Heirs of Mana Omnibus

by Matt Larkin

  And Milolii was probably the better mother, in the end.

  Without another word, Namaka drew Pele into a brief embrace. Even expecting it, the surge of power and heat underneath the woman’s skin was almost overwhelming.

  Hi‘iaka had asked for the privilege of blowing the conch shell as Namaka strode toward her wedding. And who was Namaka to deny her little sister such a thing? Feather cloak billowing behind her, Namaka made her way to where Aukele stood holding a maile lei, shifting from foot to foot in delicious nervousness.

  As she reached him, Leapua began a mele, chanting Namaka’s prestigious lineage as a great kupua and highest ranking of the ali‘i. When the kahuna finished, Upoho began a mele himself—hardly the dignified chanter Leapua was—citing Aukele’s also impressive descent.

  A sudden blaring of the conch had Namaka leaping up, whipping the sea into a frenzy as she spun. Only to find Hi‘iaka grinning like an idiot, eyes alight.

  Fool child.

  Men and women laughed, but hid their faces as Namaka took them in with a glare.

  Smiling, Aukele strode forward and placed his lei around Namaka’s neck. Then she returned the gesture, draping the garland over him.

  And that was it. He was her husband now, and thus a part of her family.

  “I arranged firewalker dancers for this,” Pele said, when the two of them sat watching the hula by torchlight. “Even Lonomakua has agreed to dance for you.”

  The kahuna. Huh. Namaka vaguely wondered if Pele had to promise him anything to get him to perform for a celebration. He was always so reserved, lost in his thoughts.

  As the hula finished, the fire dancers took their places, whipping flaming batons into glorious arcs of light and shadow. At night, their movements became mesmerizing, intoxicating, even if Namaka had not had two cups of narcotic awa.

  And she rather liked the awa.

  Aukele sat across from her, watching her as much as the performance, a feeling Namaka … did not much mind.

  “There’s something I have to do soon,” Namaka said to Pele. “Something I could use your help with. Like you, Aukele follows in the footsteps of Maui, at least to an extent.”

  “He’s a firewalker?”

  Namaka shook her head. “No. He seeks the Waters of Life.”

  Pele sucked in a sharp breath and cast an unreadable glance Aukele’s way. “Is he worthy?”

  “I married him.” Which ought to be enough answer for her sister. “Anyway, he’s lost someone. Is losing someone the Waters might save. And I think you know where on the island the spring is hidden.”

  Her sister folded her arms and glared at a nearby bonfire.

  “Mother indicated she might have let slip the secret to you,” Namaka said. Of course, Namaka had not much cared before. “And I know you read things in the flames. Lonomakua taught you pyromancy. Surely you can find the Waters.”

  Her sister sighed. “I’m not sure I believe the old tale about Kāne making the springs, but either way, powerful beings have been drawn to them now. You think you and I can succeed on an endeavor that cost Maui himself his life?” She pointed to Aukele. “The three of us, even?”

  “I promised to try. Besides, you think Kanaloa still holds sway there? It’s been almost a thousand years since Maui’s death.”

  “And how long would you guard a spring of eternal life?”

  Pele’s words made Namaka shiver. But she was resolved in her course.

  And Pele … she’d never turn away from a chance to follow Maui’s quest. She idolized the Firebringer too much.

  Namaka had her.

  16

  Kamapua‘a didn’t have so many men left. Those who followed him now, he figured, did so for lack of better options. About two dozen of them. Maybe they blamed him for getting so many of the others killed.

  Still, they followed him all the way to Vai‘i. Supposed to have lots of adventure. Which was good, because Kama was pretty much just waiting for opportunity to show up.

  Honestly, he had very little idea what to do now. He’d sat in consterpation pretty much the whole canoe ride between isles, and the only thing he could come up with was that, if he killed Poli‘ahu, Kana would pardon them all and welcome them home.

  Had to be.

  If there was anyone Waimeans hated and feared more than Kama, it was the so-called Snow Queen of Mauna Kea. What with the war and murder and shit. Attempting to kill off a whole race of people didn’t make a queen popular. Especially not with that race.

