Na Akua

by Clayton Smith

  He fell back to his side, trying to keep below the smoke. The fire blazed brightly, even in the cloudy light. The rain came down in diagonal slashes, and the logs sputtered and hissed as the drops fell. The old man loosed the rag from his neck and pulled his shirt up over his head.

  Gray gasped.

  The man’s razor-thin back was chestnut brown, like the rest of his skin, but there were brilliant yellow slashes across his back.

  In fact, he looked more like a lizard than a man...

  Gray sucked in a breath as he flashed back to the sight of the man’s tongue just as he fell into his unnatural sleep…the thin, forked thing that had flicked out from between his teeth and flashed across his lips.

  “A mo’o,” Gray breathed in horror. He hissed over to Polunu: “Hey! He’s a mo’o!”

  “I know,” Polunu whispered back. “You couldn’t tell when he put you to bed with sleep magic?”

  “No…I thought I needed more coffee,” he hissed. “I didn’t know sleep magic was a thing.”

  “You know it now.” Polunu exhaled slowly and shook his head. “Mo’o,” he said, his entire body trembling. “This is bad.”

  “Oh, ’cause it was so good before?”

  The mo’o stretched out his shirt and tied the sleeves to two different bamboo stalks on either side of the fire, constructing a poor but serviceable umbrella over the flames. He added even more logs to the fire, and when the blaze was almost as tall as the old man himself and the flames licked at the makeshift tarp, the mo’o pulled a folding knife from his pocket and flicked it open. He stalked back toward his prisoners, testing the blade with his thumb. He crossed between Gray and Polunu and looked back and forth between them.

  “What’s he doing?” Gray hissed, his eyes wide and fixed on the mo’o.

  “I think he’s deciding who to eat first,” Polunu replied.

  The lizard creature looked down at the mainlander, his tongue flicking out from between his lips. Gray gulped. The mo’o smiled.

  His decision was made.

  “Hey! Kupua! Why don’t you start with a real man?” Polunu asked, struggling against his ropes. Gray tried not to take the insult personally. “What’s the matter? You pick the small one ’cause you afraid of the big one? I always heard stories about how fierce the mo’o is. I guess they meant some other lizard demon, huh?”

  The creature narrowed his eyes. He flicked his tongue at Polunu. “Makes no difference to me,” he hissed. He turned and walked toward Polunu. “I was afraid I would fill up on your fat...but I can always have leftovers.”

  Gray stared, bewildered, as the mo’o approached Polunu, the knife held low against his waist. Gray prayed that the big oaf had something planned and wasn’t just being noble. If he was going to watch anyone be gutted, he would rather it be himself instead of his friend.

  Polunu stopped struggling with his ropes. He sat quietly, limply against his bamboo stalk. His weary eyes grew heavy, and his shoulders sloped down toward the earth. The fight was draining out of him. He couldn’t break the ropes, and now he would be slaughtered like a fat lamb and devoured by the lizard-thing.

  Gray closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch. Then he peeled one eye open, because he had to watch. He had to bear witness.

  He owed Polunu that much, at least.

  The mo’o stood over the bound man, his narrow chest expanding and contracting with excited breath. He squatted in front of Polunu, and the big Hawai’ian turned his head to the side. But the mo’o grabbed Polunu’s chin and forced him to look into his demon face. “Mortals shouldn’t meddle with the plans of the gods,” the old man hissed. He snapped his jaws, and Polunu flinched. “I’ll save a piece for Kamapua’a so he can taste how afraid you were in the end. But the rest...” He leaned in close and ran his lizard tongue up Polunu’s cheek, tasting the sweat and tears that were drying on his skin. “The rest, I think I will greatly enjoy.” He drew back the knife and rammed it toward Polunu’s belly.

