by Matt Larkin
More seals swam past other boats, closing in on the harbor. Almost a whole herd of them.
Which was strange. Largely on account of seals typically not getting too close to human settlements.
It got stranger still when a seal leapt up onto a fisherman’s canoe. It was downright odd when that seal launched itself at the sailor, bit him in the face, and dragged him under the waves.
Kama found himself gaping. Did that seal have a grudge? Did seals hold grudges?
Barking yelps sprang up all over Kona, followed by shrieks of pain. Cries of terror. The scent of blood on the wind.
No.
No way the seals had that many grudges. Shit, believing a seal got wroth with a particular fisherman—sure, fine. He could handle it. But the seals getting together to raid a village? That just wasn’t a convivial way for seals to behave.
Kama blew out a snort and heaved on the rope to unfurl his sails. Whatever the shit was going on in that village, he had no reason to want any part of it. Seals attacking people was just some stupid shit, was what it was. And he could not afford to get himself stuck in any more shit …
More screams. More death. People getting dragged underwater.
“Aww, shit,” he finally grumbled.
He couldn’t shitting believe he was doing this.
He hopped off the side of his canoe and waded his way back toward land. Almost immediately, a seal in the shallows took notice of him and lunged for him. He caught it in both arms, a mass of squirming, slippery muscle that sent him toppling over backward.
Growling, Kama held on, one hand barely managing to hold back the snapping jaws that kept trying to take his face off. Which would have totally ruined his good looks. Shitting seal was stronger than it had any right to be. It thrashed with such power his back ground into the sand.
Kama found his own muscles twitching, starting to enlarge, as the Boar God struggled to take over and get him a breath. If that seal didn’t hurry up and die, it was going to seriously regret it. Grunting out a stream of bubbles, Kama ground the seal’s face on the sand below. The pain must have stunned it, because it faltered a moment in its struggles, allowing him to gain his feet and heft the animal above his head.
After sucking down a lungful of air, Kama heaved, flinging the beast out of the water and up onto the beach. His legs actually hurt less while treading through water, which made his tromping stomp toward his prey all the more satisfying. “I love a bit of misbehavior,” he huffed. “But you’re taking it a bit far.”
One of the other seals on the beach looked to him with eyes of pure black, and he paused, feeling held by its gaze. The seal spasmed, arching her back as she rose. Flippers split, becoming fingers, snapping into arms, as the—kupua!—shifted back to human form.
Back into Sanna’s luscious, naked, tattoo-covered form.
“Uh …” Kama paused at the edge of the water and mopped his hair back from his face. “Gonna be honest here. I could not have predictorated this.” He pointed at the kupua woman. “You weren’t always like this, I think. I mean, it’s new. And that’s a bit odd.” He cleared his throat. “You know you were just a seal, right?”
“Get the fuck away from here,” Sanna snapped, through a not-quite human mouth.
Indeed, her whole body began to shift again, though the form she assumed didn’t quite match her earlier shape either. Rather, her face warped and elongated into a seal-like snout, even as gray-black fur sprouted along her body. Her image that of some melding between a loping human and an animal.
“Aww, well shit,” Kama moaned. She was … like him? Except a Seal Goddess?
He barely had time to brace before a great bound carried her across the distance between them. Her half-formed hand slapped his shoulder with such force he was spun around and sent tumbling face-first into the waters. Kama tried to roll over, but Sanna grabbed him by the hair. Her backhand—backflipper?—caught him across the face, filling his vision with white. Something cracked in his jaw and he fell once more.
He felt it, even as the Boar God rose, crawling its way up his gut to wrap its meaty fingers around his brain. Felt it squeeze, taking over when—
Something lifted him off the ground and Kama blinked away his haze an instant before he found himself sailing out to sea, hurled like a rock from a sling. Screaming, he flailed his arms even as he soared past his boat.
