Tides of Mana

by Matt Larkin

  Either way, Poli‘ahu reassumed her human form with a wave of her kihei. Mist and frost continued to swirl around her ankles. She needed to make sure no one had any doubt she’d come for Hina herself.

  The young man’s eyes narrowed, and he advanced on her, knife pointed at her throat. “Get back.”

  “Niheu!” Hina wailed. “Don’t get close to her!”

  Oh. Not Kana, then. Another son. A shame … had she killed Kana, she might have brought down this whole cursed branch of the invader dynasty.

  Poli‘ahu pointed a finger at the young man, looking into Pō. “Kahoupokane.”

  Niheu looked about frantically, but, of course, he couldn’t see the snow akua circling him. Whispering things he could not hear, yet his soul might perceive. Promises of damnation. Seeds of doubt. The man’s hand shook, knife trembling as the snow akua prodded at every insecurity deep in his breast.

  In his hesitation, Poli‘ahu lunged at him, pressing her palm into his solar plexus. She poured cold through her hands, freezing his chest.

  Niheu screamed and collapsed. Those cries would bring warriors charging in here any moment. Poli‘ahu dropped with her knees on his chest and let her pain surge into him. All of that awful chill.

  His skin grew brittle, turned blue. His screams slowly died as ice crystals formed on his eyes.

  These were invaders. They had come to take her homeland away. To destroy her dynasty, subvert her people, suppress her culture. They had made themselves enemies of all the history and traditions brought forth from Savai‘i in the time of Maui. Her people were the true children of Nu‘u and lords of Sawaiki.

  Their enemies deserved no mercy.

  “Niheu!” Hina bellowed, breaking free of her attendant ladies and racing at Poli‘ahu with a knife of her own.

  Poli‘ahu broke contact with the boy and rose to meet Hina’s charge. A burst of freezing mist flew from her fingers and rushed over the other queen. All at once, Hina lost her momentum and stumbled to one knee. The knife clattered from her hand as she wrapped her hands around her arms, teeth chattering, eyes wide in anger and fear.

  No mercy.

  Poli‘ahu wrapped her fingers in Hina’s hair and yanked the woman up, dragging her toward a back door. Hina sounded like she meant to scream, but only managed a wheeze through her chattering teeth.

  Other women had begun to shriek in horror though, and one rushed at Poli‘ahu, attempting to bar her way.

  Enough of this. Poli‘ahu formed an icicle in her palm and launched it at the interloper like a thrown javelin. The ice dart exploded through the woman’s throat and dropped her in a bloody heap.

  Hina moaned.

  No mercy.

  Poli‘ahu dragged Hina around, and out the door, then back into the mist. She slapped a hand over the woman’s mouth, just in case those moans might attract would-be rescuers.

  Deeper into the mist Poli‘ahu pushed, until she came to the melee out front. There, a kupua had torn through Kaupeepee’s men like a typhoon of death. A score of corpses lay at his feet, more piling up as he twisted around with inhuman reflexes, planting a dagger in a man’s gut while dodging a spear thrust and elbowing another man. All seemingly at the same time.

  Kana.

  It had to be.

  And if Poli‘ahu killed him now, it would prove a huge boon for her people. On the other hand, she’d already used a substantial amount of mana to get this far. What if the kupua managed to rescue his mother?

  No, Poli‘ahu could not afford to take that chance.

  Instead, she dragged the struggling woman back toward the boats.

  “Retreat,” she whispered into the mist, trusting Waiau to carry her voice on the wind and reach Kaupeepee’s ears.

  HINA’S TEETH still chattered when the men yanked her from the sea up onto the war barge. One of them yanked off the woman’s pa‘u. Poli‘ahu fixed the man with a gaze that suddenly had him backing away, looking over his shoulder like he might leap over the side and into the sea.

  She looked to Ilima. “Get the woman a blanket before she catches frostbite.”

  Kaupeepee’s man grunted in acknowledgment, then threw a tapa cloth around Hina’s shoulders.

  Soon, Kaupeepee himself reached the barge, and they pushed off, followed by the war canoes.

  “How many men did we lose?” Ilima asked his commander.

