The Yarnsworld Collection: A fantasy boxset

by Benedict Patrick

  “Eloni.” This was Rawiri, and Kaimana had never heard him more serious. “Drop the knife.”

  The flutist had picked up Kaimana’s knife, or had produced one of her own.

  “This is an offering for Laka,” Eloni said, her voice much closer to Kaimana now. “Perhaps she will spare us if we give her the one that has angered her.”

  Rawiri started to speak again, but then an argument broke out on the boat. With rising horror, Kaimana realised that Eloni was not the only one who liked the idea of sacrificing Kaimana to the goddess of performance. Raised voices turned into agitated movement, and then cries of violence. Kaimana struggled to turn to look, but Tokoni held her firm to the canoe edge. She grunted in frustration, unable to see what was happening behind her. They were coming to blows, the rest of the troupe. Fighting - actual, real physical fighting - about whether or not to kill me. Kaimana pushed again against Tokoni’s grip, but in response he pinned her tighter to the boat, making it difficult for her to breath. She was close to passing out, her panicked thrashing slowing and becoming less forceful.

  Kaimana felt long nails dig into her scalp and grab her hair, raising her head upwards and straining her neck. Kaimana could see both attacking canoes now. The men in them were laughing at the chaos the troupe was already in, and many of them were already standing in readiness to board the troupe’s canoe.

  “This is for Laka,” came a cruel voice behind her, and Kaimana felt a cold, sharp object press against her throat. “And this is to let anyone else out there who dares try to oust me again know what they are up against.”

  With tears in her eyes, in what she believed to be her last gasps of life, Kaimana watched the cannibals, now within spitting distance, as they cheered Eloni on.

  The sight of their laughing faces was the last thing that Kaimana saw before a giant maw opened up under the closest cannibal canoe. Kaimana’s taniwha surfaced briefly, in a flash of grey and green, closed its jaws around the canoe, and then descended. In a brief second, the first canoe had vanished.

  All was still. The noise of the fight behind Kaimana ceased. The remaining canoe of attackers were motionless, their bodies frozen as they tried to comprehend what had just happened to their companions.

  After that second of silence and stillness, chaos broke loose. The remaining canoe of cannibals began to yell. Some gripped their weapons and looked at the dark waters beneath, readying themselves for attack. Some of their members could not get over their fear and just screamed, dropping anything they had previously held in their hands.

  Eloni’s grip on Kaimana loosened. Kaimana stood up and glanced behind briefly. Those who had been panicking because of the cannibal attack - the dancers, Tokoni and Poli - were now terrified by the taniwha. The others just stood and stared at the remaining canoe, unsure of how to react.

  Kaimana’s gaze snapped back to the cannibals as their screams heightened. Her eyes returned to them just in time to see the waters around the canoe part, and the taniwha emerged again. As its massive jaws silenced the remaining attackers, Kaimana got a good look at the beast. It had the face of a dog, mostly a grey-brown colour, dotted with moments of brilliant green from moss or seaweed. The decorative patterns that seemed to be engraved onto its wooden skin confirmed what Kaimana had expected. This was indeed the same taniwha she had encountered on Pukotala.

  The monster disappeared, leaving the scene silent.

  “It comes for us now,” Eloni said in a detached calmness.

  Nobody on board disagreed. They all stood still, awaiting the inevitable.

  Seconds turned into minutes, but nothing happened.

  Summing up her courage, Kaimana peered over the side of the boat to have a look at the shallow waters beneath. They remained the calm blue of the rest of the Atoll ring, the sea bed and the families of colourful reef fish clearly visible.

  “It’s gone,” she said to everyone else, beckoning them over to the edge of the canoe. “It isn’t coming for us.”

  One by one, the rest of the troupe gingerly peered into the waters beneath. There was no sign of the taniwha.

  Kaimana smiled in relief, and collapsed to the deck of the canoe, hands finding their way to her ocarina.

  We’re fine, she said to her spark, the danger has gone. We can finish our song, now.

  There was no response.

