Cave of Bones (Dark Island Series Book 2)

by J. D. Matheny

  “Do you trust this creature, Bolo?”

  He was silent for a moment. She still doesn’t understand, he thought. If she did, she wouldn’t talk this way.

  “He is not a creature, Sala. He is a God. Our God. Worshipped by our ancestors long ago, when our people knew who they were. Before they forgot. Now they worship the Kaivalagi’s God. A God who is supposed to be everywhere and know everything. Who can create all the world with words. Who needs money from the people who don’t have any money to give. Yet He does nothing. Daucina is here, before us! A living God who asks little and blesses us with much.” His fire was rising inside him again, his eyes fervent and his voice full of passion. “Do I trust him, Sala? I must. I know the truth of our people now. Even before, I sensed it. If I can’t go forward with Daucina and I can’t go back to the wrong way of life that our people live now, where do I go? There is only one path now.”

  Sala watched him, weighing his words. She had a deep love for this man and she trusted him, but this was something different. Something beyond her understanding. But how could she not believe in him? The proof was before her eyes. There was no question now that this creature existed. What she had seen, what she had experienced, it wasn’t a figment of her imagination. The real question now, she thought, was whether this creature was true. If its intentions were as it portrayed them to be. Wasn’t it possible that it was some demon, tricking them into doing its bidding?

  What does it really want? she asked herself.

  “Bolo?” She waited for his eyes to meet hers, while he paddled on. “How can you be sure this Thing is really a God? Couldn’t it be something worse? A demon, maybe. That is just tricking you into believing it is a God?”

  He continued to look at her thoughtfully, as if truly considering her questions. “It is possible,” he said. “But I don’t think so. I feel it, Sala. In my heart. That’s the only way to be sure, isn’t it? Our belief and our faith. There are the stories from my childhood, too. They described the Gods to us. Some of them anyway. I remember Daucina, the child with the hood of fire, that was known to seduce people. Maybe He is trying to seduce us now, but it doesn’t matter. I believe in what He is showing me. What He wants might be best for Him, but it is also best for us.” He paddled on in silence for a moment longer, the muscles in his arms and neck flexing with each movement as he glided them along the surface of the water. “I hope I am not wrong to believe, Sala. If I am, then I’m afraid that I have doomed us. You can see now that we must continue this journey, we have no choice. There is no going back now.”

  The words chilled her because she knew they were true. She had barely made it past the lake before this Daucina had put a stop to her intentions to leave. There was no way she could see to get past Him. For better or worse, they were stuck here. She decided to hope for the better.

  “Then I am with you, husband. I will help you in any way I can and we will see where all this leads.”

  Bolo looked at her for a moment, a grateful smile displayed on his dark face, his teeth shining white in the hot sun. Then they were there, gliding up on to the opposite shore of the lake. Bolo stepped off the raft and pulled it firmly up on to the sand before offering her a hand. Once they were up off the raft he led them across a small stretch of beach and into the trees. They walked for about ten minutes before arriving at a clearing.

  Sala looked around at the work her husband had been doing, and all remnants of work done before they had arrived here. Her husband had been busy. Before her was a cleared and level patch of hard soil, swept clean of any plants or debris. There were tools spread around next to a stack of bamboo trunks, stripped of shoots. Next to them was a pile of plant fiber rope. There were three walls of bamboo that were strung together with the rope, splayed out on the ground in a position to be stood where they would form the walls of a home.

  “Bolo, you did all this today? While I was at the Bure?”

  “Yes, it was demanding work but I enjoyed it. This will be our new home.” He was standing next to her, hands on his hips, and looking at his project with pride. “Our baby will grow up here, and his brothers and sisters too.”

  “It’s so beautiful,” she said with a great smile displayed on her pretty face. “The ocean is on the other side?” She was looking across the opposite side of the clearing.

