Knowing there would be no chance to throw another rock, no other chance to steal his weapon, Kaimana turned around to look at her attacker. One of the Magpie King’s hands was clutching his belly, which wept red.
“I will kill you for that,” he whispered.
Kaimana nodded. “I expected nothing less. But I’ve marked you for life, now. You’ll always remember me.”
Her spark tugged away from her again, struggling for survival, and she relaxed her grip on it, allowing it to escape. Kaimana closed her eyes and waited for the end.
Instead she was greeted by what felt like an explosion. Kaimana opened her eyes, just in time to see the Magpie King’s legs protruding from Rakau’s mouth, broken at impossible angles. Another crunch from the taniwha and the Birdman disappeared.
Rakau was covered in deep cuts and wounds, each of which oozed green blood, luminous like his eyes. One large spear remained stuck deep into his side, and Kaimana recognised it as Moa Chief’s weapon.
It was Rakau’s eyes that most worried Kaimana, however. They were filled with a rage that shocked her. Since travelling with Rakau, she had begun to think of him as a companion, like a trusted pet almost. She had allowed his tenderness around her to let her forget that there was a reason these monsters had a reputation for being bloodthirsty and vicious. He was hurt, his blood was up, and that meant he was unpredictable.
Kaimana should have been just as wary of Rakau as she was of the Magpie King. Instead, she ran forward and threw her arms around the taniwha’s neck. “You came for me,” she whispered in his ear. “You didn’t leave me.”
As she embraced the monster, she was surprised to feel a familiar buzzing inside of her. It was her spark, still with her, appreciating the reunion with the taniwha. Kaimana smiled. Thank you for staying, she told it. This, these dangers, what a song they’ll make. She could feel the spark jingle in cautious agreement.
Rakau shook his head and the anger in his eyes dissipated. He exhaled deeply, and to Kaimana’s surprise, he collapsed into the dirt.
“You’re hurt,” she said. “Stay still.”
The taniwha did not argue, so Kaimana moved backwards to inspect his wounds, keeping her hand always in contact with his rough skin so he knew where she was, that he was not alone.
Most of the cuts aren’t deep, and if he heals anything like a human, they shouldn’t be a problem. One or two of the larger cuts are going to need dressed, and they’ll definitely scar. That spear will be tough to deal with.
Rakau’s once-patterned skin was now irreparably broken.
The worst wound, as Kaimana had predicted, was the one in which Moa Chief’s spear remained lodged. The weapon was so deeply buried, she could not see the tip of it, and the blood that oozed from this cut was much darker than the rest.
Kaimana walked back to Rakau. “I have to remove it,” she told him. “I think it’ll hurt, but afterwards it can heal.”
For the first time, Kaimana saw fear in the taniwha’s eyes, and she did something that surprised even herself. She ran forward to give the taniwha a hug, and kissed him on his cheek.
“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” she promised.
Rakau gave her a weak smile.
She moved back to the spear and took a grip of its shaft. Rakau gave a loud roar at the touch and shook himself, throwing Kaimana to the ground, pain blossoming from her own injuries with the impact.
She dusted herself off. “Please don’t do that. It’ll never get better if I don’t.”
She took a hold of the spear and pulled on it again. Rakau roared once more, and this time the spear shaft broke. The taniwha turned his body away from her, raising the wound high into the air where she could not reach it. Even from this distance, Kaimana could see the remains of the spear still lodged under the taniwha’s skin. Rakau shook his head.
Kaimana looked at him in disappointment, but also with worry. Without the long shaft to pull on, she knew she would not be able to work the weapon free without time or help.
“We need Yam,” she said, eventually. “Do you know where he is?”
Rakau grunted, indicating the top of the mountain, where the encounter had begun.
“Is he all right?”
Rakau gave another grunt, this one non-committal.
Kaimana turned to look again at the top of the island.
“We have to go back to get him.”
