by Matt Larkin
The man clearly knew what he was about, holding his balance with practiced ease and twisting this way and that, sliding over the waves. It was good. Namaka might have felt bad about outdoing him if he truly was a rank novice.
Instead, she allowed him a moment to shine, then turned, heading for the stronger waves. The fierce wind streamed her hair behind her, tearing all cares from her shoulders, and letting her shriek with laughter. She danced atop the waves like a bird, feeling almost as though she but brushed the waters. Time and thought melted away, and next she knew, Aukele was just sitting on his board, staring appreciatively at her.
Finally, she turned about and met him back on the beach, where they both settled down on the warm sands.
“We can try again tomorrow,” she said when they lay on the beach. “I mean, if you you want to.”
Aukele grunted, then turned a beaming smile toward her.
“You’re cheery for someone who just lost.”
The man rolled over onto his knees and placed his head on the ground. “My Queen.”
Namaka smiled a little and eased his head up with her fingertips. “And the second part of your wager … Tell me everything Milolii told you about Maui and his quest.”
Aukele settled back on his haunches and folded his legs beneath him. “To protect man, Maui stole fire from the underworld. He was the first firewalker, called the Firebringer. But it wasn’t enough. Some time after defeating the taniwha Toona, and after defeating the sun akua, Maui became obsessed with bringing immortality to mankind. Some say, it was because he had lost his wife, or his children, or both. Either way, he left his followers, the pyromancers to whom he had taught his arts, and began a search for the Waters of Life.
“They say that Kāne had created three springs, one for himself, one for Lono, and one for Kū, and that from each spring bubbled Waters of Life that could heal any injury, cure any illness, and extend human life almost indefinitely. These springs were hidden, and perhaps seeking one was why Maui first found Sawaiki.
“Regardless, there is more to the legend … for Kanaloa, god of the deep, he found and claimed the springs. And Maui fought the great god … and he lost. And thus, mankind remained doomed to a mortal life and our patron was taken from us. We are left with the gifts he gave us, though, the firewalkers among the kāhuna chiefly among them.”
Namaka folded her arms over her chest. Some said Kanaloa was the one god even Kāne feared.
“But,” Aukele said after a moment, “I have reason to believe one such spring lies here, in Uluka‘a. And that spring could save Kana.”
Namaka lay there for a time, letting the sun warm her. Finally, she sighed. “Kāne created these islands, or so the kāhuna tell it. After he flooded the Earth, he split a giant calabash in the sky and its seeds fell down to Earth and became the islands. And within the islands … yes, there was a spring. I do not know if it remains, or if Kanaloa truly claimed it from Kāne. Just that my father warned my sister and me not to go looking for it. My sister, you see, is quite the disciple of Maui.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Namaka sighed. “Because if anyone can help us find the Waters for your nephew, it’d be Pele.”
“Y-you’ll help me?”
Namaka quirked a smile, unable to believe she was going to do this. “Those Waters, everything on this island, is my birthright, though. I cannot share it with any save my kin. Which means, I suppose I shall have to take you as a husband after all.” The words sent a pleasant warmth running through her chest. It wasn’t like her other husbands would dare raise any objection. She could do as she liked …
Before she could change her mind, she rolled overtop him, straddling his hips, one hand on the back of his neck. The other massaging his cock. It didn’t take long to wake it up. And then he was pushing inside her and she was kissing his face.
SHE WOKE BENEATH THE MOON, her head on Aukele’s chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart. He slept now, no doubt exhausted. He had not lied about having increased stamina, though. The thought brought the quirk of a smile to her lips, and she rolled onto her back, staring at the night sky.
Was she doing the right thing with him?
Her father—whom she had not seen in almost seventy years—had warned her off the Waters. But Aukele’s need was real, and Namaka had been the one to effectively slay his nephew. Yes … Aukele had brought about that fate himself by coming here with hostile intent.
True.
Yet, she couldn’t let herself hate him. When he spoke, when he told his tales, all she wanted in the world was for him to keep speaking thus and entertain her for hours on end. Was that part of his gift as a kupua? Or was Namaka simply giving in to lust? She was no child to let herself be swept away with silly concepts like love. Men and women needed each other, for certain, but that was no reason to lose one’s mind.
And still … she wanted to help him. Wanted to see him happy, grateful. Marrying him hardly seemed a burden, and with another kupua, she might sire a powerful child. Advantages, all …
Yes. She’d do it. And then, together, they’d save Kana.
NAMAKA PAUSED to grab some plumerias along the way down to the shore. They smelled like sweet coconuts, making them perfect for adornment in a lei. These she gave to a slave for weaving. Her own lei, the one for Aukele, was woven from maile, and held now by Leapua in trust.
When the sun began to set, the ceremony would begin, and she’d claim Aukele as her third husband. The thought sent a slight titter of a thrill down her spine.
And at her age! Feeling like a mere girl again!
But life was worth celebrating, joy was worth claiming wherever one could. Even a kupua did not live forever, and in death waited the darkness of Pō and perhaps the depredations of Manua or even the frozen underworld of Milu.
Life was for the living.
Leapua met her on the bay’s edge, by the shore. The sea called to Namaka, of course, and she fought down the urge to whip it into spirals and let it dance with her own soaring emotions. Hiyoya’s damn complaints …
“Your sisters arrived not long ago,” Leapua said when Namaka drew beside her.
“Then where are they?”
“Napping in the palace. Fatigued from the journey across the island.”
Namaka allowed herself a slight frown. Perhaps it was too much to ask to expect her sisters to get caught up in the excitement, especially for Namaka’s third wedding. Still. “Wake them. I’d like to see both of them before the ceremony.”
It was a shame Kapo couldn’t be here, but, of course, Namaka knew she’d never likely see that sister again. Sawaiki was far across the Worldsea and well beyond Namaka’s reach.
The kahuna nodded at her, and headed back toward the palace, while Namaka sat on the edge of the surf, listening to its song.
LITTLE HI‘IAKA RACED AHEAD of Pele, kicking up a trail of sand as she ran toward Namaka. The girl—what was she now, twelve? Thirteen?—ran and leapt up tackling Namaka. It was all she could do to keep her feet, and, laughing, she patted her little sister on the back. “All right, all right. I missed you, too.”
Pele had raised Hi‘iaka from the day their mother had dropped the girl in their laps. As an egg, no less, for which Mother had offered no explanation. Pele had pled for the chance to raise the child—urged by Lonomakua, Namaka always assumed—and Namaka had seen little reason to object.
According to the story, Pele had actually hatched Hi‘iaka in the crater of her volcano, keeping the egg blisteringly warm until that point. After the fact, Namaka had often wondered if Pele had done so in the hopes of creating a fire-attuned kupua like herself. In the end, Pele’s motives mattered little, and Hi‘iaka had become a daughter to her more than to her real mother.
Namaka could feel the power in the girl, a current of energy, an embrace of so much mana it felt a little like holding a storm. She kissed the top of Hi‘iaka’s head. “Have you been practicing your surfing?”
“Mmm, hmm.
I’m better than Pele now.”
“No,” Pele said, approaching from down the beach, “she most certainly is not.”
No one was better than Pele at anything. To suggest otherwise might get any save a royal thrown as a sacrifice to the volcano. Little matter, though. Everyone had their pride, after all.
“I’m glad you both made it,” Namaka said.
Pele’s shrug was her only answer. As if to say, she came for the wedding, but might just as easily not have. Perhaps that was true. They were not … close. Had not been in a long, long time. Not since …
Namaka forced the thoughts away. Weddings, like life, were for the living.
“Did Hiyoya ask additional tribute from your side of the island, as well?” Pele asked.
Namaka frowned at the sudden turn in the conversation. Not really what she’d have wanted to talk about when seeing her sisters for the first time in several years. “They did. Their war with Mu has clearly grown more heated, though Milu damn me if I can even guess which side is winning. No surface dweller seems to much understand mer politics.”
