by Matt Larkin
Pele bit back any response. Yes. She had been frightened, instinctively righting herself when she began to fall. Who in Lua-O-Milu wouldn’t do so?
“What news from Puako?” she asked instead.
“The sickness that ravages the Valley Isle has begun to spread here.”
Her stomach lurched. She had failed. “Namaka brought the curse of her island with her.” Already.
“I’m not so certain. I think common traders most likely carried it with them. Perhaps it became inevitable from the moment the illness entered Sawaiki. Either way, Tangaloa’s people ate the foreign captain this morning.”
Pele started. Honestly, she had no idea how to feel about that. She had merely wanted the man to leave. With a sigh, she shook her head. The disease was far more concerning. She had no power over such things. Did Fire-Keeper think it was not caused by the aumakuas, by their displeasure with Namaka? What else save angry spirits could cause mass sickness?
Whatever the cause, she could not allow her people to suffer and die without pursuing every possible track.
“What do I do?” she mumbled.
“You have to decide that for yourself. You are the Princess.”
Death stalked amidst her land. The kahunas were healers and experts on the Ghost World. But the kahunas of the Valley Isle had already failed to help their own people. Maybe they would find a solution, an answer. But she couldn’t rely on that, nor wait for it. She needed someone who knew secrets beyond even the kahunas.
Pele groaned. She couldn’t well question the gods themselves. That left her only one place left to turn. Half-gods walking the Earth. Someone who knew forgotten truths and wielded power beyond mankind’s reach.
Someone like her father.
Facing Ku-Aha-Ilo at less than full strength would have been a foolish risk. According to Fire-Keeper, the kupua’s tracks led near here, but since she had found herself near Mount Hualali—one of the four great volcanoes on the Big Isle—she decided to instead climb the mountain. It had taken extreme effort in her condition, and Fire-Keeper had to help most of the way. But with every step closer, she felt her strength returning.
Below her lay the smoldering crater, covered by a blanket of sulfuric vapors. She cast aside her pa’u skirt. It would only catch fire anyway. Breathing deeply, Pele skidded down the slope to come to rest on the rock ledge surrounding the lava pools. This place would kill a human, but to her, it offered a reprieve.
The kahuna had agreed to remain below, watching to see if Ku-Aha-Ilo left his lair. There wasn’t anything for Fire-Keeper to do in the crater, even if he could have survived this close to the lava pools and toxic fumes.
This volcano had not erupted in long years. Instead, its lava had burned out an almost inverted bowl on one side, creating a large overhang that shadowed much of the cavern and locked in the radiant warmth.
Pele dipped a toe in one pool, shivering from its intense heat. Some humans liked to luxuriate in hot springs. This was pretty much the same thing for her. Slowly, she sunk waist deep into the molten rock. It was much thicker than water, so it took more effort to submerge herself in it. As she did, the heat began to soothe away the aches in her legs and back. She sunk lower, until only her shoulders breached the surface.
This place, any volcano, was suffused with mana, bubbling up from far beneath the surface of the Earth. Here, the fires she always felt below her were manifest, released in such glory she could not help but absorb strength from them.
A few hours bathing in lava and her body would be replete with mana, her strength returned. She shut her eyes, basking in the heat on her face. The smell was an acquired taste, of course. Most people would blanch at the smell of sulfur, and rightly so. But a Flame Princess was not most people.
For a long time she sat, resting, half asleep, her waking dreams beset by visions of her mother, of the boils on her face. And of the sick, of whole villages dying of a plague whose source she was no longer certain of. And, perhaps most of all, she dreamed of the unrelieved anger of the spirit haunting Puako. Whether sent by Ku-Aha-Ilo, or mere coincidence, the ghost was filled with a palpable rage that even now threatened to choke her.
Its fury hit her like a physical blow, jolted her into full wakefulness. She rose, lava streaming down her back and dripping over her breasts, the presence still haunting her. Indeed, she once again saw a silhouette, moving at the corner of her eye, deep in the shadows of this crater.
