Fainga shrugged. “I have already beaten you. Why would I want to race now?”
“Name your prize,” the woman said.
“You,” Fainga replied. “I claim you, for a year and a day. You shall belong to me, body and soul, and shall do whatever I bid of you until your term is finished.”
The woman nodded. “If I win,” she said, “you will never race on the mountainside again. You will leave this island in disgrace.”
They shook on the new terms, and then climbed the mountain once more.
At the top, before they began their race, the woman looked at her own sledge in dissatisfaction.
“We must exchange sledges,” she demanded. “I see now that yours is better than mine. The last race was unfair. We must exchange sledges before we begin.”
Fainga laughed and shook his head. He knew the woman’s words were correct - his sledge was indeed better, as it had been carved for him by the finest woodworking Knacks on the Atoll. He was not willing to give it up.
“We can continue this debate after you belong to me,” he barked at her before setting off on his descent, before she was ready.
Smoke began to flare from the woman’s hair. Fire danced in her eyes. Because, unknown to Fainga, he had been challenged by Leinani, the fire goddess, and now she was angry with him.
“I shall show you how to ride the fire,” she said, and stamped her foot. The volcano above her erupted, and a fast moving wave of molten stone belched forth from the mountain top. With her bare feet, Leinani mounted this wave and rode it down the mountain, gaining on Fainga, spouting violent threats from her mouth as she came closer and closer to him.
Fainga looked around and panicked. He focussed on his sledge like never before. He took risks and shortcuts that he had never dared to use in the past, doing all he could to save his life from the raging goddess. He used the soles of his feet to push himself onward, burning them to the bone as he did so.
So it was that Fainga, chief of the island of Raiatea, won his lava race against the volcano goddess.
He waited for her, on the beach at the bottom of the mountain. He lay in the surf, panting, exhausted, a nervous grin on his face. No others dared come near them, fearing Leinani’s wrath.
She came to him on a slow-moving flow of fire. The air around her hummed in anger.
Fainga bowed before her, his smile growing larger. “My lady,” he said, “I appear to have bested you. This means, I believe, you are mine for the next year. And one day.” He looked at the goddess hopefully, as if sharing a joke with her.
In response, Leinani reached into the fire at her feet, and pulled up a writhing flame, which she cracked like a whip. The flame lashed out at Fainga’s face, burning an ugly line down its right side, sealing his eye shut.
He cried out in pain, falling to his knees and splashing salt water into the wound.
“I mean no disrespect! You are right, of course, it would not be fit for a man to claim ownership of a god. It is enough for me to know I have beaten you. Let us be done at that.”
The whip cracked again, carving another wound on Fainga’s face, and taking his other eye.
He screamed again, pleading with the goddess. “You are right, of course you are right. It must have been a draw, I could not have beaten you. Let us forget the whole thing happened. It was a foolish notion.”
Blinded now, Fainga could no longer see Leinani, but could still feel the heat of her presence. More than that, he could also feel the rumbling of the earth beneath his feet, and knew then that the goddess was feeding the island’s volcano with her rage. It would not be long until it erupted violently.
“Do not punish my people for my crimes,” he whispered. The rumbling continued, and Fainga knew Leinani stood before him, watching impassionately.
He sighed, all pride leaving his body with that breath. Quietly, he spoke again. “You won. I was wrong now, I see. A mortal could never beat a goddess, I was wrong. You won our race, and I will leave my island now as punishment.”
He could not see the goddess’ reaction, but the trembling of the earth subsided, and the cooling of the air around him told Fainga that Leinani was gone.
In the distance, he could hear the shouts of his people, moving closer now that the goddess had departed.
He did not, however, wait for them to arrive. He did not want to further risk the goddess’ anger and what it might mean for the survival of his people. Blind and broken, using his sledge as a raft, Fainga, chief of Raiatea, turned from his island and disappeared into the sea.
His story reminds us all that mortals cannot hope to best the gods, not when they are the ones who make the rules.
To Kaimana’s annoyance, Yam did not take turns to row. She had been unsure whether or not to offer him the chance to do so, and he certainly did not volunteer. In fact, the god of yams did not appear to travel well, and spent his first day in the small canoe looking decidedly green.
“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Kaimana said when she realised that the liquid Yam was drinking was more of the beer he had got drunk with during the previous night. “Drinking when travelling disagrees with most, especially those who’ve spent most of their time on land.”
“Oh, really?” he replied, face dark, voice loud. “That goes for gods too, does it? Have you asked many gods about their experiences with beer on the ocean waves? Or, perhaps, just perhaps, you’ve assumed that because I’ve chosen to take this form, I suffer from the same weaknesses as your inferior bodies? Girl, I am a god, and we do not get sea sick.”
Kaimana wisely did not smirk when, less than an hour later, Yam was emptying his contents over the side of the canoe.
“I know what you’re thinking, little mouse” he shouted between retches, “but this has nothing to do with the beer.” After another bout of dry heaving, he continued. “We gods are sensitive to sources of magic, to things that are wrong on the islands. Must be that insufferable bond between you and the beast that’s upsetting my gut.”
