by Matt Larkin
Huh.
Wait … Was it fun in contrast to working? Would it still be as much fun to play, if he never worked? Or would the lack of contrast diminish his enjoyment? The only way to be certain was to stop working for a while—a few years maybe—and see if he got bored playing.
It was worth expectorating on.
“All right,” Kama said. “Let’s play then. If most of Haki’s men are here, looking for us, how many are guarding him at Waimea?”
Makani nodded grimly.
THEY PUSHED HARD FOR WAIMEA, Kama once again in boar form. Kama’s best chance of taking down Haki was at night. Sunrise would significantly diminish his strength and strip him of his boar form. Losing that edge might prove fatal.
The town was eerily quiet when they burst in.
That stupid shitter had really sent all his warriors wandering blindly in the jungle, hadn’t he?
The heiau stank of charnel. Haki must’ve had the kāhuna sacrifice a bunch of victims to try to divine his location. Maybe it had worked. Maybe that was how they found them.
Kama snorted, charging forward on all fours, racing into the town. Where was the damn king hiding anyway?
He’d gone only a few dozen feet into town when the scent hit him.
Men. Lots of stinky men, just behind the palace wall. Haki had kept back his forces, but only to protect his own home, not the rest of the village. Kama glanced behind himself to see the rest of his band stalking forward, creeping between houses, moving up like … wait. What was that? In the jungle … torchlight?
Kamapua‘a spun around snorting and charging back the way he’d come, racing past his startled men. Sure enough, a horde of Haki’s men came raging out of the jungle, brandishing torches and spears and javelins and screaming war cries.
It took only a moment, before the men in the palace closed the trap like a crab’s pincher, rushing through the gate, some even vaulting the palace walls.
Snarling, Kama kept rushing forward. No one ambushed his men! No one tricked him! He was too shitting smart to get shitting ambushed by these banana shits! Kama slammed into the first man like an avalanche. His tusks ripped through the man’s gut like knives, spilling shit and blood in a waterfall over Kama’s back as he continued forward. The hapless victim was bowled over, flipped over his back, and tumbled to the ground in a heap.
And Kamapua‘a kept on charging. He was well over four feet at the shoulder, pushing five, and he had momentum no shitting mortal could hope to deny. Indeed, now Haki’s men just started leaping out of his way, flinging themselves to the sides just to get clear.
One wasn’t fast enough. Kama’s slashing tusks caught his shin and gouged it straight down to the bone. Kama’s trampling charge almost covered up the man’s screams of agony.
Kama drew up short at the jungle’s edge, reared onto his hind legs, and came down atop a man brave enough to charge in with a spear. Brave enough. Not fast enough. Bone crunched under Kama’s feet, and the man’s chest gave in with a sickening squelch.
He turned back to his men to see a massacre.
Haki had gathered hundreds of men now, and Kamapua‘a’s people were hopelessly outnumbered.
But he saw no alternative save trying to fight his way through. He could escape in the jungle, but he’d not leave Makani and his other people behind.
It meant it was time for some pig shit.
ON AND ON the fight went. Kama lost track of how many of Haki’s men he’d killed. Most of his efforts had to focus on saving his own men, after all. The ambush had driven them back, against the wall of the heiau, and now they had nowhere else to go.
Which meant … Kamapua‘a the egregious, incorrigible wereboar might finally have lost.
Shitting bastards.
The thought of it, the fear of it, was almost enough to let the Boar God out. Let him rampage.
Kama dispatched an overly aggressive warrior no doubt trying to make a name for himself. Well, now his name was Tusk-In-Groin.
When Kama turned, a cluster of warriors had surrounded Makani. Kamapua‘a dashed toward him on all fours, kicking up dirt beneath his feet. And then the sun peeked out from the horizon. It struck him like a blow and sent him stumbling along the main street, digging a trench of mud. Muscle spasms ravaged him as the sunlight forced him back to human form, beating down the Moon spirit whose shape he had assumed. Having the spirit forced down by the sun was like getting kicked in the shitting balls.
Kama gasped, grunting through the pain. You got used to it, but it was never fun.
