atoll. They were all too aware of how close Nakoa must be by now, but still they gave themselves time to spend in each other’s company. Kaimana played tunes for Rakau as he paddled onward. He pulled the canoe in his mouth, but she still chose to ride on his back, to retain the closeness they would lose soon when he found his home. At night, Rakau dove under the water and brought back mouthfuls of fish, and they would cook them on a beach and curl up together, gazing at the stars.

  Finally, however, the deep dark of the Outer Sea appeared. To Kaimana’s own surprise, she realised that a part of her was excited by the idea of venturing into the unknown. This excitement was tempered by how unsure Rakau seemed of those waters.

  “Have you ever been out there before?” she asked him.

  Rakau seemed to be unsure of the answer and did not respond. There was so much that Kaimana did not know about her friend, or of taniwha in general. How old is Rakau? Where was he born? Were taniwha even born, or were they made? Do they have parents?

  She stroked the monster’s rough hide as he paddled forward, the cool blue of the Atoll floor giving way to deep black as the ocean shelf dropped under them. Here she was, once again, putting her faith in this beast who she hardly knew. A beast that Leinani had warned her not to trust. And now she was returning him to his home, just before another god hunted him down and butchered him.