by Matt Larkin
IN THE END, Milolii carried Namaka on her back, variously swimming through flooded lowlands and climbing over barren rocks, to find Leapua’s camp. Upoho came running toward them long before they reached the lean-tos and hastilyconstructed huts lining the shore.
“You’re alive!”
Namaka slipped off the mo‘o but swayed and had to steady herself against Milolii’s back to keep from stumbling to her knees. “I’m fine.”
“You smell like brine and a dead eel. You look worse.”
Namaka grimaced. “Rat.”
Upoho shrugged. “It has its advantages.” Ignoring the tabu—as usual—he slipped her arm around his shoulders and helped her toward the camp.
When they drew near, though, she pushed off him. The people needed to see her walking under her own power. They needed to see her strong.
Leapua came to meet them at the camp’s edge, and, after a stern looking up and down, embraced Namaka, drawing her close. “Praise the ‘aumākua, you live.”
Namaka was not a woman who wept. Such did not befit a queen, after all. And yet, the sudden urge to break down and bawl like a child, to grieve the loss of both her husbands, and of so many others … that urge hit her like a wave. All she could do was set her jaw and allow no emotion at all to escape, for fear a single drop would become another kai e‘e. To give a hair was to give all, and that, a queen could not afford.
Instead, she stood in silence a long moment. So long, Leapua shifted nervously from foot to foot. “Namaka?” She leaned in. “Are you well?”
“I will be fine. I used too much mana in that fight, is all.” Spent too much mana, and paid far, far too much in the price of lives. “Can anyone confirm Pele’s fate?”
“She escaped. I’m not sure where she’ll go now.”
Namaka winced. This was not possible. She was supposed to offer Pele in sacrifice to Kanaloa, appease the natural order, and put an end to all this. Instead, so many dead … Kahaumana dead … and Pele yet alive.
Namaka had won. She’d godsdamned won and still she’d lost.
So where would Pele go? A sinking sensation overtook Namaka’s gut and had her ready to sway once more. Where would Pele go? To Kahiki, of course. Uluka‘a lay in ruins, and now, Pele would seek out another volcano to soak in its mana, restore her power, and come back with a vengeance.
Namaka needed to be certain, of course. “I need you to do something, Leapua. I suspect Pele will seek to flee the island. I need you to find her, see if she does so and where she is headed. If she goes to Kahiki, find out where. I swear by all the akua and ‘aumākua, I will hunt her, no matter how far she flees.”
“Namaka …”
“Please, kahuna. Do as I ask.” After all this, she could not allow Pele to escape her wrath. Not after all her sister had cost them. All she had taken.
Leapua nodded with obvious reluctance. “I’ll return when I know if she has fled and to where.”
In the meantime, Namaka would need to regain her strength. This battle was far from over.
PART III
29
I t was a creature of myth, a legend of the deep. A taniwha. And somehow, the he‘e had summoned it to their aid.
Not the he‘e. Hiyoya has a Chintamani.
Oh, damn. They’d concealed it in the years since Nyi Rara’s old host died. Maybe they waited to find a taniwha, maybe they waited until this last, most desperate moment to send it into play. That seemed to indicate Hiyoya possessed only one dragon servant. But how did this all fit together?
Were Hiyoya and the He’e Aupuni collaborating? They must be, otherwise the timing was too perfect. So Punga had played them all.
In truth, though, who called it and how didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she catch the monster. It paused briefly to crush some of Mu’s defenders. She arrived in time to see it swallow a merman near whole, biting off the end of his tail in a spray of gore.
Damn it. Damn the he‘e and damn Hiyoya and Milu damn their cursed taniwha.
She was going to end this. She summoned the currents around her and launched them at the taniwha, sending an enormous undersea wave crashing into it. The current pushed it over slightly, but didn’t slow it. The beast didn’t even look at her. Like she was beneath its notice. Instead, it swam on toward Sawaiki, propelling its bulk forward at a speed she could match only if she used those jets of water to accelerate her passage.
