Heirs of Mana Omnibus

by Matt Larkin

  Ah. The war god. Well, seemed like a good god to offer himself to.

  Hina leaned in closer, whispering into his ear. “Lonoaohi is with me.”

  What, Haki’s kahuna? Hadn’t the king spent like a year demanding the kahuna come up with some vision to catch Kamapua‘a? He was sure someone had told him that. Unless it had been a dream.

  Now, big sis leaned back. “Your sacrifice to the war god should serve to weaken the resolve of those loyal to Queen Poli‘ahu. Nine more men will follow you into Pō.”

  “Huh. Planning to attack her on Vai‘i, then?”

  Hina stroked his cheek. “She is resolved to destroy our dynasty, and I cannot allow that to happen. We are descended from Mo‘oinanea herself, Kamapua‘a. We have the right to claim Sawaiki as our own. The newcomers arrived from Kahiki could make powerful allies, but either way, Poli‘ahu must be forced to submit or she must die.”

  Well what the shit did all that even mean? Was Lonoaohi going to help him? Was Hina saying Kama’s sacrifice would be worthwhile if it brought them all victory?

  Shit.

  Kamapua‘a hated being confused.

  Just before dusk they came, the kahuna and his sons and other apprentices. They took the lassos and led him outside the outer wall of the heiau. The killings didn’t happen inside, of course. Even Kama knew that much.

  The akua wanted their sacrifices, but no one spilled blood in the heiau. Tabu or some shit.

  Lonoaohi held the execution club in his hand, its wood stained permanently red from so many victims. The kahuna, though, he looked away, up at the setting sun.

  “You know,” Kama said, “if you just wait a bit more, that sun’s gonna set. I promise, waiting will appease at least one god.”

  The kahuna sighed. “The sacrifice commences.” He hefted the club.

  Oh. Well, shit.

  Lonoaohi brought the club down on Kamapua‘a’s head with a thunk that had his teeth clanking together.

  Kama groaned and worked his jaw. “Uh, you’re doing it wrong.”

  The kahuna raised the club again, and again swatted down on Kamapua‘a’s head with just enough force to sting. Kama was about to object when Lonoaohi raised and dropped the club a third time snapping Kama’s teeth together once more.

  “Owww.”

  “Three times the akua have refused the sacrifice!” Lonoaohi declared.

  “It is so,” one of his sons agreed, followed by murmurs of assent among his apprentices. One of them came back bearing a large bladder sloshing with what smelled an awful lot like blood. The apprentice dipped his hand in the bladder, then smeared blood all over Kama’s face and hair, letting it dribble down his chest.

  “Uh …”

  The man continued rubbing blood over Kama’s face until he had to close his eyes just to keep from getting blinded by the shit. A moment later, the ropes were loosened, and hands hefted him up into the air, carrying him like a corpse.

  They brought him back inside the heiau and laid him upon the sacrificial altar. The stone was warm from the sun, but profoundly uncomfortable. Kama dared not open his eyes.

  “Bring his left eye,” Hakalanileo said.

  Ooo. Kama might rather be dead for this part. Especially since any scream might give away the ruse. A hand jerked his chin to the side, and a knife bit his flesh just below his eyelid. A scratch, really, though Kama didn’t much enjoy it. Whoever was cutting him also drew Kama’s left hand down to the haft of something stuck behind the altar.

  A weapon?

  Was that Hina’s plan? That he should free himself?

  The man cutting him backed away, leaving the knife on the altar beside Kamapua‘a. Probably pretending to take an eye to Haki for the king to eat.

  A moment later, Kama felt someone approaching. Hovering over him, maybe examining where the eye should be missing.

  “What the—” Haki’s voice began.

  Kamapua‘a seized the knife and jolted up, driving it into Haki’s jugular. Hot blood rushed over him in a spray. Kama jerked the knife free and rammed it into the king’s gut. He flung the king’s body aside like a doll.

  An instant later, a shout went up among the fallen king’s attendants. They rushed him, shrieking of treachery. Kama tossed the sacrificial knife away and grabbed the haft of whatever lay beside the altar.

  A massive stone axe.

