by Matt Larkin
But the wave had lost its momentum, and a mere high tide rushed forward to soak her shins. Namaka fell to her knees, suddenly unable to stand. Just offshore, the taniwha reared itself up in dark silhouette against the moon. Its rage seemed to shake the island itself.
Now it looked at her. Suddenly she was no longer a nuisance beneath its notice.
“Let Milu feast on your soul,” Namaka spat through gritted teeth. She had nothing left. Not even the strength to rise from her knees.
She might die this night, but at least she had turned back the kai e‘e, had bought her people time to flee. This taniwha would wreck all of Sawaiki and leave it ripe for the he‘e and Hiyoya to enslave all the islands. But she had done everything she could.
The dragon reared back, clearly intent on swallowing her and a good chunk of the beach with her.
“Choke on a crab, ghostfucker,” she mumbled.
“Namaka!” The bellow reached her just before Upoho collided with her, swept her up in his arms, and kept running.
The dragon’s maw impacted an instant later, indeed taking a chunk out of the beach. Even burdened with her in his arms, the wererat ran faster than most humans could ever manage, tearing up a trail of wet sand in his wake.
It took her a moment to realize one of his eyes was missing, a hollowed-out ruin of his face.
The dragon roared and whipped its tail around to impede their way, a terrible whooshing gust of wind accompanying it. Upoho actually jumped over the tail, clearing an impossible distance. The taniwha’s tail slammed into the boardwalk, sending a dozen houses crashing into the ocean, reduced to kindling. Men and women ran screaming while others plummeted into the sea. One woman froze in fear, staring at her impending doom. Namaka looked away just before the taniwha’s jaws clamped down on the victim.
Upoho landed with a thud and immediately took off running again, this time toward the jungle where the rest of the village was already retreating. Namaka glanced back over his shoulder to see the taniwha, bellowing with wrath and continuing to smash the driftwood that had once been people’s homes.
It placed one enormous foot on land, glaring at them. Then it turned and dove back into the water. In the moonlight it was hard to tell, but it looked to be swimming around the island.
And then she knew. She might have escaped for a moment, but the creature was going to destroy every village on Mau‘i. And when it finished here, what was next? Probably Vai‘i, it was closest. And each and every island across Sawaiki. The he‘e wanted to rule the seas, and to do that they would deny humanity access to the ocean. It would cut them off from one another and their primary food source, ensure they remained nothing but tiny, powerless tribes.
What few of them survived.
Well into the morning she swam. Something pulled her toward a specific spot. Perhaps it was instinct. Perhaps it was the mana inherent in the Sacred Pools, calling to the power inside her.
She was utterly spent, nearly dead, and Nyi Rara had fallen once more into torpor.
At the pools, she crawled up onto the rocks, dragging her tail behind her. On land the thing was dead weight, barely able to help her push forward at all. As useless as she ended up being.
She had failed to stop the taniwha. Had failed to save Sawaiki or Mu.
No—to Lua-o-Milu with that. She was done being useless and done moping over it.
Namaka shoved herself upright into a sitting position, then reached down to the pools, hand just brushing over the surface. Already, some of this place’s mana had seeped back into her. It was so strong here. She dangled her tail into the waters, soaking them up.
She allowed herself a single, shuddering breath. Then she began to summon her mana into her fingertips—just a hint of it. A mere touch. And through that touch, bubbles formed into the pool. A few at first, and then more. They popped, creating a chain of tiny splashes all along the pool. It was a start. She could do better.
There had to be a way to increase both power and control, as she had before Nyi Rara had come. She could whip the sea into a fucking kai e‘e. She could drive a spear of water through a he‘e’s head. She would find some way to fight the taniwha.
Just a hint more mana, a slow, steady breath. Some of the bubbles began to float off the surface, contained by her power, not breaking. Flying in the air, holding their shape. Namaka clenched her teeth then raised her other hand, calling up more and more of the bubbles. They glittered in the sunlight, reflecting it the way the ocean reflected a sunset.
