Cave of Bones (Dark Island Series Book 2)

by J. D. Matheny

  He sounded excited at the progress of the villagers but it saddened Sophie just a little. She supposed she should be happy for the obviously poor people of the village that they should get such opportunities, but part of her was more than a little charmed at the simple lifestyle here and the way everybody seemed to be so open and friendly and sociable. In her neighborhood back home only one in ten people would even look you in the eye when you passed by them on the street, and often that one look was one of annoyance or suspicion. She wondered what these people would think of Americans if they could observe them.

  They would probably think we were incredibly rude, she thought.

  They continued, weaving between the scattered homes, waving, and greeting each villager as they passed. Before long they were in the middle of the village where there was a small church sandwiched by two homes. It was obviously a church as it had the same universal look to it as all churches seemed to share. There was a wide set of stairs leading up to double doors, which were surrounded by colorful flowers. On the front of the building, over the top of the door, was a large cross shaped out of wood.

  “These people are Christians?” Thomas asked. “I would have thought they practiced some kind of, you know, jungly type of religion.”

  “You are funny, Thomas! Yes, good Christians, like most Fijians. They have been since they made their home here,” Lomate said.

  They were heading in the direction of the church but stopped short as their guide with the machete veered toward the small house on the left. He placed the long blade on the ground to the side of the door and slapped his hand on the wall a few times, holding up the bag of kava with his other hand. A moment later a portly man came to the door and stared out at them. He was dressed in a colorful orange and red button up shirt with short sleeves, a Sulu much like Sophie was wearing, only black, and some attractive sandals. He took notice of the kava, flashed a brilliant smile, then smacked the man chummily on the arm and moved out of the cool of his house to greet his guests.

  Lomate gave the man a polite nod and said something to him in what Thomas and Sophie assumed was a greeting. The man nodded and smiled, appearing to be every bit as friendly as all the rest of the people here. When he spoke, his voice was deep and pleasant.

  “My friends, thank you for visiting our village. Tokalau is a beautiful place, yes?” He looked around proudly. His English was good, though his accent was strong. “Today you will be our honored guests and share with us a kava ceremony.” His smile widened as he placed a large hand on both Thomas and Sophie’s shoulders.

  Lomate jumped in just as Thomas opened his mouth. “Thomas! Sophie. The Chief invites you to a kava ceremony, which is traditional for our people when welcoming guests to the village. Please allow yourselves to enjoy. Have patience. It is not a long ceremony and you can then ask what you want.” He eyed Thomas warily, waiting for objections, while the Chief just grinned and nodded in agreement.

  Thomas paused only for a moment, lips clenched tightly together in a thin line, then smiled back at the Chief before thanking him.

  They better not want me to dance, Thomas thought as he waited impatiently to see what kind of primitive ceremony would be inflicted upon them.

  15

  In the middle of the clearing, directly in front of the church, was a ring of flowers, some random vases and wood carvings, and some large, woven mats. The Chief made his way over to them and held his hand out toward the mats, still smiling. The group took the cue and all sat together where indicated, in a tight line, shoulder to shoulder. With a small grunt, the Chief lowered himself down on the mat opposite them and placed a large, round wooden bowl in the middle. It was a beautiful object of dark wood with carvings all around the rim and Sophie voiced a sound of delight, which seemed to please the Chief a great deal. Balanced in the middle of the large bowl was a plastic jug with a top that had been cut open, containing a brown, murky water. Floating inside the water was a rag.

  Thomas looked next to him at Lomate with raised eyebrows. Lomate nodded and raised his hands up in a look of supplication. Just go with it, that look said. Live a little, man.

  Thomas looked over his other shoulder at his sister, expecting to see a look of disgust or apprehension on her face, but instead she was smiling like a schoolgirl, utterly delighted with the whole experience. He knew she was as anxious as him to be on their way but she seemed to have accepted the necessity of all this and was determined to enjoy it while it was happening. Thomas sighed and did his best to follow suit, inwardly thankful that dancing didn’t appear to be in the cards. He watched the chief empty the jug of dirty water into the bowl and begin working the rag through the water, kneading it repeatedly. As he did this he began to talk, his eyes moving back and forth between them.

  “Bula, my new friends. Welcome to the great village of Tokalau. I am the Chief, Roko Josefa and it is my great honor to welcome and accept you into my village. Understand, that with this ceremony you are becoming one of us, a villager of Tokalau. Maybe you do not live here, but you are still one of us.” He smiled warmly at each of them in turn, then continued. “Tokalau is a great village, one of four villages on Kabara. We are known as an island of the wood-carvers. When you visit the South Island, you will see many shops with wood carvings but they are not real Fijian wood carvings. Only carvings from the traditional wood-carvers who learn the skill from the many generations before them can show you the true gift of our people. So please, when you walk in the village, if you see a carving that pleases you, take it and accept it as my gift to you.” Thomas and Sophie watched the Chief as he talked and worked the watery rag, soaking and rinsing, kneading and squeezing repeatedly while the story went on. “Here on Kabara we live as true Fijians, in the old ways. The people on the South Island say they are Fijians, and they are, but not traditional Fijians like us.”