She spun, and this time the presence did not vanish. A man-like form passed in and out of the fumes suffusing her refuge. The man, or ghost, stepped forward, seeming for all the world solid. And as he passed out of the fumes, she at last got a look at him, enough to be certain it was no living man. His features were distorted by the ravage that had become his neck—it looked to have erupted like a volcano, displaying charred, loose flaps of skin and revealing too clearly the spine beneath.
The ghost strode forward, approaching her until its path brought it to a beam of sunlight reaching into the cavern. There the ghost faltered, seemingly unable to cross the light. Hatred, rage lit its eyes and wafted off it, leaving her trembling. It opened its mouth, but only a gurgle of blood escaped.
Pele reached a hand toward the ghost, not certain what she meant to do.
Its form flickered a moment, then vanished.
She let her hand fall back to her side. What had that meant? Had the ghost followed her here? She had, after all, challenged it, threatened it. And it had clearly intended to strike at her, had even revealed itself. Maybe she’d only been able to see it now, in this sacred place, because she had absorbed so much mana. Places like this were liminal, closer to the Ghost World. Perhaps that was how the spirit had manifested itself. But even if that explained the how, it did not answer the why. Had it shown itself merely to increase her horror—surely it was a revolting sight. Or maybe it had to reveal itself before striking. If so, that beam of sunlight had just saved her life.
That would mean, though, that the ghost was not bound to Puako, could follow her anywhere. And she had only a few hours of sunlight left. If it had determined to end her, she wouldn’t have much time.
“Lua-O-Milu,” she mumbled. She was not going to enjoy tonight.
As expected, Fire-Keeper waited for her on the lower slopes of Mount Hualali. Concern lit the kahuna’s eyes, as if he had sensed the spirit’s presence up in the crater. Pele recounted her experience as quickly as she could—she had no time to lose.
“Where is he?”
Fire-Keeper pointed to a mountain just beyond Hualali. “There’s a valley there. You’ll find a pass through the jungle, albeit a difficult and hidden one. Do you want me to show you?”
Pele shook her head. “No. Just find out where Namaka went.” One way or another, the Sea Princess was tied up in the chaos erupting across Sawaiki, and Pele could not afford to lose track of her. “I have to deal with Ku-Aha-Ilo myself.”
Fire-Keeper only nodded, but she could see in the man’s eyes he was proud of her for it. Some things a person had to do for herself, without the crutch of parents to lean on. “Pele, you have to hurry. When night falls, Dark spirits grow stronger. It sounds as if this ghost stands on the verge of becoming a Nightmarcher, if it has not become one already.”
Indeed. On impulse, she embraced the kahuna. “Please try to protect everyone.”
“I always try.”
With that, she took off at a near run. Suffused with mana from the volcano, she felt almost bursting with energy. She had to hope it would prove enough.
The valley Fire-Keeper spoke of was practically inaccessible to humans. Sheer greenery-covered mountain slopes dropped off a hundred paces or more, accompanied by numerous waterfalls pitching down into a river flowing through the jungle. Only by trekking through a narrow pass in that jungle could a person even hope to access this place. It seemed Ku-Aha-Ilo valued his privacy.
Pele, however, didn’t care what her father valued. He alone might be able to save the victims of this dise
ase, to say nothing of calling off this ghost now pursuing her. Of course, begging him to do so meant forgoing her vengeance against him. The ghostfuckere had boiled her mother’s cheek, would have killed her brother for even existing. Ku-Aha-Ilo deserved to be purged from the Earth in a cascade of flame. Even the thought of it built a rumbling in her chest she had to struggle to contain. Vibrations surged from her, would have sent the ground trembling, seeking to erupt and bury the entire valley before her in a blanket of lava.
Shaking, she knelt by the river and dunked her hands, raising a few sips to her mouth.
With a sigh, she rose and flung the water from her fingers. Mild aches still ravaged her body from the beating Namaka had given her. Despite her best efforts, Pele had not managed to draw any further strength from the flames. Maybe one day she’d have the calmness of mind and heart to do such a thing. Not today. Today she could taste rage on her tongue like sulfuric vapors, acidic and foul and desperate for release. The influx of mana had given her strength, but it also fueled her own tumultuous nature. That was fine—sometimes rage was a good thing.