  Kama grinned. Shitters were in the shit now. Roaring, he met the first attacker, hefting the axe overhead and chopping straight down. The blade cleaved through the skull all the way to the man’s jaw bone. Kama kicked the corpse, freeing his axe, even as more men charged at him.

  He dodged a spear, caught a warrior by the back of the head, and slammed the man face-first into the altar. The force of it shifted the stone slab and splattered the man’s skull and brains.

  “Come on, you shitters!” Kama bellowed at them. “Come on and get shitted!”

  “Murderer!” someone shouted. “Beast!”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  But he could feel it, stirring inside. There was a beast in him. A god beast, feeding off Kamapua‘a’s own anger at his treatment. Haki should have loved him as a brother-in-law or uncle. Instead, the man had hated him, persecuted him, finally cast him out, and then hunted him. Planned to offer him to Kū.

  How could he not rage at such injustice from his own kin?

  And the sun had set.

  It hit Kamapua‘a like a blow. The thing inside, reaching up and crushing his brain between its massive hooves. Tusks lanced through Kama’s jaw. A haze of red filled his vision.

  A mortal ran at the Boar God waving a stick.

  Amusing.

  The Boar God was almost eight feet tall, muscles bulging. He caught the puny mortal with a hand around his neck. Laughing, the Boar God squeezed until the man’s head popped off.

  Then he threw the corpse into a throng of mortals, bowling them over in a hilarious heap.

  He had an axe, too. A large axe, worthy of his bulk. The host had served the Boar God well to provide such a boon.

  Bellowing, the Boar God broke into a charge, sweeping the axe back and forth in great swathes. It hewed through limbs, splattered heads, and sent corpses flying in a typhoon of glorious carnage.

  None could stand before the Boar God.

  Oh, mortals had called him many names over the ages. Moccus. That one he remembered, almost as a dream now.

  They called him that, from time to time. But now, he was just the Boar God.

  And he was indignant.

  These petty mortals had maligned his host and thus maligned him. It would not stand.

  Heaving the axe up in both hands, the Boar God brought it down on a man, hewing him from skull to crotch with a satisfying squelch of flesh and crunch of bone.

  They had begun to flee the temple, screaming, shrieking like the pathetic children they were. The Boar God raced forward, snarling, bounding out of the temple. A pump of his mighty legs carried him over the outer wall to land among the startled mortals.

  A whole village of wretches that needed to learn to worship him.

  He took off in great bounds, faster than any mortal could hope to run. A slap of his hand tore out a side of a wall, sending a house crashing down. An upswing of the axe caught a man and hurled him ten feet into the sky.

  The so-called palace of these pathetic mortals lay ahead. The Boar God raced toward it, bounded over the wall, and landed in a shower of dirt. He pushed off the ground and charged forward, slapping aside a palm tree in his path.

  Roaring, he hurled the axe end over end, smashing through the main palace wall. Crunch! In one side and crunch! Out the other!

  A guard rushed to bar his way. The Boar God swept the mortal up in both hands and bent until the mortal’s spine snapped, then tossed the body causally up onto the palace roof.

  A young man faltered before him, knife trembling in his tiny mortal hand. “K-k-amapua’a?”

  Stop! The host screamed in the Boar God’s head. Stop it! That’
s Niheu, my nephew!

  Sometimes, the host was surprisingly strong. Strong enough to make the world sway, strong enough to bring the Boar God to one knee.

  “I’m … gonna … fuck every last mortal here … into a pulp …”

  A white blur filled his view.

  Well, shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

  That’s why Kama didn’t let the Boar God out to play.

  And now Kamapua‘a had this headache like someone had hit him in the head with a club. Except … no, he didn’t think the headache had come from that. Not most of it.

  Kana raced into the palace and shoved Niheu behind him. “What in Lua-o-Milu have you done, Uncle?”

  “I … uh …” Well, Kamapua‘a had pretty much sat there, useless as a wart on the ass, while the Boar God rampaged through Waimea, was what. Sat there and watched like a stupid shitter.

  “You killed my father,” Kana said.

  “Uh … well that was mostly on account of him trying to kill me.”