  Thomas noted that the Chief’s voice was full of pride but he also noticed the shape in his pocket that could only be that of a large Smartphone. Oh well, he thought, the world catches up to us all.

  The Chief went right on, taking no notice of the brief look of skepticism that crossed Thomas’s face. “You have brought for us today a great gift of kava and we thank you. It is our custom that the Chief drink first, then the men, and finally the women. When I pour for you the kava you will have a choice of the High Tide or the Low Tide. This means a full cup or a half cup. Kava is not a strong drink that will create magic for your eyes, it will only act to relax you and keep you happy.” As he said this he poured a full cup for himself. “When you are ready to drink, clap one time loudly and shout ‘Bula’. Drink the kava in one drink then clap three times, loudly, and say ‘Mathe’ You understand?” He watched as all three nodded their heads.

  With that, the Chief gave a loud clap and shouted “Bula.” Despite the instruction, Sophie still jolted in surprise before laughing at herself. The cup of brown liquid was downed quickly and the Chief then clapped loudly three times before shouting “Mathe.”

  He then offered the kava to each of them in turn, starting with Lomate and ending with Sophie. Lomate took a High Tide, while Thomas and Sophie both opted for the Low Tides, not knowing just how much they would be affected and both wishing to be on the ready when it was finally time to move on.

  As Sophie finished up last, following the process with an unabashed enthusiasm of clapping and shouting, she smacked her lips and tongue several times, trying to determine just how this bitter brown water was treating her. “It tingles,” she said, as the Chief smiled at her, nodding his head. She sat back in cautious anticipation as the drink worked its magic, spreading its smooth and numbing effect from her tongue to the back of her neck and down her spine. It was pleasing and very calming. She gave herself thirty-seconds to appreciate the experience before looking over at Thomas and Lomate. It was time to move things forward.

  Picking up on the state of readiness, Lomate offered an appreciative smile to the Chief and pushed forward with their purpose.

 
“Roko Josefa, we thank you for your generosity in welcoming us to your village and making us a part of your life. Your people and your village are a splendid example of the Fijian way and I am prouder to be one of you than ever before.” The Chief beamed at this, lending to Lomate’s confidence. He gestured to Thomas and Sophie beside him. “Our new friends are very interested in your people and your history. They would very much like to speak with you on these things, if you are willing?”

  “Of course! Please, you are my people now and you should know these things.” His smile was as large as ever as he turned his palms up and waved them on. Thomas needed no further encouragement.

  “Will you tell us the story of the island of Vaqava, where your people came from?” Much to his nature, he was intent on swinging away and that felt like the subtlest method he was willing to take in which to traverse into the supernatural element. The transition from delight to uneasiness in the Chief’s bearing was instantaneous as his large body seemed to shrink inward and his previously jovial face clouded over.

  “You wish to know when my people came to Kabara?” The question was hesitant and Thomas recognized it as an effort to steer them away from a deeper past, but he wasn’t to be deterred.

  “We are more interested in the time before you came over, and more importantly, the reason why you came over.”

  “I see.” He paused then and his face became resolute, like a stone statue that ever faces the oncoming storms that work to diminish and erode it. His demeanor was now one of resolve. “You maybe think that there is an exciting story in our history, something to tell your friends when you return home from your big adventure? There is an exciting story to tell them and it’s right where you are now. Spend the day with us and we will prepare for you some real Fijian food and drink more kava. In the village we celebrate each day, for the life that we have now is a good one. There is no need to think about the past life. It might not be as good as today.” His eyes bounced back and forth between them, hoping for a favorable response.

  Sophie jumped in, thinking a different approach might be more favorable. “Please, Roko Josefa, we have important matters that we need to discuss. You have already given us a wonderful memory, and if we had more time we would love to spend more than a day with you and your amazing people, but we cannot do that today. I wish I could tell you why this is important to me, to us, but it is a personal thing. I need to know.” She put as much desperation in her voice as she dared, knowing that if she let it all in she would risk opening the flood gates and somehow, she thought deteriorating into a quivering mass of tears and sobs would not get them the progress they so desperately needed.

  The Chief was unmoved and his countenance went from resolute to cold, all traces of smiles wiped away. “I see no reason to speak of these things with you. This history you ask for is no longer important to me or my people, so it cannot be important to you.” He lifted himself up with a grunt and picked up the remnants of the ceremony. “If you wish to spend a little time with us then you are welcome.” His tone made ‘welcome’ sound most unwelcome. “If you return another day maybe we can speak of nicer things.” With that he turned and stalked off back to his small house, signaling an abrupt end to their meeting.

  Thomas looked over at Sophie, who wore a look of shock upon her face, then across his other shoulder to Lomate, who looked put out.

  “What was that, Lomate? He just won’t talk to us now? Because we asked about the history of the other island?” Thomas’s ire was on him, a deep red creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

  “Look around you my friend, you have struck a nerve I think.”