  “Yes, it is a few miles, but the lake is close. When our people join us, many will want to build there, but I want to be near the lake. Near the Bure. We will have a place of honor, Sala.”

  “I’m proud of you Bolo. Maybe this will all work out like you hope. You are a great man and great men must take risks and make difficult and important choices.” She wrapped him up in a tight hug, turning sideways to allow her protruding belly to avoid the crush of their bodies being pressed together.

  “I think the risk is not building our home here, I think that the risk would be to say no.” He said it as a joke, accompanied by a small laugh that died away quickly. There was a poignant truth to that joke that sobered them up. “It is time I got back to work. There is much to do. Will you stay and rest?”

  “I would like to, but I need to know where the baby is. If this child is so important to Daucina then I am sure He is keeping it safe, but I can’t relax long not knowing for sure. I’ll return to the Bure.”

  “You’ll be okay? On your own?”

  “Yes, I think so. I don’t have any intention to leave now. He will know that, I think. I just want to make sure the baby is safe. He’s probably hungry by now.”

  She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and walked back the way they had come, intending to float the raft back to the Bure and see if this mysterious little child of Daucina’s was waiting for her.

  18

  A small, shadowy figure appeared in the doorway, hunched inside a brown, tattered robe. The blazing light of the midday sun seemed to lose all its glorious power to illuminate where this one tiny home was concerned. The darkness from the interior of the house formed a wall at the doorway that seemed to deflect any ray of light that attempted to penetrate it. Inside that pool of shadow the figure stood, watching them, weighing them. Then, without a word, the form retreated into the darkness with a subtle flick of a hand. ‘Come’ that gesture said.

  Thomas went first, followed closely by Sophie, while Lomate hesitated a moment longer. Then he edged in after them.

  The small figure was in the corner, back turned toward them, and hands working at something that was blocked from their line of sight. A moment later, a soft glow sprung up, casting an eerie light throughout the tiny space and making shadows jump and twist along the walls and ceiling. The home was basic, with a small woven mat in one corner, covered by a thin blanket. There was one wall to their right that had a meager pile of clothing, and next to those, some pots and wooden dishes and utensils. There were also several bamboo chunks, as if a tree had been cut at the joints, stacked along the opposite corner.

  When the three of them finished their cursory examination of the space, their attention drifted back toward their host, still standing in the corner to their left, but facing them now. It was a wizened elderly woman that was staring back at them. Her thin hair was grey and stringy and she stood no more than five feet tall, probably less due to the bend of her back, which made her appear as if she were supporting some great weight. Her face appeared ancient, her skin looking as though she had applied a thin coat of glue over herself and allowed it to dry, giving herself a withered, puckered look. But the eyes, they were bright and almost menacing, though that could have been a projection of the unwelcoming feel of the place.

  She said something brief in a voice that sounded like it hadn’t been used in years, hitting them in a coarse whisper.

  Lomate spoke up, still trailing Thomas and Sophie, like they were a wall that might shelter him. “She says to sit.”

  Thomas surveyed a dirty mat laying on the floor before him and, deciding that one spot seemed as good—or bad—as any other, he lowered himself down near the
far wall, bringing his knees up to his chest and looping his arms around his bent legs, looking as casual as a college student picnicking outside at lunch between classes. Sophie joined him, followed by Lomate. Between the three of them, they stretched from the back wall to the doorway. Thomas gave off an air of impatience, Sophie one of cool expectancy, while Lomate alone looked completely uneasy.

  The old woman gazed at each of them in turn, eyes burning upon their skin. Though the Chief of the village was the man in charge, the aura emanating from this mysterious old woman seemed more powerful by half.

  Once again, she hissed a brief string of words and it was up to Lomate to interpret.

  “She wants to know why you ask of Vaqava.”

  “Demands to know, it sounds to me,” said Thomas, who received a sharp elbow from his sister for his attitude.

  “Tell her that we are researching the religious history of their people and that we heard it began there,” said Sophie.

