Where the Waters Turn Black (Yarnsworld Book 2)

by Benedict Patrick

  I must watch myself here. I’d make a lot of people most unhappy if I was to crack my skull and break my promises before the performance.

  Finally, she was standing in the cave entrance. In all of her childhood explorations she had never scaled this cliff, due to the final steep climb and ancient parental warnings about leaving caves well enough alone. Most caves dotted about the island were disappointingly shallow, but this one receded into darkness, refusing to betray where it ended.

  The sight of a recently chewed goat bone at the lip of the cave gave Kaimana cause to hesitate. Despite her doubts about the story, her heart began to beat faster, her fingers moving again to the clay ocarina at her waist, tapping rapidly on its empty holes.

  The offering the village made to the taniwha. It might not have been a monster that ate it, probably some local predators or scavengers.

  Despite these thoughts, the sight of this small object finally made Kaimana doubt what she was doing. She knew monsters were real, she knew it was perfectly possible that one had chosen to live in her former home.

  What I should do right now is climb carefully down those rocks and head back to the village and warm my fingers up for the performance.

  But Kaimana also knew that leaving a mystery such as this would eat away at her, causing her much unhappiness until she returned back to the island. She knew herself too well. She could not turn away, not when the secret to unlocking her first song might lie just beyond the veil of darkness.

  She shuffled gingerly forward into the cave, the gurgling stream tickling her bare feet. Inside smelt damp, as one would expect with all of the water around, and she was pleased to find no hint of rotting flesh in the air that one might expect from a taniwha’s feeding ground. Light faded quickly, and as Kaimana rounded a corner, she had to pause to allow her eyes time to adjust to the darkness.

  Then she gave a loud gasp. There it was. The taniwha.

  The monster was sleeping, its eyes were closed. It was massive. Kaimana would have to climb about three times her own height to reach the top of the creature’s head. Its body receded further back into the cave, blocking any progress down the passage. Its head reminded Kaimana slightly of a dog’s head, with a stout muzzle ending in a large nose. The creature’s dark skin was decorated with intricate swirls, very much like the facial tattoos that many of the men and women of the Atoll chose to wear. The creature was also covered in what appeared to be random patches of green fur.

  No, Kaimana realised in surprise. Not fur. Moss. She studied the still form of the taniwha for a few moments longer and then let out a relieved gasp. It was not breathing. It was not alive.

  She stumbled forward slowly, not fully trusting her own conclusion. Gently, Kaimana reached out a hand to touch the taniwha’s lower lip. It was deathly cold. Kaimana allowed herself one audible giggle of relief.

  This isn’t a real creature at all. I should have known by looking at the swirls on its face. They’re too much like artwork to be something living. This is a statue, a sculpture. Somebody has carved this taniwha by hand.

  “So, who made you then?” Kaimana asked the massive sleeping statue as she became braver, knocking on the monster’s solid chin. “Wood? You’re made of wood?” She studied the creature’s face - it was far too large to be made out of just one tree. “I can’t see the joins. Whoever made you must have been a skillful Knack indeed. Last time I checked, there were no woodcarving Knacks on Pukotala.

  “What are you here for, then? A nasty surprise for anyone who comes into this cave? Some kind of guardian for the stream’s beginning?”

  Kaimana looked around the cave, her eyes now fully adjusted to the dull light that crept around the cave corners. The rocks here were plain and uninteresting. Kaimana had a sudden burst of sadness for this beautiful, imposing statue that had remained hidden for so long.

  “I bet you’re really lonely up here, aren’t you?” Kaimana sat beside the solid wooden carving, running her finger through one of the creature’s decorative grooves. “I’ll let you into a secret - I’m lonely too. I’ve left my family, I couldn’t bear a life of fishing. I’m a musician, you see. But my new life... I don’t have many friends. Nobody close to me at all. Sometimes I think I feel like you do, trapped here in this dark, wet cave.”

