by Matt Larkin
That, of course, was why she lived on Mount Kilauea. There, in the crater of the most violent volcano in all Sawaiki, she could let her emotions loose. Let them rip to the surface, bringing with them the fires of creation, the burning heart of the Earth. It was through those fires that new earth was born, new land created from molten stone. Once, in a fit of mindless rage after Fire-Keeper had taken Hiiaka away, she had screamed at Kū for abandoning his daughters as her own father had done. Had cursed the gods and the aumakuas. Kilauea had seethed with her fury, erupted with it, darkening the evening sky and blanketing its slopes in waves of lava.
The whole island had trembled before the anger of a young woman as one more family was taken from her. The lava didn’t burn Pele, of course, although Fire-Keeper had warned her not to let herself get buried in it. More than one Flame Princess had suffocated, trapped beneath tons of molten rock.
That day, all of Sawaiki must have seen the explosion. Fire-Keeper, even over thirty leagues away on the Pineapple Isle—would have seen the eruption, felt its effects. And still he said nothing of it on his return. Maybe the old kahuna understood, perhaps better than her real father ever had. Instead, he had merely encouraged her to join him in further meditation. Pele did not like meditation. All that sitting around and thinking about not thinking was torturous.
“I felt better,” she had blurted. “After the eruption.”
He shrugged. “You kept your anger inside so long and so bitterly it had to find release somehow, and through it came a measure of catharsis. But there are other, less destructive ways to deal with your emotions. To release them before they boil and writhe beneath your skin.”
It would have been easy to dismiss his words. She had so wanted to do so back then. How could anyone understand the pain, the coiling, seething anger trying to consume a Princess? He was, however, one of those rare kahuna with the ability to harness his mana, to turn it into something real. Not like hers, of course. Fire-Keeper had earned his name for his ability to control flame, but he could never match the scale of Pele’s powers. Besides which, he was calm, and, more importantly, calming, endlessly patient with her. All the things Ku-Aha-Ilo ought to have been.
It had taken her many years before she was in control enough to attempt her journey across the Big Isle. And now, everywhere she went she found more victims of her father’s cruelty. But she had also found her mother, found her brother. Found, despite all her father had taken from her, she still had family.
Pele shook herself. She was too easily prone to such brooding and it never brought her anything but trouble. At the moment, she had a more immediate task. And for once, her power might be used to protect, to save.
Fire-Keeper met her halfway down the path to Puako Village. “You shouldn’t have attacked the ship.”
She waved him away. She had no choice. She couldn’t allow any more threats on this island—Ku-Aha-Ilo was enough of a problem without Namaka and her foreign friends.
“Follow his tracks and see if it really is him.” She didn’t need to explain who she meant. “Just don’t let him see you.”
A very slight frown creased his brow. “Is that a command, Princess?”
Now it was her turn to frown. “Please just help me, all right? That ship crashed far too close to Puako. I have to go down there and see to them.”
“I will always help you, Pele. But don’t let your anger control you. Those people might not be your enemy.”
She shook her head. Maybe not. But if they brought their curses with them the aumakuas would be displeased. She could not risk the disasters that might follow.
9
The sun was setting by the time they reached the village. Although it featured several piers that served as launching points for canoes, the majority of the village was farther inland, just beyond a thin grove of koa trees. Place seemed just familiar enough to Kam he figured he’d been here before. Unless there was another village similar to this one. Which could be.
Either way, this village was probably near enough to the Valley Isle to have heard of Pasikole and his crew. All good things, he was pretty sure.
“Aloha,” he said as a pair of girls approached. Each lifted their hands to their mouths in a gesture of greeting. They wore headbands and bracelets made of leaves. Kam liked leaves. Reminded him of the jungle. The boar was most at home in a jungle. Or in a woman. So jungle women were twice as good. He was pretty certain he’d forgotten whatever else he intended to ask the locals.
Fortunately, Pasikole spoke. He was good at that. “Aloha. Our ship was damaged and our people injured. Can you help us?”
