by Matt Larkin
Pele’s light reflected off something further along the bed and Namaka scrambled over.
Yes, a tiny puddle, a few sips really.
“This is it?” Aukele said. “The Waters of Life that Maui died trying to find?”
“One of the three springs,” Pele answered.
Namaka cupped a palmful of the Waters—muddy—and sipped them, letting the delicious coolness dribble down her throat. Immediately, she felt it seeping into her bones, working to accelerate her kupua healing. She’d need time by the sea to convalesce, but this should dramatically reduce that time.
She beckoned to Aukele. “It’s still potent. Fill your gourd and we’ll take it to your nephew.”
Back in Milolii’s cave, Aukele emptied the contents of the gourd into his nephew’s mouth, tipping it up and allowing the young man to drink slowly.
Already, Namaka felt much stronger, and she had no doubt that in a few days Kana would wake and become strong enough to begin healing. Pele had left them back in her own domain, hardly having spoken since her encounter with the he‘e.
As for herself, Namaka needed to return to her lagoon and tend to her wound. Swimming and surfing for a month would have her strong as ever. After kissing Aukele, she left him to tend to Kana, and began the trek home.
Those Waters worked a miracle in that cave, she knew.
She could see why Maui had tried so hard to claim the Waters’ power. She could see why Kanaloa would have stolen it from Kāne.
A shame no more remained.
The dragon nodded to her, then plodded along beside her, giving Namaka a shoulder to lean on while making her way down to the lagoon. “I am proud of you.”
“For getting the Waters?”
“That, yes, and more.”
Namaka chuckled. Maybe Milolii meant that, for the first time since they were children, she and Pele had worked together and achieved some good. Maybe it could be the beginning of a new friendship between them, one she would not let their parents spoil again.
She bent down to kiss Milolii on the top of the head. “I don’t know if I ever told you how grateful I am for all you’ve done for me.”
A pleasant rumble passed underneath the dragon’s skin, her only answer. Maybe the only one Namaka needed.
19
“She’s powerful,” Lonomakua said. “Steeped in ancient lore, holding congress with spirits privy to knowledge humans could never understand.”
Lounging on a mat in Kepawa’s former palace, Pele took in her counselors.
Lonomakua she trusted most, much as she disdained his caution.
Makua grinned without a hint of mirth. “So, you suggest we bow down to her power? Offer tribute? Maybe pledge fealty? Is that why you crossed the Worldsea?”
Yes. Pele knew what the prophet wanted her to do and tended to agree with the sentiment … but she’d learned long ago not to dismiss Lonomakua’s thoughts outright. The blue-eyed kahuna held wisdom beyond human ken.
Then there was Naia, Kepawa’s widow. She’d granted Pele this palace when the people proclaimed her queen and, in acknowledgement, Pele had retained the woman as her advisor. Now, Naia grimaced, shaking her head.
“Speak your mind,” Pele commanded.
“I’ve more reason to want Poli‘ahu dead than any of you. She killed my husband and hundreds of our people.”
“But?”
“But your kahuna has the right of it. My husband underestimated her dark magic and now he’s dead. Others too. Healthy warriors who took ill without warning. I’ve seen men shit themselves to death. I’ve seen them scratch itches bloody to the point we had to tie them down while they screamed about the insects crawling over them. I’ve seen lovers’ spats turn deadly.”
Makua scoffed. “This is all speculation. You have no proof Poli‘ahu’s curses lay behind any of these occurrences.”
“In isolation, maybe. But it’s all too frequent. The harder we push against her, the more the akua and ‘aumākua seem to turn against our kingdom. She has called up something dark and angry from the depths of Pō.”
“Oh,” Moho said, finally slipping out of the shadows at the house’s corner. “From beyond Pō, in fact.”
Lonomakua and Moho exchanged a look Pele couldn’t begin to read. Had her kahuna known the Fire spirit before Pele summoned it into a host? It would make sense that an akua following them would have communicated with Lonomakua through the flames as well. He was a stronger pyromancer …
Now, her kahuna turned back to her. “If you declare open war against Poli‘ahu, if you turn the fires of the Earth against her, you risk a repeat of what happened in Uluka‘a.”
Pele scoffed. “You cannot be saying she’s as powerful as Namaka.” The kahuna’s mouth turned down, just a hair. “Wait …” Pele said. “Wait, are you saying she might be that powerful? As strong as an heir of Haumea?”
