by Matt Larkin
Nope.
Best not to even think it.
Makani rubbed sweat from his face. “I don’t think those people would have acted without their chief’s knowledge.” Thus far, Haki’s men had sent little parties out into the jungle hunting Kama’s troop. Including one from the village Makani had just raided. The raid was supposed to be retaliation.
“Nope. Probably not without his blessing, in fact. Most people are always worried about doing things proper, following tabu. Eat this, don’t eat that. Be polite. Don’t hunt here. Don’t fart there. You can’t piss on someone just because you don’t like them. So many stupid tabus.” Kama rubbed his beard. “That’s why we killed the hunters, right? Fair’s fair, and they came into our jungle.”
“Hakalanileo claims rulership here, too.”
Kama found it best to ignore Makani’s stupider comments. The man was loyal as a dog, but he had the brains of an unconscious rock. Few mortals were blessed with kupua intellectuality, after all. Not their fault.
Shit, Kama ought to commensurate with the poor shitter. Didn’t even know real words when he shitting heard them. Instead, he just clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Well, now you’ve basically gone and declared war against him. Hopefully big sis will forgive me for killing her husband, but a boar’s got things he just has to do.”
Kama paused to take in his men. Twenty of them, all good men. Well … no, actually, probably not a one of them was in fact a good man in the way a kahuna would mean the word. Not much on tabus. And you know, there was the murdering, stealing, raping, and an excisive amount of shitting profanity. A man could be forgiven for thinking the whole band uncouth.
Incorrigible, the lot of them.
Kama wouldn’t have them any other way.
As predicted, old Haki’s men had come for revenge. Shame for them, they didn’t seem to find the camp until twilight. Twilight was a good time. Almost moon time, and a moon meant the boar was almost ready to come out of its cave.
The best was when Kama let the boar out, but not the Boar God. Just a piece of him, really.
A rope snapped in the distance, followed by a crashing log. Followed by a scream as some shitter got smacked to a gooey pulp.
That, Kama figured, pretty much counted as the signal. He raised his hand and his people arose, hefting their javelins and their slings, stalking through the jungle. Silent and incorrigible.
Kama, too, pursued after them, flexing his own muscles. He carried a spear, too, though once the sun finished setting, he wouldn’t need it.
He followed his men into a small clearing where already things had ejaculated into chaos. Which was fine. Chaos was way better than that other thing.
Shrieking, someone flung a javelin at Kama. He twisted sideways, caught the shaft in midair and spun it around, then heaved it back. His attacker batted the projectile aside with his spear and raced in at Kama, screaming like a shitter.
Kama whipped his own spear around like a giant club. The shaft whistled through the air before cracking down on his foe’s shoulder and snapping in half, even as the attacker dropped like a stone. Kama shrugged, tossed his broken spear aside, and took up the one the other man had dropped.
“Wereboar,” he said by way of explanation to the man groaning on the ground with a shattered shoulder. Then he stomped on the man’s head, felt bone crunch under his heel, and ground it down, just for good measure.
If you were gonna kill a king, best to do it all the way. And that meant making sure Haki had no men left to interfere.
For hours he’d chased after the shitting raiders.
He felt it, long before the moon rose. It was almost full tonight. He supposed it was better not to be full. Got the Boar God too riled up.
When at last the hateful sun dipped behind the trees and moonlight began to spill into the jungle, Kama dropped to his knees and flung aside his malo.
The god pushed against the inside of his chest.
It wanted out.
He grunted.
Groaned.
The boar could come out. Shit, Kama liked the boar. Boar God could go sit in a pile of pig shit, though.
His fingers curled into claws then began to fuse together. His upper arms shrank inward, bones compressing in a crunch of agony. Kama growled, the sound rumbling through the jungle. His jaw hurt.
Everything shitting hurt.
Always did. It was a good pain, yeah, but still pain.
His lower canines began stretching, like some akua had grabbed hold and was trying to yank them out. So big they didn’t fit into his mouth.