  For the first time since the ceremony had commenced Thomas took in his surroundings and realized instantly the affect his line of questioning took on the people who lived in the tiny village. Gone were the shouts and laughter of children that had peppered the landscape only minutes ago. Gone were the warm and welcoming looks from the groups of women who were going about their daily activities. The children were nowhere to be seen and were now silent. The women, those who remained in the vicinity, only looked at them with stoic faces and suspicion. Maybe not suspicion, he thought, maybe fear.

  There was one figure watching he couldn’t read. A small figure silhouetted in the dark of the doorway of the little house planted on the opposite side of the church as the Chief’s. He paused there at that form, something about it striking him as off. There wasn’t much to be made of this shadowy figure, except he surmised that it was an old person, and likely female, judging from the small stature and slight stoop to the back. Then the figure stepped to the side and was gone.

  “Lomate,” he said, tilting his head toward the home he was still watching, “who lives there? Is that another Chief?”

  “No Thomas, there is only one Chief. With the house being built next to the church they would be a person of honor. In our history, it would be normal to have a Chief and a Holy Man next to a church. Or, if this were a different time, longer ago, it might be a …” he screwed his face up in thought, “a magic person? I don’t know how you might say this.”

  Sophie spoke up, curiosity etched into her tone. “Like a shaman or a witchdoctor? Spells and stuff?”

  “Yes! You have it. A person who knows all the spells. In the older days people would go to those magic men to ask for a spell to make somebody love them, or to give them more strength for battle or for having sons. This type of thing.”

  Thomas and Sophie shared a victorious look between each other before Sophie jumped back on to what Lomate had told her.

  “That’s who we need to talk to! Now. Let’s go ask them what we need to know then get on our way.”

  Lomate looked troubled as he stared hard at them, then at the home where the person in question seemed to be hiding away.

  “I’m afraid that might be a bad idea, Sophie. The Chief has spoken on this and it would be an insult to him, and to the others, to ask somebody else. I fear we may be asked to leave right away if we did such a thing.” He looked nervously between the two of them, the expectation of what would come next written plainly in his worried eyes. It was Thomas who responded.

  “I don’t give a good God damn if we insult the Chief, or if we’re asked to leave! If we don’t find out anything useful there’s no point in staying, and I see no reason to come back.” The red in his neck and cheeks moved into his eyes now and Lomate’s objections disintegrated before them.

  Lomate gave one single nod and stood, waiting for them to follow suit. Once they were on their feet, and with one furtive look at the Chief’s domicile, he made his way quickly to the small, dark home on the other side of the church.

  As he approached the doorway a sense of foreboding seemed to instill itself among their tiny group, and as if of one mind, they all paused together at the same moment, still two steps short of the entry. Even Thomas, who normally would have nudged forward, seemed to take a moment to evaluate their approach.

  Before any of them made a further move, another made the move for them.

  16

  So caught up in the religious fire was Bolo that he worked throughout the long, hot morning at achieving the tasks Daucina had demanded of him without giving his pregnant wife and future child a single thought, other than general thoughts of an idealistic life of which they would be a part. There had been a quick trip to take her some spring water. Once that was done, his mind was bent on progress and his muscles worked together with a single purpose. Making rope, cutting poles, erecting walls. Building a home for himself and his family would be the catalyst toward a new way of life. A way that meant a return to the old. The other child was important, very important to Daucina, so he gave that fragile creature no further thought except he needed to be cared for. An endeavor for which his wife was suited and he had immense pride in being chosen for.

  It was midday, while taking a short but well-deserved break, when his stomach finally mounted an assault on his senses and he realized he would need to eat soon. That
thought led him to his devoted wife who he had left back at the Bure with the baby. He had also left her the supply of food that they had brought with them. It crossed his mind he should check on her and show her how pleased he was at her acceptance of these latest changes. Even though she hadn’t seemed very accepting when he’d left her. She would come around, he thought.

  He appraised the fruits of his labors before him with a stoic satisfaction, happy with his accomplishments yet fully aware that much more work remained. This home would be simple, but that was the point, wasn’t it? He wanted no part of any material that required machinery. His only interest was in those things he could extract from the land. In this case, he was using bamboo shafts cinched together with plant fiber rope. The roof would be the same, with the added benefit of palm fronds stacked in multiple layers. It would be a basic home but one that would be up and usable quickly. There would be time for more elaborate building later, when he had the extra time and extra hands to help. When his people would join him and they could all come together to make the village great. For now, he would take a break and when he returned he would complete a fourth wall to join the three currently laying on the ground. Once they were built they could be stood and joined.

  He wiped a grimy hand down his face and flung a spray of sweat out before him. The swim out to his wife would be one of the most satisfying of his life, he thought. With that in mind, he turned on his heel and walked off through the trees toward the direction of the Bure, weaving in and out of the clusters of trees and plants and dodging rather large, thick spider webs with quick jerks of his head and torso. He passed fruit aplenty but resisted the urge to snag any as he walked; he was looking forward to a lunch with his wife.