  Everything that followed happened in a flash. The big Hawai’ian moved like a snake. The ropes fell from his wrists, and Polunu swung his belly to the side, just barely avoiding the knife slash. He swung his right hand hard and brought his fist crunching down against the left side of the old man’s face. The mo’o collapsed to the ground, mud spattering across the yellow slashes on his bare back. Polunu dove forward, tackling the demon and hammering into him with his huge fists, but the mo’o was powerful, and he pushed himself to his feet, lifting Polunu right along with him. The mo’o tossed him down like a sack of flour, and Gray could hear the wind explode out of his lungs in a rush. Polunu groaned for air as the lizard brought his foot down on Polunu’s leg, hard. He screamed in pain and clutched his thigh to his belly, rolling in agony. The mo’o looked around for the knife and saw it lying on the ground a few yards away. He skittered over to pick it up, but when he did, Polunu reached down beneath his leg and grabbed up a fistful of the heart-shaped plants that grew along the forest floor. The mo’o returned with the knife in hand and straddled the fallen Hawai’ian. “Weak like all mortals,” the creature sniped, sounding almost regretful.

  “Strong enough to take a lizard,” Polunu grunted. He shoved the fistful of leaves into the demon’s mouth. The mo’o shot backward, startled. He dropped the knife and clawed at the plants, digging them out of his throat. Polunu swept up another handful of leaves and jumped to his feet, favoring his injured leg, and he crammed those down the lizard’s mouth, too. The mo’o let loose a guttural groan and tried to spit out the leaves, but Polunu swung up hard and fast with his right fist and connected a bone-shattering uppercut to the lizard’s jaw. Teeth cracked as they broke free and rattled around his skull. Polunu clasped one hand around the back of the old man’s head and pressed the second against his mouth so he couldn’t open it. The mo’o pried at Polunu’s fingers, and he started to peel them away, but just then, his eyes rolled back up into his head, and he began to sway on his feet. His hands dropped dreamily to his sides. His head bobbed. Polunu let go and took a few steps back. The mo’o staggered to his left...then he corrected and plunged to his right. He crashed into a bamboo plant and twirled around it, spinning off into another bunch of stalks. Then he stumbled across the forest like a punch-drunk boxer. His limbs hung limp as noodles; his knees shook, and his head tilted and swayed in every direction. He wobbled back toward the fire, his shoulders bumping against the swaying stalks…and suddenly, he lost his footing. He reached out for a bamboo stalk to steady himself, but he missed, and the mo’o went pitching forward, diving headlong into his own flames. The logs cracked and hissed from the weight, but the lizard-thing did not cry out, even though his flesh began to sizzle and roast. His head lolled around on his shoulders, and a smile crept up his reptilian lips. Then the bulk of the mo’o melted away like sea foam, streams of it trickling down the burning logs, until there was nothing left but a gaunt, blackened lizard falling down into the embers of the fire.

  “I feel like I keep saying this,” Gray said, his eyes wide with astonishment. “But what the hell was that?”

  Polunu put his hands on his hips and worked to catch his breath. “That,” he gasped, “was ’awa plant.” He picked up the mo’o’s knife and lumbered over to Gray. He sliced through the rope, and Gray pulled his hands free.

  “Is ’awa Hawai’ian for ‘fiery suicide death wish’?” he asked, rubbing his wrists.

  “Well, it sort of relaxes you,” Polunu said. “It’s not like a drug or nothing, but, you know. It makes you feel calm. You can make a drink with it and everything.”

  “It makes you calm enough to throw yourself onto a fire?” Gray wrinkled his nose at the smoldering logs and tried to peek down into the embers without getting too close.

  “Mo’o are supposed to be very sensitive to it. Makes them go all loopy. I never had a chance to try it before, though. Never got attacked by a mo’o
in a wild awa field.” He shrugged. “Guess it works.”

  Gray cleared his throat. “Guess so.”

  “You okay?” Polunu asked, biting his lower lip and frowning.

  “Yeah. Wrists are a little burned up, but that’s it. How about you? Did it get you?”

  Polunu shook his head. “Nah.” He grinned an exhausted grin. “I’m too fast for lizard demons.” He glanced over at the fire. “Guess we should go make sure he’s dead, yeah?”

  “Sure,” Gray said. “Guess so.”

  Neither of them made an attempt to move.