  Kama figured Poli‘ahu intentionally murdering hundreds of people was way worse than his own … uh, issues.

  With Makani dead, Kamapua‘a had named Ioane his second-in-command. The man had accepted the honor, though his face had seemed anything but honored.

  Now, as they landed on the north shore, Kama looked to the man. “I got a plan.”

  Ioane arched one of his brows. “And?”

  “We’re gonna find a valley to make camp. Then I’m gonna climb Mauna Kea. And I’m gonna kill Poli‘ahu. Then we go home and give Kana the good news.”

  Ioane hopped from the canoe and helped pull it onto the shore. “That doesn’t qualify as a plan. That’s like the seed of a plan you have not yet planted nor waited for it to come to fruition.”

  “Look, I’m not gonna defeat a kupua like Poli‘ahu with any shitting fruit, all right? I mean, I guess I could crush her skull with a coconut, but why the shit would I plant the tree myself and wait for it to sprout? That doesn’t make any sense. I think it’s best if you leave the stratifying to me.”

  Ioane frowned, shaking his head while the other canoe came ashore. “What I mean to say is, how do you plan to kill Poli‘ahu in her own domain?”

  “Well, I don’t know.” Kama shrugged. “I could use an axe or a knife or a club. I mean, worst case, I could use my hands. My hands are strong as shit.”

  The other man looked to him, then nodded. “I’ll grant you that much.”

  “Mahalo from me and my hands, both.”

  Before his men could set up in the valley, they needed supplies from the local village. The sun was setting by the time he and a small band reached the place. Although it featured several piers that served as launching points for canoes, the majority of the village was farther inland, just beyond a thin grove of koa trees.

  “Aloha,” he said as a pair of girls approached. Each lifted their hands to their mouths in a gesture of greeting. They wore headbands and bracelets made of leaves. Kama liked leaves. Reminded him of the jungle. The boar was most at home in a jungle. Or in a woman. So, jungle women were twice as good. He was pretty certain he’d forgotten whatever else he intended to ask the locals.

  Fortunately, Ioane spoke. He was good at that. “Aloha. We need food and fresh water. Can you help us?”

  The two girls glanced at one another, then the one in the lead nodded and motioned for them to follow. Kama trotted right behind her, Ioane and five others in tow.

  The girls led them toward what had to be the chief’s house. It was the biggest, after all. As was the man standing in front of it. He had a belly that made him look like he’d swallowed a boar whole. He wore a feather cloak and waved a smoking bush around like he thought he was a kahuna, watching them with his nasty little eyes. Shit. It wasn’t like Kama planned to break any tabus. Well, sometimes he planned it, but most times it just happened. Someone made a stupid rule and Kama forgot to follow it. Or didn’t like the rule because it wasn’t fun. Sometimes people tried to make fun itself tabu. Tabus were stupid.

  “Aloha, Chief!” Kama shouted. “I’m Kamapua‘a of Kaua‘i. These are my followers Ioane and, uh … the others don’t have names.”

  “Of course they have names,” Ioane said. “This is—”

  “Sure, fine,” Kama said. “How about a feast, Chief …?”

  “Chief Tua,” the man said. Stupid, nasty, narrowed eyes. What did he have to be suspicious of? All Kama had asked for was a feast. Shit, good thing he hadn’t asked for a whole luau. They sh
ould throw him one though. Kama was mighty. Mighty boars deserved luaus. “Welcome to Vai‘i.” The chief waved the stupid smoking branch again.

  “Uh, huh. So, to which king or queen do you swear to, anyway?”

  “That was direct,” Ioane mumbled. Like being indirect was some kind of shitting virtue or something.

  “Hāmākua remains loyal to Queen Poli‘ahu, of course.”

  Kama clapped his hands. “Wonderful! Glad to hear that.” Having her followers here might make it easier to find and kill her. “And, uh … if I wanted to pledge my incorrigible loyalty to her royal frostiness, would I find her up on the mountain?”

  “Yes, she returned some time ago.”

  Kama clapped his hands again and winked at the man. Winking often set people at ease. Back when Kamapua‘a had still lived at Waimea, he’d used winks to get out of trouble when he’d broken some stupid tabu like shitting in someone’s house. A good wink, and the shitter would stand there mouth open, struck speechless by Kama’s magmanamity. “So, about that feast?”

