by Matt Larkin
“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 the 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.
After a long, shuddering breath, Namaka took the heart in her hands. It had already started to grow cold.
“I love you,” she whispered to the dragon. From what she had seen in Pō, maybe the mo‘o was there now, watching her. Hearing her words. If so, she prayed the dragon could forgive her for ever refusing her lessons, for all the times she didn’t listen. For the anger that had blinded her for so many years, made her miss the moments of joy she should have treasured.
Sometimes we must do difficult things to win the day. Nyi Rara had said that before Namaka entered Pō. And it was the truth, a hard truth she would never forget.
Slowly, she lifted the heart to her mouth. And then she bit down.
Maybe, with Milolii’s mana pulsing through her, joined with Nyi Rara, Namaka could have overcome the taniwha on her own. She did not think it behooved any of them for her to take that chance.
Part of her wanted to forgive her. Part of her wanted to hate her. She wasn’t certain how those two parts could exist side by side without destroying one another.
Even if she wanted to release the rage … that did not mean she was ready to let the woman back into her heart.
Still, she swam to Vai‘i, swam round until someone could tell her where to find her sister. Pele’s power might help her end the threat of the taniwha and the he‘e.
She found the harbor—Puna they called this district—and climbed up onto the boardwalk.
A heartbeat later, a fisherman on the boardwalk with her shrieked, suddenly wrapped by tentacle-like arms and tugged over the side.
He‘e.
The next instant, a dozen of the creatures were crawling over the side of the boardwalk, surprisingly fast even out of the water. They swarmed over the locals, wrapping them in crushing, strangling embraces.
The locals got off a few thrown javelins, but those with the weapons seemed to be the first targets.
That was … Hi‘iaka! Namaka’s little sister flung a javelin at an advancing he‘e. The creature jerked as part of its head splattered. Its arms kept dragging it forward, slithering over the deck like they had minds of their own. The thing was going to strangle her little sister, as they had tried to do to her. But Namaka had the strength of a mermaid—a human form would be crushed in moments.
Namaka raced to her sister’s side, grabbed her, and leapt over the side of the boardwalk, transforming her legs back into a tail. Hi‘iaka’s eyes widened at the sight. Namaka wrapped her arms around her sister’s waist, dove deep, away from the shore.
More he‘e swam down here, finishing the work the taniwha had begun.
As she swam, she sent a current spiraling at one of the he‘e. The vortex knocked it away from the boardwalk and sent it skittering through the water before its rapidly pumping arms could arrest its momentum.
Hi‘iaka beat against her back and she glanced at her, taking in the panic in her eyes, her cheeks looking like they were about to burst. The water felt charged with a powerful energy, like Hi‘iaka would blast apart. On instinct Namaka kissed her, blowing air into her mouth. She didn’t know how she was able to do it, but after flailing a moment more, Hi‘iaka relaxed, eyes widening again. Then her sister nodded at her.
Namaka turned again to see another he‘e rapidly propelling itself toward her and Hi‘iaka. A wave of her arm sent a current jetting toward it, carrying it hundreds of feet away from her. She had to do something about those on the boardwalk, though, or all of Pele’s people would be dead.
The surface was covered in the crawling, monstrous things, stuck to it with those awful suckers. And quickly making their way up to the buildings where they could wrap themselves around helpless men and women. She knew all too well the fear that evoked, the pain of being slowly crushed beneath far too many slimy, grasping, sucking arms.
She blew another breath into Hi‘iaka then pushed the girl away and pointed to the surface. Her sister nodded and swam straight upward.
Then Namaka summoned currents along the boardwalk, calling them to her. Namaka screamed, releasing all her rage and pent-up frustration along with the current. The water slapped against the wood with the force of a typhoon, shearing he‘e from it on all sides. Those that refused to break their suction had their arms severed by the current.
The wood crunched and splintered into debris under her power, but Namaka felt the waters around the humans and forced them to recede, leaving the people kneeling on wet sand.
In an instant, the waters darkened with blood and ink as the he‘e fled.
Many of the locals lay unmoving, crushed to pulp. Their faces turned purple, arms twisted at unnatural angles, necks squeezed so tightly their heads seemed ready to pop free.
Countless circular red sores covered them too, from where the he‘e suckers had latched onto flesh. Namaka grimaced, barely able to keep herself from retching at the gruesome destruction around her.
“I hate the he‘e,” she mumbled, resuming her legs and treading back toward the land. The ground shook and a geyser of steam ripped through the exposed seabed, forcing her to leap backward before it scalded her skin off. “Stop!”
“I’ll destroy you for this!” Pele roared, rushing down toward the beach. “I’ll roast the flesh from your bones! I’ll feed your soul to Pō!”
An instant later, Hi‘iaka was there, between them, her arms thrown around Namaka. “She saved my life!”
Pele drew up short, flames dancing between her hands and utterly engulfing her hair.
Namaka couldn’t afford for this to turn into another fight. Surely, they had fought enough. “I know you grieve your losses. But the real enemy is still out there.”
Pele’s eyes glazed over a moment, then she shook her head and blew out a long, deep breath, glowering at Namaka. Her kahuna, Lonomakua, made his way down to her and let a hand fall on her shoulder. At his touch, her fires went out, though Pele continued to glare.
There was something odd about the kahuna. Some niggling in the back of Namaka’s mind she’d never noticed before … But she could not place it.
“The he‘e are our enemy,” Namaka said, forcing the feeling down. “They’ve sided with Hiyoya and turned a taniwha against these isles because they fear the two of us.”
“As well they should.” Pele’s voice sounded far away, like she was half asleep.
Namaka spread her hands. “So help me slay this dragon. You want to follow in Maui’s footsteps? Do as he did and put the people first. Kill the monster.”
“You are changed.”
Oh, she had no idea.
“I cannot fight a monster beneath the sea,” Pele said. “Nor can I predict its attacks in time to be there.”
“That’s where I come in,” N
amaka said. “I’m going to bring it to you. And you’re going to bury it in lava.”
34
Kamapua‘a stumbled out of the jungle, punching a tree trunk for good measure. And now his fist hurt. Stupid queens and stupid pig shit trees. An almost irresistible urge to take on boar form and run had overcome him.
Not just boar form.
No, the Boar God was trying to take him again.
It was getting hard to separate its thoughts from his own. Thing kept getting stronger.
So … strong.
After waking up at the foot of the mountain—fall probably should have killed him but the Boar God wouldn’t let that happen—he’d wandered the jungle, hardly able to shape a thought. The Boar God had tried to use his body to … rape Pele. And Kama hadn’t done shit but watch and scream as it happened.
It just kept happening, running through his mind over and over. Shitting eel writhing around in his stomach for days now. Was that guilt? Kama didn’t actually do any of that shit himself, so why did he feel shitting guilty?
He’d come back down the mountain to find Tua dead and the man’s village burned.
And now, here he was, walking through the ashes while his men turned this place into their new home. Rebuilding houses they themselves had burned down.
Never bothered him before.
Never really stuck around to see the aftermath, though.
Malie, one of the only women on his crew, came up to him, hauling a board over her shoulders. She almost never bothered with a kihei, exposing the criss-cross of scars over her breasts because she figured it made her look more intimidating. Probably did.
“You all right, boss?” she asked. “Ioane wanted to see you.”
Kama shrugged and motioned for her to lead the way. Maybe all he needed was a good rut to lift his mood. The whole thing on Mauna Kea had gone so very wrong … he had to stop dwelling on it. “Did you see my muscles?” he asked while they walked.
“Yes.”
“Impressive, right?”