The Burning Princess

by Matt Larkin

“You were raised by that monster?”

  “What? No! Thank the aumakuas. No, I was with Mama for my early years. Ku-Aha-Ilo only came by every so often. I never knew what he wanted. And then Fire-Keeper—a kahuna—he recognized me as a Princess, offered to train me. Offered or insisted, I don’t remember properly. Either way, Mama sent me with him. Even after that, my … father … he found me and the kahuna from time to time, checking in on me. Not out of any love, I think.”

  Kāne-Milohai shivered, looking at the sun as it sat low on the horizon. “He killed my father.”

  “I know.” One more death, one more crime. Ku-Aha-Ilo was a walking violation of the natural order, the utter desolation of all kapu. “What was his name?”

  “Kāne-Hoalani.”

  So. It was the father named after Kāne, and the son named after him. Two more lives destroyed by Pele’s father. “Tell me about him.”

  “He was …” Her brother shook himself. “You wanted to know about Mother.” For a moment, the boy rubbed the back of his head. “She names the clouds, sometimes.” He pointed at the shapes in the sky, already thick and ready to burst with evening rain. “Like maybe that one is a whale, or the one over there a goose.”

  “A goose.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not as involved as her, all right.”

  Naming the clouds. Pele smiled. She liked that. In another lifetime, maybe she’d have grown up doing that herself. Spending her afternoons lying on grass, staring up at the sky and having no cares beyond what to cook for supper. By now, she’d have a handful of children of her own. But then, had that been her life, her brother would not have been born. Nor would she trade her role as Princess. It came with burdens, for certain, but it was an incredible honor. And there was no rush quite like the glory of flame passing through her, answering the call of her soul.

  “I always wanted to meet you, you know,” he said. “I used to brag to the other kids. My sister was a Princess, right? I kept thinking, one day, you’d come here and prove me right.”

  Pele sighed. “I didn’t even know about you. If I had, I’d have come a long time ago.”

  He snorted. “I get it. They call it the Big Isle for a reason. But I’m going to see it all, one day. Maybe even sail an outrigger over to the Valley Isle.”

  Pele frowned. Things were not well across the channel these days. She didn’t want any of her people, much less her newly discovered brother, heading over there.

  Her brother babbled on, talking of all the things Pele had missed in her life. Or maybe, missed in her mother’s life. Pele was happy with what she’d been given, after all, she just wished she’d been able to know her mother more. And to have had the chance to see Milohai grow up and become the young man he was now. She had missed too much. But she would fix that now. Now was her chance to have a real family. She just had to take care of Ku-Aha-Ilo first.

  As he spoke, though, Kāne-Milohai grew increasingly agitated, casting glances back at the village, or at the descending sun.

  “You have some liaison planned with a girl, don’t you?”

  “Not today. Not at night.”

  Pele folded her arms. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s just … ever since that monster came, the nights have been, I don’t know. Darker? Like there’s something out there, something that followed in his wake. People are scared, don’t want to talk about it.”

  Frowning, she glanced back at the village. Chances were good her brother and the other villagers were merely spooked by the horror and violence her father had visited upon them. But … she did believe Ku-Aha-Ilo knew of the Art. What if he had visited some curse upon these people? Some further punishment for whatever imagined slight caused him to attack her mother in the first place.

  Much as she wanted to visit vengeance upon the one who had done this, maybe they needed her here. “Milohai, listen to me carefully. I’m your sister. But I’m also your Princess. It is my kapu to protect you. I’m sorry I failed to protect your parents. But if there is some curse in the night, I’m going to find it and break it. Do you understand?”

  He nodded, eyes wide as if unable to believe she would, or could, do such a thing. Of course, she had no idea how to break a curse, if there even was one, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed someone to tell him everything would be all right, that life would go on.

  “I want you to tell all the villagers to stay inside tonight.”

  “Believe me, they already do.”

  “The kahuna knows about this?”

  He nodded. “He prays all night long, trying to keep us safe.”

  Good. Let the old man shelter the people. “Go on then.”

  She watched as her brother scrambled back toward their mother’s house. When he was safely inside, she set about gathering some kindling. After padding it with dry palm leaves, she snapped her fingers, sending sparks skittering along the tinder. It caught almost immediately, and a wave of her hand sent the flames climbing. It would be some time before the sun set and, most likely, a wait after that for anything to happen.

  Folding her legs beneath her, she settled in front of the fire.

  2

  Just offshore a sea turtle swam through the crystal blue waters around Sawaiki. From the rocks where she sat, Namaka could feel the turtle, could feel the fish, could feel the children surfing atop waves, trying to master their boards. Over the past week her villagers had already begun to reconstruct their destroyed homes, to rebuild the boardwalk that would once again support them, connect them to the sea. The ocean was almost as much a part of the islanders as it was of her, and she was a mermaid and the Princess of Sea.

  Except, much as the Sawaikians loved the endless Worldsea, now they had reason to fear it, even if they did not yet understand those reasons. Farther offshore, leagues away in the great reef, the mer city of Hiyoya had fallen to the he’e. Once, Namaka had thought the octopus people near mythical and far removed from humanity. All that had changed. Now, through their betrayal of Hiyoya, and through Pasikole, she knew the he’e controlled much of the world behind the scenes. They manipulated humans, much as they had done with Pasikole himself. Their motives were hard to guess, their very thought patterns and speech alien. But she had to assume they intended to dominate all the Worldsea.

  She would need to liberate Hiyoya, and soon. But before she could spare time for such things, a more immediate crisis on the Valley Isle demanded her attention. Pasikole had unwittingly brought diseases with him, and now half of her village—indeed, many other villages as well—had fallen ill. Some people had already begun to perish. Namaka’s own mother was one of those suffering. She had lost her father less than two weeks ago. She was not about to lose her mother too.

  She had spent the past week traveling back and forth between here and the Hiyoya refugees, seeking some way to save her mother. If she could get a mermaid to take her mother, it might save her life. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost get a sense of Hiyoya, even so many leagues away. Enough of a sense to know the he’e god-king Kanaloa lingered there. Long had her people worshipped Kanaloa as the god of magic, god of the unknowable deep, without ever suspecting their deity was actually king of the he’e. Namaka, for all her power, had no real way to fight such a foe. The creature was enormous, perhaps bigger even than the taniwha, and a master of the Art. No one in Hiyoya could be certain what the god-king was capable of, and that made everyone afraid.

  Even if she could drive out Kanaloa, even if she defeated the he’e and found a mermaid willing to take her mother—and few wanted to claim a host already past her prime—still she’d be unlikely to find one willing to share the body with a human consciousness. Chances were she’d wind up damning her mother to slavery that might last for centuries.

  No, she needed another plan. Once again, she found herself desperately missing Mo-O-Inanea. The dragon had raised her, consoled her in moments of weakness, and always had a bit of sage advice for Namaka. And, in the end, had sacrificed herself to
ensure Namaka could defeat the taniwha and save the Valley Isle.

  With a sigh, Namaka rose and turned from the sea, only to find Kamapua’a tromping toward her. His nature as a wereboar seemed to protect him from disease, just as it gave him near-endless stamina—put to good use for the first time in his life, helping rebuild the village.

  “Aloha, Fish Girl,” the wereboar shouted at her.

  She hadn’t been able to shake the nickname, but then she probably deserved it for calling him Pigman all those years. She waved at him, then when he drew near, threw her arms around him though she’d had no intention of doing so. They’d grown up together, as best friends, and he was the closest thing she had to a brother. Also, he was drenched in sweat. She backed away, making a face at him, though she knew he’d not be fooled.

  “Kamalo is back,” he said.

  Thank Kāne. Many of the nearby villages had lost their kahunas, so her uncle had been traveling about, helping to send the dead. Thanks to Nyi Rara, Namaka had once seen into the Ghost World, seen the ghosts that lingered there if not properly sent. Those who lingered too long might be damned, transformed into Nightmarchers. A kahuna’s work was never done and no village could truly afford to be without one. But thanks to the taniwha and the spreading sickness, more and more found themselves bereft of much-needed spiritual guidance and protection.

