by Matt Larkin
There is more going on here than you realize.
Fine. So why didn’t Nyi Rara just explain it?
The priestess grimaced now, shaking her head. “Fine, I shall allow you to speak with the Urchin.”
It could speak?
Not in words. Be still.
“In return,” Opuhalakoa said, “you shall aid Daucina in his search.”
Namaka felt Nyi Rara mentally groan, though the mermaid nodded in acquiescence.
Nyi Rara blew out a breath out through her gills, as if steadying herself for an ordeal. Then the mermaid swam closer to the Urchin, circling it. With each pass, she drew a pace or so nearer those spines. As Nyi Rara did so, the Urchin moved, twitching its spines ever so slightly. Namaka’s eye fixed not on the spines, but on the pulsating body behind them.
Falling. Crashing like a wave that never broke. Vertigo consumed her, but she could not look away, could not let go for a single moment. Indeed, it was a kind of rapture embracing her body and soul, one that might let her fall forever and be at peace with that.
And through the fall, her mind was somewhere else. A thousand places, each like the last fading instant of a dream before waking. Ephemeral and hard to make sense of. Even harder to hold onto.
ULUKA‘A, vibrant and beautiful, a living paradise for god-queens and their followers.
Uluka‘a, dead. A wasteland swept away by a kai e‘e and buried under mountains of volcanic ash.
A thousand funeral pyres as her people slowly slipped from the Earth.
A man made of blood, slipping from island to island, eyes gleaming with fell intent.
In utter darkness, eyes, massive, a form. A he‘e, waiting like an answer to unspoken questions. Caverns beneath the ocean, crevices where the he‘e made their lairs. The He’e Aupuni, where they lived in their thousands, shifting forms and colors, unknowable.
And she was on land, somewhere. Was that the Sacred Pools? The waters answered her call, spraying up in intersecting geysers, creating a sparkling circle of waters flowing about her like a a net. And she was happy, smiling, laughing.
Then weeping, holding a corpse in her arms and sobbing. More, more death, in a dark place, before a fire, leaving her so very, very lost.
Somewhere else, volcanic fires erupting over the islands, and snow-capped mountains. The crash of thunder. And death.
Hokohoko slammed her up against a palace wall, coral knife to her throat. What was this? They had all betrayed her!
But she was a child, watching a dead baby float off in the surf.
She lay in pain, on the floor of Kuula Palace, groaning, thinking about giving in. Sucking down seawater in a desperate attempt to gain even a little more mana. To change fate.
And now, at last she sat upon Aiaru’s throne. She would be a god-queen once more, at any price.
All the Muian Sea would be hers.
NYI RARA COLLIDED with the wall, shattering the torrent of visions and scraping her shoulder. Dazed, she drifted free until the witch caught her and pulled her back toward the entrance.
“What did you see?”
“I don’t know,” Namaka said. She was in control, like the barrage of sensations had beaten Nyi Rara down. “What was that?”
“The host. Interesting. You are strong. The Urchin is connected to all the Worldsea, pulsing with its life. Through its connection to Uekera it is fed dreams and memories of the Seven Seas and the seven mer kingdoms. Its thoughts are thoughts without time.”
“I saw … too many things.” Already, most had begun to slip from her grasp. She tried to hold on to any given vision, but the more she tried to recall them, the hazier they became. One blended into the next.
But she remembered being a queen. A queen of this sea, above and below.
“Perhaps you saw things that have been, or things that are, or even … some things that one day will be.”
“I saw the future?”
“Anything is possible, though that is the rarest of visions.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t understand any of it.”
The priestess shrugged, a surprisingly human gesture in her immensely inhuman form. “Not now. The Urchin’s mind, if we are to even call it that, does not think like a human, or even a mer’s, mind. You may one day be able to glean something useful from that glimpse of its thoughts.”
Before she could ask anything else, Nyi Rara reasserted control over her body.
The priestess seemed to recognize that, and nodded. “You must be tired. Do not, however, forget your end of the bargain.”
Indeed, Namaka was exhausted, like the visions had beaten her senseless. Even the spirit inside her seemed fatigued, drawn out.
