Heirs of Mana Omnibus

by Matt Larkin

  Not for … a while. I awakened next in the cave, the sound of crashing water the first thing I recognized. I was behind a waterfall and its noise had lulled me into a peaceful sleep. With a groan, I rolled over and then started. Another, smaller mo‘o peered at me like I was a meal that had fallen in her lap. Unable to catch my breath, I scrambled backward, wheezing, eyes bleary. “Wait! Wait, I am a descendant of Mo‘oinanea!” I knew I slurred my words, but my tongue refused to obey me.

  The dragon, though, leaned in, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “I know. I am Milolii, and I can smell my blood in you, kupua,” she said, voice maybe even more pompous than Mo‘oinanea’s had been.

  Really, I mean now I can say she’s a charming … er, woman … but a little pretentious. In any event, I sat there, mumbling … something, I hardly recall what, when she raised a clawed digit waving me to silence. This big, black talon right in my face. Ah, she got silence, let me tell you.

  “Why have you come here?” she asked me.

  I swallowed, forcing down the urge to glance nervously about the cave. I could hear someone else moving in the shadows, but I dared not take my eyes off the dragon. Would have been rude, after all, and I didn’t think rudeness toward a dragon wise. “Mo‘oinanea sent me here, said I should become a king.”

  And the other mo‘o, she stared at me so long I began to wonder if she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open. No, it’s true! She held still as a rock, watching me, unblinking, far too intense.

  “Maui failed,” a voice said from the shadows. Upoho, of course, though I didn’t know his name then. Come to think of it, I’m still not fully certain what he meant, but it drew a growl from Milolii.

  The dragon motioned me to the back of the cave, and I crawled over there, only to find a naked man scrambling over. He tossed a fish at my feet, and—once I had eaten—introduced himself as Upoho.

  I spent the next several days regaining my strength in that cave. It was during this time that I explained to them what I’d been through, and shortly thereafter, Upoho found Kana washed up on the beach, on the edge of death.

  That was when Milolii told me of Maui’s last, failed quest.

  Namaka stiffened, watching Aukele with narrow eyes a moment. Then she turned and left him there.

  13

  Their canoes passed before a large bluff on the northern shore of Vai‘i. Even this close, Pele could feel the fires burning within the island. It fairly pulsed with magmatic energies, calling to her, driving her own heartbeat into a matching rhythm.

  Lonomakua sitting beside her pointed up to the bluff, and Pele followed where he pointed. A man stood there, waving his hand at them.

  “Who is he?”

  Lonomakua frowned, offering only a slight shake of his head.

  “Take me aboard!”

  Pele jolted. The breeze had carried the man’s words as if sent by La‘amaomao’s own Gourd of the Winds. She looked to Lonomakua, but his frown had only deepened. She looked to Hi‘iaka, who grinned with childish delight.

  “These canoes are full!” Pele shouted back. “There’s no space save at the prow.”

  She hardly expected the man to have heard her, but a moment later he dove off the bluff and splashed down into the sea with surprising grace. The man swam his way over to the canoes, then climbed atop the prow, balancing precariously on it and grinning like a madman.

  “Makua-kaumana the Wise, Prophet of Wind and Flame, Advisor to Kings and Queens. You, my lady, may call me Makua.”

  Hi‘iaka giggled. “Like Lonomakua. Huh.”

  Who did not seem well pleased with this development.

  Pele could only frown at the absurd man. “You’re a prophet? You mean a pyromancer?”

  “And aeromancer.”

  “How did you know we’d pass this way?”

  “I told you. I’m a prophet.”

  Pele wrestled with the urge to throw the pompous fool from the boat. “What do you want?”

  “The gods tell me you shall become queen of all Vai‘i. To accomplish this, you need one who interprets the meanings of the akua and ‘aumākua.”

  “Oh,” Hi‘iaka said. “Don’t worry. We’re all gods anyway.” And Pele could have sworn the very air thrummed with her pride.

  She cast a stern glance at her sister. “I have a master pyromancer kahuna with me already. From what I’ve seen, the Sawaikians have lost touch with the gifts and lessons of Maui.”

  Makua grinned. “And yet I knew where you’d be and when.”

  Hi‘iaka snickered. “And you wish to pledge your service to my sister?”

  “She will need local kāhuna on her side, considering her intentions.”

  And just how much did this so-called prophet know of Pele’s intentions? “You have a plan?”

  “The King in Puna recently fell to the followers of Poli‘ahu. Right now, those who once followed King Kapawa are caught up in a struggle for the throne, while the kāhuna try to control the succession. The kāhuna carry the will of the people, though few of them truly speak to the gods anymore. They are in turmoil now, but soon, someone will take the throne. Will that person be someone sympathetic to Queen Poli‘ahu? Will it be someone too weak to stand up to her?”

  Pele shrugged. “You’re the prophet. You tell me.”

  “Or will it be a queen newly come from the old country?”

  So, Puna it was then.

  As they sailed, Makua filled Pele in on the geography of Vai‘i. Puna lay in the southeast, not far from the greatest volcano, Kīlauea, which Pele felt more strongly with each passing day as they drew near. Oh, other volcanoes on this island also pulsed with life and power, but Kīlauea called to her, singing a deep, vibrant song of its mana and leaving little doubt in her mind: that was where she would build her new refuge.

  Puna’s proximity meant, as Makua suggested, it would serve as an optimal foundation for her kingdom. So optimal, Pele couldn’t help but regard the kahuna with a twinge of suspicion. A kingdom with no king in the perfect place for Pele presented an opportunity the ‘aumākua could have arranged, of course. Or a trap?

  The new kahuna quickly established a rapport with Hi‘iaka, as well, and the two of them chatted incessantly about life in Uluka‘a and Kahiki, as if the prophet wanted to know everything possible about where they had come from.

  According to Makua, Queen Poli‘ahu had her own refuge upon the snow-covered peaks of Mauna Kea, northwest of Puna. In fact, the Queen of Mauna Kea, as they called her, controlled most of the north and a fair section of the west, cutting Vai‘i off from easy trade with Mau‘i and Kaua‘i.

  “The old dynasty maintains more-or-less complete control over Moloka‘i and Ni‘ihau,” Makua said. “Lāna‘i theoretically falls under the jurisdiction of the Queen of Hana, but is the domain of spirits and wild things, and thus politically unimportant.”

  “What about the other island? The one off the coast of Mau‘i.”

  “You mean Kaho‘olawe. A handful of fishermen villagers live there, no more. The island is useless.”

  “Why?”

  “No real sources of fresh water.” Makua shook his head. “No, control of Sawaiki rests primarily on Vai‘i, with Mau‘i, Kuau‘i, and O‘ahu also having powerful kings. Whoever controls those islands controls Sawaiki. And if you manage to claim all of Vai‘i from Poli‘ahu, you’ll likely have broken the old dynasty permanently.”

  But Pele did not relish the idea of waging another war, much less against another powerful queen. Either way, she could do little until she had established herself in Puna.

  Dense vegetation sprouted from nutrient-rich volcanic soil, creating a vibrant coast, and inland, a steaming jungle. Beyond that lay Kīlauea, beckoning Pele. Thrumming with untold power. Part of Pele wanted to forgo all the politics and rush away to soak in that mana.

  Part of her did, but reality would not allow that.

  As soon as the villagers saw their regalia and realized other royal ali‘i had arrived, they came to greet Pele’s com
pany with beating drums and leis, kāhuna waving their tabu sticks while other ali‘i—would-be kings, perhaps—watched them with hooded eyes.

  These were the people Makua suggested she make herself queen of. That made them both her potential followers and her current threats.

  Hi‘iaka tried to head off when the locals began offering coconuts, but Pele bid the girl stay back with the group, and trusted Lonomakua to see that Hi‘iaka obeyed.

  After taking in the village, Pele allowed herself to be led as a guest to the palace, currently occupied by Kapawa’s widow, Naia. Naia’s little brother Milohai sat beside his sister, staring at Pele with a hint more defiance than she’d have liked.

  “Welcome to Puna,” Naia said, when Pele’s party had settled on the floor before her.

  Pele noticed several older kāhuna also watched the introduction. Old men worried about what the coming of a new group of ali‘i meant. Probably not unlike Queen Naia herself. Pele could easily kill Naia, or drive her into hiding, but what if she didn’t have to?

