Part Two of the Telesā Trilogy
by Lani Wendt Young
Copyright © 2012 Lani Wendt Young
Editor: Anna Thomson
Cover design: Talia Brown
Model: Stacie Ah Chong-Levi
Interior design: Sharp Design Concepts
The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, without the permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Likewise, the author does not claim to be an expert in any facet of Samoan history, culture, mythology, or language. All supposed legends and cultural practices described in this book are the invention of the author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Creation
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Preview
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books
DEDICATION
To Jade, Sade, Zion, Zach, and Bella, who allow me space to breathe, room to dance and dream. You give me the courage to write books – and then actually let others read them.
The Creation, According to Telesā Legend
In the beginning there was darkness, a great expanse, and Tangaloa-langi moved upon the face of the darkness. After a time Tangaloa-langi grew tired and rested, and where the god stood, there grew up a rock. Then Tangaloa-langi said to the rock, “Be thou split up” and hit the rock with one hand. It split open and the earth was brought forth on the one side and the sea was brought forth on the other. And the earth glowed red with fire and the sea enveloped it and water burned at its edges. Tangaloa-langi reached down, took of earth and mixed it with water, fashioning it with godly hands to make Man. And then the god breathed life on that which had been made.
“Let the Spirit and the Heart and Will and Thought go on and join together inside the Man.”
And they joined together there and Man became intelligent. And Tangaloa-langi joined Man to the earth, through the creation of Woman. ‘Fatu-ma-le-Ele-ele’ meaning Heart and Earth.
“Let Earth give nourishment to Man and let Man always treasure her as his heart beats with the red blood of life. Let Earth be the rock man stands on to give him strength. The trees that will shelter him. The waters that will sustain him. Let Earth’s fire be the heat that warms him. And in return, let Man be the protector. The guardian.”
But Tangaloa-langi saw that as Man multiplied and replenished the earth, his heart grew cold and greed ate at it like the poison of the stonefish. Tangaloa-langi saw that Man trampled Earth beneath his feet and bowed Woman to his will. Earth’s cries moved Tangaloa-langi. So again the god of all took pieces of earth and mixed them with water. But this time, Tangaloa-langi breathed upon this creation with the raging winds of the expanse. Touched it with the jagged fire that rains from angry skies and made a telesā. She was beautiful. Her name was ‘telesā matagi.’ Sacred one of storms. Air.
Then Tangaloa-langi cast a fiery net upon the waters and drew forth ocean’s might. The crashing wave. The surging tide that speaks to Masina the moon. And all the living things that swim and creep in the midnight blue depths. All this Tangaloa-langi fashioned with godly hands into another. She was beautiful. Her name was ‘telesā vasa loloa.’ Sacred one of ocean. Water.
But Tangaloa-langi was not satisfied. Listening to the cries of ele-ele, feeling of her pain as Man’s heart spurned her, rage filled the god of all things. Reaching deep within Earth’s core, to where molten rock flowed and life pulsed, Tangaloa-langi brought forth fire and melded it with earth, cooled it with ocean and made ‘telesā fanua afi.’ Sacred one of earth. Fire. She was beautiful. She burned with all the strength of ele-ele. Her heart beat with the fire that would eclipse man’s. He that had betrayed Earth. He that was meant to be the heart but had instead chosen to be the destroyer.
Tangaloa-langi looked upon what had been created and saw that it was good. “My daughters, yours is a godly trust, an eternal birthright. You will covenant to watch over ele-ele and fill the chasm left by an unfeeling Man and be her heart. You will speak with the voices of wind, water, and fire. You will stir Man up to a remembrance of his sacred partnership with earth.”
Then Tangaloa-langi fashioned with godly hands a carved talisman. The Covenant Bone. Whale bone interlocked with shark tooth. Boar’s tusk encrusted with shimmering iridescent oyster shell, adorned with black pearl and gleaming river rock. The fierce razor-bite of the swordfish. The soulful deep green promise of jadestone. All these Tangaloa-langi interwove to create a necklace of three distinct pieces, which was then washed in the blood of a god, imbuing it with the very essence of Tangaloa-langi.
“The Covenant Bone will unite the three elements. It will allow the gifts of many to be woven as one, making it possible for the telesā who bears it to wield the gifts of her sisters into one supreme power. For it is only when there is harmony between earth’s gifts, that there can be peace. And life. There will come a time, when earth’s greatest dangers threaten, that one of you will be called to unite your sisters into one Covenant. The Bone Bearer will lead you.”
And then Tangaloa-langi looked upon telesā fanua afi. “In those troubled days, you will be the one chosen to reach out to embrace man once again as the heart. So that all will be as it should. ‘Fatu-ma-le-Ele-ele.’ You will give your fire so that Man may live. And he will give his heart so that earth may live.”
And thus did Tangaloa-langi create telesā.
To watch over earth and be the heart that Man refused to be.