You will use up your strength before the battle begins.
And just how was she supposed to battle such a monstrosity in the first place? She’d thrown her full might at it and not even managed to annoy it. Could she bring it down with a water lance like Nyi Rara used on the he‘e?
Doing that rendered you unconscious. And that was against a creature your own size. How do you propose we generate enough force to penetrate those scales?
Well, she wasn’t about to give up. She had to warn her people.
They’ll know.
A sick feeling bubbled up in her stomach. As the taniwha drew near land, it would rise toward the surface. Its enormous bulk and uncanny speed would disrupt the sea around it, creating a kai e‘e sweeping toward the islands.
All the people of Sawaiki, in fact, now depended on her for their very lives. She had failed to protect Uluka‘a. Failed in the most spectacular way imaginable. She and Pele had destroyed their world.
And now this land was … was … Namaka faltered. Why would Hiyoya send the taniwha against Sawaiki instead of against Mu directly?
Because of you. They saw what you did in our last battle. They know who you are from your prior dealings with them. Had they any doubt, the Hiyoyan emissary recognized you. And they know your people fled to Sawaiki. This course of action forces you to abandon Mu in order to protect human lives.
And knowing that, Nyi Rara had still allowed her to chase the taniwha.
I offered you partnership.
Someone would see the kai e‘e. She could only pray they’d all run inland, flee the coming wave toward the relative shelter of the mountains. They couldn’t know what would follow was worse. Beyond any act of nature—or, perhaps it was nature in its purest, most wrathful form. The rage of the deep.
And it was headed for the last people she still cared for. Those probably still sheltering on Mau‘i.
Maybe Nyi Rara was right. Maybe she would only exhaust herself by using her power to move faster. But she had to. She had to get there before the wave wiped out what little was left of her own ‘ohana. She owed them that. She summoned jets of water to her hands, jerked them behind herself, and propelled her body forward even faster than she had done to reach Mu. Everything blurred around her as she finally broke out in front of the taniwha.
Her breath came in pants that stung her still-raw throat. She glanced over her shoulder to see the creature glaring at her, increasing its own speed as if intent on catching her. Swallowing her up like a late supper. Or maybe no more than a small snack.
Namaka screamed, expending even more energy to fling herself farther out ahead. Just a little more. A few hundred paces more and she’d be there, be at the nearest village.
And what will you do then?
She had no idea. Somehow, she’d buy her people time to escape. That was her duty as their Queen. It was the least—and sadly, probably the most—she could do for them.
As the beach neared, Namaka launched herself upward, flinging herself from the sea like a whale venting. As she flew through the air she imagined herself walking, running, dancing. She locked onto that picture in her mind, not just a memory, but forced herself to feel it happening. A sudden, sharp pain stung her as her tail split apart and her scales receded beneath her skin. Swimming was magical, but legs had their uses.
She landed a dozen paces away from the sea in a crouch, just before the village of Hana. Much of the village had probably gone to sleep, but a man shouted at her arrival.
“Run!” she screamed at the people. “Run to the mountains! Run and find Milolii!”
Namaka spun back to the sea. The great wave rose, rushing forward. It would sweep over the village before they had gotten far enough away.
“Help me now, Nyi Rara.” The mermaid princess offered no answer, only a vague sensation of hesitation. Damn it. Damn her. “I fought to save your people! Now fight to save mine!”
There was only the barest hesitation more.
I am with you.
Namaka spread her arms wide, palms facing the onrushing sea, and sent her soul out onto it.
Break.
She fed all of herself into that thought.
Break!
She screamed with effort, touching the ocean with her soul, pouring what remained of her mana into it, and turning it back on itself. Even in her mind she screamed, her thoughts nothing more than a primal desire to defy fate. To hold back the sea, turn the tide, and stand against the inevitable.
