by Matt Larkin
An inexplicable rage seized her then. Namaka had done all this. Turned Pele into this creature who would torture and murder with such abandon. The Sea Queen was to blame for all this. She had to be to blame. The alternative was unthinkable.
Lonomakua’s shout of denial came even as Pele wrapped her flaming hand around Leapua’s face, driving the other kahuna to the ground. The old woman thrashed in Pele’s grasp a moment before falling still. When she removed her hand, the imprint of it lay over Leapua’s face, charred black, red around the edges. The woman’s eyes remained opened wide—too wide—in agony, and her lip had burnt away to reveal her teeth.
“Why?” Lonomakua asked, voice hoarse.
“Because … I need this to be over.” She knelt beside him and grabbed the rope binding him, which then burst apart and shriveled into cinders.
Her kahuna grunted, working his wrists and staring down at Leapua, shaking his head. “There was no need for this.”
“There was no need for any of this, old friend. Namaka brought it all upon us because of her wounded pride.”
The kahuna sniffed, shaking his head. “Have you ever asked yourself if you are not more alike than you are different?”
What? Her and Namaka were nothing alike. They shared blood, yes, but their temperaments were as different as their powers. Lonomakua, though, rose, without elaborating on his meaning.
Even as they reached the door, a tremendous roar shot through the evening. A sound that had Pele’s fires winking out as she flinched, in visceral reaction to the fear. She looked to her kahuna—his blue eyes unreadable—before the man ducked outside. Leaving her no choice but to follow.
The fighting had stopped, every eye drawn to the mo‘o stalking among the outskirts of the camp. Milolii, Pele suspected, though she had seen Namaka’s nursemaid but a few times in her life.
She blew out a long breath, not well pleased at the thought of having to fight a mo‘o. Such a battle would require her to rain more lava and destruction upon this island.
Just beyond Milolii, though, walked another woman, one clad in a dark kihei. It had been so long since Pele had seen her, she almost did not recognize her other sister.
Kapo.
THE DRAGON HAD DECLARED the fighting at an end, and Pele saw no reason to dispute it. She had come for Lonomakua, and, with him freed, intended only to move on to Vai‘i. They would depart Mau‘i in the morning.
Kapo, though, had asked Pele to walk with her, leading her into the jungle, and the deep valleys inside the island. Small wonder that her fight with Namaka had drawn attention.
“I had been intending to find you, if I could.”
Her younger sister murmured. “I’ve made my home here a long time. I was … distressed when Milolii told me of what had transpired between you and Namaka.”
Pele sighed, uncertain what to say. What exactly had the mo‘o told her sister? “Milolii has only Namaka’s side of the tale.”
“Really? I cannot say the dragon casts either of you in favorable light. Pride and rage is all I see. And over a man?”
Pele grunted. “It wasn’t over a man. Besides, are you not the woman who traveled across the Worldsea to make her own kingdom?”
“Spare me your meaningless attempt to redirect the conversation. I have spent the last fifty years not as a queen, but as an advisor to the kings of the Kahikian dynasty. Sawaiki had its fair share of troubles before you and Namaka brought your petty war to these shores. Now, we stand on the verge of total chaos. I do not even wish to imagine what news of your actions will prompt our enemies to.”
Advisor? Kapo had turned away from her birthright to serve others? That sounded of madness, to Pele’s mind. Then again, her sister had always been a sorceress, plying the unknowable Art, pushing across Pō for strange answers.
Pele paused, looking around the eerily dark jungle. When the sun set, very little light burst through the canopy. The darkness did not seem to bother Kapo, but then, it never had. “By enemies, do you mean Poli‘ahu?”
“Among others, yes.”
“My plan is to build my own kingdom upon Vai‘i. One friendly to you, of course. One decidedly unfriendly to this Poli‘ahu.”
“She is a sorceress,” Kapo warned. “A powerful one, with congress with old, powerful spirits who tell her truths from days long gone.”