His groans turned to snarls and feral grunts.
His ribs shifted, broadened, making way for insides all changing about. Kama growled, banging his head against the muddy ground.
Oh, Kāne!
He beat his fist into a root. Only it wasn’t a fist anymore. A hoof.
Boar God had him by the balls now. Squeezing ‘em so tight they might pop, trying to get loose. Kama almost wanted to give in to the beast. Let the shitter run rampage and pulverize Haki’s men for their treachery.
Except … couldn’t control … the god.
Let the beast run, and the beast ran wild.
Bristles burst through his back as his shift finished. He threw back his head and snorted, a louder, more violent sound than any boar ought to have made.
But then, what boars got so big?
Growling, Kama charged off into the jungle, a massive, bristle-covered pig of glory.
Moments later he burst into a pair of Haki’s men. One screamed to see a boar bigger than he was. Kama charged forward, tusks lowered. The man turned to run, but Kama jerked his tusks up as he closed, gouging the shitter right in the arse. A shake of his head flung the man aside.
He reared up and dropped a thousand pounds of boar fury on the other man, felt bones snap like twigs beneath his rampage.
Shitters better run.
He’d left Makani and the men he’d brought far behind. Their would-be attackers had fled in multiple directions, making it hard to keep all the scents straight. Shitters.
“Kamapua‘a!” Makani shouted from some distance behind.
Kama snorted. Slow humans running around on two legs. Huffing, he forced the animal inside him down, forced himself back to human form. Shifting back hurt, too. Joints all popping and bristles receding back under his skin like splinters. Plus, the tusks felt like someone smashed them down with a rock.
Deep in Kama’s chest, the Boar God rumbled, eager to get at Makani and tear him apart for the interruption.
Well shit on that. Makani was loyal. A friend.
When Makani drew near, he tossed Kama the malo he’d discarded earlier.
“We’ve been here before,” Makani said, once Kama had donned the skirt.
Kama looked around. He stood on a mud patch, not far from the canyon, but down where he could see the ocean ahead. In the moonlight, the shallows actually looked green, vibrant like the jungles just beyond. Ahead of them rose a steep slope, carved in rough tiers by the ceaseless winds of La‘amaomao and her calabash. Yeah. Kama had seen this place before. He scratched his beard. “So they’ve doubled back on their own trails.”
“Or you’re leading us in circles.”
Kama frowned. “I’m leading us in circles because they’re going in shitting circles.”
Makani looked back at the men. “They’re wasting our time. Playing with us.”
That was fine. Kama loved games. Playing was a lot more fun than working.
Huh.
Wait … Was it fun in contrast to working? Would it still be as much fun to play, if he never worked? Or would the lack of contrast diminish his enjoyment? The only way to be certain was to stop working for a while—a few years maybe—and see if he got bored playing.
It was worth expectorating on.
“All right,” Kama said. “Let’s play then. If most of Haki’s men are here, looking for us, how many are guarding him at Waimea?”
Maka
ni nodded grimly.
They pushed hard for Waimea, Kama once again in boar form. Kama’s best chance of taking down Haki was at night. Sunrise would significantly diminish his strength and strip him of his boar form. Losing that edge might prove fatal.
The town was eerily quiet when they burst in.
That stupid shitter had really sent all his warriors wandering blindly in the jungle, hadn’t he?
The heiau stank of charnel. Haki must’ve had the kāhuna sacrifice a bunch of victims to try to divine his location. Maybe it had worked. Maybe that was how they found them.
Kama snorted, charging forward on all fours, racing into the town. Where was the damn king hiding anyway?
He’d gone only a few dozen feet into town when the scent hit him.
Men. Lots of stinky men, just behind the palace wall. Haki had kept back his forces, but only to protect his own home, not the rest of the village. Kama glanced behind himself to see the rest of his band stalking forward, creeping between houses, moving up like … wait. What was that? In the jungle … torchlight?
