by Matt Larkin
“‘Ohana is everything,” Nyi Rara mumbled, even as her father swam down into Tenebrous Chasm. A trio of warrior mer swam out ahead of them, led by a Ranger whose senses were no doubt even more acute than Nyi Rara’s own.
The further down she swam, the chillier things seemed to grow. Mer had plenty of tolerance for the cold—the bloodlines in the North Sea lived in much greater cold than this—but Nyi Rara didn’t exactly enjoy it. Her gaze darted from side to side, sweeping over shifting shadows, hunting for any sign of predators.
Mer were, in a sense, humanoid sharks, and thus few creatures of the deep truly saw them as prey. Few, yes, but he‘e might ambush them, and there were always benthic monstrosities like taniwha that would eat just about anything. Priests claimed they all hailed from the Elder Deep, but that didn’t mean mer shared any kinship with those behemoths.
A shifting in the waters, a minor disturbance, as someone swam around behind them. Hiyoyan scouts, no doubt. Come to watch them. Come to see if her father was true to his word.
Their Ranger banked to the side, descending deeper, having clearly spotted something Nyi Rara could not yet make out. Tattoos enhanced the mana of Dakuwaqan Rangers, allowing them to push their hosts beyond the physical limits even other mer could manage. Stronger, faster, and keener of awareness. The ultimate warriors.
Possibly insane, of course.
She had often wondered whether the power itself unhinged the Rangers, or whether the unstable were the only ones able to survive the process of—
The Ranger slowed, allowing them to draw up and catch sight of the Hiyoyan envoy. Seven mer: three mermen, four mermaids. Others swam around the merchants, tridents and coral knives at the ready, tails twitching in anticipation of aggression. The Hiyoyan ‘ohanas seemed to have tails more in the blue and green spectrum, whereas most Dakuwaqans like herself had orange, red, or yellow tails. And all of the Hiyoyans had descended their shark teeth, flexing their webbed fingers, looking more than ready for a fight.
Her father pushed forward around the Ranger and twirled his tail in greeting. “I am Prince Ikatere of Dakuwaqa ‘Ohana.”
One of the mermaids swam forward a few feet. “Inemes of Rongomai ‘Ohana, cousin to Queen Latmikaik of Hiyoya.”
A moment of silence followed, Nyi Rara’s father shifted in the water, while the Hiyoyans looked around with visible nervousness. It seemed their side had just as many misgivings about any overtures toward peace as the Muians did.
Her father beckoned a hand to his merchants, not bothering to look back at them. One thing Dakuwaqa ‘Ohana had managed to hold onto was extensive trade contacts, reaching all across the Worldsea, from Ryūgū-jō in the East Sea all the way to far Cantref Gwaelod in the West Sea. They had goods no one else in this region could easily come up with, and Hiyoya must know that.
The merchants swam forward and began opening their treasure trove of goods. Even in the near darkness of the chasm, hints of light reflected off gems and jewelry, though Nyi Rara imagined the Hiyoyans would have to value the iron even more.
Inemes cocked her head and Hiyoyan merchants swam forward, revealing sacks of glittering pearls that must have come from far off indeed. With that much wealth, Dakuwaqa could almost buy their way back into power.
“A fine arrangement,” her father said. “Of course, for the real prize, I require a trade worth more than any pearl. Any other pearl, at least.”
What was that all about?
“You have it?” Inemes asked.
Her father nodded, now beckoning forward a mer who held a clamshell shut between his arms. At a signal from her father, the mer cracked the shell open, spilling blue-green radiance into the chasm, so bright Nyi Rara had to shield her eyes after the adjusting to the darkness.
Blinking, she gaped at what lay within the clam. A glowing pearl the size of her head, one that seemed almost aflame even underwater. Indeed, the currents around it pulsed, responding to its power. That was a … a wish pearl, a Chintamani. A physical manifestation of coalesced mana stronger than any other. She had thought they were all lost during the Sundering. The priests claimed the loss of the Chintamaniya had resulted in the loss of mastery over the taniwha.
All Nyi Rara could do was stare, awed. Its power thrummed through the waters, tickling her skin and scales, as if someone massaged her whole body all at once. It left her giddy, euphoric.