What irritated Kaimana more, however, were the strange looks that Yam shot her whenever she was talking to her spark. Now that it was back, her spark’s hunger for Kaimana’s attention was insufferable, and it did not understand why she could not devote all her time to it. Most of her day was spent rowing, now, and after a session of intense buzzing Kaimana felt she had eventually convinced the spark that she had no choice. However, after this argument Kaimana caught Yam glancing at her with a raised eyebrow and knowing smile, which caused her to blush furiously. She was used to having the spark to herself, and was sure that Yam and his godly powers were encroaching on these moments, yet he said nothing about it.
Kaimana had a much more difficult time convincing her spark that Rakau was still important to them. All it wanted was for her to abandon the monster, find a small island with food and solitude, and finish their song.
But, can’t you see, she thought, addressing the spark, the song is all about Rakau, now. It started in his cave, the chase, and it has grown so much since I’ve been spending time with him. We can’t finish the song until we finish his story, and to do that we have to get him to safety.
The spark again relented, but Kaimana felt it continued to regard the taniwha with jealousy and suspicion, especially when Kaimana spent free time with Rakau instead of composing. Kaimana argued that this was helping her to understand the monster, so they could better portray him in their music.
This was not the truth. Although Kaimana’s heart had broken at the loss of her spark, and she was overjoyed when it had returned, and remained excited at the thought of the song they were weaving together, what became a joy for Kaimana over these few days of travel was her time with Rakau. They travelled for long stretches, making for the edge of the Atoll ring that opened onto the Inner Sea. They were lucky enough to find small islands to stop at in the evenings, and it was at these times that Rakau and Kaimana played.
Kaimana’s favourite activity was a re-enactment of their first swim tog
ether, allowing the taniwha to take her under the shallow Atoll waters and explore the reef at speeds she had never experienced before. Rakau himself seemed to prefer time on land, and took much joy in doing his best to hide from Kaimana on the beaches, rocks and forests of the islands they stopped on. Despite his size, Rakau had a gift for the game, using his dark hide as camouflage, and Kaimana would often struggle to find him. What tended to give Rakau away were deep coughing chuckles, after which he would emerge from the undergrowth or swamps he had dived into.
“Not natural,” Yam would protest at these times when the playful pair left him lying on his back on the beach, doing what he could to settle his stomach. “Girl and a monster shouldn’t be getting on like this. It’ll lead to bad things, you’ll see.”
Kaimana smiled at the god’s grumpy demeanour, but a twist in her own gut warned her of her own similar fears. Rarely in the stories did mortals fare well when concerning themselves too deeply with the affairs of gods and monsters.
On what was to be the final night before setting sail on the Inner Sea, they could not find a suitable island to berth at. The one they had been making towards as the sun set turned out to be inhabited by a few small families, their handful of huts a future village in the making.
Yam stared at the small settlement from the distance, his eyes wistful.
Kaimana put her hand on the god’s shoulder. “You could go to them, you know,” she said. “I can’t take Rakau, of course, but we’d wait for you here. I’m sure these people would praise and remember a visit from you for the rest of their days.”
The sweat on the god’s forehead glistened in the setting sun, and Kaimana could read the temptation in Yam’s eyes. However, the god grunted and waved his hand, dismissing the notion.
“I’m here to find my story, not grow more roots,” he said. “And for the record, gods do not appreciate it when mortals tell them what to do. Best get that into your head now, before you meet my sister.”
On the following morning, Kaimana woke and saw that Yam was already up. He was standing in the canoe, facing the rising sun.
Kaimana sat up straighter when she realised that Rakau’s head was above the water, and that he too was staring in the same direction as Yam.
“What is it?” she asked.
Yam shook his head. “Not sure. Something though, something with power. Looks like we can both sense it,” he said, indicating the taniwha.
Kaimana wrapped her cloak around her to ward off the morning coolness. “Power? A god, you think? Is it Nakoa?”
Yam let out a deep breath. “Don’t think so, no. I’ve met him once, after he did away with my brother. Wasn’t a fan of him, and he didn’t take much notice of me, but I’d recognise him again if he was close. No, this is something else. Maybe someone else.”
“Another god then?”
Yam turned to look at Kaimana, his face grumpy and confused. “Could be, mouse.”
Kaimana felt her spark sing in excitement, and she stole another glance at the dark volcano that had haunted her skyline for the past few days. If they had found another god, perhaps this one would be able to help them against Nakoa. Kaimana might be spared the dangerous journey across the deep after all.
“We’d better go then,” she said loudly, making sure Rakau could hear her. “We don’t want whoever it is to disappear before we get to them.”
Rakau turned around in the water and looked at her, whining. He was not happy about something.
“What is it?” Kaimana asked.
Yam answered for him. “It’s strange, this feeling. Not bad, just… different. Not felt something quite like this before. Bit like you two, being so close - maybe this power shouldn’t be here.”
Kaimana stopped rowing, her own emotions now mirroring Rakau’s uncertainty. “Do you think we shouldn’t go? It’s too dangerous?”
Yam shrugged. “Like I said, it just feels different. If you want dangerous, you know where to go,” and he looked at Leinani’s distant volcano. “That way?” and he motioned east again, where he and Rakau had sensed something. “Could be danger. Could be something else.”