  Kaimana let her head rest against the taniwha’s mouth, sighing with a forlorn smile on her shadowed face. “Don’t worry, boy. We can be friends for each other, right?”

  The taniwha moved.

  To her credit, Kaimana did not scream. Her first instinct was to throw herself across the cave, well away from the massive mouth she was practically lying inside, clutching the rocky wall opposite the beast with a focussed panic. She held her breath, and looked back at the monster.

  Did I just imagine that? How could something like that actually be alive? It’s as cold as stone.

  There could be no doubt about the movements she saw next. The giant creature shook its head, dislodging some of the rocks from the cave roof above, and opened its eyes.

  Kaimana took one look at the green glowing eyes, eyes that were very clearly gazing at her, and she ran.

  Heart screaming inside her chest, Kaimana stumbled in a panic back to the cave mouth, breath escaping excitedly from her lungs. No noise came from behind that might signify some kind of pursuit, but Kaimana did not let her feet stop moving. She descended the cliff face carelessly, not looking at where she put her hands and feet, too concerned she might be facing mortal danger for the first time in her young life.

  Kaimana fell when she was halfway down the cliff.

  She landed on her bare arms on the rocks below. Nothing important appeared to be broken, so she picked herself up and struggled over the stones and boulders, eager to get as far away from the taniwha before it pounced.

  Kaimana turned and paused just before the cave mouth disappeared from view. There was no sign of the monster. She could not help the huge grin that broke across her face at that moment.

  A real taniwha! And I touched it! The others will never believe this...

  Kaimana’s fingers beat on her ocarina in time to her running, a silent staccato accompaniment to the patter of her bare feet on rock, grass and sand. The sight of the taniwha and the stories and music that were now racing through her mind brought an excited smile to her face, but one look at Aka when she arrived back on the beach only moments from the beginning of the performance warned her to calm down. The dark scowl on his usually kind face helped to quell Kaimana’s excitement, and she quickly decided that the sharing of her taniwha tale would be best left to another time.

  He walked over to her, brushed her hair back, and removed his now-blood coated hand. “How did this happen? Where have you been?” His eyes narrowed as he spoke, studying her.

  Kaimana was shocked to find that the side of her head was indeed bleeding. She must have opened the cut after her fall, and the excitement of her find had dulled the pain.

  “Somebody clean her up,” Aka barked. “This is the last thing we need just before the march.”

  Eloni rolled her eyes and made her way over.

  The troupe leader turned back to Kaimana again, this time with pleading eyes. “Please, cause no more upsets. You know how important this is to me.”

  To us, Aka, Kaimana thought, but wisely remained silent.

  “What in Laka’s name have you done to yourself now?” Eloni muttered as she sealed Kaimana’s wound together with some kind of paste. “Just remember, when the god begins to walk, follow my lead. I’m the main player tonight, you’re my accompaniment.”

  Kaimana nodded. You don’t need to remind me. When is it any different?

  She watched the gods assemble, ready for the procession. The Long God was there, of course, the patron god of all farming on the Atoll. In accompaniment were other gods who were strongly linked to the harvest. Haumi, goddess of grain, Rongo, god of breadfruit, Yam, god of yams. Much like the Long God, none of these were the actual gods come to visit the island.
Instead, they were played by locals, villagers who had earned or requested the honour of portraying the deities that lay close to their hearts. Kaimana’s eyes widened as the actor portraying Yam waddled past, a young overweight child in a loin cloth and tapa mask. She grinned and uttered a silent prayer of thanks that Yam himself was not watching from somewhere.