He looked up in time to see a warrior approaching Makani from behind. Kama’s friend was watching Hakalanileo, who had finally come out of the palace. Kama tried to call out a warning, but his human vocal cords hadn’t finished reforming. It came out as a mere guttural shout. Enough to draw his friend’s eyes.
Not enough to make him turn as an axe descended.
As it crashed into his skull and split it open.
Everything stopped. At least for Kama. For the others, it erupted into chaos. The roar of Kama’s men making a mad charge into Haki’s forces. And then warriors were on top of them, stabbing spears down again and again.
By the time Kama gained his feet, it was over.
“No …” Kama groaned.
A warrior with a spear rushed at him.
Kama roared in bestial rage, unable to form words. As his attacker drew near, Kama caught the man with one hand on his spear and the other on his neck. He hefted the villager in the air and slammed him straight down into the mud with one hand. The sickening crack told him he’d broken the man’s neck, probably his back too.
Kama shrieked mindlessly at another attacker. His fist crashed into the man’s chest, reducing him to a gasping heap on the ground. Few of the other villagers were paying him much mind, and those who did now backed away in horror.
Rage coursed through him like blood, until his jaw hurt.
A dozen warriors brandished spears at him, but none seemed intent to close on Kama.
“Kill the wereboar!” Haki shouted.
“No!” the kahuna Lonoaohi bellowed, waving his hands. “The akua demand a sacrifice!”
Kama screamed at those warriors still watching him. And the beast in his soul rose, roaring and screaming, until wrath became his world. He set into them with terrible vengeance, hammering his fist into skulls, snapping necks and driving kicks into men’s guts.
He flung a warrior into one of his fellows and the two went down in a heap, not rising.
“I’ll shitting kill you, Haki!” Kama bellowed. “I’ll kill you for this! I’ll let it have you!”
A spear lanced into Kama’s side, stealing his strength. Leaving him gaping down at the shaft jutting from his ribs. A lasso was flung around his neck, then another, and another.
Choking him.
Making darkness cloud the edges of his vision.
The last thing he saw was his big sister Hina, hand over her mouth, weeping as he fell.
IT SHIFTED AROUND inside his gut. The Boar God. Trying to rise up. To rage. Except the shitting sun helped keep the god under control. A shame, since Kama sat bound with a half dozen ropes tying him inside the temple.
Shitting ki‘i masks were staring down at him. Laughing at him. The akua saw his plight, saw he had one of them inside him, and they did nothing. Just sat there laughing like shitters.
The wound in his side had begun to heal over—only shitting thing the Boar God did for him at the moment. Still hurt when he breathed, though.
The late afternoon sun stung his eyes when Hakalanileo came tromping over, stupid grin on his face.
“Big sis send you to make sure I was doing all right?” Kama asked.
“Oh, you don’t get to pretend to be family, pig. Not after you spent the past two years pillaging villages, burning our crops, and cutting down our coconut trees. Those are the actions of a traitor. Those are actions for which Milu will feast upon your soul in her icy underworld.”
Kamapua‘
a tried to shrug. The ropes turned it into a pathetic wiggle. “Yeah, well … you banished me first. On account of me being too handsome or some shit.”
Haki rolled his eyes, then knelt in front of Kama. “You were a savage troublemaker from the day you were born. I should have killed you as a child, but I let Hina sway my heart.”
“Yeah, big sis is kind like that. What with not wanting to see children murdered and shit.”
Haki grabbed Kama’s beard and jerked his chin up. “Not even she can save you now, pig. The destruction you’ve wrought across the district has every ali‘i for miles around wanting to come see your sacrifice. It’s the only reason I’m holding the ceremony off until dusk.”
“Eh … would you mind holding it off until after dusk? I mean, even just shortly after would probably serve.”
“You are a moron. You think the rest of us no more intelligent than yourself. But I’ve known actual pigs smarter than you, Kamapua‘a.”
It hit him then. The Boar God’s wrath. It pushed up through his bowels, climbed up his chest, and coiled around his heart. And it squeezed until Kamapua‘a thought he’d burst apart. The rage.