  Then Kaimana began to cry, and started to make an ugly, mourning wail, drawing confused looks from her relieved companions.

  Her life had been saved, but Kaimana knew that the damage had been done.

  She had lost her spark.

  Night fell, Nakoa’s island did not arrive, but nobody was in a state to protest. The troupe had been mostly silent since the cannibal attack, allowing themselves to go through basic routines to give their brains time to contemplate what they had all experienced. Many of them continued to ignore Kaimana, but now because they were ashamed of their own actions instead of being angry with hers.

  For herself, Kaimana remained at the stern of the canoe, fingers working silently at her ocarina, not daring to breathe life to the notes she was forming. She was grieving.

  The spark is gone. The song is dead.

  It had been the stress of the attack. Not from the cannibals, Kaimana was strong enough to cope with that. But when her family and friends had attacked her, Kaimana had felt the spark slip away, hiding from Eloni’s knife. The song she had been composing hovered in her mind like a distant memory, but one she could not recall completely and one that was fading fast.

  When someone is sparking, they’re supposed to be treated with respect. They’re supposed to be given space and time to let their creation fully form, they all knew it. Especially Eloni. People who are sparking are not supposed to have knives held to their throats. That spark was my chance, what I’d been waiting for. Finally a chance to make my name, to show that this life was the right choice.

  What does it mean, now that the spark’s gone? Maybe my parents were right. Maybe I’m destined to be a fisherman’s wife after all.

  She hung over the edge of the canoe, staring into the black waters beneath her, brooding hatefully.

  Then, Kaimana spotted a familiar dark shape in the waters behind the canoe.

  Her body froze.

  It approached closer, and as green eyes opened to regard her from deep beneath the surface, they confirmed what she already knew.

  It’s back.

  She knew that her first reaction should have been to shout for help, to somehow warn the others and salvage any possible chance to ward the beast off before it ate them just like it had eaten the cannibals. However, at this moment, Kaimana did not care about the possibility of death. There was only one thing on her mind. She leaned forwards, over the edge of the canoe, allowing her face to lean towards the surface of the water.

  You started all of this. You gave me my spark. Are you here to help me find it again?

  The taniwha crept closer, the waters beneath the canoe dimly illuminated by the unnatural green glow from its eyes.

  That’s it, come closer. You inspired me to song, last time. Come and give me more memories worth singing about.

  “Thank you for saving us,” Kaimana whispered to the shape in the waters below her. She had no doubt it was looking at her now. “I don’t know what your intentions are towards us, but I still thank you for what you did earlier.”

  The shape below the waters continued to swim, its massive dog legs paddling lazily as it rose closer to the surface, but did not otherwise break or disturb the water. If it chose to, the taniwha could end Kaimana’s life in a second, probably without making any sound to alert the others.

  But you don’t have to, Kaimana thought. Monsters kill, but that doesn’t mean every monster kills. We don’t have to follow that path everyone expects us to. I should know, after all. I’m a fishing girl who became a pipe player.

  “I’m glad I found you,” she whispered softly to the green eyes that lurked just out of her reach.

&nbs
p; The taniwha paused for a moment, then closed its eyes and withdrew from the canoe, allowing its darkness to blend into the night surrounding the troupe.

  Kaimana lay down in the bottom of the boat for a long sleep. A fierce determination was stirring in her gut.

  I will see you again. And together we can reignite my spark and finish my song.

  A tale from the Crescent Atoll

  Nakoa was kupua. He was born with wondrous powers. When his mother placed him in a crib and left him to prepare food, she was shocked to return and find her babe replaced by a fish, calmly swaddled in his bedclothes.

  Young Nakoa delighted in playing this trick, and learnt a number of different forms to turn himself into, including the fish, the sweet potato and the pig. His parents found him difficult to control, and although they knew he would become great, as all kupua are destined to be, they began to find him wearing and an annoyance in their lives.

  As Nakoa’s strength grew he would test himself by climbing onto the roof of his parents’ hut, thus destroying the thatching and annoying the neighbours. When he had a disagreement with the local children this would often result in broken noses and arms, which his mother was forced to mend with her healing Knack. Nakoa found himself hated by his parents, who eventually joined with the rest of the people in his village in running him off the island.

  Nakoa reacted to this insult with a great rage. He roamed the Atoll seeking loneliness and solitude most of the time, but every so often he would emerge from the wilds, looking for a worthy challenge for his strength and skill in battle. All who faced him were defeated, and through these victories Nakoa grew in confidence and bloodlust. He began to favour the form of the pig, as this animal’s angry temperament mirrored how he now felt about all human life. Even when taking the form of a man, Nakoa found he could no longer get rid of the pig in his blood, and contented himself with wearing the face of a pig and the body of a man. This visage, along with his growing reputation, made all who saw Nakoa fear him. He began to attract followers, who sought him out to learn the mysteries of battle.

  Nakoa was not happy. He was strong, he was respected and feared. But what he lacked was love, like the love of his parents that he had squandered.

  All of this ended the day he met Leinani, the fire goddess.

  He happened across her by accident. Nakoa was wandering the wilderness, having managed to slip away from his followers by taking the form of a pig and running through hidden passages in the undergrowth. Leinani had taken the form of a beautiful maiden with fiery hair, and he found her cooling her feet in a forest river, steam rising from the water where her body touched it.

  He hid in the bushes, unashamedly watching her undress to bathe. Nakoa had known women before, but he had never beheld one with the beauty and power of Leinani. He would not be satisfied until he knew her love, so he emerged from the bushes and changed into a man while she was bathing in the river.

  Nakoa stood by the side of the river, and Leinani smiled to see him there.

  “Why, hello,” she greeted him.

  For his part, Nakoa was impressed she was not terrified at the sight of him, for Nakoa had not yet realised he was speaking to the fire goddess.

  “I am impressed by your beauty, and by your courage. You may have heard of me - I am Nakoa, the warrior. My name is known and feared across the Crescent Atoll. I would make you my wife.”

  The woman laughed at him, much to his surprise and annoyance. “And you, little man, may also have heard of me. I am Leinani, the fire goddess. It was I who birthed the islands of the Atoll from the sea at the request of the Earth Mother. My name is known and feared across the Atoll. I will be the wife of no man.”

  Nakoa stood speechless as the goddess emerged naked from the waters, dressed herself in front of him, and then disappeared into the woods.

  Nakoa was thankful he had avoided the wrath of a goddess as dangerous as Leinani, but his heart continued to hurt when he thought of her. He spent weeks wandering the island in a rage, trying to get the image of Leinani and her beauty to leave his mind, but he could not.

  Finally, Nakoa knew he had no choice but to approach Leinani again. This time, he brought her a gift - the head of the high priest of Tangaloa, the sea god whom Nakoa knew brought great displeasure to Leinani.

  He found her again bathing in the same spot, and was pleased to see her smile when she saw him approach.

  Nakoa knelt by the side of the water, and produced the head of the priest, brandishing his bloody sword as proof that he was responsible for the deed.

  Nakoa bowed his head. “My lady, I bring you the gift of this infidel who dared to speak out against your beauty and your power. I am Nakoa, tamer of the Atoll and widow-maker of the wives of all men. I would make you my wife.”

  Leinani smiled and yet again emerged from the water. She stood beside kneeling Nakoa, his head still bowed low. Leinani picked up the dead priest’s head and lightly kissed him on the lips, scorching the dead man’s ruined flesh with her touch.

  “I do not want a man who kneels before me. I am Leinani, scourge to my enemies and feared also by my friends. I will be the wife of no man.”

  She robed herself and left him again. Nakoa was beside himself with rage and despair, and spent weeks moving about the Atoll, weaving a path of vengeance through all he encountered.

  Eventually, Nakoa decided he could not yet give up, that he would not leave himself unsatisfied. He sought another gift for Leinani, one with much more value. He hunted and killed the great sky dragon by climbing up to the realm of the sky fairies using only a slender spider’s thread. It had been foretold that the sky dragon would eventually destroy the Atoll and all who lived on it, thus erasing Leinani’s greatest work.