  Chief Tua didn’t throw them a luau. Or a feast. He did, however, have a large pig roasted. Kama choose not to take that as a veiled insult on account of the man probably not knowing who or what he was. And also on account of the pork being shitting delicious.

  The chief did agree to trade some supplies for some tapa cloth they’d brought from Kaua‘i. Taken from old Haki’s villages, of course, but Tua didn’t need to hear the details about that.

  As it turned out, one of the kupua women from across the Worldsea had come here, too. Pele, they called her, a flame kupua who was also challenging Poli‘ahu. A potential ally?

  Sitting with his men by a bonfire, Kama wiped his greasy hands on his malo. “See, now we know Poli‘ahu is up on her mountain.”

  “You still have no plan,” Ioane said.

  “Sure I do. I climb the mountain. I solve the problem. I … uh … well, that’s the whole plan anyway. I mean other than coming back down the mountain.”

  Ioane shook his head. “You sound like an idiot.”

  “Sounds can be deceiving. Sometimes I even deceive myself. Once, I tricked myself into thinking I was stupid. Then I realized I was sleeping. So I farted.”

  Two of the men chuckled. Kama decided then and there, those two were worthy of him learning their names. Only problem was, one of them had been with him for at least a year, and learning his name would mean admitting he hadn’t known it until now.

  Some men might find that insulting.

  Ioane leaned in close, saving Kamapua‘a the trouble. “This place has only a handful of warriors. We could storm in, take whatever we need, and deprive Poli‘ahu of her supporters in the process.”

  Kamapua‘a grunted. “Nah. She might hear about it and be on her guard.”

  “She’s going to be on guard anyway. Men from all across Sawaiki are trying to kill her! Drawing her down off the mountain will give you a better chance to overcome her.”

  Well that made sense. On the other hand … “I saw you looking at that girl anyway,” Kama said to Ioane. “You want her, just go ask her. No need for slaughter and rape and shit. It’s rude.”

  “Right. Like none of us have seen you massacre dozens of people and rape five women in one night.”

  Oh. That wasn’t Kamapua‘a. That was the Boar God, and Kama had never much liked how he felt afterward. Like he had an eel in his gut.

  Sometimes, if the Boar God got too angry, he couldn’t stop it from coming to the surface. That, and on full moons, the god was overpowering. But Kama had never told the others he couldn’t control himself.

  Not even a wink would reassure men who heard their leader got possessed by a god from time to time.

  Kamapua‘a cleared his throat. “Here’s what’s what. I don’t want you starting any raids or fights or shit while I’m gone. Set up in the valley, away from people, a nice camp out in the woods. I’m gonna go kill a queen, and then we all go home heroes.”

  Now Ioane frowned. “The men want some plunder. It’s been hard to come by of late, and Kana will hardly blame us for raiding a village belonging to his enemies.”

  Ah. Shit. Another good point.

  Always a problem when the men had points. It just made things more complicated.

  “You realize these people just fed us and gave us a place to stay the night?”

  “Which gave us the chance to get the layout of the village and a count of their warriors. Enough to know we can do this tomorrow night. Best case, Poli‘ahu comes down to fight you for it. Worst case, she’s distracted while you hunt her.”

  Kama found himself missing Makani. Ioane was kind of a shitter. But he was a smart shitter. Almost as smart as Kamapua‘a. Finally, Kama scratched his head. “All right, then. Prep the raid for tomorrow night.”

  He’d led plenty of raids himself against Haki’s people. But this, now … well, it had that eel feeling in his gut again.

  17

  Namaka sighed and settled down on a bed of kelp gathered in a rock alcove. It was soft and a bit slimy, but felt cool against her skin. She had returned to her grotto in Dakuwaqa Estate to wait.

  While Nyi Rara had sent Tilafaiga as an envoy to Ukupanipo ‘Ohana, the other ‘ohana had refused to meet until after sunset. This seemed to surprise Nyi Rara very little. Indeed, Namaka, too, had often heard that all denizens from beyond Pō disdained the sunlight.