  Night fell and the torches lit across the beach. Aka brought his Knack to play, beating a large drum that he hung from his neck, accompanied by Eloni on her flute, walking beside him. The players kept to the shadows; it was the Long God and his brethren that people wanted to see and pay homage to. The Long God walked with his tall staff, streamers blowing in the cool night breeze that whisked across the sea. Behind him his family followed, silent and serene or whooping and rolling, as befit their characters. At the very rear of the procession walked Kaimana, playing her ocarina softly, a distant echo to the beat and rhythm provided by her elders. The villagers of the island lined the beach as the gods and the troupe walked past, cheering and offering thanks to the harvest and the coming season of growth. Kaimana even caught sight of her parents huddled together, smiling at their daughter’s music. Her heart swelled in size at this moment.

  But then the screaming began.

  It was an old woman running from the village, shouting at the top of her voice. “The taniwha. The taniwha has come.”

  “No,” was all Kaimana could utter, just at the moment her eyes fell on Aka’s face. The young man looked as if his world had just been taken away from him. A feeling of dread began to bubble in Kaimana’s stomach.

  Kaimana ran over to the old woman, straining to hear her words above the noise of the small crowd she had already attracted.

  “Saw it clear as daylight. It strutted right out of the trees, taller than my house. Raided my oven, dug it right up, gobbled up the goat I was cooking for the feast.”

  “What did it look like?” Kaimana shouted, hoping to call the elder’s bluff. “What colour was it?”

  She realised her mistake quickly after this, as the crowds parted slightly so all could catch a glimpse at the young musician.

  “Grey,” the old woman said. “With green hair hanging from it.”

  Green like moss and seaweed. My taniwha.

  “Kai, your head,” came a voice from beside her. It was her mother. “You have blood in your hair. Where did it come from? Kai… Kai, did you wake the taniwha?”

  All took a step back from Kaimana and gasped. Kaimana felt the hairs down her back prickle as the dread in her gut spat and hissed at her. She said nothing, but had good sense to withdraw from the crowd’s accusing eyes.

  This can’t be anything to do with me. Please, Laka, let there be a mistake, let something else have happened.

  She ran to the village, desperate to find signs of the taniwha’s passage, and possibly the monster itself. The old woman’s earthen oven had indeed been dug up, and the huge tracks that had been left outside her hut could not have been caused by any natural beast of the islands. There was no doubt now in Kaimana’s mind that the taniwha had come to the village.

  Was this my fault?

  Many in the village seemed to think so, judging by the angry glares that were being thrown in her direction as news of her mother’s suspicions spread. The worst was when Aka returned from a brief consultation in the chief’s hut. The rest of the troupe waited on the beach, huddled together, whispering. Kaimana sat outside of the group of performers. She knew too well that she would be pushing her luck otherwise.

  Aka strode towards them, his face emotionless. “Pack your things. We’ve been asked to leave.”

  Kaimana ground her teeth in frustration with her own curiousness. Framed by the silhouette of the fishing village torches, she caught sight of the shadows of her parents looking at her with disappointment, then turning away and walking back to their huts.

  The troupe quietly made their way to their canoe and loaded their things onto it. They were very much removed from the villagers of Pukotala now, despite the fact that they were only a short walk from the closest huts. The villagers worked to repair the damage to their small community. The only job the troupe had to do now was to leave.

  Kaimana was devastated. She had shamed her parents, and she had brought bad luck to the group, surely reducing their mana – their worth and power – in the eyes of the gods. As the canoe moved away from her former home, she strained for one last glimpse of her parents. They did not come to watch her leave. She clutched her clay ocarina, holding it tight as her past life disappeared into the dark. Despite her sadness, her fingers continued to move silently across her instrument, and the song that they were forming did not mirror the breaking of her heart. Instead, they reminded her of her curiosity, of her brief encounter with a world so alien to her own life. Even now, with the pain she was experiencing, her thoughts remained on the taniwha in the cave.

  There are so many questions I want to know the answer to. Why is the monster there? What is going to happen to it now?

  Kaimana heard a gasp from behind her, from the dancer, Kiki. Kaimana turned and the rest of the dancers saw her and stopped what they were doing, standing and staring.

  “I don’t believe it,” Eloni said, stepping forward to get a closer look at Kaimana’s face.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Kaimana said, worried now at the reactions from the troupe.