The wave twisted, breaking in the wrong direction and falling backward in a cacophony that almost covered the taniwha’s roar of rage. The wave tossed the creature upside down and spun it around, before it broke through the surface a moment later, roaring once again.
But the wave had lost its momentum, and a mere high tide rushed forward to soak her shins. Namaka fell to her knees, suddenly unable to stand. Just offshore, the taniwha reared itself up in dark silhouette against the moon. Its rage seemed to shake the island itself.
Now it looked at her. Suddenly she was no longer a nuisance beneath its notice.
“Let Milu feast on your soul,” Namaka spat through gritted teeth. She had nothing left. Not even the strength to rise from her knees.
She might die this night, but at least she had turned back the kai e‘e, had bought her people time to flee. This taniwha would wreck all of Sawaiki and leave it ripe for the he‘e and Hiyoya to enslave all the islands. But she had done everything she could.
The dragon reared back, clearly intent on swallowing her and a good chunk of the beach with her.
“Choke on a crab, ghostfucker,” she mumbled.
“Namaka!” The bellow reached her just before Upoho collided with her, swept her up in his arms, and kept running.
The dragon’s maw impacted an instant later, indeed taking a chunk out of the beach. Even burdened with her in his arms, the wererat ran faster than most humans could ever manage, tearing up a trail of wet sand in his wake.
It took her a moment to realize one of his eyes was missing, a hollowed-out ruin of his face.
The dragon roared and whipped its tail around to impede their way, a terrible whooshing gust of wind accompanying it. Upoho actually jumped over the tail, clearing an impossible distance. The taniwha’s tail slammed into the boardwalk, sending a dozen houses crashing into the ocean, reduced to kindling. Men and women ran screaming while others plummeted into the sea. One woman froze in fear, staring at her impending doom. Namaka looked away just before the taniwha’s jaws clamped down on the victim.
Upoho landed with a thud and immediately took off running again, this time toward the jungle where the rest of the village was already retreating. Namaka glanced back over his shoulder to see the taniwha, bellowing with wrath and continuing to smash the driftwood that had once been people’s homes.
It placed one enormous foot on land, glaring at them. Then it turned and dove back into the water. In the moonlight it was hard to tell, but it looked to be swimming around the island.
And then she knew. She might have escaped for a moment, but the creature was going to destroy every village on Mau‘i. And when it finished here, what was next? Probably Vai‘i, it was closest. And each and every island across Sawaiki. The he‘e wanted to rule the seas, and to do that they could deny humanity access to the ocean. It would cut them off from one another and their primary food source, ensure they remained nothing but tiny, powerless tribes.
What few of them survived.
WELL INTO THE morning she swam. Something pulled her toward a specific spot. Perhaps it was instinct. Perhaps it was the mana inherent in the Sacred Pools, calling to the power inside her.
She was utterly spent, nearly dead, and Nyi Rara had fallen once more into torpor.
At the pools, she crawled up onto the rocks, dragging her tail behind her. On land the thing was dead weight, barely able to help her push forward at all. As useless as she ended up being.
She had failed to stop the taniwha. Had failed to save Sawaiki or Mu.
No—to Lua-o-Milu with that. She was done being useless and done moping over it.
Namaka shoved herself upright into a sitting position, then reached down to the pools, hand just brushing over the surface. Already, some of this place’s mana had seeped back into her. It was so strong here. She dangled her tail into the waters, soaking them up.
She allowed herself a single, shuddering breath. Then she began to summon her mana into her fingertips—just a hint of it. A mere touch. And through that touch, bubbles formed into the pool. A few at first, and then more. They popped, creating a chain of tiny splashes all along the pool. It was a start. She could do better.
There had to be a way to increase both power and control, as she had before Nyi Rara had come. She could whip the sea into a fucking kai e‘e. She could drive a spear of water through a he‘e’s head. She would find some way to fight the taniwha.
