The Yarnsworld Collection: A fantasy boxset

by Benedict Patrick

  www.benedictpatrick.com

  Cover design by Jenny Zemanek

  www.seedlingsonline.com

  Published by One More Page Publishing

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  “There’s a monster in the village.”

  Kaimana raised her eyebrows at the toddler’s words. “No, don’t worry. There’s no taniwha here.”

  The young girl was not convinced. She stuck out her bottom lip, kicked up some of the sand at her feet and stared at Kaimana. “No, there is. In the cave in the hills where the stream comes to life. My uncle went to catch it, and he never came back.”

  Kaimana had been visiting the village’s banana grove to gather food for her troupe when the toddler had tugged at her dress and started to chat. Kaimana smiled at the girl’s stubbornness. In many ways, it reminded her of herself at that age. She turned to look up at the mountain that rose above the small fishing village, recalling memories of her own childhood, and was surprised at how sad those memories made her feel. “Don’t fear. I used to live here. I spent most of my life exploring those hills and I know the cave you speak of. It’s always been empty. There are no monsters.”

  The little girl shook her head again. “I know you. You left. The taniwha is new, it came two months ago. We have a taniwha now.”

  Kaimana looked about the small village, at the woven huts and the sandy paths that had been formed by generations of fishing folk - her family and former friends - going about their daily lives.

  She frowned. Why would a small child say such things? Has an older brother been telling stories to frighten her at night? Nothing as interesting as a taniwha appearing has ever happened on Pukotala.

  Pukotala was the only settlement on the small island, although some individuals had chosen to erect their own huts in other remote parts of the small patch of green. The island itself was not large. You could walk around it within a couple of hours, as Kaimana often had as a child. However, if a taniwha wanted to make its home here then there would be plenty of nooks and crannies it could crawl into. The island was ringed by yellow sandy beaches, but inland the ground quickly rose to a peak, forming the hills and green mountain that Kaimana knew so well. Kaimana had visited islands with taniwha before, but they had been either well-known and well-avoided threats, or they were dealt with quickly by the war god and his warriors. Some were even seen as blessings, protectors of their islands. Those taniwha, however, tended not to eat people.

  “What kind of taniwha is it?” Kaimana asked, her curiosity piqued. “Who’s seen it?”

  The girl shrugged. “It’s big. The chief’s man has seen it, and a few of our farmers. It’s big enough to eat people. It ate my uncle, and two others.”

  Kaimana looked about, shaking her head. The rest of the village were preparing for the festival, carrying food and drink to the beach for the feast. None of them seemed particularly concerned for their lives.

  No, no monster here. Why then, is this child so certain? Who’s been telling her these tales?

  “Are we safe here?”

  “Safe enough. They’ve taken care of it. They leave it food, and it leaves us alone. The chief made contact with the god of war, and he’ll send his warriors to deal with it, soon. Mother isn’t happy, she says it brings bad luck to have a taniwha on the island.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Kaimana muttered. It’s also bad luck to have a cheeky daughter who has to be put in her place with stories to scare her.

  The toddler looked startled, as if she was suddenly aware she was talking to a stranger. Kaimana watched the child leave, looking for friends or family to play with.

  “Hope you enjoy the celebrations,” Kaimana called after her, smiling, watching the toddler find her mother and tug on the older woman’s woven dress. The girl’s mother listened to her daughter say something, then raised her eyes, searching for the stranger her little girl was speaking about. Kaimana gave the woman a wave, and the mother responded in kind, a look of recognition dawning on her face as she did so.

  Guess they’ve not completely forgotten me, yet.

  Kaimana was from Pukotala, but it had been three years since she had called the island her home. She had family here, but it was the people she travelled with that she was now closest to.

