by Delle Jacobs
Wahine: Woman, especially a wife, daughter, family member.
GODS and PEOPLE:
(For simplification, I have chosen the typical English spelling of Hawaiian words.)
Namaka-o-Kaha’i: An ancient Hawaiian goddess of the sea. The legend originated in Tahiti, and was brought by the Tahitians when they migrated to the Hawaiian Islands. Namaka-o-kaha’i means “the eyes of Kaha'i,” an ancient demi-god, said to be brave and adventurous. When Kekoa introduces Siren to the White settlers and attaches her lineage to her name, he is playing a joke on them, but he is also being perfectly proper and following Hawaiian custom in introducing the elite ali’i.
Pele: Sister of Namaka-o-Kaha'i, she is goddess of the volcanoes and fire.
King Kamehameha: There were four kings of Hawaii who took the name Kamehameha. Kamehameha I, the Great, conquered the other islands and became the first king.
Kamehameha III was king at the time of this story.
Kekoa: A traditional Hawaiian name, meaning brave, courageous. A fictional person.
Hiapo: A traditional Hawaiian name meaning first born. A fictional person.
Kaah: A completely invented name for Siren, which I chose because it might have come from any number of places.
ISLANDS AND PLACES:
Oahu: Called the Gathering Place, this central island of Hawaii became the seat of Kamehameha's government and is now where the capital and port city of Honolulu are.
Hawaii: This is the name of both the State of and its largest island, called the Big Island.
Skeleton Coast: The Coast of present day Namibia, West Africa, has been known as the Skeleton Coast for over 400 years. Many ships on the India or China run were caught in the Benguela Current and dashed against the reefs. Those few sailors who made it to shore found one of the world's most inhospitable deserts that stretches for hundreds of miles. Inland, the mountains are equally inhospitable.
EXCERPT FROM FAERIE
Coming Summer, 2011
Gloucester Castle, England
July, 1093
"That one," said the crone. One long, bony finger emerged from her dark green sleeve to point into the courtyard beyond the shadowed arcade. Tall, gaunt, old, and ashen-faced, she was everything Rufus was not.
Rufus feigned a shudder and frowned as if she had angered him, but his mind was already spinning with thoughts on how he could use her demand. "He will not do it," he replied.
"Oh, he will, Red King," the crone said, her gravelly voice crackling. " He is bound to you, just as you are bound to me by your father's oath. You know what will happen if you do not keep it."
Aye, Rufus knew, and he needed her. He rubbed the crisp curls of his red beard. She knew he would comply. Still, he was England's ruler, and he would make his own decisions.
It was an odd demand. Of all the king's knights, only Philippe le Peregrine wanted no fief, no wife, no familyB only to roam at the king's will, to fight and make peace at the king's command. In return, Rufus had given the Peregrine his word to honor the knight's wish, and Rufus made it a point of honor to keep promises to his knights.
But why the Peregrine? Yet, as he studied his favorite knight from where he stood in the obscuring shadows of the arcade, he began to see the possibilities. Aye, it just might do. In fact, he could not have dreamed up a better opportunity, himself.
So, then: his own promise betrayed to honor a prior one made by his father. A crinkle crept onto Rufus' lips before he staunched it. This would not be the first time a king had not kept his word.
Rufus pursed his lips for effect, though he doubted if he fooled the old woman. "So it shall be," he replied at last. "But how to do it? It will not be easy."
The crone laughed, but she did not smile. "You will know," she said, and again her rough chuckle shook the bag of bones that was her body. She focused her gleaming green eyes on him, and Rufus tried to look away, but was caught in their compelling intensity. A chill rippled down his spine, though he knew she did not possess the Evil Eye. Nor was she a witchB he had met his share of evil beings, and had a sense for them. But she was magical in some indefinable way. Rufus would pay her price for her knowledge, just as his father had done.
With a jerking gait that made him think of walking sticks, she passed through the pale arcs of sunlight and shadows of the arcade to the stone wall between Rufus=s private courtyard and the palace bailey. She glanced back, then pulled the hood of her moss-colored cloak over her straw-like hair. Her cloak merged with the shadows, then faded into the morning mist.
The mist thinned and vanished. The crone was gone. Rufus tilted his head and squinted. Nothing was left. Only the wall.
For a moment he imagined having her strange powers. Imagine a king who could walk through stone. Imagine a king standing in a room when nobody knew he was there. . .