She followed the river toward the valley until she came to a circle of ki’i masks, each three paces tall. Unlike the familiar gods of her people, she recognized few of the fearsome visages. Ghosts or demons, perhaps, though the one on the left was certainly Kalai-Pahoa, the Poison Tree God. A slow smile crept over her face. What lengths Ku-Aha-Ilo had gone to just to remain hidden here. Any that even braved the jungle would be stalled by the masks, never daring enter such an ancient, protected place. Surely walking here was tabu. Pele walked on anyway.
The waterfalls emptied into a pool that itself dropped into the river over another fall. The locale was so pristine Pele had to pause for a moment and take it in. How could a being so foul choose a place so divine to live in? The crash of water muffled other sounds, even the sound of her own approach. As she neared the pool, however, a woman surfaced from beneath it. She was perhaps Pele’s age, beautiful, and looking far too at home here in the valley. Could Fire-Keeper have been wrong? Had Ku-Aha-Ilo never come here at all?
The woman started at Pele’s approach, then swam over to where she’d left her skirt. Eyes never leaving Pele, she wrapped the skirt around her waist, then placed a flower wreath on her head like she herself was some Princess.
“Where is Ku-Aha-Ilo?” Pele asked when the woman approached her.
“Who are you?” Haughty. His mate? Perhaps thinking herself important, mated to a kupua. Never imagining what Ku-Aha-Ilo did with his discarded playthings. The fresh vision of her mother’s burned face brought a glower to Pele’s own.
“Where is Ku-Aha-Ilo?” Pele repeated, taking a step forward and letting flames creep into her eyes.
The woman recoiled, her bravado broken in an instant, mouth trembling. She glanced back at the pool as if she thought diving in might protect her.
Pele advanced until she stood close enough the other woman would feel her radiant heat. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
Eyes wide, the woman jerked her head toward the far side of the pool. Pele stared in that direction, but she didn’t see anything. Behind the foliage, perhaps?
“You’d better not be lying to me.”
Not sparing her another glance, Pele strode around the pool, trying to keep confidence in her steps despite the pounding of her heart. Intimidating a common girl was no feat, but facing her father … Damn. She couldn’t afford to think of him like that. This was Ku-Aha-Ilo. He’d never been a father to her. Never.
There. In the spot the woman had indicated, a cavern cut back into the mountainside. Ferns and overhanging vines covered it so perfectly you had to stand right next to it to even see the place.
Pele pushed aside the foliage and stepped into the cavern. The sunlight barely reached inside and she could make out little in the darkness, but even so, something seemed off. The cavern itself looked wrong somehow, the angles and position not quite the way a river should have carved this place. Nor was it a lava tube. Pele frowned. Was it possible that people—or kupua—had made this cavern? If she were determined, she might be able to direct lava flows to do something like this. But why? Had Ku-Aha-Ilo created this haven merely because he liked the valley?
The Big Isle—all the islands, supposedly—was riddled with tunnels dug by the menehune, the inhabitants of Sawaiki before humans had come here. Maybe the menehune had really created this place and Ku-Aha-Ilo merely suborned it for his uses.
Frowning, she summoned a flame to her hand, a torch to light the way. With a last glance over her shoulder—back at the relative safety of the sunlight—she trod forward.
The cave wound around a bend, blocking out sunlight and much of the sound of the waterfalls. The echo of her footfalls told her the cavern was deep, and before long the tunnel began sloping downward. She followed it for perhaps thirty paces before it opened into a larger cavern. Here, the ceiling receded to such heights she could barely make out the stalactites above. Staring up at them, she could swear she heard them whispering to one another, telling secrets never meant for mortal ears. Was this place home to restless ghosts?
Kāne preserve her. She never should have come down here. Probably never should have come looking for Ku-Aha-Ilo in the first place. And she was twice damned for telling Fire-Keeper to leave. By all the aumakuas what she wouldn’t give to feel his comforting hand on her shoulder, guiding her.