  She made her way out of the grove, carrying the required provisions, her bare feet taking her quickly along the sandy path. Like many Atoll villages, Pukotala was a small collection of wooden huts thatched with dried palm leaves. It was a fishing settlement, built on the edge of the tree line, to give easy access to the water these people needed for their livelihoods, and it did not take Kaimana long to reach the beach. Her troupe’s twin-hulled canoe was berthed here, moored alongside a man-made pier of boulders that stretched into the blue ocean. Her new family were on the beach, already attracting attention from the villagers after just an hour of arrival, small crowds of children gathering in groups around each of the performers, straining and nudging each other to get a better view.

  Kaimana smiled. I remember the excitement when a troupe of performers arrived on the island. It’s the same all over the Crescent Atoll, on each of the dozens of islands I’ve visited - everyone loves when we come to perform.

  The largest crowd had gathered around the dancers. Kaimana pushed her way past the onlookers to find Old Man Rawiri - the eldest member of their band by a good generation - barking orders at his girls, seemingly unhappy with a particular foot movement that one of them could not get correct. Kaimana admired the dedication from these dancers, as she always did. Not one of them reacted to Rawiri’s taunts, but instead all had pleasant smiles on their faces, doing their best to please the crowds and to please their goddess. For her own part, Kaimana could not spot the mistake that continued to anger Rawiri. All three of the girls had strong Knacks for dancing – magical gifts that allowed them to excel in their art – and to Kaimana’s eyes their movements were perfect.

  Eloni the pipe player accompanied the performance. Again, Kaimana admired this woman’s gifts, her music, but this time Kaimana’s admiration came grudgingly. One of the local children crept closer to Eloni than the rest of the crowd, and Eloni shot the child a look of pure scorn, causing him to run uneasily back to his mother. Eloni was a malcontent, always unhappy, and even now Kaimana could sense the unsatisfied sneer that threatened to break out on her tattooed jaw.

  What is that woman’s problem with the world? The gods have decided to make her beautiful, and she’s the most successful of the troupe. Why can’t she accept the gifts she’s been given and be happy with them? If I ever become as accomplished as Eloni – WHEN I become as accomplished, if not better – that’ll be enough for me. I’ll let myself be happy and not keep looking for more.

  On the islands the troupe visited, Eloni would always go out of her way to catch the eye of the important men there, the chiefs and their commanders. Indeed, a few months ago Aka was worried the troupe was going to lose Eloni, that a baby was on its way and marriage offers were on the horizon. Fortunately for the performers, Eloni continued to voyage with them, although she had not been happy about leaving that island. The chief’s wife, however, had been particularly pleased with Eloni’s removal. Kaimana had felt justice had been done, that Eloni’s plot to seduce the chief had not worked, but with a little guilt, she would also have been relieved if Eloni had not continued to travel with the troupe.

  Eloni was gifted with a strong Knack for the koauau, the flute. Like most musicians and artists, her Knack was a subtle one. Unlike the more mundane Knacks, which were sometimes accompanied with amber sparks of magic from a user’s eyes, artistic Knacks could be difficult to spot. Often it took a trained ear to hear when a musical Knack was at work, to realise that a wind instrument was being played to perfection, to spot the musician’s fingers moving effortlessly between different notes. The easiest way to spo
t a musical Knack at work was the effect it had on a crowd, such as the small group of older girls that were currently seated around Eloni. The young women were swaying in time to Eloni’s seductive tune, their heads rising and falling ever so slightly with the pitch of Eloni’s notes. Kaimana raised a disapproving eyebrow to see that the women – the girls – were breathing quickly, letting themselves be caught up in the passion that Eloni channelled through her songs.

  Eloni had a number of tunes - two in particular - that were well known throughout the Atoll islands. Twice in her life so far, Eloni claimed to have sparked. Her Knack, her gift for music, had flared up and she had been inspired to compose a masterpiece, a song that would endure for all time throughout the many islands of the Atoll. When a musician’s Knack began to spark, there was usually some kind of inspiration behind it. Eloni claimed that each of these sparkings had happened after a particularly heated affair, and the subject matter of her songs was therefore highly passionate. Many in the troupe did not believe that Eloni had truly sparked, as it had been before she joined them, and it rarely happened with musical Knacks – she was probably the only living person on the Atoll to have made such a claim. Kaimana had spent many a time with Kiki and Travake, two of the dancers, giggling behind Eloni’s back when she was telling the tale of her spark to impressionable islanders.