The Boar God kicked off the bottom and breached the surface, fuming, spewing seawater. Imagining himself grabbing both sides of the seal’s jaws and ripping her down to the middle. Tearing out her spine and beating her with it. Wearing her flippers upon his tusks.
Raging paroxysms seized him, even as his pathetic host kept trying to climb his way back to the surface.
He would snap these fool creatures in half!
Snarling, he half-swam, half-walked along the seabed, heading inland.
Kill! He’d fucking kill these … whatever the fuck they were.
If he paused to consider, even for a moment, it seemed impossible. He could tell what they were, but wereseals were not among the twelve bloodlines chosen by the ancient druids. He’d seen every animal they had fused, and no seal had lain among them.
Again.
It had happened again.
Impossibly, as if drawn down by its own turmoil, the Boar God had receded before Kamapua‘a reached the shore. He could never recall it giving in without a massacre before. What had so bothered the akua?
Either way, he supposed everyone in that village was fortunate.
Or … more fortunate than they would have been.
When he reached land, the wereseals were gone.
And he’d guess at least forty people were dead.
Shit.
Deep, reeking piles of pig shit.
This was not his problem. His only goal now was to reach Kahiki, get a cure for his dropsy, and hopefully not become the Boar God permanently. Whatever the shit Sanna had gotten involved in, it was stupid and had not a thing to do with him.
Down the beach, a girl, maybe ten years old, was clutching the body of a younger boy that had his guts ripped out. Brother? Friend? Who knew, really. But someone she had loved was dead. A shitting child was dead.
Kama banged his palm against his forehead. These people had been as helpless against a wereseal onslaught as they would have been had the Boar God rampaged among them.
Everywhere he looked, men, women, and children wept, holding the gnawed-upon remains of their ‘ohana, or wading into the sea to search for bodies.
“Awww, giant pig shit,” he grumbled, stomping back toward the water.
Yeah, either way he had to sail to Kau. Except, it seemed now he’d have to keep going up to Puna instead of Kahiki. Maybe have the boar in him mean something before it was done.
Maybe Pele wouldn’t want to see him. But at least she’d know what to do.
33
Using the Chintamaniya, it had proved a relatively simple matter to infuse herself and the others with mana enough to accelerate their healing. Taema had lived, and though Tilafaiga cast resentful glances Nyi Rara’s way, Nyi Rara knew even the elder mer was overawed by the stone she too carried.
Each of them carried one, save Piika who held two, one in each foreclaw. Perhaps because he bore two, perhaps because of his draconic nature, Piika seemed most affected by the Chintamaniya, and Nyi Rara had caught him gazing upon the stones with possessiveness and an aspect she might have termed lust under any other circumstance. Almost, she regretted entrusting the pearls to the mo‘o, though she could not easily have borne five of them herself.
And she needed to carry them far, back around Vai‘i and into the ruins of Uluhai. She had made a promise to Mo‘oinanea—an oath she intended to keep. The problem was, she had no idea how Kanaloa had used the flaming pearls to create the mo‘o. She had expended so much of her focus on trying to claim the stones, she had never really given consideration as to the exact means of using them. And now, after so much struggle, it seemed somehow
vulgar to admit she had no idea what she was doing.
The others, they followed in her wake, seeming to assume she had far more of a plan than she actually possessed. How could she afford to disabuse them of such ideas? She needed their belief now, their confidence, both for the sake of Mu and for her own sake. Because she, too, needed a buoy for her self-assurance.
They had nearly died trying to claim these pearls, and now she needed to use them against a god. The mer, all akua, claimed divine status, yes, but Kanaloa existed on another level entirely. Something timeless and eldritch in himself, a mere step down from an Elder God.
How did one challenge such a being? One who had existed unaccounted ages? One who had plotted his schemes down through millennia long before her birth?
Desperately, Nyi Rara wanted to consult someone—anyone—who might offer …
Oh. Oh.
Maui.
The Firebringer had contended with the schemes of Kanaloa for at least eight hundred years, but maybe many more. He would probably have remained in Puna, with Pele, and they needed to pass reasonably close by there on the way to Uluhai.