  “Mahalo for the hospitality,” Pele said after a moment.

  “If you’ll forgive me, I am in mourning. Thus, I have to ask directly about your intentions.”

  Pele kept her gaze locked on Naia, trusting Hi‘iaka to keep an eye on everyone else and gauge their reactions. “You’ve heard of the sorceress Kapo?”

  Behind her, Kapo groaned lightly.

  Naia shrugged. “An apprentice of Uli, if I recall the mo‘olelo.”

  Pele pointed back to her sister. “That’s her.” A murmur ran through the locals, especially the kāhuna. “My younger sister. Why am I here? I am here because a Savai‘ian queen has made war against my fellow Kahikians. Do I need another reason to come and see the widow of the Kahikian king, slain in this conflict? Do I need another reason to turn my ire upon this pompous Poli‘ahu?”

  Naia nodded slowly. “Stay in Puna as my guests.”

  Pele bowed her head.

  With Pele’s people settled, Hi‘iaka came to her, bearing broken coconuts in her arms, and settled down in the women’s lodge. “Finally away from the men, right?”

  Kapo sat on the opposite side of the house, clearly still irked with Pele for having brought her to Naia’s attention. But Pele’s sister had come here to explain things politically, hadn’t she? Did she expect Pele not to use her fame, as well?

  The greater portion of Pele’s company now rested with Makua and Lonomakua in the men’s house, no doubt eating pork and bananas and such things forbidden to women. Pele, of course, had never allowed those tabus to apply to herself or Hi‘iaka. Not before. But here, in Sawaiki … “Our best chance of establishing our authority is to prove ourselves closer to the akua.”

  Hi‘iaka snorted. “We’re kupua, right?”

  “Yes. But I mean to say, we have to obey the local tabus. More than that, we have to … to introduce new gods brought from Uluka‘a and new forms of worship.”

  Hi‘iaka shrugged like it made no difference to her. “You’re not going to kill anyone else, right?”

  Pele sighed. Hi‘iaka was always this curious mix of naïve and self-confident to the point others might have called hubristic. Ready to call herself a goddess, but afraid of the consequences of authority.

  “The thing about power is, if you have it, other people will want it. They’ll do almost anything to take it away from you. And that means the only way to keep power is to use it. To show your enemies what might you wield and make them realize taking it from you would cost them more than they’re willing to pay. Sometimes, that means we have to hurt people. Sometimes, crushing a few people completely serves as an example to others, preventing you from having to hurt more people.”

  “Huh. You realize that sounds more like an excuse to justify doing whatever you feel like?”

  Pele rubbed her face. Maybe … maybe the girl had a point. But she didn’t understand how the world worked. “Soon, Hi‘iaka … soon you’ll start to bleed. Chances are, soon after that, you’ll find your mana seeping out into the environment, affecting it in some way. Affecting people. You are a daughter of Haumea, and all the heirs of Haumea possess fragments of her glory. Maybe you’ll be like me, maybe like Namaka, I don’t know. What I do know is this: you will have power. Power that will make others scared or jealous. You’ll face a choice, then. You can either spend every day using some of that power to prove to each comer that you deserve to stand where you do, or use a lot of that power once and prove it to everyone at the same time.”

  “You mean you’re going to hurt someone as an example to the rest of Puna.”

  “‘Aumākua! I don’t know, all right? I don’t know what I’m going to do or how!” Pele threw up her hands. Damn, but that girl could drive her to madness sometimes. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m going to do what I have to in order to give our ‘ohana its rightful place. If that means I have to burn or kill a few people or sacrifice them to the volcano or whatever, that’s what I’ll do. I’m going to place our ‘ohana first. And so are you.”

  Hi‘iaka sniffed. “Yeah. Fine.”

  Pele sat staring into the flame, long after the others slept. Willing it to speak to her. He was in there, she knew he was. Maybe he had the answers she was lacking.

  She wanted to believe Hi‘iaka. To trust that she could accomplish this without destroying entire villages.

  It formed up in the flames. A hint of eyes she could not otherwise see. A resonate yet ephemeral voice she alone could hear. A whisper.

  A course of action.

  One that left Pele trembling.