  “Or we could just assume it died and get the hell out of here,” Gray suggested.

  “That sounds better.”

  Polunu skirted the fire, not turning his back on the hopefully-dead mo’o, and picked up Manaiakalani. “I should have known,” he said, wiping the mud from the hook and shaking his head sadly. “When the mo’o drank the water from his bucket…he said, ‘Mahalo, Lono; mahalo, Nāmaka.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Lono is the god of rainfall; Nāmaka is the goddess of ocean. He was thanking them for the water that falls as rain and runs out to the sea.”

  “If we’re singling out every person who talks about the gods like that, I’m pretty sure you’re a mo’o too, and I’m gonna have to set you on fire.”

  “It’s not that he thanked the gods. It’s that he thanked those gods. In the upcountry, they like to worship their own gods, remember? I don’t think a human this far up the mountain would thank the old gods of Hawai’i for the water, but maybe their own akua instead, you know?”

  “So just to be clear,” Gray said pointedly, “worshipping hill gods, bad; worshipping ancient mythological but comparatively popular gods, good.”

  Polunu raised an eyebrow. “You ain’t still a non-believer, are you, cuz? Not after all this?”

  “The gods that keep trying to kill me with witches and lizards and lava aren’t giving me much choice but to believe,” Gray said miserably. Then he sighed. “Still doesn’t make it easy to wrap my brain around.” They stood there in silence for a few moments, until something snagged in Gray’s brain. “Nāmaka. Why do I know that name?”

  “Pele’s other sister. The one who wants to snuff her out.”

  “Ah. Right. Fun family they got there.”

  “Gonna be your in-laws pretty soon,” Polunu grinned.

  Gray rolled his eyes. Then he pressed the heels of his hands into his sockets, trying to rub some sense into his brain. “This is just insane,” he murmured.

  “It’s strange times here,” Polunu agreed. “I told you when you said you wanna find Pele: you goin’ down a whole new path. This isn’t exactly what I thought, it’d be, you know? But here we are.” Both men fell quiet. Polunu pushed his toes into the mud. “You know what I think?” he said.

  “That it’s time for second lunch?”

  Polunu smiled. “Nah. What I think is, nā akua were never meant to compete with progress. They lost their battle for the world a long, long time ago...now they got nothin’ to do but hide and wait ’til the world destroys itself and they can take back their power. But now, one of them don’t wanna wait no more. He wants to destroy the world himself. Get things really moving. Take down everyone in the way. Go back to the way things were. More primal…more brutal.” He looked down at Maui’s hook and ran his finger along the edge of the ancient bone. “You know?” he added, almost to himself.

  “Yeah,” Gray sighed. “I know. I really do.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and began heading back down the hill.

  “Hey, cuz! You going the wrong way.” Polunu jerked his thumb up toward the summit. “The mountain goes up!”

  “And I’m going down,” Gray said. “Enough is enough. I’m going back to the hotel. You coming with, or should I notify your next of kin?”

  He didn’t wait for Polunu to answer. He just pushed through the bamboo, retracing his steps down the mountain toward the car.

  Chapter 18

  The wild pigs rutted and screamed, spurred on by the sudden rain, but Hi’iaka did not hear them.

  She was too far gone inside the storm.

  The clouds had answered her call, melting together in a thick gauze of gray that shouldered out the sun. The rain had fallen slowly at first, but now it was picking up steam, pouring down in a torrent of slanting pellets that rattled the earth with their force and sent little creeks streaming down the mountain.

  She murmured a quick prayer to Lono, the god of the rain, even though he probably couldn’t hear her voice, muffled by the circle as she was. But she whispered it anyway, in genuine thanks, and as a signal that his work was done for today. It was her time now.

  Now was the time for thunder. Now was the time for lightning.

  She closed her eyes and lifted her arms to the ceiling. She whispered the ancient words, words from no language still spoken on the earth save for those with memories that stretched back to the days of wild ocean and wind. She spoke the words, and she felt their power crackle to life as the breath crossed her lips, but she also felt the stifling pressure of the magic that stuck in the invisible net of Kamapua’a’s circle, and she had no way of knowing how many of her words were reaching the sky so high above her little prison. So she reached, and she reached, and she reached with her mind, willing her spell to send its magic into the atmosphere, waiting for the rumble of thunder in her ears.

