Heirs of Mana Omnibus

by Matt Larkin

  It sounded like someone was coming after her. Without even pausing to think, she fled deeper among the trees, not stopping until she had covered so great a distance no one from the trader’s hut could find her. And there, she collapsed upon a tree root.

  “Waiau,” she called.

  A welcome chill formed in the air, and Poli‘ahu looked into Pō to see the akua before her, a mask of concern widening her spectral face. “What happened, child?”

  “I …” Poli‘ahu shook herself. There was no way she could really explain. “We should practice the Art. There’s more for me to learn.”

  “There always is.” The spirit’s voice held no judgment, but no warmth either.

  That in itself was a comfort, a hint of normality in this too-hot forest. Poli‘ahu immediately began to draw a glyph in the dirt. She’d evoke a spirit, send it scouting ahead to warn her of danger. It was only a necessary precaution. Then she could sleep secure, knowing all was well, all was safe.

  Mere prudence.

  “You do not trust this man? He has promised to send away his other mates. Do not forget that. Do not let him forget it.”

  No, she wouldn’t. It was a condition of her acquiescence. Pride demanded it. Still, this whole endeavor sat uneasy on her mind. “Why do you want me to have a child?”

  “The kupua would be strong, powerful. Even while still inside you. In pregnancy you will be even more flush with mana, more alive than ever.”

  Poli‘ahu stared open-mouthed at the Mist spirit. Lilinoe wanted her pregnant to give her more power. She must intend for Poli‘ahu to cast a spell of extraordinary difficulty. Doing so would no doubt expose her unborn child to dangers from Pō.

  Poli‘ahu swallowed. “If I asked you what your plan was, would you tell me?”

  “We want to help you uncover all that was lost so long ago.”

  The secrets of forgotten ages? The truths the Art could reveal. No cause could be more worthy.

  And with Aiwohi, with her child with him, she would further that cause in a way no one else on Sawaiki ever could. She sighed. She was going to have to go back to that hut.

  From the trader’s home, it did not take overlong to reach Hilo, and from there arrange canoes willing to sail for Kaua‘i. Poli‘ahu’s people insisted on accompanying her with great fanfare. Ali‘i, kāhuna, and two dozen warriors all piled aboard the boats, all bearing gifts of fruit and fine-wrought clothing.

  Lilinoe, too, accompanied her, shading herself from the sun and speaking to no one.

  The canoes were set with carven ki‘i masks cut to stand for La‘amaomao in the hopes she would grant fair winds, and of Kanaloa, invoking the mercurial mercy of the deep. A ki‘i of Wākea the high kahuna had brought as a gift for Aiwohi upon their impending marriage.

  All the splendors of Vai‘i seemed arrayed around them, but Poli‘ahu could not tear her gaze from Aiwohi himself and the striking figure he cut perched at the bow of his canoe.

  This arrangement did not seem so onerous at all.

  The morning was still young when Aiwohi’s canoes landed at his village on Kaua‘i, and Poli‘ahu looked on in mute amazement. Numerous huts decorated the settlement and the village had to be abuzz with hundreds of people. So many faces Poli‘ahu could never hope to tell them apart. There were fishermen and farmers, a kahuna that eyed her like he knew her, warriors …

  Aiwohi, of course, lived in the biggest house, a palace located right in the middle of the village. A low stone wall surrounded it, though with five children playing atop that wall she didn’t imagine it kept anyone out. The house itself stretched probably fifty feet or more, all of it covered by a well-maintained roof of dried grass. Aiwohi had done well for himself here. No doubt the mana coursing through him had subtly drawn villagers to flock to his side, many probably unaware they were being influenced by his power.

  “Would you wait out here?” he asked as they approached the wall.

  Poli‘ahu raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

  A definite reluctance slowed his steps as Aiwohi trod inside the palace. Poli‘ahu turned to watch the children. One—a naked girl maybe six years old—stood upright on the wall, running along it while the other children whooped, applauding her balance. Hadn’t she done something similar before …?

  Before Lilinoe and the snow sisters.