With a last tail twirl, Nyi Rara fled the Urchin’s chamber.
NAMAKA THOUGHT Nyi Rara was swimming back to her grotto, but rather, the mermaid entered a different tunnel, swimming until she passed Taema with a nod, then on, to another chamber.
In this one, Ake lay against the seabed, staring at the ceiling, his face a mash of twitches, webbed fingers seeming to tremble outside of his control.
What were they doing here?
The Ranger commander looked up as Namaka swam inside. For whatever reason, Nyi Rara had not let Namaka claim a moment of control since they’d left the Urchin Chamber. She could feel the mermaid’s agitation, pushing against her skull, but Nyi Rara offered no explanation.
“How bad is it?” Nyi Rara asked.
Ake grunted, then gnashed his teeth. “The host … hallucinates, sometimes. The body is wearing out faster because of the tattoos. I taste blood everywhere.” The commander looked abashed. “I woke up in the middle of the day, a little before we claimed you, to find I’d bitten my own arm.” He lifted his left arm to reveal a mangled scar Namaka had never asked about distorting some of the tattoos.
“Can you switch hosts?”
“We have no ideal candidates. Besides, the host’s deteriorating mind is beginning to infect me like a rot. I need time to recuperate in Avaiki. Time Mu cannot afford with Hiyoya pressing in against us. The mistakes of the past come crushing in on us.” He jerked his head violently and snapped his jaws at some unseen prey.
“You mean Grandfather’s mistakes.”
“I would never dare besmirch the Voice of Dakuwaqa.”
Nyi Rara scratched at Namaka’s brow. “I’ve been denied the pleasures of the flesh a long time.”
Wait, what? What in Lua-o-Milu did Nyi Rara mean by—
The mermaid’s will slapped Namaka like a wave, slamming her into darkness and blurring her senses.
The next Namaka was aware, her tail had split down to her knees, as had Ake’s. Snarling, the merman hurled her against the grotto ceiling.
Wait!
She wasn’t ready for this!
But Nyi Rara was in firm control, grabbing Ake’s suddenly appeared cock and sliding it inside herself. Inside Namaka. “Take my mana …” Nyi Rara said. “It’ll help stave off the madness …”
The merman’s grunting and thrusting rammed Namaka’s back against the grotto stone, scoured it, until she tasted blood in the water. The blood that spiked her own arousal. She screamed inside her head, furious that Nyi Rara could do this without her permission.
More furious that her body, under Nyi Rara’s thrall, was enjoying it.
Sharp rock from the ceiling gouged her arse.
With a primal snarl, Ake bit her shoulder, his jagged teeth punching through flesh and scraping bone. Namaka tried to scream, but Nyi Rara only let her moan.
She felt her body climax, convulse, and then Nyi Rara slumped to the back of her mind in exhaustion. Growling, Namaka tried to push Ake away, but he only ground harder against her, exploding inside her the next instant.
Her fist caught him in his jaw and she shoved him down, slamming him into the floor.
Her blood had turned the water into a blurry pink cloud. “How dare you!”
Panting, he looked up at her, clearly confused. “You’re the host?”
Namaka hissed at him and swam away, wanting to hit something. To hit anyone for this.
What the fuck was Nyi Rara doing? She thought she and the mermaid princess had a kind of accord. She thought they had begun to understand one another. For that matter, Namaka wouldn’t have even refused, if Nyi Rara had bothered to ask. Ake was attractive enough, and Namaka would never turn down a good romp.
But for Nyi Rara to use Namaka’s body like it belonged to her …
That betrayal was a blade in the gut.
18
Days Gone
THEY HAD TRAVELED FAR east across Uluka‘a, well into Pele’s domain, until Namaka had little doubt where her sister led them. Past the volcano where Pele held her court, and on, to the higher peak on the easternmost point of the island. Mount Halulu, where bird-men feasted upon man flesh. A place their father had forbidden them from ever going.
Because he knew Kāne’s Waters of Life lay there? Could Kū-Waha-Ilo have truly intended to keep the secret spring from the sisters? Could its power have been the secret of his long life?