  Lomate translated the words and immediately the woman scoffed and made a dismissive motion with her hands, followed by another harsh statement.

  “Then she cannot help you and invites us to leave.” Lomate looked at Sophie and Thomas, waiting for instruction. “For my part, I think leaving might be the best thing.”

  Sophie looked at Thomas for a long moment, waiting for his opinion, but he only stared at the woman, his eyes hard. The woman stared back, unflinching. Well this isn’t going to get us anywhere, she thought.

  “Lomate, please ask this kind woman who she is. Why is she interested?”

  There was another transaction between the two Fijians, and once the woman’s reply came, Lomate’s unease seemed to heighten noticeably as he frowned and fidgeted. When he spoke, his voice was sharp and formal.

  “This is Noni. Noni is the Vuniduva of the village. That means … magician? Sorcerer, I think. Like your Harry Potter, but … different. She will work in spells and potions.” The way he said the last part, Sophie half expected him to sign the cross in front of him as a ward, but his hands remained firmly in his lap.

  “Good. That’s good.” When she caught Lomate’s alarmed look, she placed a hand over his in a gesture she hoped would appease him.

  “I’m going to tell her.” She announced this up to the ceiling, but in truth it was an opportunity for her big brother to jump in and stop her. When no objection came, she continued. “Tell her I was on the island once before, with a friend. Tell her that my friend claimed to see a strange man on the island, with no face and a head of flames.” She got that far, then stopped, waiting for the translation. She wanted to see if this woman would laugh at her before telling any more.

  Lomate stared at her in shock. “This is no time to make jokes, Sophie. I suggest we say goodbye and continue on our way.”

  “Tell her.” Thomas shot back. Then, “My apologies, Lomate. I’m uneasy and eager to be done with this, just as you are. It’s important that you tell her. Please.”

  Lomate stared at the ground long enough to take a deep sigh, then turned back to the woman and spoke. Her reaction was immediate. She bolted upright, her back stiffening straight as a board, and her nostrils flared. Like that of a snake, her tongue darted out across her dry lips, making a noise like rubbing sandpaper. Her eyes now were focused solely on Sophie, and when she spoke again they never left her.

  “Did you see him? This man with no face?” Lomate asked. Unlike the old woman, he was now avoiding her completely as he spoke.

  “No. Never. But I have had dreams of him.”

  Noni peered intensely at Sophie still, her eyes never blinking, and spoke. Lomate again translated dutifully. “In the dreams, did this man lay with you?”

  Now it was Sophie’s turn to stiffen. Once, when she was nine, she had visited a ranch that belonged to some friend of her fathers. She had been obsessed with the horses, so powerful and majestic. Eager to get a closer look, she’d wandered away from the others, and true to her daring nature, attempted to climb through the wire fence she felt cruelly prevented the horses from being free, as they were meant to be. The moment she touched the fence she received a nasty shock that vibrated up to her shoulder. It was a feeling she’d never forget. The same feeling had shot right up her spine just now with this strange woman’s scandalous question. She could feel her face grow hot and she knew her cheeks would be the color of dark cherries, all but giving away the answer. She could also feel the eyes of her two companions boring in to her now from both sides. All she wanted to do was cover her face and hide away, but she didn’t have that option. Her baby was depending on her and lying wouldn’t help get her to him.

  “Yes,” she said in a voice so soft she wasn’t sure it could be heard. But the woman hissed loudly, leaving no doubt she knew the word, and she had heard it.

  With a movement, quicker than any of them would have thought possible from a woman whose age appeared to be nearing a century mark, Noni jumped to her feet, swept between them, and began rummaging around in the bamboo containers, tossing them about and muttering. She found the one she was looking for, reached in, and dipped her fingers into some substance, then turned and wiped her fingers on Sophie’s forehead.