“I’m saying her powers differ in extent. The direct power she wields might not exactly match the raw destructive capabilities of your sister, but Poli‘ahu nevertheless represents a threat it would behoove you to consider your equal. You have some basic knowledge of the Art, but she is a true sorceress.”
Makua sneered. “Sorcery means nothing if she’s buried in lava. The Art is a threat if we let her sit on her mountain brewing potions and casting curses. Lonomakua has already admitted Poli‘ahu cannot overcome Pele in a fair fight.”
Moho chuckled, the sound wispy, but dark enough to send a chill down Pele’s spine. “Imbecile. You think this sorceress will afford your queen the chance at a fair fight?”
“I have fought Poli‘ahu before,” Kapo said. “Do not underestimate this woman.”
Pele turned to her sister. “You never said you fought her.”
“I have.” The way she clamped her mouth shut, Pele doubted she’d get much else out of the woman. Not here, not in front of the others.
“Fine,” Pele said. “What do you propose, Lonomakua? Poli‘ahu has created a war between the Kahikian settlers and the old dynasty out of Savai‘i. This war must be ended, one way or another.”
“Negotiate. Make her see a truce is better for her people than risking a cataclysmic war with you.”
Makua hissed, but Naia was already nodding her head.
Pele frowned. “I will not share rulership of this island with her. I’ve tried dividing a kingdom between two queens and it did not end well. She must agree to pledge fealty to me.”
“You will not know unless you ask.”
Pele looked to each of the counselors in turn. This course clearly displeased Makua, but Pele could not discard the sentiments of Lonomakua, especially not when Naia and Kapo, who had the most firsthand knowledge, seemed to agree. “Well then. I will go to Mauna Kea and try to reason with Queen Poli‘ahu.”
The icy winds, the darkness, and the difficult climb had left Pele no choice but to stop for the night. She had vastly underestimated how long it would take to climb Mauna Kea. All those days spent exploring Uluka‘a and Kahiki, climbing other mountains alongside Lonomakua, they were a lifetime ago.
Or perhaps this slope was just steeper, harder.
Now, Pele perched herself on a frozen ledge less than a pace wide, leaning against the chill of a snow wall. Sleep had been impossible. She had made it too far up the mountain to turn back. So she had waited for dawn, her attempts to warm herself with fires from her hands growing more difficult with each passing hour.
But up here, past the snow line, there was little foliage and nothing she could easily burn.
Moho alone had accompanied her up Mauna Kea. The akua seemed little bothered by the cold, or even the darkness of the night. It had taken the better part of two days to reach this mountain, but the spirit had spoken little on their trek here.
“Tell me about where you come from,” Pele finally said to him.
Moho craned his head toward her, the motion more owl-like than human. There was something terribly off about the akua, but she supposed it was to be expected from a god.
“A world of smoke and flame and ash. There are great cities there, though. One … a city of brass where my kindred wait and pass by the ages. We smoke the vision seeds and tell tales of times long gone and those yet to come. We enjoy each other’s company, though there remain dangers even we avoid. But the pleasures are more intense in human bodies, for this world holds denser substance. Thus, all beings of spirit lust after hosts.”
Moho rose then and crawled his way closer to her. His eyes seemed tiny pinpricks of flame, holding her in place, almost paralyzing. He grabbed her chin, pressing her cheeks hard between his thumb and forefinger, his hand impossibly hot. “What is better? A dream or reality? Whilst in the throes of it, can you see that the experiences of dream are less rewarding than those of your waking world?”
Pele struggled to breathe in his grasp. Moho pushed her onto her back with one hand, then eased his tongue into her mouth. It tasted of smoke and steam but filled her with such delicious warmth she could only moan at its explorations.
The akua pulled her kihei up, exposing her breasts, and then licked his rough, hot tongue between them.
An instant of uncertainty struck even as she shuddered from the touch. What would it be like to lay with a god? What would it do to her?
Some dim part of her mind wanted to warn him off, tell him she was afraid. But she couldn’t say it. He pulled up her pa‘u and traced a finger of liquid flame between her legs. Then he spread them wide with his palms and pushed himself inside her, pumping with a frenzy so primal all she could do was hold on, intoxicated by his passion, giving in to her own. Acrid smoke stung her nostrils. Her hands were searing the flesh from his back and still he didn’t even slow.