Given that most of coastal Uluka‘a fell into Namaka’s domain, she assumed the mer asked a far lesser tribute from Pele. Her sister could have refused entirely, but doing so would have made things complicated for Namaka. Perhaps Pele had thought of that and thus spared her.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen mother or father of late?” Namaka asked.
Pele shook her head. “Not since she brought Hi‘iaka.”
Ah, well. Perhaps they were truly gone from the world. Namaka couldn’t say she even truly missed her father, though her mother had shown … well, interest in the sisters, from time to time. Namaka remembered fondly, as a child, when Haumea would visit Milolii’s cave and check on progress. Each time—at first—Namaka had entertained a vain hope her mother would take her away from the mo‘o and back to a normal life. Of course, that would not have worked for anyone, least of all Namaka herself.
And Milolii was probably the better mother, in the end.
Without another word, Namaka drew Pele into a brief embrace. Even expecting it, the surge of power and heat underneath the woman’s skin was almost overwhelming.
HI‘IAKA HAD ASKED for the privilege of blowing the conch shell as Namaka strode toward her wedding. And who was Namaka to deny her little sister such a thing? Feather cloak billowing behind her, Namaka made her way to where Aukele stood holding a maile lei, shifting from foot to foot in delicious nervousness.
As she reached him, Leapua began a mele, chanting Namaka’s prestigious lineage as a great kupua and highest ranking of the ali‘i. When the kahuna finished, Upoho began a mele himself—hardly the dignified chanter Leapua was—citing Aukele’s also impressive descent.
A sudden blaring of the conch had Namaka leap up, whipping the sea into a frenzy as she spun. Only to find Hi‘iaka grinning like an idiot, eyes alight. Fool child.
Men and women laughed, but hid their faces as Namaka took them in with a glare.
Smiling, Aukele strode forward and placed his lei around Namaka’s neck. Then she returned the gesture, draping the garland over him.
And that was it. He was her husband now, and thus a part of her family.
“I ARRANGED FIREWALKER DANCERS FOR THIS,” Pele said, when the two of them sat watching the hula by torchlight. “Even Lonomakua has agreed to dance for you.”
The kahuna. Huh. Namaka vaguely wondered if Pele had to promise him anything to get him to perform for a celebration. He was always so reserved, lost in his thoughts.
As the hula finished, the fire dancers took their places, whipping flaming batons into glorious arcs of light and shadow. At night, their movements became mesmerizing, intoxicating, even if Namaka had not had two cups of narcotic awa.
And she rather liked the awa.
Aukele sat across from her, watching her as much as the performance, a feeling Namaka … did not much mind.
“There’s something I have to do soon,” Namaka said to Pele. “Something I could use your help with. Like you, Aukele follows in the footsteps of Maui, at least to an extent.”
“He’s a firewalker?”
Namaka shook her head. “No. He seeks the Waters of Life.”
Pele sucked in a sharp breath and cast an unreadable glance Aukele’s way. “Is he worthy?”
“I married him.” Which ought to be enough answer for her sister. “Anyway, he’s lost someone. Is losing someone the Waters might save. And I think you know where on the island the spring is hidden.”
Her sister folded her arms and glared at a nearby bonfire.
“Mother indicated she might have let slip the secret to you,” Namaka said. Of course, Namaka had not much cared before. “And I know you read things in the flames. Lonomakua taught you pyromancy. Surely you can find the Waters.”
Her sister sighed. “I’m not sure I believe the old tale about Kāne making the springs, but either way, powerful beings have been drawn to them now. You think you and I can succeed on an endeavor that cost Maui himself his life?” She pointed to Aukele. “The three of us, even?”
“I promised to try. Besides, you think Kanaloa still holds sway there? It’s been almost a thousand years since Maui’s death.”
“And how long would you guard a spring of eternal life?”
Pele’s words made Namaka shiver. But she was resolved in her course.
And Pele … she’d never turn away from a chance to follow Maui’s quest. She idolized the Firebringer too much.
Namaka had her.
16
K amapua‘a didn’t have so many men left. Those who followed him now, he figured, did so for lack of better options. About two dozen of them. Maybe they blamed him for getting so many of the others killed.