It didn’t like being insulted.
It didn’t like it at all.
The ropes strained as Kamapua‘a’s muscles bulged, shifting and tightening even in the shitting sunlight. The Boar God was angry. It was really shitting angry.
Kama’s mouth felt thick, like the tusks where trying to burst out from his jaw.
Haki’s eyes widened and he abruptly rose, backing away. “Animal.”
“Keep talking, little fuck.” Huh. The words came out of Kama’s mouth, but it wasn’t his voice and certainly not his words. The sound was deep, primal. “Moon comes up, I’m gonna rip your spleen out through your nostrils and fucking eat it.”
What was a spleen? Did it actually taste good?
Haki blanched now. Maybe he thought he needed his spleen, whatever the shit that was. Either way, he backed out of the temple without taking his eyes off Kamapua‘a.
AN HOUR LATER, by Kama’s guess, Hina came in, casting wary glances over her shoulder. Looking all in distress and shit. Kama hated seeing big sis in distress. That was a terrible place for her to be.
She had this gourd under her arm, and knelt in front of him, tipping it up so he could drink some water.
After slurping down a few sips, he looked at her. “You probably shouldn’t be here.”
“Hakalanileo has given me permission to come and say Aloha one more time. Your sacrifice shall be dedicated to Kū this evening.”
Ah. The war god. Well, seemed like a good god to offer himself to.
Hina leaned in closer, whispering into his ear. “Lonoaohi is with me.”
What, Haki’s kahuna? Hadn’t the king spent like a year demanding the kahuna come up with some vision to catch Kamapua‘a? He was sure someone had told him that. Unless it had been a dream.
Now, big sis leaned back. “Your sacrifice to the war god should serve to weaken the resolve of those loyal to Queen Poli‘ahu. Nine more men will follow you into Pō.”
“Huh. Planning to attack her on Vai‘i, then?”
Hina stroked his cheek. “She is resolved to destroy our dynasty, and I cannot allow that to happen. We are descended from Mo‘oinanea herself, Kamapua‘a. We have the right to claim Sawaiki as our own. The newcomers arrived from Kahiki could make powerful allies, but either way, Poli‘ahu must be forced to submit or she must die.”
Well what the shit did all that even mean? Was Lonoaohi going to help him? Was Hina saying Kama’s sacrifice would be worthwhile if it brought them all victory?
Shit.
Kamapua‘a hated being confused.
JUST BEFORE DUSK THEY CAME, the kahuna and his sons and other apprentices. They took the lassos and led him outside the outer wall of the heiau. The killings didn’t happen inside, of course. Even Kama knew that much.
The akua wanted their sacrifices, but no one spilled blood in the heiau. Tabu or some shit.
Lonoaohi held the execution club in his hand, its wood stained permanently red from so many victims. The kahuna, though, he looked away, up at the setting sun.
“You know,” Kama said, “if you just wait a bit more, that sun’s gonna set. I promise, waiting will appease at least one god.”
The kahuna sighed. “The sacrifice commences.” He hefted the club.
Oh. Well, shit.
Lonoaohi brought the club down on Kamapua‘a’s head with a thunk that had his teeth clanking together.
Kama groaned and worked his jaw. “Uh, you’re doing it wrong.”
The kahuna raised the club again, and again swatted down on Kamapua‘a’s head with just enough force to sting. Kama was about to object when Lonoaohi raised and dropped the club a third time snapping Kama’s teeth together once more.
“Owww.”
“Three times the akua have refused the sacrifice!” Lonoaohi declared.
“It is so,” one of his sons agreed, followed by murmurs of assent among his apprentices. One of them came back bearing a large bladder sloshing with what smelled an awful lot like blood. The apprentice dipped his hand in the bladder, then smeared blood all over Kama’s face and hair, letting it dribble down his chest.
“Uh …”
The man continued rubbing blood over Kama’s face until he had to close his eyes just to keep from getting blinded by the shit. A moment later, the ropes were loosened, and hands hefted him up into the air, carrying him like a corpse.