  While Kamalo was certainly needed abroad, he was also the last place she had left to turn to for advice. And despite wracking her brain—now more or less fused with the soul of Nyi Rara—for a week, she had still found no plan to save either her human people or her mer kin. She was one of the most powerful people in Sawaiki, perhaps in the whole world, and she couldn’t think of a damn thing she could do to help.

  “Come on,” she said. “I need to see him.”

  “Figured.”

  She followed Kam along the shore to a lean-to the village had set up just after the taniwha had died. The old kahuna drifted among the wounded, inspecting them, offering prayers to gods that may or may not have even been listening. Her faith in deities above had been shaken on learning Kanaloa was a real being here on Earth. What if the kahuna had also misunderstood the nature of other divinities?

  Moela ran beside Kamalo, but yipped and rushed to Namaka at her approach. She had asked Kamalo to care for him now, but Moela would always be her little puppy. She knelt and nuzzled his ears while Kamalo tended a boy shivering despite the midday heat.

  “Uncle.”

  He turned at her voice, nodded once to her, then whispered a final prayer over the boy. Namaka caught her mother’s eye while Kamalo prayed. She was wrapped in a kihei cloak at the moment, like she too was a child, but she managed a weak smile for Namaka. Part of her wanted to hate Pasikole for bringing this among her people, but he had not meant to. And, in fact, his crew had spent most of their time trying to help rebuild the boardwalk or carve up the dead taniwha—no easy task given its near-impenetrable scales—for much needed food.

  Kamalo rose and clapped her on the shoulder, leading her away from the rest of the villagers. Kamapua’a moved to follow them, but a glance from her uncle stilled the wereboar, who shrugged then took off back toward the construction work.

  “He has grown in recent days.” Moela fell in step between them.

  Namaka nodded. “I guess we all had to.”

  “He’s still a far step from properly following kapu, but it’s progress.”

  “How are things at the other villages?”

  Her uncle sighed. He now leaned heavily on his walking stick, the badge of his office. Finally, away from the others, he sank onto the sand and motioned her to do the same. He was just tired from his long trek, that was all. Sure, Kamalo was getting old, his hair long since gray, but he was fine. He had to be.

  “The situation is dire. There are more dead than I can send in a timely manner and I will soon have to travel even farther abroad, make my way to villages on the far side of the Valley Isle. I had to see you first. The truth is, Namaka … after the attacks, we just … We need more kahuna.”

  She nodded, then shut her eyes when she realized the depth of his meaning. Kamalo might train apprentices, but a real kahuna got his power from mana siphoned off a Princess. And short of letting one consume her flesh, the only way to transfer such mana was by sharing her body, by allowing the potential kahuna to sexually satisfy her. Kapu had demanded she take a lover already but, after all that had happened, she’d decided her kapu had changed. She was, after all, now as much as mermaid as she was a Princess. That might have justified her decision under ordinary circumstances. But if she did not do as Kamalo suggested, did not take a lover—or many, as it were—ghosts would linger across the island, haunt the living, and be trapped in torment. Even if Kamalo could send all the ghosts killed by the taniwha, more and more people would perish over time. That was inevitable in life.

  “How can I even think about taking lovers while my mother lies dying? She may have mere days left. What am I supposed to do? What are you going to do about it? She’s your niece.”

  Kamalo grunted, then looked up at the evening sky. “Great thing about walking is, it gives you lots of time to think, to reflect. In your case, I guess swimming might do the same. I was reminded of a story I heard as a young kahuna in training. It comes from the Big Isle, a long time ago. A man’s beloved wife had fallen deathly ill. And this man, he traveled across the full island, searching for the Place of Darkness. There, locked away from mortal eyes, Kāne had hidden the mythical Waters of Life. And this man faced great danger and claimed the waters, and they saved his wife.”