She could still turn back. Retreat the way she came. The cavern was so dark she couldn’t see across it. Yes. Turn and run like a little girl. Pele sneered. She was better than that. So filled with anger, she had no room in her for fear. And anger was like a flame, best kindled often. She flexed her other hand, calling forth a second torch, before trekking onward.
Something cool and hard crunched under her foot. Almost afraid to know, she bent. Bones. A human femur most likely, grown brittle over time. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her torches low to the ground now revealed a trail of bones, including at least two dozen skulls. Most were old, cracked, but a handful appeared to have been set aside, preserved carefully.
A feeling of being watched, coupled with an alien anger and hatred, crept in around her. She knew that feeling by now, had come to associate it with the ghost of Puako Village. It was here, chasing her, and she had walked out of any protection of sunlight. If anything, the spirit’s anger had grown. In mere moments, it might manifest again, strangle her. Perhaps her flames might ward it away for a time—she knew better than to think she could actually burn a being without form.
The sound of bubbles rising drew her gaze to a pool on the far side of the cavern. Pele strode over. The light hit the liquid. Not water—blood. Bubbles rose from a pool of blood at least three paces across. A head followed those bubbles, and then shoulders. Pele’s heart leapt into her throat and she fell back a step. The vile man who stepped from the blood pool was not tall or especially broad-shouldered, though his muscles were taut.
Pele had not seen her father in many years. But it was him. Of that, she had no doubt. And if she had ever doubted Ku-Aha-Ilo was a demon before, she no longer did so. His head was shaved in the front, but he wore the rest of his hair long, halfway down his back, and at the moment, dripping with blood. He had a short beard and a series of tattoos covering one side of his face and one arm, though she could not make out the designs beneath the crimson now staining his entire body.
Her stomach lurched.
That spirit had retreated as she drew near Ku-Aha-Ilo’s blood pool. Unwilling to intrude upon its master, but probably ready to attack should he call it.
Ku-Aha-Ilo stepped forward, so close to her she fell back another step without even meaning to. She ought to bury this entire place in lava. Fill in this cursed cavern so no living soul would ever walk here again. Perhaps doing so would mean this demon could never help her cure the disease, perhaps even she would die here, buried alive. Might be worth it to rid the Earth of such vileness.
He spoke before she could
even form words. “One of my brood, aren’t you?” He grabbed her chin with a slick, too-warm hand. Was that human blood he smeared all over her cheeks? “Oh, yes. Pele. I seem to have a knack for siring Princesses. Hmmm.” With that, he released her.
Pele backed away so quickly she stumbled and fell on her ass, barely keeping her torches lit. She should be embarrassed, but the terror drowned that out at the moment. Best get what she came here for quickly and escape while she could. “A-a foreign illness spreads across Sawaiki. People are sick, dying. It’s like the aumakuas have turned on us.”
“So?”
“So you have ancient knowledge, secrets not even kahuna possess. You must know a way to save them.”
He shrugged. “I’m not going to get sick. Neither are you or any of my brood. The humans are inconsequential.”
“Inconsequential?” He was serious. She pushed herself up, forced herself to meet his gaze. “You’re already sick, father. Are you going to just let hundreds, maybe thousands of people suffer and die?”
He chuckled, the sound filling the cavern with echoes deeper than any man’s laugh had a right to. “Suffering and death are the meaning and entirety of human existence. There is no cure. Only cycles of pain, agony to be feasted on by their betters. Beings like us. Would you grant them a reprieve, however temporary? Then purify them with your flames. Burn away this disease before it spreads.”
Pele backed away from his mad tirade, shaking her head long before he finished speaking. “What are you?”
“Transcendent. Something beyond these humans you seem to care so much for. This compassion is your weakness. Come back to me when you’ve burned it out. Then we will speak of forgotten secrets.”
Damn him. Was she so easy for him to dismiss? Her anger sent the cavern trembling, and he turned back with a raised eyebrow.
“Why did you attack Mama? Why kill her husband?”
He shrugged. “Surely you know mana passes from flesh to flesh. The mana that passed from me to her, she would have handed down to her latest brat. And his flesh would be worth feasting on.”