  He found Leinani bathing again, and this time stood at the edge of the water, looking the goddess straight in the face. He held the cold heart of the monster up for Leinani to see.

  “I am Nakoa,” he said. “Killer of the sky dragon and greatest warrior in all of the Atoll. I would make you my wife.”

  Leinani smiled at him once again, but continued to wash her fiery red hair. Nakoa stood at the edge of the water impatiently, watching the steam from the river curl into the air above them. Finally, Leinani came out and stood at the bank beside Nakoa, graciously taking the sky dragon’s heart from him.

  “I do not want a man who waits to take what he wants. I am Leinani, lover of hundreds and mother to thousands. I will be the wife of no man.”

  Nakoa stared at her in equal mixes of fear and rage as she donned her clothes and left once more.

  As she left he took upon himself the form of a great boar and tore through the Atoll, carving deep trenches in the ring of the Atoll that forever opened up the waters surrounding Leinani’s volcano to the beasts of the Outer Sea.

  Finally, Nakoa realised he agreed with the woman he loved. He had allowed his obsession with her to make him forget who he was. He was Nakoa the kupua, the warrior. He would claim what was rightfully his.

  Nakoa sought out the unnamed god, the god of war. In a great combat that lasted a year and a day, they fought until Nakoa’s blade found its mark and took the head of his enemy.

  He found Leinani bathing once more, and threw the unnamed god’s head into the waters beside her.

  “I am Nakoa,” he began, “the new god of war. I take what I want, and I want you.”

  Not waiting for Leinani to respond, he leapt into the water beside her, taking her in his arms.

  Leinani gave a grin of satisfaction. “Finally my love, you are worthy of me.”

  They joined there in the river, and the heat of their passion caused the river to turn to steam. Water has never again run down that passage.

  Nakao finally had what he wanted, to be loved by another. But this was not to last. In their throes of passion, the rage that had turned Nakoa into his beast-like form melted away, and as he was locked with his lover, Nakoa turned back into a proper man. Leinani was shocked by this transformation. She h
ad never before encountered such passion. For the first time in her life, Leinani was afraid.

  As Nakoa lay satisfied on the dried up river bed, Leinani silently gathered her clothes and ran. When Nakoa realised she had disappeared, he searched the entire island for her, but there was no sign of his love.

  Eventually, Nakoa took to the Inner Sea, and made the difficult journey to Leinani’s volcano home. There he was greeted not by his love, but by one of her priestesses.

  “She will not see you anymore. She does not want to be your wife,” said the girl who knew that the delivery of this message would be the end of her.

  Nakoa was full of anger, and he slew the priestess where she stood. As he did so his pig-like features returned, and the rage fell upon him like never before.

  Nakoa left the island and has not seen Leinani since. But his rage and anger are legendary, and his name is feared all over the Atoll.

  When morning came they were greeted by the sight of a tall mountainous island, much larger than the other small, uninhabited landmasses that had dotted the horizon for the last few days.

  Unusually for an island on the Atoll, there was no beachside village for them to land at. Instead, there was a long stone pier, decorated with tall poles with red tapa streamers flying from them. At the end of the pier stood two warriors, their chests bare and their faces decorated with angry curved lines.

  Many on the Atoll chose to mark themselves with intricate tattoos, mostly to give thanks to the gods or to highlight godly boons that had been bestowed on individuals. Eloni had chosen to have her lips and chin tattooed green to give thanks to Laka, and to show that she had been blessed with a musical Knack that came from her mouth when she played the flute. Individuals whose Knack came from working the land or sea, such as fishermen or farmers, often had their arms or hands decorated to show the strength that the gods had placed in them. Warrior Knacks, blessed by Nakoa, had their entire faces tattooed red, to show the war god’s rage that each of them held within. Kaimana had often considered getting similar tattoos, possibly on her hands to highlight the delicate finger work her ocarina required, but so far had not followed through with this thought.