  Nevertheless, Eloni’s songs were popular, her presence was a great boon to Aka’s small troupe, and Kaimana could not disagree with the woman’s skill. Kaimana would happily spend hours listening to Eloni’s tunes, if she could only detach the woman’s art from her temperament. Now Eloni played in tandem with grumpy Rawiri who was beating on his drum to give the girls an energetic rhythm to swing their arms and hips to. Eloni caught sight of Kaimana and rolled her eyes.

  Eloni was not fond of Kaimana.

  At first, Kaimana had been confused when she had elicited this reaction from Eloni after joining the troupe. From what she could tell, Kaimana had done nothing that could have offended the woman. However, as Kaimana had got to know her new family, Eloni’s issues became clear. When visiting a new island, Eloni was icy towards any attractive women she came across. She did not want any competition for the eyes of potential lovers. Kaimana was pleasant enough to look at, but Eloni should not have worried about her, as Kaimana was plain compared to striking Eloni and her jade facial tattoos. However, Kaimana found herself in the unenviable position of being the only woman in the troupe who could pose any kind of competition to Eloni and her appeal to men. The three dancers, Lose, Travake and Kiki, were totally dedicated to their Knacks and to Laka, their goddess. Like many dancing Knacks, this was a lifelong vocation for them, and it was general knowledge that dancing girls were not available to be brides, despite the fact that all three girls were beauties. That left only turtle-faced Poli, and poor Poli was clearly no threat to Eloni.

  Kaimana also suspected Eloni did not like her because their Knacks were so similar. Kaimana had a Knack for music also, and the ocarina was her instrument of choice. It was unusual for more than one wind instrument to be present in a troupe as small as theirs, and Eloni had made this particularly clear during the fit she had thrown when Kaimana was first invited to join. Gentle Aka had simply shrugged, saying, “The girl is good. We need more good,” and that was that. Worse still for Eloni, she had been asked to tutor Kaimana’s raw talent, and had not taken to that task with much enthusiasm. Those sessions had been embarrassing for Kaimana to endure, because of how loudly Eloni would chastise her when she made the slightest mistake, shaming her in front of the others. Kaimana suspected Eloni saw her as an eventual replacement.

  Leaving the dancing, Kaimana scanned the beach for Aka, wanting to find out about tonight’s performance. The marionette team practised nearby, handsome Tokoni and turtle-faced Poli, and they were attracting a small crowd, but no Aka. Mahina, the chanting boy, sat on a large boulder at the end of the peer, looking out at the Inner Sea of the Atoll and the tall volcano that rose out of it. A few curious villagers made their way over the uneven pier to hear Mahina chant, but they soon decided to search for other entertainment after realising how melancholy a tale he was weaving. Mahina was the youngest member of the troupe, and the most recent. From the few conversations Kaimana had had with him, she had determined that Mahina’s family were either all dead, or just did not want him around any longer. Mahina never smiled, and Kaimana guiltily hated spending time with him – he always lowered her spirits.

  Kaimana eventually caught sight of Aka at a wrestling match over on the far end of the beach. Tonight was the harvest festival, the walk of the Long God, and today was time to celebrate. Earthen ovens were alight throughout the village, and the cooking Knacks were working hard to prepare food for the feast. The troupe had been summoned months ago to provide music and stories for the night, and to accompany the Long God on his walk to bless this year’s crops. As was true of many Atoll islands at festival times, the men of Pukotala enjoyed taking time out of their busy routines to beat each other bloody to prove their superiority.