Pele shrugged. “I can drop a mountain on her.”
Kapo shook her head, as if dealing with a child. “You underestimate this woman at your peril, sister. Do not assume that because she does not have the destructive capabilities of you and Namaka, that she is not a threat to you. There is a darkness coming here, and trust me, I would know.”
Pele grinned, allowing her hand to burst into flame. “I bring my own light.”
Kapo groaned, shaking her head once more. “If you are determined to undermine Poli‘ahu from Vai‘i, then I’ll go with you. You’ll need someone familiar with the local politics to get established.”
Pele nodded. That much was true. “You’re angry. About what happened to Namaka.”
“I’m disappointed in the chaos you have wrought. I’m saddened in the destruction of Uluka‘a. And, yes, I am deeply concerned that the mer have taken Namaka. What do you think happens if they claim her body? Her blood, so flush with mana, so dripping in power? What happens when the rulers of the undersea kingdom gain possession of a host who can control the seas, Pele?”
“You think they’ll demand increased tribute.”
“If we are very lucky, that is the only result we need fear from this chaos. But I fear worse. Far worse.”
Pele could only grimace at that. Whatever Mu did or didn’t do, she had no control over it now. “We should head back.”
THEY HAD NOT YET REACHED the beach camp when Milolii came stalking out of the underbrush, a quiet menace underlying the dragon’s posture. A slow, deliberate slinking up before Pele, fixing her with a gaze that made the air seem to choke in around her.
All instinct demand Pele lower her eyes and submit to the dragon, but Pele refused to be cowed, even by a mo‘o. “What is it now?”
“You tortured Upoho.”
“What?” Kapo asked, coming up behind Pele.
Milolii growled. “Burned out one of his eyes.”
Heat began to grow behind Pele’s brow. Power swirling inside, tiny sparks building beneath her hair as her heartbeat raced. Too much to hope the mo‘o wouldn’t have learned of that yet. “I did what I had to do to recover my kahuna.”
“You maimed a boy I raised from childhood.” The dragon’s words were a snarl.
“He’s alive. How many people has your other charge killed, dragon? How many thousands are dead because of Namaka?”
“How many because of you?” the mo‘o snapped, her voice a primal groan, as if the land itself judged Pele.
“It was war. This was the last battle, though. Unless you suggest it should continue.”
The mo‘o craned her neck back, rearing onto her hind legs and leaning with her forelegs upon a tree that creaked under her weight. “Is that what you seek, little one?”
Little one? Pele’s hair sparked aflame and tendrils of smoke began to rise from her fingers.
Kapo stepped around her, positioning herself between Milolii and Pele. “End this. None of us have anything left to gain from a confrontation. Namaka is gone and what is done is done. Pele and I have an arrangement to leave this island.”
The mo‘o growled. Then she lowered herself down from the tree and turned, stalking back off into the bushes, rustling leaves and plants with her passing.
A sudden lightness rushed over Pele, as if a pressure had lifted from her chest.
Kapo spun on her. “Blinded a man?”
A spear of regret lanced through Pele, a memory of how easy it had been, and with it, a surge of disgust. A selfish hope not to see the wererat again, not look upon what she’d done to him. Not to have to remember. The thought of it was a writhing eel in her chest.
No answ
er would serve, of course. “Let us make ready to leave for Vai‘i.”
11
T hey swam far offshore, passing a myriad of skates and rays and fish of every color as they entered into a reef. Above Namaka, a hammerhead shark swam, paying them no mind. Despite the shock of losing control of her body, this world was beautiful, this feeling of absolute power mingled with fluid grace. And to be this far down, and yet breathing, was like coming home.
You want to be a host?
Nyi Rara’s voice in her mind jolted her from her reverie. The mermaid princess had been silent so long, the whole experience had begun to feel like a dream, like watching herself behold it all. And did she want to be a mermaid? Maybe she did. To never have to go back and face the damage she had done to her people. Maybe all of Sawaiki would be better off without its kupua, tapping into powers never meant for humans, while still bound by very human emotions.
How very insightful you are—for a mortal.
Or maybe it was just that she was the Sea Queen and being down here was like finding a part of herself she’d never known was missing. Being a mermaid brought her closer to the sea, and thus more in touch with her own soul—her truest self.
Still, Namaka could not say she would willingly serve as a slave to this spirit.
No one does.
Nyi Rara followed Ake deeper into the reef, the other mermaid lagging behind. Faint lights radiated from somewhere within the reef, granting them illumination despite the sun having long since set.
Namaka’s eyes worked better than ever before. She could see despite the faint light, and a nictitating membrane had now formed over her eyes to protect them. It was like all her senses had expanded, in fact, and were now bombarded with sights, sounds, and smells she’d never imagined lurked beneath the waves.
There were buildings inside the reef, covered in coral and—at their peaks—algae. Those lights she saw, they came from windows, from homes where mer lived. She had entered into the benthic city of Mu without even realizing it. Everywhere she looked, wonders abounded that a human could barely have dreamed of.
And the farther they swam, the more lights she saw, casting all of the city in a blue-green glow that seemed like something out of Pō.
Perceptive.
Namaka frowned, planning to ask what Nyi Rara meant, then started when she realized she had moved her mouth. How had that happened? She thought the mermaid spirit had taken all control from her?
A moment of weakness, host. Do not expect another. Be still.
The center of the reef opened into a great circular grove, revealing the city proper. And what a city it was—buildings of stone twenty, even thirty feet tall, carved with a precision she had never imagined. And ahead, a palace towering over the city, light pouring from its innumerable windows and great arches. This was a dream.
And the smells! As a human she had never considered that anything beneath the sea might smell. But ‘aumākua, she could smell the scents of a million fish, of other mer, of the coral itself. Her new form opened her up to so many sensations it was almost overwhelming.
A pod of dolphins circled far above the city, mer clinging to a few of them, like some kind of patrol. Or maybe that was exactly what it was. The mer must exert some level of control over sea animals.
Sea turtles swam above, and thousands upon thousands of fish darted in and out of crannies around the city. Hundreds of mer swam about as well, or poked their heads from windows as she passed. The mer paid no attention to the animals, save a handful of jellyfish which they avoided.
Before the palace, a circular stone landing rested, surrounded by orbs radiating blue-green light. Namaka couldn’t even think of what to call this magic.
Wisp lights.
Once again, the mermaid princess was speaking to her. One moment she acted like she disdained Namaka, the next she was conversing, explaining.
I do disdain you, human.
Oh, Namaka was not quite human. A surge of defiance rose up in her and pushed violently against Nyi Rara’s will. It was like slamming her fist into solid rock, and yet, the mermaid convulsed. Namaka jerked suddenly, then twisted in wonder, having control of her body again. Her powerful, sleek new body. It was glorious—and brief as the mermaid princess hit her like a physical force, driving her back down.
You caught me off-guard. A host must be brought under control, must be tamed like a wild dolphin, taught to serve.
Namaka tried to laugh, though no sound escaped. Nyi Rara may have thought she’d chosen an ideal host, given the power in Namaka’s blood. But she might find this host less easily tamed than she’d hoped.
On the other hand, wouldn’t both host and spirit benefit from working together, like the shifter Moon spirit in Upoho?
You dare compare me to those petty animals?
It seemed the mermaid inside her was a bit touchy. It didn’t matter. This place was as good as any other.
You run from your own life.
That hit her like another blow. She didn’t run from her life. She had no life left. She’d lost her kingdom, her family, and near everyone she’d ever cared for.
Nyi Rara sank down to the landing, which was engraved with circular designs, just regular enough they seemed to have meaning, but she could not begin to guess what.