  “I’m not sure. A lot more than we expected. Aheahe for sure. And that bastard Kana cut Aouli’s throat like a fucking pig.” Kaupeepee sniffed and shook his head. “Too fucking fast. He’s a runner, I bet.” He looked to Hina, but the woman said nothing. A long time, he just stared at her.

  Grumbling, Kaupeepee finally tromped off, below the deck.

  “Why?” Hina asked, voice shaking.

  Expressionless, Poli‘ahu knelt beside her. “Why did we take you?”

  “Why did you stop that man from claiming his prize?”

  A streak of viscousness had her about to say because Hina belonged to Kaupeepee, but the truth was, she’d have stopped him either way. Whatever would happen when they returned to Haupu—and some of the women were treated well, at least according to Kaupeepee—Poli‘ahu had no intention of watching another woman suffer.

  “I admit,” she said after a moment. “I’ve no particular love of men. But …” She sighed. “Well, men like Kaupeepee have their uses.” She edged closer to the other kupua. “Your people think you can come to our isles and claim them for yourselves. That arrogance, that crime, will prove your undoing. I’m taking these lands back, you see. I will kill the Kahikian queens, Pele, Namaka, and whoever else has come from across the Worldsea. I will break the heirs of Uli with sorcery more ancient and powerful than they can conceive of. I will gut Kapo like the pig she is. But if you are very lucky, when you provide Kaupeepee with a kupua heir, you may be allowed to return across the Worldsea to Kahiki.”

  Hina winced.

  Poli‘ahu rose. “Your people’s time in Sawaiki is coming to an end.”

  33

  T he underground passages wrapped around and beneath the mosaic chamber, until Namaka suspected they passed nearly a mile beneath the city of Bulotu. Until she began to fear they somehow drew near the abyss of Naunet where dwelt the Elder Deep that had given birth to all of this. There was an etheric, Otherworldly beauty to Avaiki, yes, and a terror and mystery, as if this place existed in the deepest depths of the ocean.

  The source of it.

  The tunnel around her groaned, shifting ever so slightly as she swam, spilling dust into her vision. Nyi Rara glanced back at her and nodded in reassurance. Perhaps the mermaid knew Namaka’s heart now beat like a pahu drum, pounding on her ribcage with terrifying force.

  The deeper she swam, the more the sense of physical reality began to seep away, replaced by dream. A nebulous flow of sensation existing outside of time or place, a reality unto itself with but a tenuous connection to the world Namaka once thought of as real.

  The facets of her life danced around her, saturating the tunnel walls and seeming to sing to her. There, she danced in the river, euphoric at her growing powers that had come to her soon after her first bleeding. Trying so desperately to forget what had happened to her sister.

  Under the watchful eye of Milolii, she swam and sang and embraced her heritage as the heir of Haumea.

  The memories flowed effortlessly and timelessly into one another, as if the space of decades did not separate her childhood from meeting Aukele, from bringing him there to show off. From loving him and fearing to put it into words, even within her own mind.

  As if the torrents of lava Pele brought and kai e‘e Namaka had created held everything together like edges of a weaving, containing all the memories of her life in a tide of destruction.

  Mana, power, had become her legacy and her curse. The power to shape reality was a blessing, yes, but doing so had reshaped her. It altered her mind until her experiences passed outside that which a human should have known.

  “Be careful,” Nyi
Rara said. “When you move beyond the physical, reality becomes somewhat more amorphous, shaped by the collective perception of the souls inhabiting it.”

  “I thought the Spirit Realm helped form the Mortal Realm?”

  “I suppose you could call it a circle. Beyond that, you’d need a philosopher or priest to try to explain the subtleties. I am neither.”

  Saying nothing further, the mermaid guided her through an archway. The passage went on for several hundred feet more before it led into a cavern that inexplicably held a pocket of air. It was low, close to an overhanging ceiling laced with tooth-like stalactites, some of which almost brushed the surface of the water, giving the distinct impression they had somehow swum into the maw of some colossal beast.

  Namaka breathed deeply, but the air had no taste, no substance.