Control.
She had done this with Milolii, the dragon endlessly patient despite Namaka’s own perpetual disquiet.
Now, she focused on a single bubble and drew it toward her open palm. The water burst just before it reached her. Damn it.
In that instant of frustration, dozens more bubbles burst, spilling back into the pool. Milolii had told her to calm herself. The sea, all waters, they responded to her emotions. Her joy, her fear, her anger. They were tools she could use, as long as she didn’t let them control her.
And maybe her emotions had always controlled her. Anger. She was angry, had always been angry about what was not given to her. So angry, maybe she hadn’t really considered what was given to her. Her parents had abandoned her. Her … mistakes with Pele had driven them apart as children. Until, finally, her rage at Pele had consumed her in a wake of madness.
The life, the reality she had, might not have been the one she would have chosen for herself. But she was given a life, and it had had its moments. How many people could say they had swum far beneath the sea and been part of that majestic, dream-like world? How many humans had touched the pure life that flowed from the Urchin?
She knew she should have let that wrath go. It poisoned her soul. She knew it did. But how was she to forgive Pele’s insolence, her treason, her destruction of so much Namaka had loved?
Namaka closed her eyes and felt the water with her soul, summoning more floating orbs toward her, allowing them to spin around her like leaves tossed in the ocean breeze. When she opened her eyes, she was smiling, entranced in the beauty she had called up.
Anger had only ever created one surging kai e‘e after another. Rage had fed itself.
The Urchin had showed Namaka her future—a potential future?—in which she took the throne of Mu. To do that, she had to find a way to deal with the taniwha, to overcome Hiyoya and the he‘e, and set all this behind her.
And at last she breathed out all the fear and resentment.
In raging against the world, she had suffused herself with a poison that meant she would never have peace, and thus never have control. The sea was her emotions, even anger. And when she was angry at the world, the sea would naturally lash out at the entire world.
And her world was beautiful, wonderful. Literally full of wonder and the joy of life—any life she was given was a gift. And the Worldsea teemed with innumerable lives and possibility … and second chances.
She would be the second chance for all these people—human and mer alike.
Smiling, Namaka held one hand out, summoning more bubbles, and stretched another out toward the sea. It rose at her call, a pillar of flowing water jutting twenty paces into the sky.
Just another limb. She need not even think to move them. With a twist of her wrist she sent a dozen spouts pouring out of the pillar, showering into the sea before flowing back up in an endless circle.
This was it. This was the moment the Urchin had shown her. It had shown her she didn’t have to be angry, or afraid. She could be liberated.
A slight scraping sound drew her eyes to the rocky cliff far above. Milolii stood there, looking down at her. Reading the dragon’s face was nearly impossible, but Namaka hoped the slightly bared teeth were meant as a smile. She could use a smile now.
The dragon nodded at her, watching, waiting. Waiting for her. Namaka dismissed her control over the sea and let it crash back down.
She let out a slow breath, focused on legs, and then when they appeared,
climbed to her feet. She wobbled a little, after being so used to the tail.
While shaky, it was probably a profoundly stupid time to go climbing a steep, slippery cliff. But right now she needed Milolii, needed the dragon so intensely it was a physical ache in her chest. And so she set off toward the rocks, taking each step with care, especially as she climbed. She had to use her hands to steady herself as she made her way up.
“You’ve come a long way,” Milolii said when she finally crested the rise. She reached a claw behind her and flung a pa‘u toward her.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Upoho told me your plan, so I came after you.”
Namaka frowned. She grabbed the skirt and tied it around her waist. “Mahalo. For everything, Milolii. I never really understood before now.”
The dragon stroked a clawed finger along Namaka’s cheek. “I wish your destiny were easier.”
“I don’t think that’s the fate of queens.”
Very soon, Nyi Rara would wake and probably force her back to Mu to face yet another battle. Before that happened, she needed to see her people, assure them she was well and … find some way to save them. And finally, finally be the queen she should have been all along.