  Kana waved a hand at the carnage the Boar God had left in his wake. His nephew shook his head in obvious despair. Perhaps shock still had him at what had gone on. Few of the villagers had ever seen Kamapua‘a overtaken by the Boar God. Fewer still had lived to tell of it. “You’ve left me no choice, Uncle,” Kana finally said. “As the new king of Waimea, I banish you.”

  “Aw, shit. Not again.”

  “Not merely from the district, but from all this island. Because you are Mother’s blood, I’ll not call for yours. But you may never return to Kaua‘i.”

  8

  The rains came in the late afternoon, a refreshing reprieve most took as a signal to cease work for the day. This time of year, it was a light, continuous drizzle that fell all through the afternoon and on toward evening.

  Namaka did not cease anything. Just behind Upoho, she continued to track Pele, with Moela trotting alongside her, the dog probably having no idea all this might soon be over. Pele had left her people behind in her attempt to absorb mana. It had to be that. But it provided Namaka an opportunity to hunt her down and finish her with a minimum of interference. She wouldn’t have even brought Upoho, if she didn’t need his nose to follow Pele.

  They walked so long her feet and calves began to ache, and still Upoho led her on and on. The locals had told her there was a place of great mana between here and the volcano, and, as they drew near, Namaka could feel it, even before the sound of crashing water came to her ears. It called her, an entrancing mele, beckoning her ever closer.

  The Sacred Pools, the locals called it, a series of waterfalls and tiny lakes just above the sea.

  But Namaka could afford no distraction. She needed to reach Pele before her sister had time to absorb Haleakalā’s mana and grow strong once more. Namaka already had enough power.

  Instead, they turned inland, threading their way through the jungle, and then swimming across a swift current to continue on toward the volcano.

  “Figure the locals have any idea?” Upoho asked as they trudged into more mountainous country. Namaka glanced at the wererat. “Any idea Pele might just make their mountain explode and cover them in a flood of lava, I mean.”

  Namaka rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to let that happen. But neither could she afford to fight Pele on Haleakalā. “How far ahead are they?”

  “Far, still.”

  Namaka grimaced, then shook her head. “All right.” She huffed and broke off the obvious path, into the bushes, whistling to call Moela back to her side. “We’re not going to catch her before she reaches the summit. If I fight her too far away from the sea, the battle swings in her favor. So we wait. She has to come back down eventually—her people remain below.”

  Upoho shrugged and plopped down beside her, nuzzling the dog as he did so. “Could be a while. Shame we don’t have a kōnane board or something.”

  “Hmmm.” Given the choice, Namaka would have just as soon had her surfboard and headed down to the beach. “Tell me a story.”

  “Shit …” Upoho snorted. “You mistake me for Aukele.”

  Namaka waved that away. The last thing she wanted was a reminder of her traitorous husband.

  “Fine. Uh, I can tell you … Milolii spoke of the time before time, before the Deluge, before the Worldsea. There was more land back then, and gods walked it. Great stretches of land so vast you could walk for a month and not see the end of it. The gods, they were like us, kupua, blessed. Arrogant, too. Four great lands rose and fought their terrible wars, calling up powers no mortal ought to have. Doing, uh … naughty shit.”

  “Your way with words astounds,” Namaka said.

  “Yeah, well, sometimes, they lived in the sky and fought their wars in the heavens. Sometimes, they fought along those vast stretches of land. But they fought and fought. And Kāne decided they were wicked little shits.” Upoho snickered. “So he shattered the lands and brought the Deluge. He destroyed the great lands, including the continent of Mu. Pieces of it were all that was left, and most sank beneath the waves as the Worldsea rose. But Kāne didn’t want to see all people perish, so he helped one family escape onto the islands, led by Nu‘u. Milolii, she says you and me, we’re like those old people, maybe even heirs to the glory of ancient Mu.”

  Namaka folded her arms over her chest. It sounded rather fanciful to her. Lonomakua had also claimed that Mu was once a land, but now it was a mer kingdom somewhere off the coast of these islands. Perhaps they inhabited the sunken ruins of an ancient civilization, but Namaka had her doubts.