Kamapua‘a spun around snorting and charging back the way he’d come, racing past his startled men. Sure enough, a horde of Haki’s men came raging out of the jungle, brandishing torches and spears and javelins and screaming war cries.
It took only a moment, before the men in the palace closed the trap like a crab’s pincher, rushing through the gate, some even vaulting the palace walls.
Snarling, Kama kept rushing forward. No one ambushed his men! No one tricked him! He was too shitting smart to get shitting ambushed by these banana shits! Kama slammed into the first man like an avalanche. His tusks ripped through the man’s gut like knives, spilling shit and blood in a waterfall over Kama’s back as he continued forward. The hapless victim was bowled over, flipped over his back, and tumbled to the ground in a heap.
And Kamapua‘a kept on charging. He was well over four feet at the shoulder, pushing five, and he had momentum no shitting mortal could hope to deny. Indeed, now Haki’s men just started leaping out of his way, flinging themselves to the sides just to get clear.
One wasn’t fast enough. Kama’s slashing tusks caught his shin and gouged it straight down to the bone. Kama’s trampling charge almost covered up the man’s screams of agony.
Kama drew up short at the jungle’s edge, reared onto his hind legs, and came down atop a man brave enough to charge in with a spear. Brave enough. Not fast enough. Bone crunched under Kama’s feet, and the man’s chest gave in with a sickening squelch.
He turned back to his men to see a massacre.
Haki had gathered hundreds of men now, and Kamapua‘a’s people were hopelessly outnumbered.
But he saw no alternative save trying to fight his way through. He could escape in the jungle, but he’d not leave Makani and his other people behind.
It meant it was time for some pig shit.
On and on the fight went. Kama lost track of how many of Haki’s men he’d killed. Most of his efforts had to focus on saving his own men, after all. The ambush had driven them back, against the wall of the heiau, and now they had nowhere else to go.
Which meant … Kamapua‘a the egregious, incorrigible wereboar might finally have lost.
Shitting bastards.
The thought of it, the fear of it, was almost enough to let the Boar God out. Let him rampage.
Kama dispatched an overly aggressive warrior no doubt trying to make a name for himself. Well, now his name was Tusk-In-Groin.
When Kama turned, a cluster of warriors had surrounded Makani. Kamapua‘a dashed toward him on all fours, kicking up dirt beneath his feet. And then the sun peeked out from the horizon. It struck him like a blow and sent him stumbling along the main street, digging a trench of mud. Muscle spasms ravaged him as the sunlight forced him back to human form, beating down the Moon spirit whose shape he had assumed. Having the spirit forced down by the sun was like getting kicked in the shitting balls.
Kama gasped, grunting through the pain. You got used to it, but it was never fun.
He looked up in time to see a warrior approaching Makani from behind. Kama’s friend was watching Hakalanileo, who had finally come out of the palace. Kama tried to call out a warning, but his human vocal cords hadn’t finished reforming. It came out as a mere guttural shout. Enough to draw his friend’s eyes.
Not enough to make him turn as an axe descended.
As it crashed into his skull and split it open.
Everything stopped. At least for Kama. For the others, it erupted into chaos. The roar of Kama’s men making a mad charge into Haki’s forces. And then warriors were on top of them, stabbing spears down again and again.
By the time Kama gained his feet, it was over.
“No …” Kama groaned.
A warrior with a spear rushed at him.
Kama roared in bestial rage, unable to form words. As his attacker drew near, Kama caught the man with one hand on his spear and the other on his neck. He hefted the villager in the air and slammed him straight down into the mud with one hand. The sickening crack told him he’d broken the man’s neck, probably his back too.
Kama shrieked mindlessly at another attacker. His fist crashed into the man’s chest, reducing him to a gasping heap on the ground. Few of the other villagers were paying him much mind, and those who did now backed away in horror.
Rage coursed through him like blood, until his jaw hurt.
A dozen warriors brandished spears at him, but none seemed intent to close on Kama.
“Kill the wereboar!” Haki shouted.
“No!” the kahuna Lonoaohi bellowed, waving his hands. “The akua demand a sacrifice!”