  Kaimana took a brief glimpse at the scuffle that was currently taking place. Two young men, stripped down to only loincloths, were squaring off opposite each other in the middle of the circle that had been drawn out on the sand. Both were clearly strong, but Kaimana was not certain if either of them were warrior Knacks, or just fishermen or farmers whose natural strength had gotten them this far in the competition. Sunset and the beginning of the Long God’s march was not that far away, so to have remained in the competition for so long was not just a sign of luck. The combatants yelled and grabbed for each other, one throwing the other down on the sand and screaming in his face, tongue protruding violently. Many in the audience gave shouts of admiration, particularly the young women. Kaimana did not join them.

  Aka was not as wrapped up in the proceedings as most others appeared to be. As leader of the troupe, Kaimana knew he was expected to partake in some of the village’s festivities, to show his respect to the people of the island his troupe was visiting. Kaimana also knew Aka well, and she knew his mind would not be settled until after the performance. She saw him now, eyes gazing at the wrestlers as they pummelled each other, and she could tell he was thinking about the performance. Which tunes should they play? Where should they position themselves in the parade? What could they do to ensure they are invited back next year?

  He was a kind man, and although Aka was a good few years older than Kaimana, he was still considered to be very young for a leader of a performance troupe. Aka had been born into it - his parents had been in charge of the troupe before him, and when they both drowned five years ago, he had assumed leadership. The membership of the group had changed much since then - grumpy Rawiri was the only remaining member from Aka’s parents’ time - and Kaimana knew that the loss of the older players had been a blow to Aka. He wanted to honour his parents, and in order to do so, the troupe had to succeed, to continue to be asked to perform and to support celebrations throughout the Atoll. Playing for a small fishing village like Pukotala was not a great honour. The greatest honour for celebration of the harvest festival would be playing at the Long God’s temple, but Aka’s troupe could not dream of being summoned there. The group’s name had diminished much since Aka’s parent’s days. The fame of Eloni’s two tunes was the group’s main draw, but there were other performers travelling the Atoll who were much better known, with larger troupes, and it was mostly these troupes who received the invites to important ceremonies. Aka would be happy to do well tonight, if the gods willed it.

  For her part, Kaimana was happy with the troupe’s size and success, for now. Aka did not provide fame, but he had given her a family, and for most of the others that was enough. Only Eloni would protest that she was not getting enough attention, and from time to time threatened to find another group to travel with, but so far had never followed through with her threats. Kaimana suspected none of the other troupes were interested in entertaining her affairs and her moods.
/>   “Everything’ll be fine,” Kaimana assured Aka.

  At the sound of her voice, Aka looked startled, but then smiled at sight of her. His eyes returned to the combat in front of him. “Doubtful. I had a wager on the red banded one. Can’t see him winning now.”

  A cheer from the crowd showed that Aka was correct, the contestant with the green band on his arm was declared the victor.

  “You’ve planned this well. We’ve been trained well. We do harvest festivals well.”

  Aka looked at her distractedly again. “Oh, this?” He waved his hand. “You’re right, we can do this with our eyes closed. But this is the last performance before the big one, you know? That’s the one that could really make a difference for us. We have to get it right tonight, to give everybody confidence for the Pig.”

  Kaimana should have known. Playing at the war temple in a few weeks would easily be the biggest honour Aka’s troupe had been afforded since he had taken leadership. She could feel her own pulse quickening at the thought of playing in front of such a large audience, and in front of the war god himself, but then took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  Can’t let myself get nervous now. No point in letting thoughts of that performance ruin the one tonight.

  She looked at the troupe leader again, and found him gazing at Pukotala’s mountain, his eyes on the green peak but his mind still elsewhere.

  “There’s a taniwha in the hills, you know,” she said.

  “What?” The panicked look on Aka’s face was almost comical.

  Kaimana smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s not true. Just a story a little girl told me. She said it lives in a cave up in the hills. I know those hills like the back of my hand. There were never any taniwha on the island when I lived here.”

  As she said this, Kaimana’s eyes rose back to Pukotala’s green mountain, and she pursed her lips.