  Her memories from back then sometimes seemed like dreams, forgotten or banished by the light of day. Maybe it had only been a dream—running and playing and laughing was not her life. Her real life was up on Mauna Kea, searching out the forgotten secrets of the Art, learning truths lost ages ago, and ruling as a Snow Queen.

  But coming here was the best way to serve her people, to build a lasting peace with the Kahikians.

  Lilinoe approached from behind her. The snow akua had a shawl drawn up over her head, as if the sun physically pained her eyes. So far as Poli‘ahu knew, Lilinoe had spoken to no one in the days at sea. Nor did she speak now, though Poli‘ahu swore she could feel the akua’s discomfort at being out in the sunshine. The akua had told her once, during a blizzard on Mauna Kea, that Milu reached out from her frozen underworld with the icy winds of her power. That, one day, the denizens of that world would cover the Mortal Realm in mist and snows and make it more habitable for their kind. When those days came, her followers would multiply, and those like Poli‘ahu would become her high priestesses.

  A pleasant dream.

  One spoken with the import of prophecy, almost.

  A woman shouted inside the palace, followed by a chorus of insults slung by several voices. Poli‘ahu turned back as a trio of women stormed out of the hut. Immediately the lead woman—she was perhaps a few years Poli‘ahu’s senior—caught her eye, and as she did so, her face seemed to change. The rage she wore gave way to a look of such vile hatred it turned Poli‘ahu’s stomach. Similar expressions darkened the other two’s faces. The youngest girl was probably not yet eighteen.

  Rather than cringe as the women stormed past her—a queen could not cringe before anyone—she threw her kihei over her shoulder and stood proudly. She had demanded Aiwohi cast aside his other women and it was the first thing he’d done on returning home. And that meant Poli‘ahu had effectively deprived these people of their home, cast them down from the highest status in the village to … what? She didn’t know where they would go. Perhaps shame and anger would drive them to Lihue. The neighboring settlement lay close enough.

  Damn, she hoped so.

  She’d hate seeing them look at her like that every day she spent here. Her intent hadn’t been to harm them—she hadn’t even considered their feelings—but how could a queen be one more girl in a king’s entourage? She was a font of mana, maybe the greatest source of power on this island, and consequently deserving of more honor than any other. Even Lilinoe had told her to enforce these terms, and she had reminded Aiwohi again this morning.

  Why then did she feel like some lapu, stalking a place she didn’t belong, carrying nothing but suffering in her wake?

  Some of the children on the wall scampered off after the women—their mothers?—questioning and pleading. Aiwohi would certainly welcome his children in his hut, but she had just split up those children’s parents. It wasn’t her fault, not really. She had an image to preserve, a dignity her position required. All of this meant nothing without the symbol of unification of two peoples, and that symbol depended on the way others perceived her.

  Sure as Lua-o-Milu, that would not be as a fourth wife.

  Aiwohi appeared in the doorway a moment later, his face drawn for an instant before he looked on hers. Then a smile crooked his lips, though it did not quite reach his eyes. He took her by the hand and led her inside. A handful of other people dwelled within, all now watching her with suspicion, though each averted his or her eyes if she met their gaze. They knew who she was. He introduced her to each. The old woman with flecks of gray in her hair—his mother. A young man who seemed unable to decide if he hated her or lusted after her—Aiwohi’s broth
er. A pair of children, the oldest was maybe three.

  Damn it all. She never should have placed that demand on Aiwohi. She wanted to tell him to call the others back, reunite the family. But doing so would make her look a fool, and a fickle one at that. Besides which, her original reason remained. If she allowed herself to be just one more woman doting on this man, she effectively undermined all she hoped to accomplish. The snow sisters had taught her better than that.

  After introducing her, Aiwohi led her back outside, then clapped his hands loudly. In moments the village had gathered at his summons, murmurs and muttering carried on the wind as all stared at her. “Snow Queen Poli‘ahu of Hilo has graced our village with her presence,” he proclaimed. “Thus we must do her fitting honor. Fire the imu and prepare a luau for this evening! Hunters, bring us a boar!” He gave other orders besides, directing the villagers this way and that, sending them scurrying about like snowflakes whipped in a gale.