Just a hint more mana, a slow, steady breath. Some of the bubbles began to float off the surface, contained by her power, not breaking. Flying in the air, holding their shape. Namaka clenched her teeth then raised her other hand, calling up more and more of the bubbles. They glittered in the sunlight, reflecting it the way the ocean reflected a sunset.
Control.
She had done this with Milolii, the dragon endlessly patient despite Namaka’s own perpetual disquiet.
Now, she focused on a single bubble and drew it toward her open palm. The water burst just before it reached her. Damn it.
In that instant of frustration, dozens more bubbles burst, spilling back into the pool. Milolii had told her to calm herself. The sea, all waters, they responded to her emotions. Her joy, her fear, her anger. They were tools she could use, as long as she didn’t let them control her.
And maybe her emotions had always controlled her. Anger. She was angry, had always been angry about what was not given to her. So angry, maybe she hadn’t really considered what was given to her. Her parents had abandoned her. Her … mistakes with Pele had driven them apart as children. Until, finally, her rage at Pele had consumed her in a wake of madness.
The life, the reality she had, might not have been the one she would have chosen for herself. But she was given a life, and it had had its moments. How many people could say they had swum far beneath the sea and been part of that majestic, dream-like world? How many humans had touched the pure life that flowed from the Urchin?
She knew she should have let that wrath go. It poisoned her soul. She knew it did. But how was she to forgive Pele’s insolence, her treason, her destruction of so much Namaka had loved?
Namaka closed her eyes and felt the water with her soul, summoning more floating orbs toward her, allowing them to spin around her like leaves tossed in the ocean breeze. When she opened her eyes, she was smiling, entranced in the beauty she had called up.
Anger had only ever created one surging kai e‘e after another. Rage had fed itself.
The Urchin had showed Namaka her future—a potential future?—in which she took the throne of Mu. To do that, she had to find a way to deal with the taniwha, to overcome Hiyoya and the he‘e, and set all this behind her.
And at last she breathed out all the fear and resentment.
In raging against the world, she had suffused herself with a poison that meant she would never have peace, and thus never have control. The sea was her emotions, even anger. And when she was angry at the world, the sea would naturally lash out at the entire world.
And her world was beautiful, wonderful. Literally full of wonder and the joy of life—any life she was given was a gift.
And the Worldsea teemed with innumerable lives and possibility … and second chances.
She would be the second chance for all these people—human and mer alike.
Smiling, Namaka held one hand out, summoning more bubbles, and stretched another out toward the sea. It rose at her call, a pillar of flowing water jutting twenty paces into the sky.
Just another limb. She need not even think to move them. With a twist of her wrist she sent a dozen spouts pouring out of the pillar, showering into the sea before flowing back up in an endless circle.
This was it. This was the moment the Urchin had shown her. It had shown her she didn’t have to be angry, or afraid. She could be liberated.
A slight scraping sound drew her eyes to the rocky cliff far above. Milolii stood there, looking down at her. Reading the dragon’s face was nearly impossible, but Namaka hoped the slightly bared teeth were meant as a smile. She could use a smile now. The dragon nodded at her, watching, waiting.
Waiting for her. Namaka dismissed her control over the sea and let it crash back down.
She let out a slow breath, focused on legs, and then when they appeared, climbed to her feet. She wobbled a little, after being so used to the tail.
While shaky, it was probably a profoundly stupid time to go climbing a steep, slippery cliff. But right now she needed Milolii, needed the dragon so intensely it was a physical ache in her chest. And so she set off toward the rocks, taking each step with care, especially as she climbed. She had to use her hands to steady herself as she made her way up.
“You’ve come a long way,” Milolii said when she finally crested the rise. She reached a claw behind her and flung a pa‘u toward her.
“How did you know I’d be here?”
“Upoho told me your plan, so I came after you.”
Namaka frowned. She grabbed the skirt and tied it around her waist. “Mahalo. For everything, Milolii. I never really understood before now.”
The dragon stroked a clawed finger along Namaka’s cheek. “I wish your destiny were easier.”