The two wounded companions made their way stealthily back up the mountain path, finally coming upon a ridge that allowed them to look unobserved onto the ring of trees. There they saw the answers to their questions. The four remaining Birdmen were together, and by their movements they were very agitated. The one that called himself Albatross Lord was particularly angry, shouting and beckoning towards the others. The Owl Queen had her mask off, and seemed to be wavering between crying and uncontrollable rage. It appeared they already knew of the fate of the Magpie King.
Yam was there also, in a heap in the middle of where the ragged trees had previously been. The trees themselves were no longer standing, destroyed in the battle between Birdmen and taniwha. Yam was still, and Kaimana could not tell whether he was alive or dead.
She turned to Rakau, who was breathing heavily beside her. The taniwha was badly wounded, and the spear in his side needed attention, fast. There was no chance of Rakau taking on the Birdmen by himself.
Kaimana looked back at the prone god on the ground.
We’re going to have to leave him. Maybe this will turn out to be the story he was looking for, the tale of the Birdmen of the Broken Island. He’ll be the god they captured, a small side note in a larger story, much like the previous god of war that’s often mentioned when talking about Nakoa’s rise to power.
At this moment, Yam turned over on the ground. His movement was ignored by all of the Birdmen, still arguing amongst themselves. Kaimana’s eyes widened. Yam was completely unrestrained. He must have offered no resistance to his attackers. They seemed to believe he was fine to be left there cowering before them as they dealt with other matters.
Let that be their last mistake.
Kaimana turned to Rakau. “I’m going to do something that’ll look pretty stupid, but I want you to stay hidden for as long as possible, all right?”
Rakau, exhausted after the climb, raised what passed for his eyebrows in a question.
Kaimana smiled wearily at him. “Just trust me.”
Then Kaimana stood up, now in plain view of all on the mountaintop.
“Yam, god of yams. Do not lie there in the dirt in front of these warriors. That is what a farmer would do, a coward. You are not a farmer, nor a coward. You are a god. Show them the truth of that.”
At once, the Birdmen realised where the noise was coming from. Owl Queen was the first to react, crossing the space between the ragged trees and Kaimana’s hiding place in a heartbeat. Her thin dagger was drawn, and would have impacted with Kaimana’s neck if the musician had not rolled out of the way, and if the Owl Queen had not been intercepted by Rakau’s teeth.
The taniwha was not able to deal with this combatant as quickly as he had the Magpie King. Rakau did not have the element of surprise this time, and he was tired. Hopefully exhaustion was his only issue - he had lost so much of his green blood by now, Kaimana feared there might be worse in store for him. Nevertheless, the Owl Queen jumped away with one less arm, which now dangled uselessly from one of Rakau’s eye teeth. This grave wound, however, did not stop the woman from continuing to attack. She realised this was the creature that was responsible for the death of her mate, and wanted revenge. Her face contorted more with rage than with pain, she lunged again at Rakau, drawing another blade with her remaining hand. Kaimana knew that Rakau might not survive this attack, especially when the other Birdmen joined in.
Where are they?
Kaimana turned back to the others - the Albatross, Gull and Moa. She could not see them, only the green trees and Yam remained on the mountaintop.
She had to double-t
ake before she realised what she was looking at.
Yam was no longer lying in the dirt. He was standing in a crouch, with his fingers buried into cracks in the mountain rock. He was moving his fingers softly, much in the same way as Kaimana had seen her mother kneed her father’s back after a rough day on the sea. Yam’s eyes were closed and he was muttering, a soothing smile playing across his face.
Kaimana realised the green trees that she was looking at were completely new. She was also quick to realise that there were three of them - one for each of the remaining Birdmen. She squinted and ran closer to Yam to get a better look at what was going on. The greenery was not trees at all, but a mass of what appeared to be long shoots or vines growing from the ground. At that moment, the hand of the Albatross Lord burst from one of these clusters of vines, brandishing his weapon blindly. Some of the new shoots broke free of the main column, grabbed his hand by the wrist and yanked it back under the green.