  “I’m going to need most of the day to arrange things,” he said. “You should make yourself comfortable.”

  That seemed unlikely. But still she nodded, allowed him to slip off to whatever it was he intended to do. It was to honor her, after all. That was what she wanted. Wasn’t it? Was that not the reason she’d broken his household? All in the name of her honor?

  As the villagers went about their preparations, so many cast glances her way, eyes seeming luminous with unspoken judgments. All she could do was walk, head held high, unwilling to let any of them see her writhe beneath their gazes. And so she drifted, farther and farther from the village, until she entered the jungles.

  She waved off her people when they tried to follow, but Lilinoe trailed her anyway.

  A little rain flew in with the breeze, darkening the sky and granting her reprieve from the blaring sun. She slunk down against a tree and moaned.

  “This was a mistake,” she said.

  Lilinoe spread her hands. “Run away?” She made it sound like a question, though Poli‘ahu knew it for a taunt.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then calm your mind,” the snow akua said.

  Easier said than done. This place was too hot, too crowded, and too thick with the judgment of those who could not begin to understand the secrets she had learned, the things she knew. These people should have been supplicants who came to beg her favor, and now she was being judged and scorned by them. By those who, days ago, might have risked life and limb just to stand in her presence and seek her help. Beg her to use her Art to aid them.

  “Why let these small beings disturb you?” Lilinoe asked, looking as though she were about to drift away on the slightest breeze. “You need only remain a few days. Long enough for the time to be right to conceive.”

  Only a few days? So, they didn’t intend she stay with Aiwohi. “What of the alliance?”

  “It will endure even if you see each other but a few times a year. The marriage can remain, while you live on Mauna Kea and your husband lives in Kaua‘i.”

  Oh, he’d love that. Shit … Maybe she should let his other women return once she was gone. Had she even made the right decision in forcing him to reject them? Would they want to return now?

  Everything was so convoluted down here. She had let herself grow worked up beyond all need. The people of Hilo and all over Vai‘i came to her for aid. And if she needed to calm her mind now, what better way than her Art? She rose and nodded. Yes, she would receive her supplicants here. Give them the chance to voice their woes and, if possible, work her sorcery to help them. Besides reminding the fickle villagers of who and what she was, it would allow her ample distraction, a place to focus her attentions.

  The perfect solution.

  27

  Just after moonrise, Nyi Rara returned to the Cave of the Eel, following its sinuous path to the shelf of land in its terminus. There, Piika already lounged, one claw dangling in the water, as if awaiting her arrival, though Nyi Rara could not fathom how the mo‘o might have known she would return.

  Rather than let the dragon see her flustered, she rose up beside him, meeting his gaze. “She told me where to go.”

  The dragon snickered. “As you yet live, I took that as a given.”

  “She bade me swear to use the Chintamaniya to elevate mo‘o to something grander than the plateau upon which Kanaloa stranded you. Something deific …”

  There was a horror in that thought—the primal terror all beings felt of dragon-kind, commingled with the greater fear of such beings with intellect, with thought, with ambition. A taniwha might prove a force of unrivaled destruction, yes, but it was bound to the sea, and—unless compelled by a Chintamani stone—essentially driven by no desire save animal need. What might an amphibious dragon armed with a full range of sentient aspirations and cunning achieve? Kanaloa had never allowed this, presumably for fear they might prove a threat to him.

  It was that very threat Nyi Rara might now need to overcome the he‘e god-king, true, but what then? Would her creations run rampant across the Worldsea? Would they threaten mer as well?

  Piika stirred, pushing his face closer to hers. Slowly, as if delving deep inside her soul, sensing her misgivings. “As much as I am able, I will swear to serve you while Kanaloa plagues the seas.”

  Nyi Rara found it hard to speak, gazing into the dragon’s eyes. “And then?”

  Piika bared his teeth. “I shall not forget friendship, at the least.”

  It was not quite the assurance she might have hoped for.