And this was madness. Her father would trade one of the greatest treasures in all the Worldsea to Hiyoya. That was … treason. If Queen Aiaru learned he had traded away the Chintamani, at any price, the Elder Deep alone knew what the queen would do.
“A fitting bride-gift for a queen, I would say,” her father said.
Oh. Oh, by the Deep. Father intended to marry Queen Latmikaik of Hiyoya. And return Dakuwaqa ‘Ohana to glory by crushing Queen Aiaru the usurper beneath their combined forces.
He hadn’t consulted Nyi Rara, probably hadn’t even told her older sister. He’d committed them to this course—and terrible war could be the only result—and had not bothered to even ask if they wished to swim this way. How many in the ‘ohana even knew of his plans? The worst of it was, she could never turn back. Not now. Father had seen to that. Even if she would have balked before, Father had already made Nyi Rara a party to treason. Besides, the Hiyoyans were here and would never leave without that pearl.
She shot a glare at her father, who didn’t look in her direction, though she suspected he knew of her displeasure.
Inemes, too, was staring in awe at the Chintamani, tail twitching as if moving outside of her control. Her shark teeth had descended in excitement or perhaps even arousal. “Ah, it’s real.”
“Yes,” her father said. “One of the last of the wish pearls.”
“Amazing.” Inemes grunted and cocked her head.
It happened fast.
The surge of waters as Hiyoyan mer warriors rushed in, trident blades glinting in the Chintamani’s pale light. Nyi Rara froze, her chest seizing up in realization. Hiyoya had betrayed them after all. And she’d be lucky if she ever got the chance to castigate Father for his folly.
A single beat of his tail carried the Dakuwaqan Ranger into a pair of charging mer warriors. He caught the shaft of the trident in both hands and twisted around, flinging the Hiyoyan into the chasm wall with such force it must have broken bones.
The other mer lunged, his trident scraping over the Ranger’s scales. As if unfeeling of the pain, the Ranger lunged in and sank his teeth into the Hiyoyan’s throat. A blinding cloud of pink filled the waters an instant before the blood scent hit Nyi Rara and sent her pulse pounding in visceral reaction.
Snarling with the frenzy, Nyi Rara lunged at the nearest Hiyoyan merchant, caught his tail, and drove him down in the chasm floor. The merman twisted around in her arms, apparently having never imagined the Dakuwaqan princess would assault him unarmed. Nyi Rara’s mouth opened far wider than a human’s ever could.
The merman screamed the instant before her jaws closed over his face. His cheek bones crunched under her teeth and the delicious, intoxicating rush of blood filled her as the mer’s head collapsed. Salty brains and copper blood, so sweet Nyi Rara shuddered in delight.
These barnacle-cocked Hiyoyans thought to betray Dakuwaqa? There would be a price for that.
She spun around, only to see a Dakuwaqan warrior take a trident through his bowels. The Hiyoyan mermaid twisted the trident, ripping out a cloud of gore and filth. As the human host died, the mer spirit fled the corpse, which immediately began shifting back into human form.
Chaos reigned all around her.
So. Much. Blood.
The frenzy refused to let her go, and she charged forward at Inemes. The Hiyoyan met her halfway, no doubt overcome with her own frenzy. Nyi Rara whipped her tail up at the Hiyoyan, intent to batter her into the ground. The other Hiyoyan dodged to the side and raked a webbed hand across Nyi Rara’s gills. Her claw-like nails caught tender flesh and ripped it to shreds, leaving Nyi Rara gasping, cho
king on her own blood.
She careened to the side, crashed shoulder-first in the chasm bed, and tore a great chunk of her flesh out along the rock.
Nyi Rara thrashed, her mind ablaze even as she began to drown. A mer could recover from most injuries. Gills were tricky, though. Could she live?
Could she live?
Did she need to abandon this host?
Before she knew what was happening, someone had grabbed her shoulders.
“Don’t let her soul escape,” Inemes said.
A clawed finger carved something—a glyph!—into Nyi Rara’s forehead, scraping down all the way to her skull. She wailed in agony as a merman shredded her flesh and bone. In desperation, she moved to release her host and flee back to the Astral Realm. Something bound her here, trapped inside this body.