She realised then that these were the leaves of the yam root. This was Yam’s power at work.
With a laugh of surprise and triumph, Kaimana ran over to the god. He opened his eyes and looked at her, smiling through his exhaustion.
“Look at what these stupid people did to their island,” he said. “Stopped growing things on it, ruined it through fire and war. But, they didn’t get everything. Some roots remained, deep under the stone, waiting to be found.”
His smile left his face and he looked at her seriously now. “I would never have had the strength to do this without you, mouse.”
She smiled back. “Yes, you would. Do you think those roots were there by accident? This is your story, god of yams. This is how we will remember you.”
He nodded, both excitement and exhaustion playing across his face.
A series of loud thuds behind them drew Kaimana’s attention back to Rakau’s conflict with the Owl Queen. With the shock of her companions being dispatched so quickly, Rakau appeared to have gained the upper hand. The woman’s legs were in his mouth, and he was thumping her viciously and repeatedly to the ground, a series of wet cracks marking the end of the Owl Queen’s reign.
Exhausted, Rakau dropped the body of his foe and turned to plod slowly towards Kaimana and Yam, each step pained.
The harvest god stood up and greeted the taniwha. “Look at you, a proper monster. And me, a proper god. Together, we could see off armies.”
In response Rakau collapsed into the dirt. A trail of dark green was trailing behind the taniwha, leading back up to the broken body of his enemy. Rakau lay still, lifeless.
A tale from the Crescent Atoll
We do not know where the canoes came from. We know they belonged to a people not unlike us, living on islands far across the Outer Sea. They travelled across the waters in canoes the size of whales, bringing entire families with them.
We do not know why they came. Perhaps they had been cast out from their homeland, exiled and in need of somewhere to start anew. It may be that they were lost, cast adrift by an unexpected storm, far from familiar shores. Or it is just possible that they had been inspired to explore, leaving the safety of their own islands to find a part of the world they could call their own.
What we do know is when they first arrived here, to where we now live, there were no islands for them to make homes on.
There was only Leinani.
It must have been an intimidating sight for those weary travellers, a colossal red headed woman standing naked in the sea before them, towering up to the clouds. Or perhaps she had taken the form of a volcano, giving them a tempting possibility of dry land - we are no longer sure exactly what they saw. What we do know is that Leinani was there, and she was not happy at the presence of these animal-worshipping intruders.
To rid herself of these people, Leinani called up fire from the depths below, igniting the wooden canoes and consuming the generations of travellers that briefly gazed upon her magnificence.
Unknown to Leinani, or perhaps by her own divine decree, one woman survived. Blinded and scarred by the goddess’ flames, this lone swimmer somehow found her way back to her people. It was from this woman that humans began to learn of the danger that awaited them across the waters, but also about the divine majesty of the goddess that walked the waves.
It took generations for them to return. Perhaps it took this long for them to work up the courage to approach the goddess again. It may be that this time had to pass before the winds and ocean currents were aligned to bring people back to these waters. It has also been said that a few hundred years is all it takes for people to forget the horror of countless deaths, instead only recalling the majesty of the living goddess.
This time a score of vessels survived the journey to Leinani. Once again they found her emerging from the waves, steam rising from where her bare waist parted the sea.
Once again she looked upon the visitors with scorn.
She called her then-lover, Tangaloa, god of the sea, to deal with this irritation. Tangaloa withdrew his waters from the canoes, lowering the canoes to the sea bed. Then he allowed the waters to return, splintering wood and filling lungs.
Pleased with her lover’s work, Leinani regarded one of the human women as she struggled beneath the waves, the light in her eyes growing dimmer.
It was then that Leinani noticed something that caught her interest. When the previous group of outsiders had come, they had brought with them tokens of their animal gods - mouse feet, bird feathers, snake fangs. This dying woman had a wolf’s tongue in a small bottle hung around her neck. However, beside this bottle hung a carven image of a woman on fire.