The two girls glanced at one another, then the one in the lead nodded and motioned for them to follow. Kam trotted right behind her, Pasikole and a dozen of his crew in tow.
The girls led them toward what had to be the chief’s hut. It was the biggest, after all. As was the man standing in front of it. He had a belly that made him look like he’d swallowed a boar whole. He wore a feather cloak and waved a smoking bush around like he thought he was a kahuna, watching them with his nasty little eyes. Shit. It wasn’t like Kam planned to break any tabus. Well, sometimes he planned it, but most times it just happened. Someone made a stupid rule and Kam forgot to follow it. Or didn’t like the rule because it wasn’t fun. Sometimes people tried to make fun itself tabu. Tabus were stupid.
“Aloha, Chief!” Kam shouted. “I’m Kamapua’a of the Valley Isle. These are my followers Pasikole and Inemes and, uh … the others don’t have names.”
“Of course they have names,” Pasikole said. “This is—”
“Sure, fine,” Kam said. “How about a feast, Chief …?”
“Chief Tangaloa,” the man said. Stupid, nasty, narrowed eyes. What did he have to be suspicious of? All Kam had asked for was a feast. Shit, good thing he hadn’t asked for a whole luau. They should throw him one though. Kam was mighty. Mighty boars deserved luaus. “Welcome to the Big Isle.” The chief waved the stupid smoking branch again.
“Our ship was damaged by an undersea volcano,” Pasikole said. “Could I prevail on your people to assist in repairs? I’d be happy to grant you boons. We have gunpowder, liquor—”
“You’ve got more of that shit?” Kam demanded. The foreign liquid burned like fire and made the boar in his soul damn happy, ready to romp, rut, and run.
“Not for you, Kam. Not after last time.”
Kam frowned. What in Lua-O-Milu was the foreigner even talking about? Did he object to Kam dancing the hula on his ship? Or was it because Kam had done so naked? Stupid foreigners were so uptight about that. Like not wearing clothes was some kind of tabu for them. They all needed a good rut or two to get over themselves.
“Where is she?” a woman’s voice demanded. The sound silenced everyone, crew and villager alike, as all spun to look at the speaker. The woman was sleek, her black, red-tinged hair flowing like a wild river about her shoulders. She was darker than a typical Sawaikian, tall and poised, walking with the absolute command one might expect of a kahuna.
Except she couldn’t be a kahuna since she was a girl. Princess? Kam liked Princesses. One was his best friend and another his mother. So far that set him up with a pretty good record with them. He should probably try to take the other five to bed.
The locals fell to their knees before the newcomer. Yup. Had to be a Princess.
“Princess Pele,” Chief Tangaloa said, waving his stick of stupid in her general direction.
Pasikole and his crew bowed to her as well.
Kam opened his mouth to speak, but Pele beat him to it.
“Where is she?” she repeated, her voice thick with luscious venom. Someone was in the shit.
“Princess?” Tangaloa asked.
“Where is the other Princess?”
Other … Oh. So Namaka was in the shit then. That wasn’t going to work. “Uh, aloha!” He grinned when Pele turned to him. By the aumakuas she was gorgeous. “I don’t actually know where Namaka is right now. But trust me, she�
�s a nice girl. Always trying to help other people and follow kapu and uh … and shit. But forget about her. I just want to say, Princess, I love you.”
Pele’s face screwed up in what he chose to take as a half smile, then she strode toward him, eyes darkening. With each step, a tendril of smoke began to waft off her shoulders. Then all at once, her hair burst into flame. Her eyes were lit by it, unearthly in their furious beauty.
As she drew near he had to fall back a step from the incredible heat surging off her body.
“Who do you think you are?” she demanded.
“Well, uh … I think I’m Kamapua’a. You know? Father of your future children. Fulfiller of your secret passions. Also, lots of fun at a luau. Even without stupid foreign liquors.”
For a moment she stood there, mouth agape. Sometimes he had that effect on people. Then she placed both palms on his chest and shoved him. Her strength was nothing compared to his, but still he fell back, his bare chest scorched where she had touched him. The pain didn’t end with her contact and he looked down to see her handprints, fingers and all, seared into his chest like great red welts.