  The four of them—three mermaids and a mo‘o—passed around occupied Mu on the eastern side, clinging to the reefs around Sawaiki for what cover it offered. This place, once the pride of Nyi Rara’s empire, had become an expanse of danger on all sides, so much so she considered using the islands themselves. She might have commandeered canoes to pass over water where she must, thus avoiding much chance of he‘e recognizing them for what they were.

  Might have even suggested it, would it not have made her look weak and craven before the other two mermaids. Instead, they crept like criminals.

  A distortion in the waters gave her small warning, and Nyi Rara urged them into a ravine running the edge of the reef, moments before a he‘e patrol came shuffling along the seabed. There were eight of them she could see, though the constant shifting of their colors to match their environs made it hard to be sure of any exact count.

  “We could take them,” Tilafaiga whispered, hand on her shoulder.

  The thought brought a wan smile to Nyi Rara’s face. While she may have compelled her cousin’s presence and obedience, at least she could be sure the gold-tailed mermaid hated the he‘e almost as much as she herself did. And yes, Nyi Rara could have whipped blades of water to sever cephalopodic limbs and maybe caught every last one of them up in her wrath, ensuring no survivors reported back.

  But then, that lack of report might well draw further attention to themselves, and before long, they would have to pass perilously close to the He‘e Aupuni itself. The last thing they wanted was extra octopuses searching for them while they attempted such a thing.

  So, she pushed Tilafaiga down, deeper into the crevasse, motioning for her silence.

  Her heart hammered in her chest.

  There they hunkered, the four of them glancing back and forth at each other’s faces and the reef just above, where their foes may have lurked.

  Nyi Rara felt the distortions drawing too close … stripping them of their chance to avoid conflict. The he‘e reaching out with their hateful arms, as if aware someone lurked nearby … The creatures murmured to themselves, a susurrus of alien voices muffled by muscles over their faces.

  Taema closed her eyes, trembling, and Nyi Rara grabbed her, lest the disturbance give them away. The moment seemed to stretch on forever.

  And she could not breathe for it.

  “You are a traitor to Mu,” Tilafaiga ventured some time after the he‘e had moved on, perhaps judging it safe. Perhaps even thinking that, while she was sworn to Nyi Rara,
she herself was safe to speak as she wished.

  Nyi Rara bared her shark teeth in response.

  But her cousin just fought onward. “No matter whether your intentions are for the good of the kingdom or not, you rebelled against the rightful queen of Mu.”

  “As did Kuku Lau not so long ago, in case it has slipped your memory.”

  “She was never so bold as … this.” Tilafaiga waved a webbed hand as if to indicate the whole of Nyi Rara’s plan. “To sneak past the Aupuni and into Tenebrous Chasm? To steal from Kanaloa himself? It bespeaks madness, arrogance beyond compare, Princess. You will be the death of us all.”

  “What if she’s right?” Taema asked.

  Nyi Rara whirled on her, but saw she was actually addressing the question at her own sister.

  “W-what if this is a chance to save Mu? You said yourself, you saw Mo‘oinanea barter with Nyi Rara. The mo‘o progenitor herself. And we’ve all seen what her host … what her human half is capable of. The waves bend to her Will, Tilafaiga. Suppose Nyi Rara could truly slay Kanaloa? If it worked, Mu might rule this sea with unquestioned authority. Maybe even expand, as in the days of old.”

  Tilafaiga scoffed. “Since when do you care for politics and dreams of empire?”

  Taema pointedly looked away.

  On instinct, Nyi Rara placed a hand on the other mer’s shoulder.

  Taema looked to it, then turned back to her sister. “Nyi Rara has more mana—and yes, more ambition—than any mer in my memory. What if she could be the greatest queen in the history of the Worldsea? What if we now, at her side, are witnessing the rebirth of our empire. Our names could be recorded alongside those of Dakuwaqa himself.”

  But Tilafaiga offered her sister no answer.

  The expanse beyond Mu, colloquially known as the Wake, had, until recently, served as a no-man’s land between Mu and the He‘e Aupuni. A seemingly endless procession of collapsed colonnades hinted at some history of which Nyi Rara remained unaware. The broken capstones, the shattered porticos, the waterworn reliefs that might once have been caryatids twisted in lewd poses.