  Regardless, she knew men called this whole region the Muian Sea.

  “Why don’t you get some rest,” she said after a moment. “I’ll listen for them for now, and you can watch later.”

  Upoho laced his hands behind his head and lay back, apparently needing no further invitation for a nap.

  Moela’s barking jolted Namaka awake. Before she’d even sat up, the dog had disappeared off into the bushes.

  “Lua-o-Milu,” she cursed.

  “I’m up!” Upoho grumbled, climbing to his feet in an instant.

  Namaka, too, leapt to her feet and chased off after Moela. The dog had caught some scent, and she almost prayed it was a boar, dangerous as the beasts were. They were less dangerous still than Pele. Rushing after the dog, she blundered through the bushes and out onto the lower slope of the mountain.

  But her sister was there, hair aflame. Those fires ignited her kihei, and bits of ash blew in the wind as the blazing cloak whipped around Pele, with Aukele behind her. Moela raced for Aukele, still seeming to love Namaka’s bastard husband.

  “Moela!” Namaka shouted.

  Pele sneered, whipping her arm forward. A wave of flame shot outward from her mantle, a swirling inferno that rushed over Moela. Namaka’s dog yelped, briefly, and he faltered, stumbling. The fire passed quickly, surging forward so fast Moela had not yet hit the ground, despite his muscles and flesh turning to ash. The dog’s skeleton crumpled and crunched even as Namaka looked on, gaping, unable to form a thought at the casual destruction.

  “Fuck,” Upoho said behind her.

  Her dog.

  Her dog.

  “He wasn’t attacking you …” Namaka mumbled, her mind refusing to cooperate. She kept hearing that short, pained yelp. It had been over in an instant. Not much fear, probably. “He wasn’t attacking …”

  “You, however,” Pele said, “continue to do so. You have killed thousands of people in your petty pursuit of vengeance. You have chased me across two thousand miles. Waged war over two archipelagos. You have used the sea itself as a weapon to inundate as thoroughly as the Deluge that brought the Worldsea. And you expect me to have mercy on a dog?”

  The ground rumbled beneath them, reacting to Pele’s fury. Namaka’s sister raised her arms, growling, and the land ruptured. It split in half, trembling so violently Namaka stumbled to the side and caught herself against a tree. A fissure ripped open between herself and Pele, a gap a hundred feet long, running up toward the volcano.r />
  Jets of toxic steam erupted from the fissure, followed a moment later by a bubbling fountain of lava. The heat from it seared Namaka’s skin, even from two dozen feet away.

  “Run!” Upoho bellowed at her.

  And he was right.

  Namaka turned, fleeing toward the sea, racing through the wood. The scorching heat chased after her, an avalanche of lava rapidly gaining on her.

  Panting, heart hammering against her ribs, Namaka broke off toward a river, shouting for Upoho to follow. She called the waters to herself, streaming them behind her. She felt it, as they evaporated in a flash of steam the instant before hitting that lava flow. It slowed the advancing flames a moment though, and Namaka grabbed Upoho’s wrist and jumped into the river.

  The currents hefted them up and she skidded along the surface as if on a surfboard, jetting forward to the far side, forty feet away.

  The ground continued to tremble, shocks running in all directions, making it hard to run.

  Then it happened.

  The roar so loud it deafened her, leaving only a ringing in her ears. The crack so powerful it drove her to her knees. Upoho fell beside her, hands over his ears, mouth open like he was screaming, though Namaka heard nothing.

  High above, Haleakalā had exploded, hurling upward an enormous black cloud of ash and molten rocks. A rain of fire plummeted down upon the island, embers and flaming stones crashing into the jungle in a silent wake of destruction. Where the missiles landed, the trees and bushes burst into flames, the whole forest quickly becoming a conflagration.

  Screaming herself now—and hearing nothing—Namaka reached for the sea. She didn’t have the mana in her to call up a kai e‘e. At least not one so powerful as she’d summoned in Uluka‘a. But she poured all she had into the deep, beckoning for a wave thirty feet high. It broke over the beach below and its waters raced inland, strangely silent, sweeping away trees and rocks and underbrush in a flood.