Resolved, Nyi Rara made a slight alteration to her course, guiding the others to the Puna shore.
“Wait in the shallows,” Namaka told her companions when they made land. “Keep the Chintamaniya concealed.”
She didn’t intend to be long, but she’d not dare bring the stones on land. Such power might hold too great a temptation for Pele, especially embroiled as she was in her own war.
So, Namaka plodded up the shoreline alone, making her way to the town. The absence of the Chintamani stone, of its endless warmth, felt like a hole in her chest now, as if someone had stolen a part of herself she had to reclaim at all costs. Three times she caught herself casting furtive glances back down to the sea, tempted to rush back and cradle the mana-rich stone against her once more.
What if Tilafaiga disobeyed? Could the oath-bound mer do so? What if Taema or Piika tried to steal the stones for themselves?
Try as she might to suppress the thoughts, still they wormed their way to the surface, over and over. Who would not be tempted to hold limitless power in their hands? With such mana, even timid Taema might rule Mu. Did the gold-tailed mer harbor such ambitions?
No … No, Namaka truly didn’t think Taema had it in her, even holding a Chintamani stone, and she didn’t think Tilafaiga could directly break a soul oath. Piika … Piika needed her to complete Mo‘oinanea’s vision for his race. At least she thought the dragon needed her.
She had not yet reached the village when Maui himself came plodding down toward her as if he’d known she’d be here, at this very moment. The fires? Maui—Lonomakua—read things in the fire. His pyromancy told him bits of the future and past, this she knew. So, was his presence now prescience, or coincidence?
“Where’s Pele?” she asked, deciding he wouldn’t answer her other question anyway.
“Word came that Kapo and Hi‘iaka return, and she’s gone to greet them.”
“Return? I thought they had left for Mau‘i to train.”
The kahuna folded his hands behind his back, saying nothing.
“Something’s happened,” Namaka realized.
“A disturbance. Given your nature, I imagined you would have noticed, unless you were so very occupied with something else of great import.”
Oh. Did he know she had claimed the Chintamaniya, as well? Namaka found it hard to swallow, instead, pacing around the kahuna. Up close, he towered over her, but until this moment—awestruck in the scope of his striving against Kanaloa—his stature had never left much impression. “You’re not just any kupua.”
His mouth twitched, but again, he offered no other answer.
“I know you have played a game with Kanaloa down through the ages. I know you tried to co-opt his servants. The very daughters he used Kū-Waha-Ilo and Haumea to breed in hopes of having land-based weapons to control the Worldsea. I know you intended I would claim the Chintamaniya, even eight hundred years ago when you brought Mo‘oinanea here.”
“You know a great deal.”
She scoffed. “No. Not hardly enough. I have no idea … what to do.” She spread her hands, suddenly feeling a helpless girl once more, as she had when Milolii took her in. When the tides slaved themselves to her unconscious whims and her every mood might have stolen lives. Awash in inhuman power, how very impotent she had felt back then. “I loved Milolii.” She took a step toward Maui, choosing to ignore his size. “What was she? A manipulator? A traitor? A servant of Kanaloa!”
A slight frown. “Perhaps. And a mother? A caregiver? A friend? Do you believe people are defined entirely by singular roles? Suppose, for a moment, she found herself in service to the he‘e god-king and also adoring a kupua left in her care. Suppose such a person, torn between loyalties, could not bear the strain any longer. What action might then prove her love, most of all to herself?”
The answer settled upon her, heavy and painful.
Sacrifice.
Namaka stifled an unexpected sob. Giving up her own heart to aid Namaka in fighting a taniwha probably enslaved to her own master. “H-how do I …” She paused, trying to steady her voice. She was not that little girl anymore. Decades had passed, and she had ruled as god-queen, even before joining herself to Nyi Rara, Princess of Mu. Would-be-queen of Mu, ruler of the Muian Sea. She swallowed. “How do I kill Kanaloa?”
