On making it outside, Kaimana saw the sun was rising over the Atoll, painting the black waters of the Outer Sea a deep red. There, within a spear’s throw of the high priest’s canoe were three new boats.
Bile rose in Kaimana’s stomach when she realised what was being dragged behind the boats. Under countless strands of rope and netting - great cords binding its limbs, being dragged through the water by all three of the canoes at the same time - was a taniwha. Its mossy, scarred hide was unmistakable. It was Rakau.
Cheering rose from the two remaining canoes of the priest’s hunting party. These cheers were mirrored by the sobs of despair Kaimana gave at the sight of her friend.
Is he dead? How did they catch him?
Rakau rolled in the water, struggling but clearly weak, unable to break any of the bonds that held him. Tiny streams of green blood leaked into the waters behind him, leaving a clear trail to show his passage. Rakau’s head lolled to one side and he made eye contact with Kaimana. His eyes appeared to brighten slightly, but he was capable of no other movement.
He was coming to me, Kaimana realised. Nakoa’s warriors are good, but a group this small could not survive that island if they even had the nerve to travel out that far. So Rakau was coming to find me. They must have come across him in the open water…
“We will accompany them,” the high priest bellowed, ordering his men to get into position to depart. “We will aid their passage to Lord Nakoa. Let us leave, now.”
“My lord, that is not possible,” a nearby warrior stated. “We have many wounded, and repairs are still being made-”
The high priest cut off the other by grabbing the man’s jade necklace and pulling him close to his face. “I will not allow another to arrive back with the prize, without us. We sail now, or as fast as we are able.”
“Yes, my lord,” the warrior said, and then ran off to shout at the others, ordering the deck to be cleared of wounded.
The high priest grabbed Kaimana and pulled her back into his hut. He threw her to the floor and paced about the room. Eloni returned with them also, a look of concern on her face.
“My love, this is great news. What a victory, to have our forces defeat not one, but two taniwha.”
“No. The capture should have been mine. Now another’s star will rise in Nakoa’s eyes. My position could be in jeopardy.”
“But look at the prize we can bring him. You have killed a beast, a shark. Surely that is much better to present Nakoa with than a walking log?”
The priest shook his head. “Normally, yes, but Nakoa wants his revenge, and I have failed to bring it to him. We must leave quickly. Watch the girl while I make preparations.”
The priest stormed out of the room.
Kaimana’s mind raced. Rakau is still alive, all is not lost. What am I to do, to save him? An entire army, the sea, and a war god stand between me and my friend. Not to mention my old teacher.
As if reading Kaimana’s mind, Eloni walked over to a desk in the corner of the hut.
“I have been told I am not to be the one to kill you. I do not like being told things like that.”
Alert, Kaimana turned in time to see Eloni pull a thick, jade knife from a compartment in the desk.
“Eloni,” was all Kaimana had the time to say before the older woman attacked.
Eloni leapt through the air at Kaimana with a snarl of victory on her face. Shocked by the attack, Kaimana instinctively grabbed at Eloni’s wrist, forcing the knife point away from her face. However, Kaimana let out a cry of pain as Eloni’s other hand grabbed her mauled shoulder and gripped it hard.
“I’ve looked forward to this for a long time, pupil of mine. You see, in the time I have spent with my lover I have learnt where real power lies. Not with music, and being able to tell tales of old victories gone by. What do all of our stories have in common? They involve death. And the victory goes to the killers. My love says that only warriors have it in them to kill. Then I must have the heart of a warrior, my Knack be damned. I will finally teach you for trying to take my place.”
Despite her enemy’s probing fingers gouging into her shoulder, Kaimana realised that letting go of Eloni’s knife hand now would mean her death, and so continued to grip it tight. Nevertheless, the jade blade continued to move closer and closer to Kaimana’s neck. She was not strong enough to stop Eloni. Her life would be over soon, and not long after Rakau would join her.
Rakau.
Kaimana thought about that last glance she was able to catch of her friend, of how forlorn he looked tethered to the warrior’s boats. Rakau would not have let himself be caught in a situation like this, with his enemy bearing down on him.
As if she read Kaimana’s mind, Eloni’s face erupted into a mad grin, the woman’s eyes fixed on the point of the blade. Eloni lowered herself closer to Kaimana, to bring her full strength to bear and to savour her victory.
Even if Rakau did find himself caught like this, he would always find a way out. He would scratch and bite with claw and-
In a moment of clear realisation Kaimana knew exactly what to do. Eloni continued to lower herself on top of Kaimana, straining her neck to get a good glimpse of the blade that was at this moment cutting into the skin of Kaimana’s neck.
Still gripping Eloni’s wrist, Kaimana thrust her head up, bared her teeth, and sank them into Eloni’s throat.
Kaimana’s former teacher gave a panicked cry, and in her own mouth Kaimana could feel Eloni’s voice, the hard cartilage of the older woman’s throat pushing against Kaimana’s teeth.
“Get off me, you witch, off.”
Kaimana continued to hold on, despite the continuing agony in her shoulder, despite the ache of her arms, despite the blood that now rushed into her mouth. Despite what should have been the horror of what she was doing to Eloni.