They brought him back inside the heiau and laid him upon the sacrificial altar. The stone was warm from the sun, but profoundly uncomfortable. Kama dared not open his eyes.
“Bring his left eye,” Hakalanileo said.
Ooo. Kama might rather be dead for this part. Especially since any scream might give away the ruse. A hand jerked his chin to the side, and a knife bit his flesh just below his eyelid. A scratch, really, though Kama didn’t much enjoy it. Whoever was cutting him also drew Kama’s left hand down to the haft of something stuck behind the altar.
A weapon?
Was that Hina’s plan? That he should free himself?
The man cutting him backed away, leaving the knife on the altar beside Kamapua‘a. Probably pretending to take an eye to Haki for the king to eat.
A moment later, Kama felt someone approaching. Hovering over him, maybe examining where the eye should be missing.
“What the—” Haki’s voice began.
Kamapua‘a seized the knife and jolted up, driving it into Haki’s jugular. Hot blood rushed over him in a spray. Kama jerked the knife free and rammed it into the king’s gut. He flung the king’s body aside like a doll.
An instant later, a shout went up among the fallen king’s attendants. They rushed him, shrieking of treachery. Kama tossed the sacrificial knife away and grabbed the haft of whatever lay beside the altar.
A massive stone axe.
Kama grinned. Shitters were in the shit now. Roaring, he met the first attacker, hefting the axe overhead and chopping straight down. The blade cleaved through the skull all the way to the man’s jaw bone. Kama kicked the corpse, freeing his axe, even as more men charged at him.
He dodged a spear, caught a warrior by the back of the head, and slammed the man face-first into the altar. The force of it shifted the stone slab and splattered the man’s skull and brains.
“Come on, you shitters!” Kama bellowed at them. “Come on and get shitted!”
“Murderer!” someone shouted. “Beast!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
But he could feel it, stirring inside. There was a beast in him. A god beast, feeding off Kamapua‘a’s own anger at his treatment. Haki should have loved him as a brother-in-law or uncle. Instead, the man had hated him, persecuted him, finally cast him out, and then hunted him. Planned to offer him to Kū.
How could he not rage at such injustice from his own kin?
And the sun had set.
It hit Kamapua‘a like a bl
ow. The thing inside, reaching up and crushing his brain between its massive hooves. Tusks lanced through Kama’s jaw. A haze of red filled his vision.
A MORTAL RAN at the Boar God waving a stick.
Amusing.
The Boar God was almost eight feet tall, muscles bulging. He caught the puny mortal with a hand around his neck. Laughing, the Boar God squeezed until the man’s head popped off.
Then he threw the corpse into a throng of mortals, bowling them over in a hilarious heap.
He had an axe, too. A large axe, worthy of his bulk. The host had served the Boar God well to provide such a boon.
Bellowing, the Boar God broke into a charge, sweeping the axe back and forth in great swathes. It hewed through limbs, splattered heads, and sent corpses flying in a typhoon of glorious carnage.
None could stand before the Boar God.
Oh, mortals had called him many names over the ages. Moccus. That one he remembered, almost as a dream now.
They called him that, from time to time. But now, he was just the Boar God.
And he was indignant.
These petty mortals had maligned his host and thus maligned him. It would not stand.
Heaving the axe up in both hands, the Boar God brought it down on a man, hewing him from skull to crotch with a satisfying squelch of flesh and crunch of bone.
They had begun to flee the temple, screaming, shrieking like the pathetic children they were. The Boar God raced forward, snarling, bounding out of the temple. A pump of his mighty legs carried him over the outer wall to land among the startled mortals.
A whole village of wretches that needed to learn to worship him.
He took off in great bounds, faster than any mortal could hope to run. A slap of his hand tore out a side of a wall, sending a house crashing down. An upswing of the axe caught a man and hurled him ten feet into the sky.
The so-called palace of these pathetic mortals lay ahead. The Boar God raced toward it, bounded over the wall, and landed in a shower of dirt. He pushed off the ground and charged forward, slapping aside a palm tree in his path.
Roaring, he hurled the axe end over end, smashing through the main palace wall. Crunch! In one side and crunch! Out the other!
