by Matt Larkin
It tickled her shins and toes and promised her all its secrets. Like she could dive in and forget duty and responsibility and the devastation she had caused. Forget it all and become one with the Worldsea, one with eternity.
Aukele had deserved his fate, hadn’t he? The thought of never seeing him again felt like trying to rip her guts out through her navel.
“I loved him,” she whispered to the ocean, as if it had the answers to soothe her heart. Love was for children, for adolescents. An adult, a queen, she could afford lust, passion, yes. But to allow herself such childish fancy, to get swept away in love, that was madness. A failing in her duties.
And maybe wanting love for herself was as destructive as insisting on having a childhood would have been. Milolii had kept Namaka away from the sea and away from other people while she learned to control her powers. And the dragon had warned her, long ago, to be careful with her passions. Had she remembered the lesson, maybe her heart would not be torn to shreds by Aukele. Maybe a lot of people would still be alive.
Namaka sank down on the rocks, careful of her sore tailbone, then dangled her legs into the ocean and let her head fall into her hands. Had Upoho brought her here to spark these revelations, to force her to admit she couldn’t escape her duty? Or did she give him too much credit? Maybe the wererat just wanted to cheer her up with some pretty waterfalls and a brisk swim. With a chance to absorb more mana so she could protect them if Pele came after them again.
If Pele came after her.
Because Namaka no longer had the energy to go after her sister. It hardly seemed to matter anymore.
She turned as she felt Upoho approach behind her, then almost fell over backward when she saw the mer, his face a mask of rage. The creature was covered in strange tattoos, reminiscent of those decorating kāhuna, yet more fluid and elegant, though disrupted by numerous scars.
“You are the one who devastated Hiyoya. Did you think we would allow you to do the same to Mu?”
“Wait!” she shouted. “It was an accident.”
She scrambled to her feet and tried to back away, only to have her heel jut out over the sea. Nowhere to go. She glanced behind her. A trio of mermaids were there, watching her with glares almost as intense as the merman’s.
Shit. “Please,” Namaka said. “Don’t do this.”
A feral roar erupted from behind them and Upoho plowed into the mer shoulder-first, driving the pair of them off the rocks and into the sea.
Oh, Milu.
Before Namaka could do anything for him, a surge of water tossed one of the mermaids onto the rocks. In a heartbeat, her tail split into legs and, though she swayed awkwardly, she rose and walked toward Namaka.
Namaka glared at the mermaid. Now they were attacking Upoho because of her. Going to hurt him, of all people. “You fear my power?” She scanned the ocean but saw no sign of her friend. “You should.”
She didn’t have much strength left. She could manage either power or control. And power seemed more important. Namaka reached out to the sea with her soul and it surged toward her, a wave crashing over her and the mermaid. The sudden tide rushed over her, blinded her, and yanked her off the rocks.
She came up sputtering, thirty feet offshore, just in time to see a gasping Upoho drag himself back onto the rocks. For a moment his chest heaved, then he turned to her. Namaka swam for him, against the tide, but she managed only a few strokes before an impossibly strong arm wrapped around her neck.
“Namaka!”
The mermaid had her in a grip she’d never break. She called to the sea, spun it around them, but the mermaid could breathe under the ocean and all Namaka got for her trouble was a lungful of seawater. The mermaid yanked her up to the surface once again, allowing her a breath and a sight of Upoho diving into the sea and swimming after them. And then a powerful beat of the mermaid’s tail carried them both far from the shore.
Her captor could swim ten times the speed of the wererat. He’d never catch them. And all Namaka could do was gasp for one fleeting breath after another as Upoho’s shouts receded into the distance.
THEY HAD swum for what felt like an hour or more, though the sun had not set when at last the mermaid carried Namaka into a water-filled cave off another island. Keeping her bearings had been all but impossible, but she was pretty certain this was the Lost Isle. Nothing grew here so no one lived here. If they wanted to kill her, why bring her all the way out here?
It didn’t matter. Immersed in the sea, Namaka had gained the chance to absorb at least some mana.
The cave was a great rocky arch. Water poured in through a hole in the ceiling some five paces above, creating a waterfall that broke over a ragged boulder. Seawater filled the entire cave, so there was nowhere to stand unless she could have climbed the rock.
“Bind her,” the merman said.
The mermaid carried her toward the boulder, where a pair of rusty manacles dangled from a massive iron ring. Did they plan to kill her here and eat her themselves? Was this some kind of torture? A slow, agonizing death by drowning when the tide came up? Whatever they thought they were doing here, she wanted no part of it.
She reached out to the sea, not caring what she unleashed at this point. She had nothing left to lose. The waters reacted like a giant had slapped them, flinging the mermaid into the rock wall. The creature went under, then came up gasping, exposing a double row of shark teeth. Growling, Namaka reached out to her.
Felt the water inside the mermaid’s gills.
And ripped it outward with incredible force. The mermaid’s neck exploded in a shower of blood and gore. The creature clutched her ruined throat, falling over, gasping, flailing.
Another mermaid grabbed Namaka’s wrist. With a snarl, Namaka launched a jet of water at her with such force the mermaid’s head snapped backward and her neck broke, her jaw unhinging. Namaka flung the corpse aside, then turned to look for the merman.
A wave crashed up against her, flinging her against the rock wall. Her head cracked on it and everything went black for an instant.
Her vision cleared to find the merman attaching the manacles to her hands. She struggled against him, wiggling and squirming in his grasp. The merman leaned his face close to hers then slammed her hands against the rock. Red haze filled her eyes and her cry of pain earned her another mouthful of seawater.
“The more you fight, the worse it will be.” His eyes had a tinge of ethereal green. His voice seemed to echo in her mind, blurring everything around her.
Her heart pounded against her ribs with such fervor she thought it might burst. If she pushed against the wall, she could keep her head above water, but she wouldn’t be able to keep that up for long. “I will kill you!”
The merman sneered, but did cast a glance at the floating corpses of his companions. “Your body is suffused with power. It’s time we controlled that power.” For a moment, his eyes showed a brief flicker of sympathy. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it has to be this way. It’s going to hurt. The transition is just easier if you’re almost dead.”
What? What in Milu’s bleak domain did that mean?
He held her gaze a moment longer, then a beat of his tail carried him to the other side of the cave. He motioned to the third mermaid and the creature swam over to her.
“Drown her,” the merman said.
Oh, fuck.
Before she could even speak, the mermaid grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved her face under the water. Namaka struggled, flailed in her grasp. It was like trying to lift a mountain. The sea around her spun in a maelstrom, responding to her terror. She felt the mermaid brace herself with one hand on the iron ring.
She couldn’t hold her breath anymore. Her lungs were trying to burst apart.
‘Aumākua, please!
She didn’t want to die. The realization hit her like a blow. Despite it all, despite the loss, she didn’t really want to die. Despair held her, but she couldn’t quite cross the threshold. Could not let go of life.
&nbs
p; She wanted to …
Involuntarily, her mouth opened, bubbles escaping so quickly they blinded her. Water filled her lungs. Her body convulsed. As much as the sea was in her soul, she couldn’t breathe it. Everything began to fade around the edges, until even fear began to give way to a calm certainty. It was over.
And then something filled her along with the seawater, seeped into her gut and coiled itself around her lungs. Something cold and foreign that beat down her weakened and surrendering soul. It slithered up her throat like an eel and sank its teeth into her brain. She had thought everything finished, thought her life done. Instead, a fresh series of spasms wracked her as she flailed against the alien intrusion.
It pushed against her ribs from the inside out, a coiling, expanding presence ripping her asunder.