All these questions plagued Namaka’s mind, but she refused to give voice to them.
Their father had beaten and abandoned them, Pele perhaps worse than Namaka. With all that had happened, perhaps their loathing of the man ought to have unified her and Pele, but Namaka had never been able to rekindle the bond they’d shared as children. Kū-Waha-Ilo had sent their lives in very different directions.
Pele, clearly, had already considered the spring’s import and had never deigned to raise those concerns to Namaka. Well, Namaka would hardly be the one to change that. Pele was her little sister, after all. There was an order to things.
Hi‘iaka, they had left in the care of Lonomakua, though the girl claimed to need no caregiver. In actuality, she was likely not far from the age in which fostering the girl with a mo‘o—perhaps even Milolii—would behoove them all. Not that Pele was likely to agree to any such plan.
They passed through green valleys and crossed a half dozen streams before reaching Halulu’s slopes. Far up above, through the mist, Namaka could just make out the snow line. Up there, the snows never melted.
“There are peaks like that on the Big Island,” Aukele said, staring up at the mountain above them.
Namaka wasn’t really sure whether he was talking to her, to Pele, or to himself. Maybe he wasn’t either, because he started trekking upward without waiting for a response.
Hesitating, Namaka cast a glance at Pele. Up a mountain, farther from the sea, Namaka’s powers would weaken, though she’d never admit to that her sister. It would make this whole endeavor more … distasteful. Still, she had sworn to Aukele to help Kana, and she meant to keep her promise.
A slight smirk crept onto Pele’s face, as if the woman had guessed at Namaka’s trepidation. Milu damn her for that. Without a word, Pele began the climb herself, following behind Aukele’s surprisingly sure footsteps.
THEY PASSED the night just below the snow line. Aukele had gathered a bundle of foliage and Pele placed a hand to it, causing it to spark into a pleasant campfire they all settled around. Aukele, as had proved his wont during most of the trek, immediately set into a tale, speaking of Nightmarchers, ghosts of dead warriors he claimed haunted Sawaiki, hunting souls to carry off into Pō.
“You hear them, long before you see them, you know. Their drums, like discordant heartbeats, announcing their arrival. Next comes the stench of death fouling the air. If you have not hidden indoors by then … it’s probably already too late. For if they find you out at night and look upon your face, they shall come to claim your soul and feast upon it.”
“Lapu? Wraiths?” Pele asked, speaking of ghosts corrupted by hatred or sorcery, darkened by Pō.
Namaka sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, saying nothing. Her education in things relating to Pō and beyond probably didn’t match Pele’s, but it wouldn’t do to admit that. Lonomakua seemed to know more of such things than Leapua, though. He knew too much, maybe.
Aukele shook his head. “Not lapu. Some say they are the court of Milu, come hunting prey. Some claim they come from some darkness beyond even Pō.” He shrugged. “Who knows? It is said the ‘aumākua might protect their descendants, if properly invoked. Except in such cases, I know of no one who saw the Nightmarchers and lived to speak of it.”
Namaka settled down onto her side. “We should sleep now. It’s a long climb tomorrow.”
Pele grunted. “We need to take turns staying up this night. The bird-men are most active at night.” Which probably meant they too came from beyond Pō, creatures of the fathomless darkness. “I’ll take the first watch.”
Namaka nodded at her sister and shut her eyes. Still, after considering they might face bird-men out of Pō, sleep did not come easy.
THE GROUND TREMBLED BENEATH HER.
The shifting of rocks jolted Namaka awake an instant before the shriek pierced the night. A bird’s cry, perhaps, but not like any bird of the Earth. Rather, a ululation of Pō, of the dark.
Namaka flung herself aside even as the shadow descended upon her, the wind of its approach buffeting her. Then it was among them, a flurry of feathers and slashing talons and horrendous cries. Its talon lanced Namaka’s hip, scraped over bone, and shredded flesh, ripping her pa‘u off in the process. She screamed, even before the pain hit her, gaping in horror at the bloody gouge exposing her bone.
And then the pain did hit.