Still, they followed him all the way to Vai‘i. Supposed to have lots of adventure. Which was good, because Kama was pretty much just waiting for opportunity to show up.
Honestly, he had very little idea what to do now. He’d sat in consterpation pretty much the whole canoe ride between isles, and the only thing he could come up with was that, if he killed Poli‘ahu, Kana would pardon them all and welcome them home.
Had to be.
If there was anyone Waimeans hated and feared more than Kama, it was the so-called Snow Queen of Mauna Kea. What with the war and murder and shit. Attempting to kill off a whole race of people didn’t make a queen popular. Especially not with that race.
Kama figured Poli‘ahu intentionally murdering hundreds of people was way worse than his own … uh, issues.
With Makani dead, Kamapua‘a had named Ioane his second-in-command. The man had accepted the honor, though his face had seemed anything but honored.
Now, as they landed on the north shore, Kama looked to the man. “I got a plan.”
Ioane arced one of his brows. “And?”
“We’re gonna find a valley to make camp. Then I’m gonna climb Mauna Kea. And I’m gonna kill Poli‘ahu. Then we go home and give Kana the good news.”
Ioane hopped from the canoe and helped pull it onto the shore. “That doesn’t qualify as a plan. That’s like the seed of a plan you have not yet planted nor waited for it to come to fruition.”
“Look, I’m not gonna defeat a kupua like Poli‘ahu with any shitting fruit, all right? I mean, I guess I could crush her skull with a coconut, but why the shit would I plant the tree myself and wait for it to sprout? That doesn’t make any sense. I think it’s best if you leave the stratifying to me.”
Ioane frowned, shaking his head while the other canoe came ashore. “What I mean to say is, how do you plan to kill Poli‘ahu in her own domain?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Kama shrugged. “I could use an axe or a knife or a club. I mean, worst case, I could use my hands. My hands are strong as shit.”
The other man looked to him, then nodded. “I’ll grant you that much.”
“Mahalo from me and my hands, both.”
BEFORE HIS MEN could set up in the valley, t
hey needed supplies from the local village. The sun was setting by the time he and a small band reached the place. Although it featured several piers that served as launching points for canoes, the majority of the village was farther inland, just beyond a thin grove of koa trees.
“Aloha,” he said as a pair of girls approached. Each lifted their hands to their mouths in a gesture of greeting. They wore headbands and bracelets made of leaves. Kama liked leaves. Reminded him of the jungle. The boar was most at home in a jungle. Or in a woman. So, jungle women were twice as good. He was pretty certain he’d forgotten whatever else he intended to ask the locals.
Fortunately, Ioane spoke. He was good at that. “Aloha. We need food and fresh water. Can you help us?”
The two girls glanced at one another, then the one in the lead nodded and motioned for them to follow. Kama trotted right behind her, Ioane and five others in tow.
The girls led them toward what had to be the chief’s house. It was the biggest, after all. As was the man standing in front of it. He had a belly that made him look like he’d swallowed a boar whole. He wore a feather cloak and waved a smoking bush around like he thought he was a kahuna, watching them with his nasty little eyes. Shit. It wasn’t like Kama planned to break any tabus. Well, sometimes he planned it, but most times it just happened. Someone made a stupid rule and Kama forgot to follow it. Or didn’t like the rule because it wasn’t fun. Sometimes people tried to make fun itself tabu. Tabus were stupid.
“Aloha, Chief!” Kama shouted. “I’m Kamapua‘a of the Kaua‘i. These are my followers Ioane and, uh … the others don’t have names.”
“Of course they have names,” Ioane said. “This is—”
“Sure, fine,” Kama said. “How about a feast, Chief …?”
“Chief Tua,” the man said. Stupid, nasty, narrowed eyes. What did he have to be suspicious of? All Kama had asked for was a feast. Shit, good thing he hadn’t asked for a whole luau. They should throw him one though. Kama was mighty. Mighty boars deserved luaus. “Welcome to Vai‘i.” The chief waved the stupid smoking branch again.