Kama screamed at those warriors still watching him. And the beast in his soul rose, roaring and screaming, until wrath became his world. He set into them with terrible vengeance, hammering his fist into skulls, snapping necks and driving kicks into men’s guts.
He flung a warrior into one of his fellows and the two went down in a heap, not rising.
“I’ll shitting kill you, Haki!” Kama bellowed. “I’ll kill you for this! I’ll let it have you!”
A spear lanced into Kama’s side, stealing his strength. Leaving him gaping down at the shaft jutting from his ribs. A lasso was flung around his neck, then another, and another.
Choking him.
Making darkness cloud the edges of his vision.
The last thing he saw was his big sister Hina, hand over her mouth, weeping as he fell.
It shifted around inside his gut. The Boar God. Trying to rise up. To rage. Except the shitting sun helped keep the god under control. A shame, since Kama sat bound with a half dozen ropes tying him inside the temple.
Shitting ki‘i masks were staring down at him. Laughing at him. The akua saw his plight, saw he had one of them inside him, and they did nothing. Just sat there laughing like shitters.
The wound in his side had begun to heal over—only shitting thing the Boar God did for him at the moment. Still hurt when he breathed, though.
The late afternoon sun stung his eyes when Hakalanileo came tromping over, stupid grin on his face.
“Big sis send you to make sure I was doing all right?” Kama asked.
“Oh, you don’t get to pretend to be family, pig. Not after you spent the past two years pillaging villages, burning our crops, and cutting down our coconut trees. Those are the actions of a traitor. Those are actions for which Milu will feast upon your soul in her icy underworld.”
Kamapua‘a tried to shrug. The ropes turned it into a pathetic wiggle. “Yeah, well … you banished me first. On account of me being too handsome or some shit.”
Haki rolled his eyes, then knelt in front of Kama. “You were a savage troublemaker from the day you were born. I should have killed you as a child, but I let Hina sway my heart.”
“Yeah, big sis is kind like that. What with not wanting to see children murdered and shit.”
Haki grabbed Kama’s beard and jerked his chin up. “
Not even she can save you now, pig. The destruction you’ve wrought across the district has every ali‘i for miles around wanting to come see your sacrifice. It’s the only reason I’m holding the ceremony off until dusk.”
“Eh … would you mind holding it off until after dusk? I mean, even just shortly after would probably serve.”
“You are a moron. You think the rest of us no more intelligent than yourself. But I’ve known actual pigs smarter than you, Kamapua‘a.”
It hit him then. The Boar God’s wrath. It pushed up through his bowels, climbed up his chest, and coiled around his heart. And it squeezed until Kamapua‘a thought he’d burst apart. The rage.
It didn’t like being insulted.
It didn’t like it at all.
The ropes strained as Kamapua‘a’s muscles bulged, shifting and tightening even in the shitting sunlight. The Boar God was angry. It was really shitting angry.
Kama’s mouth felt thick, like the tusks where trying to burst out from his jaw.
Haki’s eyes widened and he abruptly rose, backing away. “Animal.”
“Keep talking, little fuck.” Huh. The words came out of Kama’s mouth, but it wasn’t his voice and certainly not his words. The sound was deep, primal. “Moon comes up, I’m gonna rip your spleen out through your nostrils and fucking eat it.”
What was a spleen? Did it actually taste good?
Haki blanched now. Maybe he thought he needed his spleen, whatever the shit that was. Either way, he backed out of the temple without taking his eyes off Kamapua‘a.
An hour later, by Kama’s guess, Hina came in, casting wary glances over her shoulder. Looking all in distress and shit. Kama hated seeing big sis in distress. That was a terrible place for her to be.
She had this gourd under her arm, and knelt in front of him, tipping it up so he could drink some water.
After slurping down a few sips, he looked at her. “You probably shouldn’t be here.”
“Hakalanileo has given me permission to come and say Aloha one more time. Your sacrifice shall be dedicated to Kū this evening.”