Kaimana looked at the volcano one more time. Inside, her spark shrank away, fearful of the stories of Leinani’s anger. Kaimana caught her breath at this movement, for a moment thinking her spark was going to disappear again.
“It’s worth it, then. Let’s have a look, and we know the volcano is there if things don’t work out.”
They travelled for half a day until the source of their unease peeked over the horizon. It was, of course, an island. This one was different to most on the Atoll because of how tall it was. Most Atoll islands had started life as large rock formations that peeked just above the sea waters, remaining above the surface long enough to collect sand for beaches, attract vegetation and then animal life. The islands came into being over years of the ideal conditions attracting life. This new island jutted out of the sea like an arrow from a wound, thrusting high into the sky. The sides of the island, as far as Kaimana could see, consisted of mostly cliff. Looking up at the rock face from the sea, the island appeared to be barren and devoid of life. It was, however, large. There was plenty of room on it for living things to hide, which gave curious Kaimana all the excuse she needed to get out and explore.
As the canoe drifted closer to the massive rock, Yam became restless, shuffling about on his seat and looking around in paranoia.
“You know,” he said, “I’m beginning to think this is a bad idea. Something feels wrong. I think you’ll be better off with my sister.”
Kaimana studied the island, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong now?” she asked. She did not fancy the idea of facing the volcano god, not now that the option of something else was so close. She could see no problem with the rock ahead of them.
Yam shook his head. “Not sure. It just feels wrong.”
Kaimana bit her lip. Her mind returned to the stories, when mortals chose to ignore godly advice. Again, these situations never turned out well. However, most of the gods in those stories held a bit more renown. What could the god of yams really know about danger? Also, Kaimana was conscious of her spark, and how it quivered when she thought about approaching any closer to the volcano.
“We’ll be careful,” she said, finally. “Let’s take a peek, but if anything strange happens, we can head for Leinani.
“After all,” and with this she smiled at Yam, “I’m travelling with a god and a monster. What could go wrong?”
They eventually found a sparse beach on which to land. The rocks upwards formed a sort of natural staircase, one that even Rakau was able to mount.
“We’re not the only ones here,” Yam noted. “Doesn’t that thought just fill you with excitement?”
Kaimana ignored the god’s sarcasm as she had spotted the signs also. The rocks they climbed were worn smooth, probably by generations of feet plodding up and down them. The plant life had been cleared from the natural stairway. This suggested that the regular movement of bodies up and down this stretch of cliff kept the plants at bay.
Upon rising up the cliff, the rest of the island appeared very strange to Kaimana. It was mostly flat, but almost entirely devoid of life. Some dead trees dotted the landscape, and many large boulders, but there was little else to tell of. Even the few wisps of grass that grew on the ground were straw-like and yellow.
Kaimana looked at Yam, whilst resting her hand on Rakau’s side. “What is this place?”
Yam shook his head and Rakau just grunted, turned his head to the mountains in the middle of the island and walked towards them. The rock field in front of them was strewn with large boulders, which Rakau walked around or nudged out of the way with his large bulk as they moved past.
“We’re being watched,” Yam muttered, continuing to look in the direction they were travelling.
“Where?” Kaimana said, darting her head all over the place, desperate to see what he was talking about.
“I keep seeing them behind the rocks.
Look closely, there are people here.”
Kaimana eventually saw them, noticing small movements out of the corner of her eye. From what she could tell, the scampering figures were human, but they wore strange garb, mostly covered in feathers.
“Hello?” she shouted, but gained no response as the people darted out of sight.
“Don’t seem to be interested in speaking with us,” Yam grumbled, “but they also don’t seem to be completely terrified by the sight of your friend. Unless they’re gods - which they aren’t, by the way - then I gotta ask why they don’t seem to mind having a monster strolling through their lovely field of rocks.”
This did strike Kaimana as odd. Any villages she had had much experience with would have started screaming and making a lot of noise at the sight of a taniwha on their island.
“Do you think they’ve seen a taniwha before?”
Yam shrugged. “Maybe.” He turned to look at Kaimana, grimly. “How about this thought: maybe there’s something else in their lives that already terrifies them, scares them enough that the sight of our friend doesn’t unnerve them. There is no power in these people, anyway. What we’re sensing lives up there.” Yam indicated with his head to the top of the central mountains, and Rakau grunted in agreement. “But I’m going to tell you again, we shouldn’t be here. Best get back to the canoe while we can, and head on to my sister. At least we know what’s lying in wait for us that way.”
A big part of Kaimana agreed with the god, and she thought again about the fire goddess. As the image of a flame-haired woman formed in Kaimana’s mind, she felt her spark shy away again, growing dimmer as it had just before it had left her the first time.
I won’t take you there, she promised the spark, and in response it pulsed brighter again, happy. We’ll find something to help Rakau here, and then we can finish our song.
Not responding to Yam, and trying to ignore his stare as she spoke to her spark, Kaimana kept walking. After a moment, Yam threw up his arms in disgust and followed her.
Where the Waters Turn Black (Yarnsworld Book 2) Page 13