  Pele found Lonomakua and Makua standing by the palace wall. Though she could not make out their words, the set of their shoulders belied a tension. With each other? With the situation?

  Makua thumped a finger in the other kahuna’s chest, and the man just glared back at the prophet.

  Both fell silent as Pele drew near, casting unreadable glances her way. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing,” Makua said.

  Lonomakua nodded once, as if to agree that nothing had passed.

  Pele pursed her lips and considered demanding the kāhuna reveal what went on here. Years of experience had told her pushing Lonomakua would avail her nothing, though. He might provide a semblance of answer that would satisfy her for a moment, only for her to realize on later reflection, he had artfully evaded the original intent of her question. All kāhuna were like that, she supposed. Slippery with their minds and their tongues. Perhaps questing for answers from the akua and ‘aumākua, seeking knowledge from Pō … perhaps it required a certain mental agility that allowed kāhuna to divorce themselves from traditional methods of thought.

  Either way, at the moment, she had need of these men. “There’s a heiau close to the shore.” They’d seen the temple on a promontory when they came into the harbor. There, the center of the Vai‘ian faith would lie. There, she would begin her quest.

  Both men nodded, clearly sensing her intent, and fell in behind her as she strode from the palace and back down toward the town. Puna sprawled lazily from the forest all the way to the shore, scattered houses flung about seemingly at random. A few on the outskirts lay reduced to embers, no doubt brought down by raids from Poli‘ahu’s old-dynasty loyalists. Pele could almost taste those ashes, feel the flames that had ravaged the houses.

  Fire had a kind of memory to it. It was a change, a transition, yes, but it left behind reminders of its passage. A stronger pyromancer might even pull fragments of vision from those memories. Might reconstruct exactly what had transpired here. Pele had tried it often enough, under Lonomakua’s tutelage, but had only ever gained rare, contorted glimpses of the past or future. The present, however, proved a little easier to see in the flames.

  They made their way up to the heiau, which was surrounded by a ten-feet stone wall. Beyond this, they passed a large stone ossuary where the kāhuna no doubt kept the bones of their own dead. A large central brazier held smoldering embers where it ought to h
ave contained a massive blaze. At the center of the compound lay the inner sanctum where Makua told her the kāhuna had once consulted with the former king in times of war or doubt.

  A half dozen local kāhuna milled about the heiau, but only one approached Pele’s small party, offering her a slight nod as if she were but some minor ali‘i instead of a queen.

  Pele forced a tight smile to her lips, then turned about slowly, taking in the ki‘i masks set into alcoves of the temple wall. “Are you the high kahuna here?”

  “Yes. I am Keanu.”

  “A disciple of Maui?”

  The kahuna shrugged. “I am a disciple of Kū.”

  Pele raised an eyebrow. The war god. Well, it hardly mattered. She turned away from him and strode to the dying brazier. “Maui left you kāhuna a great legacy. His disciples were firewalkers and pyromancers, masters of the flame, chosen to ward the world against the encroachment of Pō. Chosen to guide mankind. Maui came to Sawaiki with his chosen followers, promising a new life. Promising virtue.” Now she glanced back at Keanu, who had drawn up behind her scowling. Another kahuna, gray haired and round bellied, had come up behind his master, and others behind him. Pele ignored the others for now. “Imagine my surprise at following in Maui’s footsteps to find his heirs now weak. You have forgotten the legacy of fire. You have forgotten that fire is life.”

  Pele dug a hand into the embers and flexed her fingers. Immediately, the flame roared up, becoming a towering column of fire that filled her vision. And whispered in her mind.

  Yes … you must show them … show them their weakness … that they may see our strength …

  “Pele …” Lonomakua’s voice was a warning.

  But Pele was already resolved. Hi‘iaka wanted the minimum amount of violence necessary. Pele would strive to give that to her little sister. To win these people without … too much suffering.

  “Look here, all of you!” she shouted, knowing every kahuna in the heiau was already staring at her anyway. She withdrew her hand but kept flames swirling around it. “Behold the Art of Fire! The legacy Maui left to you, which you have forgotten.” She thrust her hand high into the air. “Behold the power of your birthright long neglected. You have failed the akua of flame, and thus must offer them a sacrifice.”