by Matt Larkin
Hundreds of mer floated dead in the water, torn apart by a feeding frenzy of sharks. Tiger sharks, hammerheads, gray reefs—all had gathered to gorge themselves on the bloody feast. A severed arm floated in front of the mess, before a tiger shark spun with surprising agility and snatched it up.
Namaka’s stomach lurched, then she belched out bits of half-digested fish.
This had been a massacre. One on a scale to rival even the war in Uluka‘a. Numbers would be impossible to guess. But they weren’t really dead mer—they were dead human hosts. All those people, taken against their will, made slaves to fight in a war they knew nothing of.
“Our army,” Ake said. “We’re too late. They must have been ambushed by the Hiyoyans.”
It seemed the whole sea was a blur of red waters and guts and swarming sharks. How could one determine who these victims had been?
Because if any of our people had survived, we would have met them on the way here.
‘Aumākua, she had just found a new people. And now this. Again, her people died in droves and she was helpless to stop it.
The waters around her began to swirl, and Namaka screamed. A sudden current scattered the sharks and sent bloody remains of mer spiraling in a whirlpool. So much beauty down here. And so much death. Everywhere she went—death.
The sea tugged at her as the whirlpool grew. Soldiers were shouting, Ake was shouting. None of it mattered.
Stop it!
But she couldn’t stop anything. Her powers wouldn’t respond properly.
Her chest suddenly constricted, like a clam had snapped shut around her. And then coldness seeped through her limbs, pulsed through her veins, much as it had when Nyi Rara had first taken hold of her. Except this was not quite so cold, and not quite so alien.
Stop it!
She was choking, as the mermaid fought for control of her body.
Nyi Rara was the one doing this. The mermaid kept trying to control everything and so, instead, neither of them had proper control. Namaka’s power flared wildly, churning into a maelstrom.
She gritted her shark teeth and growled, raising her hands. She reached out before her and touched the sea. The mana in her soul surged, driving the sea to calm, and for a brief instant she felt control. A single heartbeat of perfect discipline. And then it fled, even as the whirlpool spun itself out and the sea returned to normal.
Namaka panted, suddenly feeling weak, exhausted even, and unable to keep herself steady in the current. She faltered and Ake caught her.
Damn Nyi Rara.
No answer was forthcoming. “Nyi Rara?” What had happened to her mermaid? Why wasn’t she answering? Could she have hurt the mermaid too? She twisted around in Ake’s arms, eyes wide as she stared into his.
Confusion, and then something else—perhaps compassion—graced his features, and he touched a webbed hand to her cheek. “She is probably resting. All mer have some ability to control the sea, and the strongest and oldest have greater power. But she is not used to coupling that power with a host’s own. Humans don’t usually have such gifts, after all.”
Namaka swallowed and nodded slowly. Humans weren’t meant to have such powers at all. She was kupua and, one might argue, the kind of being who should not exist. Now she was kupua and a mermaid.
Why should she care if Nyi Rara suffered for her arrogance, though? If the damn mermaid princess would agree to a true partnership, none of this would have happened. And yet … Yet something clenched in her stomach at the thought of the mermaid being gone. Of losing this world, too. Nyi Rara was … maybe all Namaka had left.
“So, you don’t think I hurt her?” she asked after a moment.
Ake smiled awkwardly, lips twitching, as if uncertain what to make of her concern for Nyi Rara. Namaka got it—everyone expected her to hate the spirit for possessing her, for taking away any measure of control or sense of self. But they had no idea of the life she’d led, or the pains she’d left behind. When one had lost all else, a new life—any new life, no matter how strange—offered a reprieve.
“A spirit completely drained might be forced back to the Spirit Realm. If that had happened, you would have reverted to human form and drowned. Since you still have that beautiful tail, I can surmise she’ll recover soon.”
Namaka sighed, trying to relax, then realized she was still in Ake’s arms and wiggled her way free. “I-I think I’m fine to swim on my own now.” He had called her tail beautiful. It was gorgeous, vibrant as the burning sky right after an eruption.
“We have to get back to Mu. Queen Aiaru needs to know of our failure.”
That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t their failure, they hadn’t even gotten to fight. But if what had happened with her power was any indication, maybe she wasn’t ready to fight anyway. She had to establish some better relationship with the mermaid, or they were both dead.
Ake ordered the other soldiers back, and Namaka swam behind them.
THE SUN HAD RISEN and the afternoon dragged on, before Namaka and Ake returned to Mu, and the city’s lights once again illuminated the darkening sea. After witnessing the carnage in the wake of the mer war, somehow Mu had lost some of its majesty for Namaka.
You’ve seen death before.
Namaka started at the sudden return of Nyi Rara’s voice. The mermaid princess sounded breathless, if such a thing were possible for a disembodied voice. Breathless and groggy. And though it was a comfort to have the mermaid back, it was a small comfort. Yes, she had seen death, and all too recently.
Nyi Rara offered no further comment as Namaka swam through the palace.
“She’s back,” she whispered.
Ake glanced at her, then nodded. “I have to inform her majesty about the loss.”
“Loss? That looked like a massacre.”
The merman scowled. “Well, then you know why we have to stop the Hiyoyans. Unless you’d like to see this city wind up looking like that battlefield.”
The very thought of it soured her stomach. To see this beautiful city awash in blood, the waters obscured by the frenzy of sharks … it was some primal, blasphemous violation of tabu. She could almost see Leapua trying to propitiate the ghosts born of such madness and not knowing where to start.
Leapua. Namaka did have someone to go back to …
Ake must have seen the pain on her face, because he offered a nod, then swam down the hall.
Had she welcomed her new life here? Thought it so much easier, so much more beautiful than suffocating beneath the weight of her losses as a queen? She’d run from that life only to find the alternatives were equally horrifying. Part of her just wanted to go home.
And abandon another people?
Who in Milu’s vile domain did that mermaid think she was? The mermaid princess could go fuck herself in a clamshell for all Namaka cared. Damn her for being so … so … damned … right. One day in Mu and things had gone as horribly wrong as they had in Uluka‘a.
I am not recovered … I need rest …
Namaka frowned at the thought of another person—or whatever—sleeping inside her body. So much about being a mermaid felt off, and yet also so right. The part of her that was the Sea Queen loved her new form, her new reality. But Nyi Rara wasn’t half as forthcoming as Namaka might have hoped. No matter where she turned, her life seemed flawed.
A slow shift in color above drew her eye, as a he‘e seemed to melt off the ceiling. Namaka’s heart lurched in her throat and, before she had even thought it, a beat of her tail had carried her several paces away.
“What do you want?” It had to be Ambassador Punga—unless there was another he‘e in the palace. How would she even tell the difference? The creatures could shift their skin to any coloration they wanted. How did they tell each other apart?
“Conversations spoken loudly and with fervor pose little difficulty to overhear, even when one makes no effort at eavesdropping.” Once again, the creature’s voice sounded alien, muffled, and thick, emanating from beneath all those arms. “Condolences are du
e for such losses, one must think. Mu fairs poorly, it seems.”
Namaka glowered at the octopus a moment, then had to look away. Those fathomless eyes made it hard to tell if he was looking at her, or what he—assuming the he‘e was even male—saw when he did. “Condolences are about as useful as a surfboard atop a volcano.”
The coil of arms beneath the creature shifted, propelled it forward just slightly, causing its head to bob. Was that a nod? A shrug? Some alien gesture she had no word for? The he‘e had no face, really, just those eyes—black as a starless night. “The human asks no question, but still, one might think she desires an answer.”
Namaka threw up her hands. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe an answer that involved actually saving people.”
“In conflicts between mer kingdoms, the he‘e remain bound, always officially neutral.” Which made them officially useless right now. “One might wish there were more solace to offer to one’s friends at such a time, of course. But such things are a matter of politics … complex interrelations between kingdoms giving rise to paralysis on the part of all parties. You understand, one must imagine.”
Not really—the octopus’s words were as tangled as his arms. Politics. What a pointless excuse for inaction. It was like Punga cared, but not quite enough to swim through the hoops of formality.
Except … he had said they were officially neutral. If they lived by their rules like her people lived by tabu, then he couldn’t overstep what he perceived as his bounds. But maybe those bounds could be changed.
“What if Mu were to offer a treaty, to ask for aid?”
Once again, the octopus’s arms shifted in some inconceivable gesture, almost like they were discussing the idea among themselves. Strange and frightening as the he‘e were, Ake had called them ancient. They might make formidable allies. “Any request must naturally depend on the asker and the terms offered.”
That was a yes. Namaka darted several paces away, then spun back to look at Punga. “We’ll speak of this more.”
She bolted into the throne room as Ake and Aiaru were discussing the massacre, or its aftermath. A stir went up among the gathered mer, but none dared interfere with her.
“Uh.” She paused to clear her throat. The whole plan had seemed more refined before she tried to put it into words. “My Queen.” Now would be a good time for Nyi Rara to take over and follow proper mer protocol. She twirled her tail, although the gesture felt clumsy compared to the elegance with which Nyi Rara performed it. “Ake has informed you about the battle.”
Aiaru raised an eyebrow, then reclined her head into one of her palms.
Great. The almighty mermaid queen probably knew it was some stupid human—mostly human—host talking and not Princess Nyi Rara. “I just spoke to the he‘e ambassador and he sympathizes with our losses.”
The queen did not speak for a moment. When she did, all heads turned to her. “The he‘e care only about the he‘e.”
“They have political interests, My Queen, I’m certain. What if we could offer them something they wanted? They seem like they feel strongly bound by their treaties and duties and so forth. So, let’s give them a new one. After what happened, we obviously need some allies against Hiyoya.”
Aiaru rubbed the scales on her face for a moment. “Distasteful as an alliance with mortals might be, still we tried that. They are intractable, their motives inscrutable. Besides which, you seem to forget it was your ‘ohana that lost control of the he‘e during the Rogo War. Do you suggest to repeat the mistake?”
Namaka stiffened, not really certain what Aiaru meant.
“What does the Princess suggest we offer the he‘e in return for such … assistance?” The queen said the last word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. Hadn’t Ake said something similar about having to even have the ambassador stay in Hiyoya?
“What does pride matter if you’re all dead?” Namaka snapped. Aiaru’s eyebrow rose and Ake failed to quite stifle a gasp. She was probably swimming in dangerous waters. But she had to press on. “What would you be willing to part with to win this war?”
She could feel Nyi Rara shifting around in the back of her mind, growing irate. Rather than resist, Namaka actively reached out to Nyi Rara and pulled her to the forefront of her mind, a sensation like an enormous yawn.
“My Queen,” Nyi Rara said. “I shall take my request to consult the Urchin to Ukupanipo. If they allow it, perhaps we can further discuss the he‘e issue.”
Aiaru sneered at her as if she were a fool child.
We are fool children, aren’t we? So at war with ourselves we can neither act nor speak with sense. You must submit.
No. Namaka would never submit to Nyi Rara. The only option she would leave the mermaid would be to submit to her, or agree to a partnership. Namaka would be a full, ranking member of Dakuwaqa ‘Ohana, or she would undermine Nyi Rara’s attempts to restore her family’s standing.
“Go then. Do you as you wish.”
Nyi Rara twirled her tail and fled the chamber.
I tire of your threats and insolence, mortal.
Oh? Then let the mermaid do something about them. Or else, let her swallow her pride and learn to work with … with someone else.
Do you speak of me, or yourself?
Damn Nyi Rara. Damn her for getting into Namaka’s head. Namaka forced her thoughts to quiet, unwilling to let this conversation go on a moment more. Nyi Rara snickered as she swam.
It confirmed Namaka’s fears. Sooner or later, she and this spirit would wind up destroying one another. No matter the outcome, Namaka would lose another world.
15
Days Gone
NAMAKA FOUND Aukele on her private beach, well beyond the lagoon. This place was reserved for the ali‘i of Uluka‘a, but the man ranked high enough it didn’t technically break tabu for him to come here. Not that she didn’t have enough reason to consider having him killed. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to take that step.
Was it only because Milolii supported him? She could hardly turn against her old nursemaid. Or was there something more? His story had a compelling pull to it, inevitable, like the tides, tugging at her mind. Did Milolii truly intend her to take the man as another husband?
Namaka frowned, making her way over to Aukele, who sat beside two surfboards.
“They tell me you are the finest surfing champion in generations,” he said when she paused before him, hands on her hips.
Namaka shrugged. What was the point in false modesty? Even without controlling the sea, she was better than any of her peers. With her power …
“How about a challenge?” Aukele said after a moment. “If I win, you marry me and tell me where to find the Waters of Life.”
“If you win …” She could only scoff at that, shaking her head. “Uh huh. And if I win, what shall I get?”
“Uh … I’ll marry you?”
Don’t let him see her smile at such foolery. “When I win, you’ll swear fealty to me. And then you’ll tell me everything Milolii told you about the Waters, about Maui, all of it.”
Aukele hesitated. Did he realize he had no chance of winning? But then, why would he provoke the contest in the first place? “Where should we launch?”
Namaka tossed aside her feather cloak and skirt, then stooped to grab a board. “Follow me.”
“I TRAVELED FAR to reach here, you know,” Aukele said, as they walked toward Namaka’s chosen launch point. For herself, she might have chosen a rougher spot, but utterly humiliating him, even getting him killed—that hardly served her purpose. So, a place with medium waves.
“Yes,” she said. “I have an idea where Sawaiki is.”
“An idea of the distance, and actually crossing it, those are two different things. And I can almost feel your curiosity to know what lies in between.”
“The ocean.”
“Yes, and Mu, Hiyoya, and the He‘e Aupuni.”
She faltered, casting a glance in his direction. The he‘e disdained any contact with su
rface dwellers from all she had heard. She’d never even seen one of the octopus people. Legends claimed they may have even predated the coming of the Worldsea. “You’ve spoken to them?”
“Hmmm. I have. They are like mer in some respects, I suppose. Mer are aloof, almost unfathomable in their motives. And he‘e, well … they are perhaps even more so. Cunning, and alien in their sense of morality. If they even have one.”
It was hard to know quite what that meant, and Namaka walked in silence until they neared the right spot.
“I’m truly curious to see your art at this.”
Namaka cast an irate glance at him. “Surfing is more than an art. Wave sliding is worship. Tribute to Kanaloa, to the ocean itself. In making the tribute, we become one with the ocean, touch its power and give in to awe, and thus, purify ourselves.” She smiled. “Kāhuna send the ill, the wounded, for days of surfing to cleanse their souls.” Maybe it would cleanse them both. Maybe, with this worship, she might see the truth and know what the akua willed of her.
This wasn’t her favored board. That board, she’d carved herself from a koi tree, one she’d dug from the ground herself after hunting all over Uluka‘a to find the perfect one. That one, called an alaia board, was one of the hardest kinds to master. Sleek, thin, graceful, and just heavy enough. Whether through intent or ignorance, Aukele had chosen far simpler boards for the two of them today.
She jumped into the sea, then climbed onto her board and began to paddle it out to catch a wave. After a moment, she stood on her board as a wave approached, turned with it, and let herself glide, whooping with delight.
Out here, she was a goddess. She truly was the Sea Queen. Arms wide, she rode the ocean itself, becoming one with it, reveling in the spray as it tickled her legs, drinking in the power as she all but flew. As the wave broke, she turned, sliding over it. By the time she faced him, Aukele was in the water with his board.