Her neck tore itself apart like someone had slashed it with a knife. Agony burned through the gouges. Namaka tried to scream, but only managed to force water from her lungs. And then, despite the burning, suddenly she could breathe. Air was somehow reaching her through the slits in her neck—gills. Her legs jerked together, suddenly aching like they had when she’d had growth spurts as a child—only a thousand times worse. Scales burst from her flesh even as her legs melded into a tail.
They were turning her into a mermaid. That was her punishment? To change her from kupua to a real akua?
The alien presence in her mind shoved her down, until all she could do was think, and barely that. It seized control of her body in an instant. She felt herself move, felt her extraordinary strength as she broke the rusty manacles off the boulder.
An instant later, the other mermaid was unshackling her. She broke through the surface, spitting out water and sucking in a blessed lungful of air. Despite the gills, the real air tasted fresh, had never tasted better. She stretched her arms, then cracked her neck from side to side. Or rather the spirit inside her did. That was what had happened—she’d been possessed as if by a ghost. Was that all mer were? Ghosts?
She could almost feel the spirit’s mental snort of derision, but the entity did not deign to offer her any direct answer.
The merman swam over and twirled his tail. “My princess.”
For a moment, Namaka thought he had addressed her. Then she felt her mouth speaking. “Ake.” The mermaid inside her was a princess.
And then she understood. They wanted her power for their war with Hiyoya. Already, as kupua, she might live much longer than a mortal. How long could she live possessed by a spirit from beyond Pō?
Many centuries.
Had the spirit spoken to her? The voice was like a hollow echo in the back of her mind, haughty and filled with disdain at the thought of conversing with a mere human.
“Princess Nyi Rara,” Ake said, “we must hurry back to Mu. In the years since your last host died, open war has engulfed the entire kingdom.”
“Lead the way,” Namaka felt her mouth say, though the words had not originated in her mind, and thus tasted odd.
At that, her body dove back beneath the sea.
9
Days Gone
ON THE HIKE to the beaches, Namaka paused just long enough to grab a fresh hibiscus for her hair. Tonight, they honored Lono with a luau that had drawn villagers from across the whole kingdom. The end of year festival was celebrated across all the island, and Kahiki, too.
By the water, musicians played drums, the gentle rhythm like the ebb and flow of the tide, beckoning Namaka closer almost as if in a dream. She remembered a luau like this, so many years ago, when she was just a girl and had begged Milolii to let her go. The dragon had refused, claiming Namaka might prove a danger to the villagers, but Namaka had no mind to listen.
Sometimes, she missed those days.
“YOU NEED to practice controlling your powers.” When the old mo‘o spoke, it was with the voice of a grandmother, one who had spent far too many years breathing in the smoke of sacred fires and now seemed in need of a good nap.
“Mahalo. I will,” Namaka said, scrambling out of the cave before the dragon could even react.
It was always like this. In a sense, as kupua, Namaka was a custodian of mana. To violate tabu was to offend Pō and risk disrupting the flow of mana throughout her island. But. But she was a person, wasn’t she? Did she not have a right to get something out of her life? How long should she wait to enjoy herself?
Sure, the mo‘o would be mad as a shark on a mountain. But the dragon wasn’t going to hurt her, and Namaka had learned a long time ago—if she wanted anything out of life, she had to seize it when she could.
Soon enough, she’d be expected to share her power and her body for the good of Uluka‘a. Mana meant everything, really. For kupua like her, mana allowed them supernatural powers. And kāhuna, well, they could send off ghosts and such, ensure the dead passed on through Pō rather than lingering near the Earth. But for most people, it was just the essence of life—and the more you had, the greater your life would be. Those with more mana held subtle influence over those with less.
And sex was the only way to share her mana, at least until it came time for the people to consume her flesh. When they did eat her, all the worthy in the ali‘i caste absorbed her power. Milolii had said that, when she died, the people would eat her as well, drawing in the mana that coursed through dragons. Either way, Namaka refused to let that be all her life was—a source of mana to her people. She refused to be a royal slave. She would be more than that.