Kaimana felt Eloni’s movements becoming more panicked, and the woman tried frantically to free herself from the small ocarina player. In response, Kaimana bit harder, feeling her teeth pierce through more flesh, feeling the wet stuff underneath Eloni’s skin tear much more easily than Kaimana had thought it would.
Eloni tried to scream, but quickly stopped, realising that the act of doing so was forcing Kaimana’s teeth to dig deeper into her. Instead, Eloni began to cough, and warm, wet liquid sprayed from the woman’s mouth onto Kaimana’s head and face.
The knife dropped to the floor and both of Eloni’s hands pulled at Kaimana’s hair, but weakly now, as the blood-filled coughs continued.
“Please,” the woman said, “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Please, release me.”
I’m not a murderer. I’m only doing this because she’s stopping me from freeing my friend. I take no pleasure in this.
Eloni went limp, and Kaimana immediately let go. She could see the woman was still breathing, but did not want to waste any more time checking on her - Rakau would already be far ahead of them by this point.
Taking only a few seconds to check that there was nobody standing guard, Kaimana ducked outside.
They were at sail now, and Hohepa’s canoe was further behind the others, but was towing the body of the large shark taniwha behind them, a prize to present to Nakoa. Kaimana rushed to the edge of the canoe and looked down. She was relieved to see the moonlight illuminating the seabed of the Atoll beneath her again, and thanked Laka that this part of her world was back to normal.
Suddenly, she heard a shout. Kaimana turned her head to spot three of Nakoa’s warriors staring at her. She was surprised to see fear on their faces, and she turned around to look at whatever monstrosity behind her had made them react that way.
There was nothing there.
Kaimana could not help the smile that crossed her face when she realised it was her own blood-soaked appearance that had given them cause to start. She turned her head slowly back to them, allowing the white of her teeth to stand out from the dark red blood that was staining her face, and then Kaimana jumped over the side of the canoe into the water, to her freedom.<
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A tale from the Crescent Atoll
This is the story of twin brothers. Both were born under the same new moon, both were given the same love from their parents. However, one of these boys grew up to be kind, hardworking and gentle, whereas his sibling was selfish, lazy and cruel.
When they were young men, their father died, taken by one of Leinani’s wrathful fits. Their mother had a talent only for cookery and could not support herself with her Knack alone.
“Do not come begging at my door,” the selfish son said to his aging mother. “I have so little to feed myself with, I cannot add any more labour to my day by having to think of you as well.” To ensure that she would not return, the selfish son then slapped his mother’s face. She left, in tears.
When the kind son heard of this, he approached his mother, finding her crying under a coconut tree.
“Do not worry, mother of mine,” he said, drying away her tears. “I have food and shelter for us both. You took care of me when I was young and weak, and now it is my turn to care for you.”
The mother looked at her son with thankful eyes, knowing full well the burden she was placing on him. “Tangaloa bless you, my son, and may he give you plenty. May your mana grow more bountiful with every kind act.”
Years passed, and the kind son continued to look after his mother until she faded away. After her death, both brothers decided it was time to marry, and unfortunately both set their sights on the same maiden from the village, the chieftain’s daughter.
The kind brother knew the chieftain’s daughter was tired of being pursued by suitors who only wanted her hand to get closer to her father’s position of power. Instead of approaching her father first, the kind brother decided to take his time to woo the girl, bringing her flowers and pearls that he fished from the sea. The chief was happy to watch this courtship quietly blossom, and eventually the chief’s daughter fell in love with the kind brother, and she agreed to marry him.
“You are a good man, to win my heart in such a way instead of forcing me into a life with someone I do not love,” the daughter whispered to her intended on the eve of their wedding. “You must have strong mana to have faith in such a course of action.”
The kind brother smiled and thought of his mother. “My kindness is the source of my mana, and it is strong.”
Unfortunately, the other brother had a strong source of mana as well. His mana was born from violence, and cruelty was his gift. As the chieftain’s daughter spoke with her intended under the stars, the selfish brother and his men crept into the chief’s hut and gutted and butchered everyone they found there. When the kind brother and his wife-to-be returned, they were both taken captive. The selfish brother took the chief’s daughter as his own wife, and exiled his brother from the island forever.
The kind brother spent many years travelling the islands in misery. Eventually, he found solace in Tangaloa’s priesthood, the god of the sea, and as an old man he was given the responsibility of watching the eastern passages across the Atoll ring, watching and recording signs of large sea creatures moving to and from the Inner Sea. It was a peaceful existence, and after a lifetime of serving his god, the brother thought only rarely of the island that had once been his home.
One day, the goddess Leinani became angry, and the waves rose high and the sky blackened. The kind priest found himself marooned for weeks on his small island outpost. His food and water stores quickly ran low, and the sea was too rough for him to travel back to his temple.
Two weeks after the storm began, the priest found a young man washed up on his beach, the survivor of a large canoe destroyed by the storm. The priest nursed this man back to health. He was shocked to find, however, that this young man was his nephew - his brother’s son with the chief’s daughter. When the priest found out about the young man’s parents, he was in a state of shock. He experienced emotions of anger and regret that he had thought were long buried, and for a brief, horrible moment he considered murdering the young man in his sleep.