A small army of he‘e had surged over the ruins of Hana, assaulting those who had come to seek supplies. Namaka saw them as she swam near, writhing arms and vicious black eyes. Treacherous bastards.
Just as she had flung herself up from the sea to fight the taniwha, she did once more. For a moment she flew over the wreckage, water guiding her toward the fighting. As she plummeted, her tail split once again into legs, the moment of pain barely registering through her mask of rage. It didn’t matter if they knew what she was now. This battle was too much. She need not be angry at the whole world. She could be angry only at a single situation. And she could direct that anger, like any of her other emotions. The sea was emotion. It was her heart.
She landed on the wooden rubble in a crouch, the sound of her impact like a tree splitting in a typhoon. And for a moment, every other sound died out. The fighting stopped. All eyes turned to her as she rose, glaring at the he‘e through the strands of her soaked hair.
Their indecision lasted only an instant before Namaka moved, drawing up every drop of water on the debris as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Then she jerked them apart, sending the water out in a thin sheet. It shot outward from her in an arc with the force of a kai e‘e. Men and he‘e were flung backward, some stumbling into the waters, others thrown against broken buildings.
One of the he‘e began to crawl toward her at a startling pace. On pure instinct Namaka summoned a column of water from the sea and whirled it around her like a dancer spinning a fire baton. When the he‘e continued for her, Namaka launched the column of water at it. The blast slammed the he‘e against a palm tree, splintering wood and sending debris falling and leaving a bloody, smeared mess down the trunk. Impact might not jar a he‘e for long. Crushing its brains still seemed to work.
“Namaka!”
She turned to see Upoho struggling to his feet, empty hands spread wide. The wererat was bedraggled, his hair a tangled mess hanging about his face. He’e sucker marks covered his arms and chest.
“So …” he said. “You’re a fish now. Probably shoulda seen that coming.”
“Where’s Leapua?”
“Er … Well, we didn’t have much chance to talk before you ran off … er … swam off, before, Namaka. See … Well … Pele, she uh …”
No. No! “Where is Leapua!” Namaka demanded. She had only just realized how truly the kahuna was part of her ‘ohana. This couldn’t be happening.
Upoho shook his head.
Namaka sank to her knees. She was not a woman who wept. But tears formed now. She had borne witness to the ruination of Uluka‘a, of her ‘ohana, of Mu, and now of Sawaiki. And so much of the devastation fell at her feet.
Most of the villagers had retreated into the jungle beyond Hana. They gathered around a lake fed by a pristine fall, but feared to draw too near the water, for within lurked a mo‘o. Many probably feared Milolii, though the old dragon had never harmed any on Mau‘i so far as Namaka knew. They feared her because she was different, because she had powers they didn’t understand.
As they must fear Namaka herself.
Hundreds of people were wounded and hundreds more lost entirely. Those who could walk were busy tending to the wounded, gathering wood for fires, or searching the jungle for fruits. Their homes were lost. All the food they had, gone. The taniwha had taken everything.
Upoho sat resting beneath a tree, right on the water’s edge.
“Pele did that to your eye?” Namaka asked the wererat.
He waved her off. “I’m fine. We have bigger problems, I just need some rest. Don’t worry, Fish Girl.”
She grimaced. Great. She’d probably never shake that nickname. He was right, though—they had an enormous problem. And Namaka didn’t have the first idea how to fight off the taniwha. Even if the mer of Mu would have helped—maybe they would—they were engaged in war with the he‘e and with Hiyoya. Nyi Rara, sadly, remained silent on the matter. Namaka had known using the mermaid to harness that much power would probably drive her into a torpor once again. It seemed unavoidable that one of them always had to pay that price.
Either way, the people of Mau‘i were on their own against this threat. And what were they to do? Throw spears at the monstrous dragon? From the look of it, no weapon they had would come close to piercing its scales. The behemoth was powerful beyond anything her people could ever hope to fight.