Only a very powerful spirit could hold another spirit in a host. But this mark was doing something, some use of the Art.
She shrieked, suddenly realizing her peril was to more than her host. They actually intended to kill her. Not just her body, but her very soul.
They didn’t want her to make it back to Avaiki. They didn’t want to risk her reporting what had been stolen here.
Inemes lunged atop Nyi Rara and leaned down with agonizing slowness, now clearly aroused by the blood and pain. She licked a rough tongue between Nyi Rara’s breasts, trailing it all the way down to her navel.
“Father!” Nyi Rara shouted. Only it came out as a gurgle given her mangled gill.
Inemes opened her mouth wide, pausing to lock her gaze with Nyi Rara’s a moment. An instant of torture, knowing what was coming. Then the other mermaid bit off Nyi Rara’s left breast.
A haze of white filled her vision.
Nyi Rara wailed in utter agony.
Nothing she’d ever felt … Nothing could have …
Someone else bit off a chunk of her tail fluke.
Fuck! Fuck, please, Elder fucking Deep, please!
More mouths bit down on her, tearing pieces from her tail, her arms, her gut. Inemes grabbed a rib and ripped it out. They were devouring her mana and trying to consume her soul with it.
And her body wouldn’t respond. Couldn’t fight any longer. She felt it, as they began to devour her essence itself. As all she was ended.
A feral sound. Far away.
A body, crashing into the mass of mer, the tattooed Ranger barreling into them. Fighting on, even now, wounded in a dozen places, missing a hand, half his face hanging off.
The Ranger’s coral knife descended toward Nyi Rara’s head.
Toward that hateful glyph holding her here.
She felt a single instant more of pain, as the blade punched through her skull.
And then nothing else.
Part I
Third Age of the Worldsea
1
A hot wind carried clouds of choking ash down from the mountains, bringing with it the overpowering stench of sulfur. Once, those peaks had overflown with greenery, but now, they had split in half, consumed in torrents of lava that, in places, still glowed incandescent. The ashes had polluted Namaka’s beautiful, vibrant sea, leaving a cloudy film, even where molten rock had not destroyed her lagoon.
Uluka‘a, her beloved island, had become a wasteland, unfit for human life. Perhaps even the akua had retreated back across the darkness of Pō now, leaving the Mortal Realm behind. The war had spread from this island to Kahiki, too, and reports indicated the devastation there, while less pervasive, certainly had reduced even kings to beggars.
Namaka had created a kai e‘e—a surging wave the size of a mountain. How could it not have affected a neighboring island?
And Namaka was left Queen of Emptiness, staring out over the ruins of her kingdom. Flood and flame had obliterated all around her, though axes and clubs had certainly claimed their share of lives. Grimly, she shook her head at what she’d wrought.
Her, and her Milu-damned sister.
Ash crunched lightly under the barefooted approach of someone behind her, and Namaka turned to see Leapua. The kahuna had the edge of her kihei cloak raised to cover her mouth against the ash cloud, and was using her tabu stick to thread her way across the wastes.
“Well?” Namaka said, turning to the woman.
Almost, the woman’s eyes seemed to implore Namaka, to beg that this was finished. It was not. “It is as you suspected,” Leapua finally said. “Pele fled across the channel to Kahiki. But she did not remain there. They took a fleet and sailed forth, well provisioned. My sources didn’t know where they were bound.”
Namaka groaned. Oh, she could guess. Pele knew she couldn’t escape Namaka’s wrath to any of the nearby isles. So instead, her sister would have tried to follow the ocean currents to far Sawaiki, as their other sister, Kapo, had done decades back.
Legends claimed Maui himself had found those islands far to the north, and led the first settlers, among them even the mo‘o—the great dragons that had once populated Kahiki. Now, centuries later, other migrations had begun seeking the new world. Two thousand miles, some claimed. And Pele thought Namaka’s rage would never follow her so far.
But, as always, Pele desperately underestimated Namaka’s fury.
It was the fury of the sea.
And like the Worldsea, it was endless.
Their war had left Namaka no kingdom to rule. What remained, then, but for her to take the last of her people and pursue? Some crimes demanded an answer, and Namaka would have one.
The remnants of her kingdom had gathered on the beach, provisioning what remained of the great double canoes. Fishermen had to voyage dangerously far out now to find live fish—and even those were sparse. Enough to get them to Kahiki, though, where they could find additional stores of food.
The camp was a disorganized wreck. Hastily constructed huts gave shelter from the falling ash, while men and women worked tirelessly to repair damaged boats.
Namaka stood, hands stiff at her side, taking in the sea.
Already, one of the double canoes had launched, its sails unfurled, filled with a hot, dirty wind. They would regroup on foreign shores, though Namaka half expected some of her people to disappear into the jungles of Kahiki, seeking a new home there. Such disloyalty would earn their deaths, if caught, but she had neither time nor inclination to spare forces hunting those too cowardly or weak to make the great voyage to Sawaiki.
Leapua plodded up beside her, sniffing, and Namaka looked to her kahuna. The woman had lost weight over the past month, though she remained somewhat plump, with warm laugh lines around her face. She’d lose yet more weight on the voyage, when food became so rationed. Namaka could swear the kahuna had more streaks of gray in her hair than she had a few months back, too.
Really, this trek was for those younger and stronger, and, if Namaka were less selfish, she’d leave Leapua behind on Kahiki.
But then, Namaka had so few people left with whom she could really talk. Those she had loved were dead or had betrayed her, and Leapua was one of the few left to her. How then could she send away her truest advisor and closest friend? No, selfishness—or at least self-interest—had its virtues, especially for a sovereign. Namaka’s peace of mind, her access to counsel, would lead to her making wiser decisions on behalf of her people.
Ironically, Namaka was actually much older than Leapua. As a kupua—a half-god—Namaka aged slowly. She was just over eighty years old now, and yet could have passed for Leapua’s much younger sister, not even half her real age.
“You are so lost in thought,” Leapua said. “Do you doubt this plan now?”
Namaka scoffed. “No.”
The kahuna opened her mouth, but hesitated.
“What?”
“Is your pride truly worth all this?”
“It’s not just pride,” Namaka snapped, turning back to the sea.
“Oh.” And the way the woman said it, she clearly meant she disagreed.
Namaka could only glower. It wasn’t only pride. The balance of the world hung on e
veryone’s adherence to tabus. Certain conventions could not be violated. Surely the desolation Uluka‘a now faced was evidence of the ‘aumākua’s displeasure at the breach of law?
Besides which, Namaka had promised Pele as a sacrifice to Kanaloa. She could not take back a vow made to an akua, much less the god of the deep.
Even if Namaka could not quite stifle the voice in the back of her mind that tempted her to lend credence to Leapua’s accusation.
“It won’t be an easy voyage,” Namaka said. “I can help guide the currents …” Though better if she did not push it hard enough to vex Hiyoya. The last thing they needed was an angry mer empire hunting them while they were trapped on boats and surrounded by ocean. Namaka shook her head. “I can lend us some speed and keep the seas from growing too rough. Still, it’s a long way to Sawaiki, and none among us has ever made the trip.”
Even as Haumea was dividing her kingdom between her eldest daughters, their younger sister, Kapo, had pled with their mother for permission to voyage across the sea. The first such trek since the days of Maui, almost a thousand years ago. So many had gone with Kapo, back then, and Namaka had wished her little sister well, despite her doubts. Had she found Sawaiki? Had she made a home for herself there? Some of them had made it. Aukele had confirmed that much, in his tales of northern islands.
Thinking of her traitorous husband brought a fresh glower to Namaka’s face.
Leapua murmured something under her breath, then looked directly at Namaka. “If they can make it, so can we.” The kahuna mercifully left unspoken the question of whether they should. “The people still believe in you, My Queen.”
Namaka almost laughed. Some of them did, perhaps. Others no doubt feared her and that kept them in line. Daughter of Haumea and Kū-Waha-Ilo, ancient kupua who had ruled this land for more generations than any could remember, perhaps even back in the days of Maui. Through them, Namaka and her sisters had stronger mana than just about anyone in the Worldsea.
Both her parents had gone now, though, and she couldn’t even say where, for certain. Her father had rarely bothered to take an interest in Namaka, and her mother had vanished long ago. Tired of ruling, Namaka supposed.