  “This is a world of spirit,” Nyi Rara said, as if that should answer everything. The mermaid resumed her legged form and pushed herself up onto a rock platform, then helped Namaka do the same.

  Maybe Nyi Rara had brought her to this cave so they would have solitude. Water streamed down around the cave walls, falling without apparent source, blanketing the entire cavern in a shimmering curtain, behind which gems glittered in the wall. It was beautiful, for certain.

  Imagine the wealth a queen could have with a mere handful of such gems.

  Nyi Rara laughed. “You cannot take anything back with you. It would have no more substance than I do in your world.”

  Namaka nodded, though she didn’t really understand. She supposed she didn’t need to. What mattered right now was doing what they had come here to do. Symbiosis. A chance to give them both the strength they needed. “So now what?”

  An aquamarine light filled the cavern, radiating from somewhere further back on the shelf.

  The mermaid smiled, though she seemed sad and, if anything, afraid. How odd, to think this entity, this being who existed like a goddess, could feel fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of change. Or perhaps, for someone who had eternity to look forward to, change became more frightening than it was to a mortal, whose life was always meant to be a temporary state.

  “Again the disturbing insights from a mortal,” Nyi Rara mumbled. She led Namaka further back on the platform, until they reached a well, a pool of still water, from which the light originated.

  Odd. Even in the World of Water, they needed a well. “It’s your perception of a font of energy, of the power suffusing the world. Water is one means of divination, but it’s difficult to look into water and see anything when you are already in the water. Thus the air pocket.”

  Namaka really had no idea what Nyi Rara meant, but she sat down beside the well and folded her legs beneath her. Inside the well lay a pearl, flaming with blue-green light. A Chintamani.

  “Yes.” The mermaid sat beside her. “All the power comes back to the stones. Essence fragments of the Elder Deep. This, we call the Mirror, accessible to the royal bloodlines of Bulotu.”

  Namaka peered deeper into the well, unable to look away from the undulating flames shifting beneath the waters. “A mirror of what?”

  Nyi Rara groaned a little, as if searching for words. “Of … your soul. The Chintamani has the power to elevate mind and flesh, to transmute it into a mirror of the soul. We … seek a blending of our souls in the hopes of following with a physical manifestation of that blending. You have to choose me as much as I choose you.”

  “Choose?”

  “Accept me.”

  “I accepted you a long time ago.”

  Nyi Rara frowned, then shook her head. “Not completely.” She held up both hands, palms facing Namaka. “Choose.”

  So that was it.

  Embrace Nyi Rara, accept completely and truly that her old life was gone forever. Choose a new life … one where she would no longer be merely Namaka and neither quite Nyi Rara. Part of her still wanted to go back, back to how she had been … was it mere days ago she had walked the shoreline with Leapua? Had listened to Milolii’s grandmotherly voice and taken comfort?

  Lifetimes had passed in those few days. And now, she had to choose to let go of that past, and the promise of the future.

  Choose to become someone else, and in so doing, let her old self die. That was why most hosts and spirits could never do this. And maybe, maybe Nyi Rara had to make a similar choice.

  That was it, wasn’t it?

  Part of Namaka’s soul would imprint on the mermaid princess, shaping her for all eternity. If the mermaid lived for a thousand years, for ten thousand years, would she always carry with her a piece of Namaka?

  The look on Nyi Rara’s face told her she would.

  The people they had been would be lost—or at least forever altered. But this was what she had asked for all along, wasn’t it? This was her chance to truly embrace the undersea world that so called to her soul. And the last, only option to face the threat Hiyoya had sent against them.

  Namaka leaned forward and grabbed the mermaid’s hands in her own.

  Nyi Rara swallowed in an almost human gesture. “The Wheel of Life spins round and round, and, though we are loath to admit it, our souls are your souls, transmogrified into rarified spirit essence. We are not so different, spirits and humans. All part of the Wheel.”

  The mermaid’s words sent a tremble through Namaka, even though she did not entirely understand what the creature meant.

  Nyi Rara squeezed her hands. “Feel your power flowing through the Mirror. The primal waters of this world underly the waters of your reality. Feel our power.”