It was a relic of a time long ago, a spawn of the deity the mer called the Elder Deep.
“Namaka,” Milolii called, raising just her head above the water. A sad thought, really, the dragon unable to show herself even though she was the one protecting them all. The mo‘o might be descended from the taniwha, but unlike their savage ancestors, the mo‘o had thought and intelligence.
Namaka had always looked to Milolii for direction, guidance. At the moment, though, the dragon seemed as lost as anyone else, watching Namaka. As if she had some kind of answer.
“What do I do?” Namaka whispered, trying not to let any of the others hear her doubt. They all seemed to think she could save them. She wanted to save all these people. To save those few remaining who she’d brought from Uluka‘a, to save the Sawaikians, to save the Muians. To save everyone.
“You may have hard choices ahead of you,” the dragon answered. “It does not seem like you can do this with your power alone.”
And where was she supposed to get more? It wasn’t like she had more time to go lounge in the Sacred Pools and try to soak up excess mana, nor had that worked in the first place. And the villagers couldn’t help her, she’d already determined that. Namaka frowned. They couldn’t help her … because they had no weapons powerful enough to harm a taniwha.
But there was someone who might have such power. Except … Except she had half blinded Upoho, had murdered Leapua, had caused all of this. Or had caused half of it, at least.
“Where is Pele?”
“On Vai‘i now, trying to make herself queen.”
Namaka shut her eyes. Of course she was.
“In Puna, I think,” Milolii said.
Pele’s whereabouts hardly mattered, though, unless Namaka could force the taniwha to the surface. Maybe Nyi Rara could harness that kind of power. Maybe. But the last time she had tried to feed her mana directly to the mermaid princess it left Namaka unconscious. Nyi Rara said she couldn’t even move Namaka’s body.
What if there was another way?
Nyi Rara, thank the ‘aumākua! Namaka had begun to wonder when she would finally hear the princess’s voice again.
You are the strangest host.
Why? Because Namaka wanted—what had Nyi Rara called it? Symbiosis? She needed Nyi Rara and she knew that.
Maybe … maybe there is a way we can be blended more fully.
&n
bsp; How?
Namaka could almost feel the mermaid sigh inside her soul. Go somewhere safe, calm. Somewhere where mana runs strong.
They had no time for safety. People were dying all over Sawaiki.
You will need to meditate deeply enough that your soul can leave your world.
Wait.
Enter Pō? Namaka’s stomach clenched at the very thought of it.
People who slept deeply were sometimes said to dream their souls into Pō. But to do it on purpose, to walk there …
Sometimes we must do difficult things to win the day.
Namaka swallowed. Yes, sometimes very difficult things.
She returned to Upoho, shaking him awake. “I have to go back to the Sacred Pools.” She pressed her palm to his cheek. “I need you to stay here and watch over the people. Don’t let them back near the beach.”
He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll kill anyone who tries to commit suicide, no problem.”
Namaka shook her head once, then took off running back to the shore. She had to get to the pools. She dashed through the jungle and out onto the beach, then stumbled to a stop.
With the monster gone and the immediate horror passed, all that remained was carnage. Trees along the beach had been bent backward and splintered. Driftwood and debris—the last of the village—covered the shore in all directions. The people were gone, the animals fled. Everything had grown silent, save for the lapping of waves against the shore. Several dozen bodies had washed up on the beach, and others floated out in the sea. People bloated and lost, and since no kahuna had sent their souls away, probably doomed to become lapu.
Dammit. Leapua.
After blowing out a long breath, Namaka continued down to the water’s edge and dove in, summoning her tail. She had no time to dawdle here, no time to mourn the dead, nor to search out other kāhuna.
She beat her tail, surging forward. Nyi Rara had warned her using the water jets would drain her, but once again she saw no other choice. She had to reach the pools before the taniwha wreaked even more havoc.