ONE
Ten Years Ago, Hawaii
The little boy tried his hardest not to fall asleep, not to give in to waves of tiredness. But he was fighting a losing battle. Moonlight painted the room white. A bedraggled room with a battered chest of drawers in one corner and a single mattress on the floor with faded, torn sheets. The boy sat bolt upright with his back against the wall, one arm placed protectively over the little girl who lay asleep. Waiting. Dreading. There were hopeful questions. Maybe she wouldn’t come home tonight? She had done that before. Disappeared for a few days. She would reappear giddy with repressed excitement. Her hands trembling. Talk about their luck finally changing. Show them a wad of cash. They would eat Chinese takeaway. Ice cream. She would tell them they could go to school like regular kids. But the buzz never lasted and she would revert to her usual self. The frightening stranger who screamed at them. Hit them. Berated them for making her life a living hell.
So yes, the little boy hoped they would be lucky. He hoped she wouldn’t come home. Because it was better than the alternative. Because maybe she would come home lucky. With a man. And the children would have to cover their ears and hide under the sheet against the sounds that would come from the front room. And when it was quiet, the little boy would stand guard over his sister. Because sometimes, their mother’s visitors would look around the apartment and discover that the exotic dancer they had left the club with had two children. A boy
and a girl. A slight, thin pair with the cinnamon coloring of their Polynesian mother and the charcoal black eyes and hair of their African-American father. And sometimes, on a few frightening occasions, the visitors would display a bit too much interest in children. Yes, there were many reasons why the boy fought sleep.
There was the fumbling of a key in the front door lock, the muted laughter of a woman and the rough voice of a man. “Hurry up, I don’t have all night.”
The door banged open and the little boy jolted upright, eyes wide. His first move was to check his sister asleep on his lap. No, she was safe. And still sleeping. Hearing the commotion from the front room, the little boy stiffened, his eyes darting everywhere, calculating, trying to decide. There was a fire escape just outside the bedroom window. They had taken refuge out there before when their mother’s visitors had been too rowdy, when the sounds of partying and sometimes even the sounds of beating had grown too terrifying. The little boy’s brow furrowed as he thought about waking up his sister, shushing her questions and fears, hurrying them out to the rusty, decaying fire escape where they would have to huddle in the cold night until morning. Hoping the rickety structure would hold them. Before he could decide though, their bedroom door opened.
“What do we have here?” The man was tall and broad. His form took up the whole doorway. He smelled of beer and something else. Some indefinable odor that the boy couldn’t recognize. He tightened his grip on his sister but apart from that he didn’t move. He was still, so still. Like a mouse enthralled by a snake. Maybe if I don’t move, it will go away, it won’t bite? The man took several steps further into the room, peering into the darkness. “Hey, you got a couple of kids in here!”
The woman appeared from behind him. She swayed, there was no structure, no form to her body. She was a puppet missing several strings. She stared at the children with glazed eyes and the boy knew she would be no help to them. Again. His breathing shallowed and fear ran with icy cold feet into his chest. He gazed up at the man with wide eyes.
“Damn girl, how many kids you got? You’re a sly whore, keeping them a secret in here.”
The woman waved an airy hand, careless and dismissive. “Twins. Always getting in my way. Their useless father was no help.” She turned away, pulling at the man’s arm. “Come on baby, forget them, let’s get back to business.”
The man allowed himself to be pulled away, but the final look he threw over his shoulder betrayed his interest in the children. The door slammed shut and the little girl jerked awake with a faint cry. “Keahi?”He shushed her. “It’s me. I’m here Mailani.”
She sat up, looking fearfully at the shut door. “Is she home? Is there someone with her?”Keahi nodded and Mailani’s lower lip trembled as tears threatened. “What are we going to do? What if it happens again?”
“Shh, we’ll be fine. Come on, get up. Help me move the mattress.” Together the two lugged the deadweight mattress and put it against the door before Keahi pulled her to sit beside him with their backs against the door.Mailani turned worried eyes to her brother. “This won’t stop them. They can still get in. We should go outside onto the fire escape.”Keahi shook his head. “No. Last time we were out there that thing almost ripped out of the wall, it’s so rusted and worn. No, it’s too dangerous.”
Mailani didn’t say anything but both children felt the heavy weight of unspoken words in the air. Just as dangerous as staying inside. They sat like that for over an hour. Trying not to listen to the noises from the front room. Trying not to think. They held hands and the rapid panic of their hearts beat in time with each other.
The noises from the front room had stilled. There was a rattling as someone tried the door handle. An aggravated curse as the door met with resistance. “Open this door. Do you hear me? Open it now.”
Both Keahi and Mailani jumped to their feet and pushed with all their might against the door. But two skinny little eight-year-olds were no match for a grown man determined to get in. One more mighty shove and the children scattered, darting to stand against the window. The man smiled at them both, his hands on his hips. “What’s the matter kids? I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a friend of your mom’s. She wants us to be good friends too.” He motioned over his shoulder back to the living room where the woman was passed out on the dirty sofa.