  She did feel them, pulsing like a heartbeat, calling to her and soothing her. A part of her. As Nyi Rara was rapidly becoming a part of her. Not quite knowing why, Namaka leaned forward and gently kissed Nyi Rara on the lips. The mermaid actually giggled—a strange sound to hear from a majestic, ancient being—revealing her maw of shark teeth. Then she pressed her forehead against Namaka’s.

  Nyi Rara had saved her. In possessing her, in forcing her to look inward and finally understand herself, Nyi Rara had freed her. Had helped her let go of the anger that had so consumed her. For that, Namaka would always be grateful. Because of the mermaid princess, she could finally look on her life without that anger, finally accept the beauty of the destiny before her, appreciate the things she was given.

  Maybe forgive Pele.

  Maybe even forgive herself.

  The sea was her heart, her power. And its truest depths were not her rage, but her love. Love of her people, both above and below the sea, love of life itself. It filled an empty hollow that had existed in her breast all her life.

  “I choose you,” Namaka said.

  The pulse around her not only mirrored her heartbeat—it became her heartbeat. Their heartbeat, in unison. The well rippled.

  Those ripples became a swirl.

  The swirl became a maelstrom, rising up like a liquid tornado. That tornado stole her vision, drew her into its infinite depths. Nyi Rara was chanting something, words of some ancient power that meant nothing to Namaka. And yet they meant everything, echoing in her mind like a song of the building of the universe.

  Time slowed as Nyi Rara began to merge with Namaka, as their bodies became one. Namaka felt herself falling.

  A searing heat built inside her chest, surging through her veins with each beat of her heart. Her blood became liquid fire as the Chintamani flared, erupting in brilliant light that scorched her eyes. Namaka and Nyi Rara both screamed, writhing in agony as their bodies melded.

  As their lives fused.

  Welded together.

  HER BODY ACHED as she woke in the Sacred Pools. She was lying at the bottom of a pool, her arm half asleep beneath her. She could feel the mermaid inside her, but it was all different now. They were one. One mind, one body, and almost one soul. And she could feel water, everywhere. She need not feed Nyi Rara mana to control it. Two had become one.

  Namaka stirred, pushing herself up to the surface, and sucking down a breath of air. Real, true air, clean in t
he night.

  THE SCENT of blood greeted her as she returned to the falls beyond Hana. A great deal of blood. The villagers had retreated from the lakeside, and only Upoho remained, laying upon the body of Milolii and weeping softly. Blood drenched the dragon’s body, staining the mud and the waters.

  It no longer pumped.

  “What …? What happened?” Namaka’s voice came out as a squeak. This was not real. This was not possible.

  Upoho turned slowly, his eye red and swollen, his lip trembling with unformed words. He stretched out his hands toward her, holding in them a heart, a massive one that could only have come from the dragon who had raised them both.

  Hand to her mouth, Namaka stumbled, and collapsed into the mud.

  “Sh-she …” Upoho mumbled. “She insisted. She said it was the only way. You needed more mana than even your body held. I told her no!” Upoho gulped. “She begged me …”

  Her breaths came so rapidly she thought she might faint. This was impossible. Madness. Milolii was old, ancient. She was going to outlive them all. She was like a grandmother and she … Namaka could not tear her eyes away from the still heart. The dragon had been filled with mana, of course. Like Namaka.

  She shook her head. “I will not.”

  “You have to,” the wererat said, voice breaking. “She gave up everything so you could save us all. Make it mean something. Please.”

  Her hands shook as she tried to stand and failed. Deep inside, the mermaid stirred, agreeing with the wererat. Trying to plead the case of necessity. To tell her that, if she refused now, Milolii’s sacrifice meant nothing. The voice in her head was gone, replaced with something deeper, a sensation beyond words.

  Upoho rose, still extending the heart to Namaka as he approached. “Take the last gift she has to give us, Fish Girl. Take it. And make those fuckers pay for what they did.”

  Yes. The he‘e and Hiyoya and their taniwha. It was why she had journeyed to Avaiki. Why she had chosen to merge with Nyi Rara. Why all of this had happened, in truth. And the longer she waited, the more mana would bleed out of Milolii’s body, seep back into the land.