Well, shit.
Pele spun on Pasikole, not giving Kam another look. “Reveal her location to me or a few burns will be the least of your worries.”
Pasikole folded his arms over his chest and stared at her with admirable defiance. Defiance was always admirable, after all. “I don’t know. She came looking for a cure to the plague on the Valley Isle. I assume she went inland. And you—you’re the one who attacked my ship, aren’t you?”
Pele flexed her fingers once, then a flame leapt from her palm, surging up from her skin. It was no larger than a torch fire, but it sat there in her hand, not burning her any more than the fire in her hair did. Glorious. “If I had attacked your ship, you, and it, would be cinders. You failed to take my warning not to come here, foreigner. We want nothing of the disaster that follows in your wake. We have seen what happens when the aumakuas are displeased. Be gone before you make me—or them—truly angry. Do you know what happens when I get angry?”
A whimper escaped the chief and, when Kam looked about the village, every eye was turned down to the sand. Stupid villagers were afraid to even look at their own Princess. Some crazy shit was going on in this place.
“I’ve seen what happens when Namaka gets angry,” Pasikole said. “Perhaps you should calm down before you go looking for her.”
“Get off my island!” Pele snapped and spun around, a trail of embers following in her wake.
“Wait!” Kam called. “Will you marry me?”
The Princess froze in place for an instant, jerked her shoulders down, and stormed off into the village without looking back at him.
Yeah. He was going to have so much sex with her. Musicians would write songs about them. The Love of Pele and Kamapua’a. It would be a classic played at wedding feasts for centuries. He could hear it now, played on a pahu drum—bumpa-bumpa-boooom!
“We have to warn Namaka,” Pasikole said.
Kam shrugged. “Fish Girl can take care of herself. She killed the damn taniwha.” So Pasikole had helped with that. Whatever. “Anyway, I thought you wanted to fix your ship.”
The captain sighed then, and nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s just …”
Yup—Kam knew what it was to fall for a Princess now. Like being in love with a goddess. Nothing else mattered. He stared wistfully in the direction Pele had gone.
“You cannot possibly like that woman,” Pasikole said.
“I can! I do.” He sighed.
“The Princess has commanded you be gone from this island,” Tangaloa said.
Pasikole turned back to the chief. “I can’t do that until my ship is repaired. It won’t sail. Will you help us or not?”
The chief narrowed his eyes like someone was playing a trick on him, then finally nodded.
Kam had spent the better part of this stupid day helping the locals cut down koa trees to repair Pasikole’s stupid ship. Again. Shitting foreigner seemed to break his stuff every time there was a tsunami, volcano, typhoon, or overloud fart. So instead of tracking down Namaka and saving Hamoa Village from sickness, he was busy doing this shit. Princesses had all the shitting fun.
With a huff, he hefted a plank between his shoulders, making certain the locals got a chance to ogle his bulging muscles. A boar needed to look good, after all. In fact, one of the local girls didn’t seem to be watching. That yellow-dressed beauty was going to miss his whole show.
“Aaaaloha!” he bellowed loudly enough to send a flight of birds scattering away from the trees. Wide-eyed, the girl turned to watch him. As did everyone else. “Just wanted to make sure everyone knows—I’m mighty!” For emphasis, he lifted the plank above his head with one hand.
The villagers stared at him. Clearly awed with his incorrigible mightiness. He winked at the girl. “See you at the next luau, my little pineapple.”
“Kamapua’a,” Inemes called to him.
So the foreign first mate finally knew his name. That was called progress. He tossed the plank aside, ignoring the shouts of crewmen as he disrupted their work, then stomped over toward her.
“Did you seriously just call that girl your ‘pineapple’?”
“Well, yeah. I mean she’s pretty. And yellow. And tasty. Probably tasty. Like a … like a pineapple.”
Inemes shook her head. “You sound like an idiot.”
“Sounds can be deceiving. Sometimes I even deceive myself. Once, I tricked myself into thinking I was stupid. Then I realized I was sleeping. So I farted.”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “The captain wants to see you right away.”