An ocean of it, all-encompassing.
Screaming and screaming, as the bird—it had the head and torso of a man—pranced about around her on hideous talons. The campfire exploded into a column of flame so tall, so bright it left spots dancing before Namaka’s eyes and she could make out little else.
For a moment.
Just the stench of burnt flesh, of smoldering feathers. Otherworldly shrieks.
Blinking, she caught sight of Aukele, his stone axe falling again and again on one of the bird’s wings. The blade tore through flesh and hollow bone. Screaming himself, Aukele planted a foot on the bird-man’s back and ripped the wing free. The creature pitched over sideways. Coils of fire spun around and dove into it, further igniting its plumage.
Through a haze of pain, Namaka looked up to see Pele moving to kneel beside her, flames engulfing her left hand. That blazing palm descending at Namaka.
“No!” Namaka blurted.
“Hold her down.”
Then strong hands forced her onto her side, exposing her ruined hip. Namaka thrashed, bucking against Aukele’s strength.
Pele’s palm touched her hip.
The ocean of pain became an endless maelstrom. Until she no longer knew where the screams ended and her thoughts began.
“SHE’S KUPUA, AND VERY STRONG.” That was Pele’s voice. “She’ll recover, though the Waters would certainly help.”
“Should we press on without her?” Aukele. They were both still here. “We can come back when we have the Waters.”
Namaka’s hip felt like it was still on fire. She opened her eyes and blinked against the blinding light of the rising sun. Here, upon this slope, the view of it stretched on forever. Almost enough to make her forget the agony of her wound. “You’re not leaving me.”
Pele turned to her. “You cannot possibly walk.”
Namaka grimaced. “You underestimate me.” Teeth clenched to avoid crying out, Namaka forced herself up to her knees. Enough mana let you fight through pain. Of course, she’d have been much stronger closer to the sea, able to absorb its power.
Far below, at the base of the mountain, lay the ocean. Her salvation. But Milu could have her soul before she let the two of them leave her lying here like an invalid. Grunting, she struggled to her feet.
Pele folded her arms across her chest and stared, while Aukele rushed to Namaka’s side and drew her arm around his shoulder.
“Is this wise?” her husband asked.
Eh, probably not. But she damn sure wasn’t about to admit that. Inst
ead, she motioned him to lead on, up the slope.
CLOSE TO THE SUMMIT, they came to a ridge, beyond which lay a gaping maw down into the mountain. Almost like a small volcanic shaft, hollowed out at irregular angles, leading to some darkness far below. Snows blanketed the slopes up here and crunched under Namaka’s knees as she crawled to the edge of the hole.
On the ledge, Namaka peered down there, but couldn’t see far. “I feel water, far, far down there.”
“On the edge of Pō,” Pele said, and Namaka looked to her. “A transitory space between this world and the next. A place where the Waters of Life bubble up and sustain both Realms.”
“If this was here,” Aukele said … “If this was here, why did Maui not come to Uluka‘a instead of traveling all the way to Sawaiki?”
Pele shrugged. “He may have led the migration before deciding to find the Waters, or maybe he felt he could not claim the Waters here. Who knows.” Despite the woman’s feigned nonchalance, Namaka knew better. Few things interested her more than the Firebringer’s exploits, his reasons, and his untimely demise.
The first pyromancer … how could the Flame Queen not idolize him?
Namaka did not bother to say so, though. Instead, she peeked again down the shaft, shivering in the cold mountain wind. “There’s rough handholds, it looks like.”
“I imagine there has to be a way down,” Aukele said. “Even Kāne would have wanted the ability to access the spring from time to time, yes?”
Namaka exchanged a glance with her sister, wondering if Aukele was right. Without another word, Pele lit her hand aflame and began to lower herself over the side, feeling around with her feet, cautious in her attempts to find footing.
Nor did Namaka much look forward to trying the same with a wounded hip.
“You could stay up here,” Aukele suggested, as if reading her thoughts off her face.
Namaka cast a withering glare at her husband. She would not be left behind while they found the Waters of Life. Instead, she swung over the side, and began a slow, painful climb downward.