Mailani’s eyes brimmed with tears as Keahi pulled her to stand behind him. “Please sir, leave us alone. Our mother won’t like it if you bother us.”
The man roared with laughter. “Yeah right. I told your mother that I would give her an extra twenty for a little visit with you two. You know what she said?” He leered down at them and adopted a breathy soprano voice, “Oh baby, you go right ahead. I just want you to be happy.”
The little boy’s face tensed and he turned to lift open the window. “Hurry Mailani, you go first.”
“Oh, no you don’t. I want to take a closer look at that pretty little thing. Come here.” The man lunged, easily batted Keahi aside and grabbed at Mailani. She screamed and kicked her feet uselessly as he carried her back across the room and threw her down onto the dingy mattress. He put a giant hand over her mouth and his voice was low, menacing. “Shut up.” With one swift movement, he ripped the front of her nightdress, exposing her thin frame with all its scars and bruises. With the moon-white birthmark of a crested wave on her shoulder. The little girl lay rigidly with her eyes shut, her fists clenched by her side. Across the room, the little boy was trying to stand. The man’s blow had sent him headfirst into the chest of drawers and blood ran from the cut on his face. He looked at his sister. This was worse. So much worse than all the times before.
“Get off her!” He ran, and jumped on the man’s back, wildly punching, kicking, pulling hair – anything and everything to get this man away from his sister.
The man straightened up with an angry roar. “You little brat!” He reached behind him, took hold of the boy and threw him across the room. Not content with that, he then walked over to where Keahi lay and kicked him. Again and again. In the stomach, the face, the legs, his back. The boy curled up into a tight ball but it did little for him against the onslaught of blows. Mailani was screaming. A thin high-pitched scream that only aggravated the man further. One more vicious kick and Keahi was still. Only then did the man leave him, turn aside and go back to the little girl. “I told you to shut up.” He hit her once across the face. It was enough to silence her. To render her immobile. The man was deep breathing now with the exertion of his night. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants before moving to position himself over the inert figure of the little girl on the mattress.
Behind him, Keahi was fighting to emerge from the whirlpool of pain that held him captive, wanting to suck him down into oblivion. No, Mailani. Have to help Mailani. Have to stop him. He was battered and bruised. Broken ribs. Boot imprints on tender flesh. Bloodied face. Eyes swollen near-shut. But he fought on. From a wilderness away, he could hear the panting, heaving breaths of the man as he tried to do bad things to his sister. Keahi opened his eyes, spat blood and chipped fragments of teeth from his mouth. He tried to stand. He saw what was happening to Mailani. Pain, hurt, fear, rage, desperation built and exploded. And then another kind of pain ripped through Keahi’s body. Pain like fire. Burning, charring, searing pain.
He shouted. “No.” Fire jerked from his body, lighting up the room in blinding redness.
The man was interrupted, half-turned. “What the hell …” It would be the last words he ever spoke. A ball of fire consumed him. The man screamed, staggered, fell to his knees.
But the fire was not appeased. Flames rippled along the ceiling, down the walls, hungrily devouring the wooden chest of drawers, the mattress. The very air. The little girl. With horror-stricken eyes, Keahi watched as fire consumed his sister’s body. He shouted, “Mailani!” He tried to run to her, but the heat, the flames were too much for him. The fire was moving fast, so fast. There was not enough oxygen left for him to breathe. The last thing the little
boy remembered was how peaceful his sister looked as she lay there on the mattress – like a princess on her fiery pyre of death. “Mailani!”
The burning ceiling collapsed in on the boy.
Everything went black.
It was over.
TWO
Today
Simone, Samoa
Subject: The gift to surpass all others
AMAZEBALLS! I love my iPhone4. Love it, love it, love it. You rock. When I opened the package, I was almost more excited than the time I was in the elevator in the Central Bank building with some of the Manu Samoa team, breathing the same air as the dalashious Kahn Fotuali’i. Thank you!
Leila, Washington D.C.
Subject: You’re welcome
As soon as I saw them, I knew you had to have one. Besides, now you can keep me up to date on all the latest from Samoa.
Simone, Samoa
Subject: Mission accepted
I knew it. You want me to spy on Daniel for you. Make sure the evil Mele doesn’t sink her claws into him. Einjo. Don’t worry, I am up to the task. I will stick to Daniel like a sweat-stained shirt. I will keep every piece of him safe. For you. And only you. (Of course.)
Leila, Washington D.C.
Subject: Whatever
Pugi. Shut up. (Like my fa’afafine slang? I’m learning.) I also know some other bad words but will save them until I see you in a few weeks. But I’m not worried about Daniel. I know who his heart belongs to.
Simone, Samoa
Subject: Body guarding duty
Who said anything about his heart?! I shall guard his body. Some parts more thoroughly than others. Do you want instant pics of us together? Visual evidence of my bodyguard efficiency?
When Water Burns Page 1