“For all his pretense of being the heir of the Elder Deep, still, he has entered this reality as a physical being, and can die as a physical being, provided enough of his essence be stripped away.”
“How?”
“Like a he‘e, Kanaloa has three hearts. You must destroy each, feasting upon the mana therein.”
Now she guffawed. “He’s the size of a mer city.”
“You don’t have to eat the whole heart. Besides, I imagine you already have in mind a means of garnering support from those large enough to challenge such an immense foe.”
“If I … If I change the mo‘o, there will be no going back. The world itself will be changed, will it not? The balance of power forever shifted as a new glory rises from these seas.”
Maui’s smile was his only answer, as if to say she already knew the answer to that. That the world always changed.
“Raise the dragons …” she mused. “Raise the dragons and change the future.”
Maui offered a pat on her shoulder. “I must attend now to the crisis on land. I will watch for you, though, and aid you where I can.”
Blood scent hit her, even before the screams filled the evening. Cries of agony, fear, horror …
Naked men and women ran from the seashore, some drenched in blood, one cradling a stump where his left hand should have been.
Namaka dodged around the stream of victims. He‘e attack? It wouldn’t be the first time they had assaulted the shoreline, though the wounds looked off for them. Still, even considering it made the empty socket of her forefinger ache.
The scene, when she reached the beach, though, was something she never could have predicted.
Seals.
A whole herd of seals … assaulting moonlight swimmers. Attacking the mer, even, as if they had failed to overmaster the sea animals.
For a moment, all she could do was stand there and gape at the awful tableau unfolding before her. A seal leapt bodily onto a person and bit off his face. A woman was dragged—shrieking—into the waters by her ankle.
Tilafaiga had hefted one seal in her arms and was biting down on its neck, perhaps unaware of the other closing on her. Namaka whipped the waves to knock aside that seal, but too late—it bit into Tilafaiga’s golden tail, and the current caught them both, flinging them out to sea.
Madness.
What utter madness allowed this …?
One of the seals, flopping on land, arched its back, shuddering. Its flippers stretched, extending into arms, legs, whole body rearranging muscles and bones.
A Shifter.
The w
ereseal lunged forward, chasing after a hapless woman. He flung himself at her, caught her round the knees and—even in human form—bit the back of her neck.
There were no seal Shifters. That wasn’t one of the bloodlines. At least, Nyi Rara had never heard of such a bloodline.
Then another thought slammed into her, seized her. Tilafaiga had carried a Chintamani stone.
Ignoring the hapless humans, Namaka dove into the water.
The sea was awash with the blood of humans and mer, enough to incite Nyi Rara’s bloodlust in an instant and blur her vision. Utter chaos unfolded beneath the waves as dozens of the wereseals attacked.
Tilafaiga struggled in the grasp of four of them.
There, below her, the Chintamani stone had fallen from her hands and lay on the seabed, mere feet from where wereseals might snatch it up.
Using water jets, Nyi Rara flung herself forward, seizing the pearl in her arms, then darted around, seeking out the one she herself had hidden.
“Tilafaiga!” Taema was screaming.
A glance told her the wereseals were actually dragging the gold-tailed mermaid away, taking her with them. Where? Why?
The glint of etheric flame caught her eye, and she dove for the remaining Chintamani stone, sweeping it up in her arms.
Piika had engaged a half dozen of the wereseals even now, and bore numerous bite marks, his caustic blood seeping from him, engulfing him in a slurry.
Were they here for the Chintamaniya? Attracted by their collective power?
No matter what, she could not allow the stones to fall into their hands. Mu had to have the flaming pearls.
“Follow me!” she ordered the others.
“Tilafaiga!” Taema shouted, but couldn’t it make it to her sister for the swarm of seals.
Nyi Rara drove them back with an underwater wave, then pushed onward, beckoning Taema and Piika to follow. “We’ll find her later! We must escape these waters!”