However, the priest’s wisdom prevailed and he caused his nephew no harm. He tried to hide his revelation from his nephew, but the young man could tell the priest was in some distress and eventually pried the information from him. For a long time after that the priest’s nephew was silent.
The storm began to die down, and food was running low, so both men faced a problem. They could not afford to wait much longer for a rescue from their remote island, as there was only a day’s worth of food left between them. The priest’s canoe remained, but it would hold only one of them, and both knew that the priest’s aged muscles would not be able to fight with the still-angry waves that assaulted the Atoll.
“I will rescue you,” the priest’s nephew said. “I am strong enough to row your canoe to the nearest island. Let me go for help. I will be back within a day with friends, and will bring you to safety.”
Could this boy be trusted? His father certainly was not worthy of trust, but the priest decided he should not judge this boy by his father’s sins.
“My mother told me I had an uncle,” the boy said as the priest agreed that his nephew should take the canoe. “She also told me that he had great mana, born from his endless kindness. I can see now what she meant.”
With a weak smile, the priest handed the boy over the rest of the food, most of the water, and watched the boy paddle over the distant horizon.
No rescue came.
It was by the third day, when the priest had been without fresh water for too long, that he allowed himself to admit he would never see the boy again. Moreover, although it was very possible his nephew had been overcome by the high waves of the raging seas, the priest knew in his heart of hearts that the boy had made it to safety, but had broken his promise.
That night, water-starved and heart-weary, the priest died. He died sitting upright on the beach, staring at the moonlight reflected onto the now-calm Atoll waters.
In that magical moment as the spirit readies itself to leave a dead body, Tangaloa came to visit the priest.
The sea god took the form of some seaweed, washed up on the beach in front of the dead priest. The seaweed took the shape of a man’s face, with tangled hair and crab-infested beard, and moved as Tangaloa spoke to his servant.
“Rarely has one come into my arms with such plentiful mana, and having travelled such a difficult road to gather and keep such a bounty. Kind One, I take you willingly into my kingdom, and because of your kindness and your service in my priesthood, I offer you a boon. You may name one thing of me, and I will grant it to you as best I can.”
The priest’s spirit thought for a short while, and then spoke to his god. “Great Tangaloa, you must know that I have a brother. You must know he has taken much from me - my island and my love. His wife once loved me, but now lives happily with him and their son. And this son, he lied to me, and his lies have resulted in my death.”
“Yes, all of this I know.”
“My request has to do with them.”
Tangaloa said nothing, waiting for more.
“I want you to kill them. I want you to wipe them from the face of the Atoll, and let none who share their bloodline survive to cheat, lie and forget their loved ones ever again.”
Tangaloa’s mouth opened in a grin to show white cowry shells, glinting like sharp teeth in the moonlight.
“You are indeed kind, to request such a thing from me. You must know I will find great pleasure in this task. Come into my kingdom, Kind One, and watch as your request is fulfilled.”
The sea god’s waves reached out for the dead priest and carried his body to Tangaloa’s kingdom. Within the hour, the Atoll waters had become violent again, and giant waves began to wage havoc upon the islands.
One island in particular, the island that the priest had been born on, did not survive the storm. When visitors attempted to find it days later, when the waters had abated, it was nowhere to be found.
Some claim to have seen a giant wave crashing down over the island, a wave
mounted by Tangaloa himself, with a grinning old man in priest’s robes sitting on his right shoulder.
However, this story cannot be true, for nobody who saw the waves break upon the island survived that night to tell the tale.
As soon as she was under the water, Kaimana acted quickly. She had to jump off the canoe to escape further capture, but she could not let them get away from her - Rakau would have precious little time left after he arrived in front of Nakoa, and the high priest’s boat was already much further behind the captive taniwha.
Blinking as the salt water stung her eyes, Kaimana made straight for the dead monster trailing behind Hohepa’s canoe. From under the water, Kaimana could see the attention the dead monster was attracting from the local wildlife. The entire underbelly of the monster was swarming with small fish, nibbling on the dead taniwha’s flesh. There were also more than a few Atoll sharks lurking nearby, darting in for a quick bite, but otherwise keeping their distance.
As the corpse was dragged past her, Kaimana reached out to grab one of the ropes the taniwha was being towed with. She underestimated the power with which it was being pulled, and nearly lost her grip straight away, which would have left her stranded in Atoll waters with no chance of keeping up with her friend.
Rung by rung she pulled herself along the netting on the underside of the monster’s belly, her lungs burning with lack of air. She knew, however, she could not surface now - the warriors were alerted to her escape, and would be scouring the waters behind the canoe for her. Kaimana waited until she was hidden from sight by the dead taniwha before allowing herself a breath.
Now what? We have at least a day’s travel before we reach Nakoa’s island, and I can’t imagine they’ll stop before we get there. Am I just to hang on here until we arrive?
Where the Waters Turn Black (Yarnsworld Book 2) Page 21