Nyi Rara followed Ake inside the palace, and Namaka took the opportunity to ogle the glorious construction, the magical lighting, and the collected treasures. Even more so, the mer themselves. Every one of them had a different tail, blue or silver or green, often a mottled match like some tropical fish. Her own was a vibrant orange like the kou flower, which seemed the most common shade. Did the spirit choose their tail, or was it always the same?
The mermaid princess said nothing, but Namaka could feel that she had almost spoken, had wanted to. Why was the princess so intent on treating her like an enemy? Could she not be more useful as an ally?
Symbiosis? You believe that?
Why not? If they worked together, if Nyi Rara would just give her a little freedom, let her speak and enjoy this … then the mermaid wouldn’t have to waste her energy trying to control her host. Did she really want to spend centuries, as she had put it, struggling for dominance?
For a moment, the mermaid was silent.
Amuse me, mortal.
Suddenly, Namaka felt herself in control again. She jerked to a halt, then darted after Ake.
“Huh.” Her voice sounded strange underwater, thicker and echoey.
The merman turned to look back at her. “Princess?”
Namaka smirked. “She’s in here too. We’re just working out living arrangements.”
Ake frowned. Did he disapprove of her working with the mermaid? He opened his mouth, then jerked his head to the side.
Namaka followed his gaze but saw nothing but shadows. At first. Then something seemed to melt off the walls, its colors shifting—a moment ago they had perfectly matched the stonework, but now became a mottled purple color. An octopus, one as large as she was. It drew itself up close, staring at her with eyes that seemed wells of darkness sucking up light and revealing nothing of a soul within.
Namaka shuddered under its unfathomable gaze, not able to look away even as it reached one of its tendril-like arms up to her. A he‘e. The second one she’d ever seen, and it stirred a visceral revulsion in Namaka considering what had happened last time.
“A traditional he‘e greeting,” Ake said. “Ambassador Punga, may I present Princess Nyi Rara.”
The he‘e watched her, as if waiting for some response, and Namaka struggled not to squirm under his gaze. The damn thing seemed to stare right into her with some truly alien intelligence.
“Not at the moment, one must imagine,” the he‘e said after a moment. His voice was thick, slow, and ushered from a mouth muffled beneath all those arms, so it took Namaka a moment to realize what he’d said. And an instant more to understand he meant she wasn’t Nyi Rara at the moment.
And face to face with this strange creat
ure, she wished she was.
As you wish.
Just like that, the mermaid was in control again, and Namaka felt herself staring back at the he‘e ambassador with renewed confidence. Still his eyes gave away nothing of his thoughts, so perhaps he had them at a disadvantage, but at least she was not alone.
You were not alone before.
Nyi Rara extended her hand, mimicking the he‘e greeting gesture. “You must excuse me, Ambassador. My sister will wish to see me.”
The octopus blinked as if that were some kind of answer, then slipped off into the shadows, dragged along by arms that seemed to move each of their own accord. It was like eight squirming, slithering eels, each with the ability to become all but invisible.
“That was horrifying,” she said. The words echoed aloud. Nyi Rara had released her again, just as easily.
You are not like any host before. I just wonder if …
She must wonder if she might have been more successful in the past had she worked with her hosts.
Yes.
Namaka knew what it was like to question everything about her life, to wonder at the countless mistakes she had made. The assumptions made too easily led her to … here. This moment.
With a broken world of ashes left behind.
The mermaid said nothing else, but Namaka could feel her there, waves of distrust and doubt intermingling. So maybe she hadn’t earned Nyi Rara’s support yet, but she would. If only because she had nothing else to go back to. All was lost.
Still, she would never submit. Never agree to anything less than a partnership.
“The he‘e have their own kingdom a few leagues south from here,” Ake said, then beckoned her to follow as he led her through the palace. “They call it their Aupuni. The ambassador has been here for over a year now. We’ve been trying to maintain diplomatic relations with the other powers in the sea. It galls us to cater to the whims of a mortal race, but the he‘e are ancient and cunning. Some claim they are older than this world. With the war against Hiyoya, we cannot risk making more enemies.”