  Sophie was in such a state of disquiet she didn’t even flinch. She watched the woman then bring out a stone bowl and sprinkle what appeared to be crushed leaves or plants into it, then bring out a box of matches and light it on fire. As the smoke drifted up in a hazy fog she blew it in Sophie’s direction, casting it over her face and body and causing her to grimace at the pungent odor. With that done, the old woman sat back against the wall and seemed to relax again, her back taking on its formerly defeated appearance. Then she spoke again, and Lomate transferred her words to them.

  “She says that this should keep the Seductive One from invading your dreams again. She says that this man you describe is Daucina, not a man at all, but a God of the old people.” Lomate stopped and looked at Noni again, disbelief written all over his face. Then he shook his head and continued, “He used to live among her people, many years ago, and He gave them many blessings, but He was also a seducer of women. No God is all good, she says. Daucina was forgotten by the people many years ago, after they left the island due to a white man’s sickness that killed many of them. In our culture, the Gods have little power without the people. She says that now, they avoid the island and Daucina has little power.” Lomate stopped again and uttered what sounded like a question to the woman, who gave a short and quick reply. Then he continued, “She truly believes all this, but the old stories of the gods are just stories told to children. I wouldn’t let it frighten you.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” said Thomas.

  Noni stared a moment at Thomas, then continued to speak. Her demeanor was still relaxed and she sounded less like a menacing old witch woman and more like a wizened old teacher giving her daily lessons to a small but attentive class. When she was done, Lomate did his usual routine.

  “She says you are protected and need not be frightened. Daucina could visit your dreams before and frighten you but He can’t do that any longer. He is not strong enough. He will never be strong enough. The people here avoid the island, never going close enough for Daucina to ensnare them. Without the people joining Him, He will remain in a weakened condition.”

  Sophie listened, deep in troubled thought. This lady was obviously the correct person to be speaking to. They had already learned more than she could have hoped for and was glad she had listened to her brother’s advice, but she had yet to tell her whole story, and now she found herself wondering if she was brave enough to do so. She imagined the old woman’s reaction to finding out that there was more to her tale, and it was a frightening thought. Instead of saying the rest outright, she decided to skirt the issue and settle for more probing.

  “What would happen if Daucina found a way to come here? Why doesn’t he just follow the people and try to convert them back?”

  Lomate translated her reply. “She says He is bound to th
e island. His power is there, centered on the Bure Kalou, the temple. He cannot go more than a short distance from the island and the villagers are taught to fear Him, so they will not go there. Once the people abandoned Daucina, they knew to go back would be to risk His anger, which can be great. To give Him strength again would be a tragic mistake. They have moved on to a new life. She says she will be the last of the Vuniduva. Magic is no longer practiced. Once she dies, a priest of the Christian God will take her place.”

  “Lomate, ask her if there’s any way for Daucina to leave the island. Can He find a way, with the power He has now?”

  Once he said the words, Noni took on more of her former countenance, looking suspiciously at Sophie long enough to make them all begin to feel uncomfortable. Then, with a movement quick enough to catch them all off guard, she lurched forward and cupped one of Sophie’s breasts in a hand that felt much stronger than it appeared.

  Before Sophie even had time to react it was over and the woman was back in her spot in front of them. Those bright eyes seemed to glint once again with menace, but when she spoke, her voice was still restrained.

  “She says that Daucina cannot leave the island, but her mother and grandmother, and the Vuniduva before them, they had the idea that it was possible for Daucina’s power to grow beyond the island. It would require He have a child, that the thought of why He always tried to seduce women was to get them with child. Sometimes women were even accused of bearing Daucina a whelp, but those problems were always dealt with.” With that last, Lomate looked back at the woman, realizing as her words sunk in what they might mean. She merely stared back, unconcerned with any of their opinions on the matter. “She says that the people never left their home anyway, so if a child had been born to Him, it would have remained on the island.” With that said, Lomate looked over at Sophie, a perplexed look on his dark face.