Kam shrugged and motioned for her to lead the way. “Did you see my muscles?” he asked while they walked.
“Yes.”
“Impressive, right?”
“A few hours ago you were in love with the local Princess. What happened? Now you want to impress me?”
Kam grinned, though she didn’t look back to see it. “I always wanted to impress you, darling. And shit, Pele is glorious. I’m going to marry her one day. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. We’re going to have lovely piglets together.”
The woman scoffed. “And you think that Princess wants piglets?”
What a stupid question. Who didn’t want piglets? “I get it, I get it. Now you’re jealous. But I’m not married yet. So if you really want a good romp, we can go out in the jungle tonight. Or a midnight surf if that’s your thing. Rutting on a surfboard takes practice, but it can be done.”
Her shoulders suddenly tensed. Had he offended her? That happened every once in a while. People taking offense at his words for no obvious reason. People were weird. Always worrying about things you’re not supposed to say out loud and other such pig shit. Whole world would be better if everyone just admitted what they were thinking in the first place. If you wanted to sleep with someone you ought to be able to just say so. All this dancing about and ritual and courting all so you could pretend you weren’t going to do what came natural in the first place. Stupid human pig shit.
“Let me ask you something,” he said just before they reached the Startracer. “You ever think all this tabu stuff about courting and ‘do shit proper’ and so forth … ever think it’s only so you can make yourself feel better when you finally get a mate? Like you accomplished some great feat? Except, it only became a great feat because you made it ten times harder than it had to be. Ever see wild boars mate? Beforehand, what, you think he brings his sow flowers and sings to her and spends half a month wooing and shit?”
“That’s what makes people better than boars.”
“Well now, that’s just arrogant. Thinking you’re better than other people.” Stupid foreign girl. Nothing wrong with a boar. They were primal. Boars said what they really felt. Said it with feeling and tusks. He stepped around the woman and trotted over to where Pasikole stood near his ship having another fit.
“See now!” Kam demanded when he approach
ed. “See, this is my point. If you and Namaka had just done the horizontal hula when you both wanted to, you wouldn’t be fretting over her now. Nobody shitting listens to me.”
Pasikole spun on him, an instant of confusion washed away as his face reddened in anger. “Those villagers stole one of my cutters.”
“Well maybe they really wanted one. What’s a cutter?”
“The boats! The boats we use to travel ashore when the Startracer is anchored farther out. With the ship run aground, they just swam over and stole one while we were busy trying to repair the sails.”
Kam shrugged. “Those big ass outriggers? Shit captain, I can build you a better canoe than that.”
Pasikole glowered at him before shaking his head. “Sails loosed, cutters are faster than most outriggers. I want my boat back, Kam. Tell me you can catch their scents, follow the thieves.”
Now it was Kam’s turn to frown. Could he track men by their scent? He hadn’t really practiced that. Women sometimes, sure. But men? Eh. Besides why was one shitting canoe such a big deal anyway? Oh. This was another one of those positioning things—men trying to prove they were important by demanding respect. That local chief had dishonored Pasikole with his behavior. Or maybe the foreign captain actually felt like he truly needed the boats. He did only have two of them. Kam only had two balls, and he liked both of those. Well, shit. If the villagers had stolen one of his balls, he’d be mad as a shitting boar.
Truth was, Kam liked Pasikole. The foreign captain treated him more like a man than a scary kupua, and that counted. He was almost a friend. More or less. And if he wanted Kam to track down a boat and thump a few thieves, that sounded like fun. Not as fun as playing hero with Namaka, but fun.
He tapped his nose. “Moon will be up soon. Once it is, I can take boar form and this here snout becomes a force to be reckoned with. Just try to keep up.” With that, he trotted off to try to catch the thieves’ scents.
For hours he’d chased after the damn boat thieves. With the moon up—almost full!—Kam had taken boar form and run along the riverbanks, leaving Pasikole and the half dozen men he’d brought far behind. The thieves sailed the cutter in and out of riverways, breaking out into the ocean now and then. Made it hard to keep their scents straight. Shitters.