  Some few are adapted to its harsh rays … Most from the Otherworlds are weakened by sunlight, to varying degrees. Mer adherence to the night is partly custom and partly practical.

  Oh, so now Nyi Rara was talking to her again, pretending as if they had not nearly gotten each other killed.

  You never cease vexing me, mortal. If you push me far enough, I’ll destroy you.

  No. Nyi Rara couldn’t afford to lose another host, much less surrender the chance at Namaka’s power. They were stuck with one another.

  The mermaid growled in her mind, a wordless rage seeping into Namaka, as if Nyi Rara considered eating her. Biting herself, Namaka supposed. She understood that wrath all too well. What if … could it work the other way around? Could the mermaid spirit be brought under Namaka’s control?

  You arrogant, insufferable wretch! Defy me, and I shall feed your body to the Elder Deep!

  Namaka had no idea what that meant. Other than another idle threat. And she’d begun to tire of Nyi Rara’s impotent tantrums.

  Tantrums … Impotent?

  Of its own accord, Namaka’s hand suddenly seized up a coral knife. She willed it to stop, but the blade drew closer and closer to her neck.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Nyi Rara would never destroy her own host. It had taken her a decade to claim this one. She could never—

  It’s time you learn there are limits to the insolence I’ll tolerate, mortal.

  The blade bit down, carved a shallow but ragged gouge as Nyi Rara drew it along the side of Namaka’s neck, perilously close to her gills. Down, into her collarbone. White pain flashed before Namaka’s eyes. She tried to scream but not even her mouth obeyed her. The mermaid bored into the bone with the knife, and the waters turned pink, thick with blood. The scent of it both revolted and intoxicated, driving Namaka into a sudden desire to ravage prey and devour it whole.

  Writhing on the seabed, she rolled off the kelp, unable to filter between hunger, agony, rage, and lust.

  Then the pressure eased, and Nyi Rara left her there, gasping, gills flapping painfully.

  Submit or I shall wreak far worse suffering upon you.

  The mermaid’s voice sounded far away. Strained. Fatigued from the effort of enforcing her will against Namaka. So … she could do so, albeit only temporarily.

  Groaning, Namaka pushed herself up off the seabed. When she looked up, Taema was there, cringing, eyes wide.

  Craven weakling, held afloat by the grace of her sister.

  Taema and Tilafaiga were close?

  One is a shark and the other is an
anemone.

  “What do you want?” Namaka asked.

  “I smelled blood.” Her shark teeth had descended. For that matter, so had Namaka’s. An automatic response. “You’re injured.”

  “A disagreement with my host.” Namaka winced, realizing Nyi Rara had managed to use her mouth to say that.

  Taema’s eyes grew wider still. “The mortal challenges you?”

  Oh. And what would Nyi Rara tell the other mermaid? That their precious princess was still too weak to control anyone? Or that they had chosen a host too powerful to completely possess.

  Be silent!

  No. Nyi Rara knew the price. Anything less than partnership, and they were both damned to Pō.

  “What do you do for Dakuwaqa ‘Ohana?” Namaka asked Taema.

  “What do I …?” The mermaid glanced over her shoulder. “You’re the host!”

  Hmm, and should Namaka herself reveal Nyi Rara’s weakness? How would the princess handle that?

  What do you think happens to you if they find out? I’ll be sent back to my world and you’ll be drowned and eaten.

  “I am. We are in discourse.”

  Discourse … you are in impudent rebellion against a deity!

  Namaka struggled not to roll her eyes at that. “So, you were telling me about your role in Dakuwaqa.”

  “Uh … I …” Taema swam a little closer. “My sister and I are the tattoo artists for the Dakuwaqan Rangers.”

  Tattoos?

  Nyi Rara groaned in her mind.

  A means of harnessing and containing additional mana, in this case to create more potent warriors. An ancient application of the Art, preserved only through a select few practitioners. Each ‘ohana has their school of the Art, and among Dakuwaqa, the tattoo Arts reign. The Art itself is the study of the conjunction of the natural and the supernatural. The secret, mutable aspects of reality. In the most vulgar of terms, you might call it magic.