  Aka came over to her, a look of wonder on his face. “You - you don’t know? Kai, look at yourself.”

  Kaimana thrust her head over the side of the boat to look at her reflection in the waters of the Atoll. It was immediately clear that her eyes were glowing a bright amber, and at that moment Kaimana caught a glimpse of a small spark shooting from her eyes, illuminating the dark water and hull of the canoe. Her fingers continued to move on her ocarina, working their way through the motions of the song that Kaimana’s mind was silently composing.

  Kaimana was sparking. She was beginning to create her first masterpiece.

  A tale from the Crescent Atoll

  Back in the early days of the islands, one in particular was ruled by a great queen, known as Alisi. Alisi was known well throughout the land for her fairness and generosity towards her people, but the reason her name is now passed down from family to family is because of the pet taniwha she had tamed and became close friends with.

  Queen Alisi’s taniwha was in the shape of a great whale, but had been blessed with strong arms instead of the normal fins that whales have. These great limbs allowed Alisi’s taniwha to catch many fish for her, and helped her and her people to build great palaces by the sea. Alisi would often ride atop her taniwha when she travelled from island to island, and people marvelled from miles around at the sight of this proud woman and the strong friendship she had forged with such a creature.

  One of Queen Alisi’s neighbours - Isileli, chief of the fat island - was very jealous of this magical creature, and he wanted it for himself. Once, after visiting Queen Alisi’s island, Chief Isileli demanded that he travel home atop of the whale. He refused to get into his canoe. Queen Alisi felt uneasy at the man’s demands, as he had not been the most gracious guest during his visit. However, she also knew that the rudeness of her guest did not excuse her from being a good host, and she knew she could not refuse the man’s request.

  “You may ride her,” she instructed the chief, “but mind that you are kind to her. She shall bring you to the beach of your island, and she will shake herself to tell you it is time for you to dismount. You must do so immediately, and then she will return to me.”

  Chief Isileli thanked Queen Alisi for her hospitality, and wore a great grin on his face as he mounted the taniwha and set forth for home.

  The taniwha took Chief Isileli straight to his island, and used her great arms to pull herself onto his beach. With half of her body still in the sea, Alisi’s whale shook herself to tell Chief Isileli to dismount. Chief Isileli had enjoyed his journey on top of the whale greatly, and now that it had come to an end, he d
id not wish to give her up.

  “Bring me further onto the beach,” he urged the giant creature. “I am wearing my fine clothes and do not wish to get them wet.”

  Alisi’s taniwha felt uneasy at this request, but did as she was instructed as her master had commanded her to look after the visiting chief. Using her great arms, she dug deep into the sand and pulled herself forward until only her great tail remained in the water. Once this far forward, she again shook herself to tell Chief Isileli to dismount.

  “I wish to slide down your back, to dismount at your tail. But if I do so now, I shall find myself in the sea, and my fine clothes will be ruined. Pull yourself further ashore so I may leave you safely.”

  The taniwha felt more uneasy about this request and refused to do so, instead shaking herself again to let Chief Isileli know it was time for him to leave.

  The greedy chief sneered and shouted to his people who were hiding in the trees beyond the beach. “Bring ropes and bind this whale. I would have her as my own.”

  Alisi’s taniwha struggled against her attackers, but was now too far inland to move herself towards the water. She was able to use her great arms to crush many of Chief Isileli’s men, but unfortunately their number was too great and soon many ropes had been thrown over her body, binding her to the earth. Alisi’s taniwha struggled and rolled, and her blowhole filled with sand as the great creature panicked at her capture. The queen’s whale choked on the sand and died on the beach.

  Chief Isileli was most disappointed at this. He had wanted a live taniwha as a pet. However, wanting to make the best of a bad situation, he gathered his people together.

  “Let us have a feast,” he said to them all, “to celebrate the death of this great monster.”