  But the thunder didn’t come. The lightning didn’t flash. The rain fell harder, and the jungle beyond the shed was lost in the gray veil of water, but the thunder and the lightning held their peace. She pushed herself harder, straining against the confines of the circle, but her power sounded back at her, buzzing in her ears, catching in her throat. It was raucous, it was stifling…and soon it was too much to bear. She gasped as her arms fell to her sides, and the power drained from her lips. Kamapua’a’s magic was too strong. His circle was too restrictive. She could not break through it, and her voice was silenced to the heavens.

  There would be no thunder rumbling through the clouds. There would be no lightning striking the mud and obliterating her cell. There would be no storm.

  There was little hope left.

  She closed her eyes and moved her lips. Find me, Grayson, they said. Do not die, and do not be turned away. You are my only hope. Do not give up on me.

  Chapter 19

  “I give up!” Gray cried.

  “Haole!” Polunu called out after him. “Wait!”

  “Will you stop calling me that?” Gray pushed his way angrily through the trees, soaked to the bone. “I get it, I get it. I’m from Missouri. I’m a dumb white idiot. I’m not Hawai’ian. If I were Hawai’ian, maybe all this would actually mean something, and there’d be a reason to keep going, but I’m just a dumb haole, I’ve got no business here, and man...I just could not agree more.”

  “You know I don’t mean it bad!” Polunu huffed and puffed his way down the slope, struggling to keep up on his injured leg. “Just wait—let’s talk about it!”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” Gray sighed. He stopped and whirled around, jamming his finger toward the top of the mountain. “Up there? That’s death. That is pain and torture and misery and death. It’s enough. All right? Enough.”

  “But Hi’iaka—”

  “I feel terrible about Hi’iaka! You think I don’t? I know it’s my fault she got caught, and I feel terrible about that! Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself after this. I really, really don’t. But at least I can still live! If we keep going, all three of us are going to die—you, me, and the goddess who, if we’re being honest, really should be able to fend for herself up there, because she’s a goddess! And we don’t even know what pig-face wants with her! We’re just running headlong into danger, assuming that he’s goin
g to deal her some horrible, terrible death, but guess what? You don’t kidnap people you want to murder; you kidnap people you need to keep alive, so she’s sitting up there at the top of this mountain, alive, and he might be treating her like a queen for all we know! We could be risking our lives to save her from the most comfortable captivity the world has ever known. And if he is hurting her? Guess what again? She’s a goddess, and he’s just a demigod, and that means she’s fine!”

  “You know she’s not fine,” Polunu said. “She wouldn’t have asked you for help if she didn’t need it. We got to do—”

  “Nothing! We ‘got to do’ nothing. I have been hit, and bitten, and swarmed by shark-monsters, and buried alive, and smashed by trees, and tied to bamboo, and I’ve almost been eaten—twice: once by an old man who was really a lizard demon, and once by a hill witch who didn’t even have a face, and I have no idea how she was going to put my skin in her mouth, but she was definitely gonna do it! And I have lava scars!” he shouted, pulling down the collar of his shirt and showing the smooth marks where Pele’s molten rocks had seared into his skin. “This is it! This is enough! I didn’t come to Hawai’i to die.”

  Polunu stared in disbelief. He shook his head and said, “You came a long way to abandon this altar, haole.”

  Gray’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped up to the larger man, poking a finger into his chest. “What did you say?”

  Polunu glowered down at the mainlander. “I said, it’s a long way to come to abandon people you love at their altar. Haole.” He spat out the last word. It dripped with disappointment as it spilled from between his lips.

  “First of all,” Gray seethed, “how dare you throw the altar in my face. How dare you. And second of all, you name one person on this godforsaken island that I ‘love,’ and I’ll march right up that hill and punch the pig-god right in the face!”