Leinani smiled when she realised that somewhere over the seas, her story was spreading. She strained her ears, and far in the distance, the faint murmurings of worship in her name floated across the waves.
Intrigued by the notion that these small humans were glorifying her, the goddess raised the drowning woman to the surface, again allowing a single survivor to return back to her people, to further add to Leinani’s legend.
Centuries passed by, and a final fleet of canoes made their way to Leinani’s waters. The journey had been a dangerous one, as Leinani had asked her siblings to test these humans, buffeting them with wind, water and beasts. Only seven canoes remained.
These humans each wore the symbols of Leinani, or had her marks tattooed on their bodies. They had long forgotten the worship of animal spirits, instead dedicating themselves to the stories of the fiery goddess.
They did not find what they were expecting. Much like the other fleets who had braved this journey, the occupants of these canoes were expecting to see their goddess in the flesh, gazing upon her majesty for mere moments before she punished them. Instead, where they expected to find a goddess they found a ring of islands, summoned by Leinani from the sea bed. There, in the centre of the ring, Leinani awaited them.
“You have done what I thought was impossible,” Leinani said to the supplicating outsiders. “You have impressed me. In return I give you this gift, these islands, so you may never lose sight of me.”
And so the Crescent Atoll was created, made for our people to settle near our goddess, so we may worship her for the remainder of our bloodlines.
While Rakau was unconscious, Kaimana took it upon herself to clean his wounds.
“Would you give me a hand with this?” she asked Yam as she stepped around the taniwha to where the Moa Chief’s spear had pierced Rakau’s hide.
Yam, still heady with his victory, spluttered at the suggestion. “What do you think I am, mouse? I saved us all from our attackers. I am Yam, the warrior, feared by all on this island, not a bedside nurse for beasts. Sorting this out is hardly the task one asks of a god.” Nevertheless, he moved beside Kaimana to observe the wound, worry lines creasing on his forehead.
Kaimana used one of the Owl Queen’s thin knives to cut into the spear wound and was eventually able to reach in and pull forth the remains of the weapon. Rakau lost a lot more blood during this operation, and Kaim
ana continued to fret about how much blood a taniwha could afford to lose.
Yam, his confidence now bolstered in a way that Kaimana had never seen before, assured her that Rakau would be fine. “Calm down, mouse. He isn’t like you, that creature. Not even like me. It’ll take much more than a few pokes and scratches to end his story.”
Still, as they slept through the night on the mountaintop, Kaimana worried. Her spark remained, even after the traumatic events of the day, and in the silence it called to her, hungrily, urging her to forget everything else and to concentrate on it. However, Kaimana pushed it to the side, focussing her attention on her fallen friend.
“I want to go swimming with you again,” she whispered in Rakau’s ear. He had not opened his eyes since collapsing at the end of the fight with the Birdmen. “I want to travel under the sea with you and see the Atoll by moonlight.”
Her fingers found her way to her ocarina. She felt a pang of guilt when she realised she had never once offered to play it for Rakau since they had started travelling together.
Softly, not wanting to wake Yam or to disturb any of the island’s other inhabitants, Kaimana brought the clay instrument to her lips and played a low, haunting tune, based on a lullaby her mother had sang to her and her sister when loud storms had raged across the Atoll at the sea god’s request. For the first time since falling unconscious, Rakau stirred a little, and Kaimana fancied she saw him smile.
Amber sparks jumped from her eyes, and her infant song mewled at her petulantly, urging Kaimana to forget this child’s tune and to work on it instead.
Kaimana ignored her spark, and played for Rakau until morning.
As dawn broke, Rakau finally awoke, his green eyes opening to greet Kaimana, brightening her morning in a way the sun could not.
Where the Waters Turn Black (Yarnsworld Book 2) Page 15