  Namaka bit her lip. What was he saying? That he thought this old legend was true? That such life-giving waters might really exist? If so, they could prove the miracle she’d been searching for. But such powers tended to come with a cost. That, the part of her that was Nyi Rara knew for certain. Even mer—who were in fact beings of spirit—avoided use of the Art when possible. Still, she had to try. It might be the only way to save her mother, to save everyone.

  She rose, nodding at Kamalo. “I have to go, then.”

  “I know you do. But, about the other issue …”

  She shook her head. “Not now, all right? After I save my mother, I will find a lover. I swear. First, so many more people need my help.”

  She ran back toward the lean-to, Moela chasing after her. She knelt by her mother’s side, planting a light kiss on her forehead. It was burning up, flush with fever. She had so little time. “I love you,” she whispered. “And I found what we need to get you well. I just have to go away for a few days.”

  Her mother bobbed her head, so slightly, then shut her eyes.

  After giving her dog a final pat on the head, Namaka rose and dashed for the sea.

  The people of Hiyoya now lay scattered across a dozen or more small camps, hidden in reefs off Sawaiki, seeking shelter in trenches, hiding in undersea caves. Some, Namaka had heard, had even fled as refugees, seeking solace in Mu. Perhaps they thought even enemy mer were better than being hunted down by the he’e. The octopus people had sent out occasional scouting parties, taking out stray mer. The ability to change the color and texture of their skin meant the creatures were nearly impossible to spot until they attacked.

  At least for most people. Namaka sensed something was off the moment she entered General Ake’s chamber in one of the trenches. The grotto had been bored out of the side of the trench, intended to serve as an outpost against Mu. Instead, it had become a refuge from the he’e. The water around the room was disrupted, the current slightly off.

  “It’s good you’ve returned, Princess,” the general said.

  Namaka kept her eyes locked on Ake, trying not to reveal what she knew until she could determine the spy’s exact location.

  “Is something wrong?” Ake asked when she didn’t respond.

  By now, the spy would be wondering the same question. He’e were clever—quite possibly smarter than humans or even mer. That, of course, was their whole
problem. The he’e ambassador had manipulated her into believing they sympathized with the plight of Hiyoya, had tricked her into asking for assistance the he’e had no intention of giving. And then, while Hiyoya was already breaking itself in the war against Mu, the octopuses had taken the city. The people of Hiyoya had underestimated the he’e simply because it never occurred to them that any mortal race might prove more cunning, more devious than beings of the Spirit Realm. The he’e were mortal, yes, but they were ancient too, having existed since some prior version of the world. And guided by Kanaloa, they had become the implacable foe no one had prepared for.

  Moving so slowly as to be—she hoped—imperceptible, she raised her hand, summoning a jet of water around her fingertips. Ake glanced down at her hand at the same moment she felt the waters shift, as the spy began edging toward the grotto’s side entrance. Namaka spun, launching the jet forward like a blade slicing through the ocean. At once, Ake jumped back, shouting, but it took the merman only a moment to realize she wasn’t attacking him.

  Her blade impacted the grotto wall, mixing a shower of rock, dust, and sand with an explosion of blood and ink as it sliced the he’e in half. The creature flopped around for a moment, its severed arms trying to crawl away on their own.

  Namaka grimaced. “I suppose I should have tried to take it alive.”

  Ake, eyes still wide, looked back and forth between her and the dead he’e. After a moment he visibly composed himself, then shook his head. “Temperance is a virtue, but I doubt it would have mattered in this case. He’e do not generally break under interrogation. Better it’s dead. Who knows how many of our war meetings these creatures have spied on?”

  With luck, very few. Namaka could only hope the he’e didn’t know many of the points the Hiyoyans had retreated to. Some of those locations were old colonies from the glory days of Hiyoya, long before Nyi Rara’s time. Many they had abandoned centuries ago. Such places now lay beyond the official borders of the Hiyoya kingdom. A good number, in fact, lay within the kingdom of Mu, making the position of the refugees precarious in the extreme. If discovered by Mu forces, they might face capture or execution. The truth was, her kingdom had been in decline for centuries. With the powers of a Sea Princess she might change that, but only if she was able to defeat the he’e first.