Rather than walk the path down to the valley, she jumped into the waterfall. Its chill embraced her, suffused her very soul until she had to shriek with pleasure. Waters surged up beneath her, heaving her forward like a woman on a surfboard, skidding down the outside of the waterfall and onto the river. All around her spread an endless blanket of green, of vibrant life sustained by the waters. And those waters carried her on their surface, the wind whipping back her hair as she whooped. For five or six paces she glided on the river before her control faltered and she crashed beneath it. The waters sucked her under and spun her around, everything blurring around her.
An instant of fear seized her chest and the river immediately spit her onto the bank, scraping her elbows on the rocks.
“Ow.”
SIMPLER TIMES. A queen had duties that—while they did not preclude such enjoyments—did limit Namaka’s leisure time.
When she’d come back, Milolii’s anger had rumbled through the Earth itself, bubbling through the stones and trembling like a volcano ready to burst. The dragon hadn’t moved, except perhaps for a narrowing of her one open eye, but Namaka could have sworn the cave closed in on her.
But it had been worth it.
Now, a cheer went up from the villagers as she approached the beach, and the drumbeats only intensified. Soon, the sun would set, and the displays would only increase. She’d heard, on the far side of the island, Pele’s firewalkers put on the most stunning displays of flame-tossing imaginable, but Namaka had a duty to attend the luau of her own kingdom, and thus had never seen her sister’s celebrations. A shame, really.
The boars had been roasting for days, the poi pounded out, the fish all caught. She couldn’t help but grin at the thought. It was going to be glorious, and already the villagers had begun lighting torch poles.
They’d stoked the imus, too, and the smells of roasting fish and luau leaves wafted pleasantly on the air. Pork, too, but of course not even a queen was allowed to eat such meat, reserved solely for men.
Tabus held the world together, after all. Without the tabu, some said Pō would spill into the Mortal Realm. The world was fragile, and, as queen, it was her duty to hold it together for her people.
Which meant, among other things, honoring the ‘aumākua. Namaka strode toward the center of the gathering on the beach, and waved to the musicians who began beating the drums and chanting the mele at an ever-increasing rhythm. As she moved, she slowly swayed her body, her movements growing faster as the beat did. Her hips took on a life of their own, jerking from side to side
. Hula was all in the hips. She spun around, rapidly shifting her weight. Men began cheering and Namaka didn’t bother to hide her smile. Hands up, hands down, welcoming in the sun.
Hula was a kind of joy, and that happiness was contagious. This luau was vibrant, a pounding explosion of sensation, of life. Sights and smells and sounds bombarded her, and everywhere, smiling faces.
As the dance continued to intensify, she let go of everything else, was barely even conscious of the audience. It was like tapping into the sea. Primal, basic. An expression of her very soul. In the dance there was no duty, no tabus. There was only life, and the worship. For hula, done properly, was worship of the akua and ‘aumākua, and thus, helped regulate the flow of mana.
Lonomakua had told her once that traditions of hula came from the time before time, before the Deluge had created the Worldsea, in an age when Mu was land—Old Mu, he called it. The dance, as a regulator of mana, had served as a conduit for Muian schools of sorcery, as, even now, sorcerers and kāhuna oft relied on dance to work their Art.
But it was so much more than that.
Namaka whooped and whirled. Twisted around, ending arms wide in a big finish as the song concluded. Panting, she stepped out of center stage and took a seat beside the other women to a chorus of cheers, even as other dancers took her place. Moela lay down beside her, and she scratched the dog’s head.
Now, a man chanted a mele in time with a woman playing the ‘ūkēkē. Beyond them, a pair of fire dancers had begun to twirl flaming batons, tossing them in the air and catching them, even flinging them back and forth. Still probably had nothing on Pele’s firewalkers.
Leapua leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “There’s someone you should really meet.”
Namaka shrugged, still breathing heavily. “Bring her here, then.” Nights like this, she’d have agreed to almost anything. Nights like this, she could feel the pulse of the world in every beat of her heart. Strong and vibrant.