He was on fire. The snows had begun to melt beneath them, leaving them in a pool of water that squelched with each thrust. His pounding was tearing her apart.
Oh, ‘aumākua, the heat! He was so hot! She couldn’t hold on any more …
His release came almost immediately following her own. Steam billowed from her mouth, enough she felt she was choking on it. She felt her mana flow into him and, more, his slammed into her like the eruption of a volcano. A torrent of images she could never hope to make sense of flooded her mind and suffused her soul.
As he had described, a world beneath the world, an inferno of constant eruptions and flowing magma all around. And some aspect of that Fire world had seeped into her through him.
Trembling, she crawled out from under him. Then she gasped at the smoke rising from twin handprints burned into his back. His flesh was not merely red, but blackened, charred and ruined.
Moho’s chuckle was dark, and had her stomach twisting in discomfort. As if he enjoyed her fears.
The impossible heat between her legs had continued, as if it now flowed upward through her, boiling her insides.
He moved, holding her with his eyes—they were on fire!—and another climax hit her, spontaneous and scorching. She tumbled onto her back and moaned in ecstasy, writhing in the melted snows.
When she opened her eyes in the morning, she saw no sign of Moho.
Had he abandoned her? Had he gotten all he wanted from her? Pele shook her head. The whole experience felt like a dream, lurid and sweltering, but leaving her chilled upon waking.
Yet his absence now left a hollow ache in her gut.
For hours more she climbed. Exhaustion was a word, a point of reference she had left behind some time ago. No. Don’t look up, don’t look down. Just keep climbing. Just keep remembering why she had come here.
At last she crested a slope that, if not level, was at least a shallow enough incline to allow her to collapse on the snow. Eyes shut, she faced the sun and let it warm her face. The nipping breeze up here made even that comfort a pointless effort.
“Who are you?”
Pele opened her eyes to see a woman staring at her. That had to be Poli‘ahu, garbed in a white kihei, face glittering in sunlight with exotic beauty. The Snow Queen of Mauna Kea. Right there. This close, Pele could almost feel the mana in the woman. It flowed beneath her skin like rivers of magma.
If she were to burn Poli‘ahu now, to reduce her to ash, might all this be ended?
Still, she had promised Lonomakua to try another tack.
With a grunt, Pele rolled over and rose to her feet, pulling her kihei closer around herself. “I am the Flame Queen Pele, now queen of Puna.”
Poli‘ahu scowled so deeply Pele could have sworn the wind intensified, carrying with it a fresh chill. “What do you want? I make it a practice to receive supplicants who manage the climb.”
Supplicants! Who did this bitch think she was? Pele clenched her fists, trying not to let them, or her hair, ignite with her rising ire. “Fine. I made it. We need to discuss the political situation here on Vai‘i.”
“What is there to discuss? Take the invaders and go back to Kahiki. Leave, and no further harm will come to you.”
“We can’t.”
Poli‘ahu folded her arms for a moment and cocked her head to the side. “Then I offer you a bargain … If you can defeat me, I’ll agree to discuss a truce with you.”
Now Pele took a step forward. The other queen didn’t seem to know who she really was. “You want to fight me?”
“Fight you? No.” She shook her head, then extended a hand out toward a strange forest of ice trees. Almost instantly, ice began to flow off the mountainside, moving like water but upward, shaping itself. It formed into a sled, glistening and glittering in the sunlight. A second sled rose immediately after that. “Familiar with this?”
Pele frowned. “Yes.” She had tried sledding once, years ago, in Uluka‘a. Lonomakua had carved a sled for her with his own hands. They had spent all day on the snows.
Poli‘ahu pointed down the mountain to a section that leveled off into a plateau. “Race me down there and win, and I’ll call off the raids until we’ve had a chance to discuss peace. Provided you manage not to fall off that cliff.”
There was a huge drop off one side of the mountain, one that would be hard to avoid at high speeds. But, ‘aumākua, Pele was not going to let this queen intimidate her.
“Fine. I’ll race.” She scowled at the sled. It was long enough for her to kneel on it and still have its front jut forward. In fact, it looked as though its bottom was lined with blades of ice. It would no doubt be fast, though those blades looked sharp enough to slice a person’s fingers off.
She glanced at Poli‘ahu as they walked over to the sleds. The Snow Queen smirked. