Heirs of Mana Omnibus

by Matt Larkin

  Namaka flung herself atop Upoho and bent the water around them, even as the onrush hit them. A tiny bubble of safety as a massive flood raced through the valley and crashed into the oncoming torrent of lava.

  Still hearing nothing, Namaka felt it, as the flood and flame annihilated each other. Felt it like an explosion. Her limbs trembled with the effort of holding back the waters and keeping herself and Upoho safe.

  The wererat wrapped his arms around her back, whether to comfort her or himself, she had no idea. She was spent, and any moment now she’d lose the—

  The bubble broke and the receding flood waters hit her like a charging boar, hefting her off her feet. Upoho managed to snare her wrist even as the current pulled them under, flinging them along like toys. Namaka could see nothing.

  A violent jerk as their momentum halted—had Upoho caught onto something?—waters still racing past her, tugging at her. They’d ripped away her pa‘u. A distant thought. She needed air.

  And then they broke the surface, Upoho pulling her up onto a rock. Gasping for breath, choking, coughing. The ringing in her ears too loud.

  The ringing had become a dull whine that almost drowned out other sounds. Upoho spoke to her, she knew, but it sounded so far away she couldn’t concentrate on it. As the floods receded and the lava cooled, Namaka finally climbed down off her perch on the rock.

  A rain of ash continued to fall upon the island, choking it.

  Already, it had begun here. The devastation. The ravaging and poisoning of a land, as had happened in Uluka‘a. Utter desolation leaving behind only death and anguish and mountains of regret.

  “I think I’ve caught Aukele’s scent,” Upoho said, the words breaking through the haze of noise in Namaka’s ears.

  ‘Aumākua! Namaka had to end this before all Sawaiki wound up as empty as Uluka‘a. “Find him. They’ll be together.”

  “I don’t smell her.”

  Namaka worked her jaw, but the whine in her ears continued. “Maybe the flood actually got her.”

  They walked a time, crossing the river once more—now diverted in its course by tons of rock—and eventually returning to the base of the mountain, near where she’d lost her precious Moela. Of the dog’s bones, she saw no sign.

  Namaka growled, having no words to express her grief. Yes, of course she had lost many dogs over her long life. But not like … like that. Pele had reduced the animal to ash with a wave of her cloak.

  A life of love, of loyalty, snuffed out in a single heartbeat.

  All memory turned to pain in a single action.

  Upoho pointed down the slope. Namaka followed his directions, coming to a rock pile that lay half overrun by lava. Her flood must have struck the molten rock and solidified it, for it had formed into a strange mass, curled over like a wave. In its midst rose up a single arm and the head of a man, his face locked in a mask of unspeakable agony. What little remained of his flesh, in fact, for much had burned away, leaving charred bone.

  “Aukele?” Namaka’s voice sounded like a squeak. Her husband?

  Her legs gave out beneath her and she slumped down onto her arse, staring in mute horror at the ruination of a man she’d once … had she allowed herself to actually … No!

  Oh, Milu, this was not real!

  Her hand went to her mouth, stifling a whimper of denial.

  Not him, too.

  “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Upoho asked. “I mean, I thought you wanted vengeance against them?”

  “I … I …” She had wanted it. Hadn’t she?

  Oh, akua and ‘aumākua. What had she done? She had chased Pele across the Worldsea for … for this? Her kingdom was dead. Her husbands were all dead. Her godsdamned dog was dead. And Pele had escaped again … and Namaka no longer cared.

  She had never allowed herself to consider what would happen after this. What would happen with Aukele … but this … not this. Never this.

  Upoho’s hands settled under her armpits, pulling her to her feet. “You need your strength back. We don’t know how much mana Pele still has. Come.”

  “I … I …”

  Why had she done all this? Such cataclysmic battles on account of an affair? No. She was going to retch.

  Numb, she allowed Upoho to lead her away, down the slope.

  Namaka said nothing while the wererat led her up the rough, rocky trail to reach the top of the Sacred Pools. They climbed out to the plateau above the waters and stood looking down. A cascade of waterfalls poured from the mountains above, creating a series of seven whitewater pools before eventually crashing over the rocks to reach the sea. Locals had told her, at high tide, the ocean joined the lowest of those pools and easily carried swimmers out to sea.

  Part of her wanted to let that happen. To enter the deep and become one with it and walk away from all this forever.

  She had not recovered her pa‘u, and thus had no clothes to discard. A strong wind tugged at her hair, though, as she looked over the waters and into the ocean. It was still, still calling to her. Despite all she had done, the horror she had unleashed on those she loved, she could never resist its pull. Never.

  “It’s always going to be there,” she mumbled.

  Upoho grunted, clearly understanding her. “The rat spirit is always in me, always trying to get me to eat and fuck and fight. Maybe all at the same time. You get used to it. Except during the full moon. When that happens—well, actually, I don’t always remember what happens then. Sometimes you gotta let the rat out of the hole.”

  Namaka couldn’t even muster the energy to laugh at his buffoonery. On either side of the pools the land rose up in hills covered with jungles so vibrant she could almost understand Upoho’s unending desire to run through them. It was, after all, easier. Easier than facing her fears, easier than controlling the power raging and roiling through her soul, demanding she unleash the fury of the sea.

  Did her own rage make the sea a weapon, or did the mercurial nature of the ocean infect her like madness? For it was madness that had possessed her.

  Already, the deep responded to her mood, whipping itself into greater frenzy. And beckoning her to its embrace. A steep, treacherous path led down to the rocky shore. Namaka didn’t care about danger anymore. She didn’t care about anything.

  All she wanted was freedom. A queen had so many responsibilities. A duty to present an image, to maintain a certain visage, to hold absolute authority or risk having the world crumble around her.

  And Namaka was so godsdamned tired of it all.

  ‘Aumākua, had not Milolii just tried to warn her about this? Why hadn’t she listened to the dragon? Namaka needed to find her, to tell her … anything. Something to make this right.

  But it could not be fixed.

  She began the climb down, having to watch her footing on the near vertical slope.

  Upoho snorted. “All right, then.” And then he was tromping down the slope after her.

  “Fall on me and I swear my ghost will haunt you.” The wererat would likely survive a tumble to the rocks below, but Namaka doubted she would.

  Namaka jumped down the last bit of the slope. Her feet skidded on the slick rock and she slipped, landing hard on her arse and sending a jolt of pain all the way up to her jaw. For a moment she just sat there, in shock.

  “Very graceful, My Queen,” Upoho said as he strode past her. The wererat stripped off his malo and jumped into one of the pools. “Woooo!” He splashed about, then beckoned to her.

  Namaka shook her head. Maybe she would swim. Maybe later. Right now, the sea was calling her so profoundly, so deeply, it rumbled through her soul like the tremors before an eruption, demanding her presence. Hand on her bruised tailbone, she rose and walked to the edge of the shelf, where the ocean broke over the rocks.

  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.

&nbs
p; 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 Kaho‘olawe. 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.

  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.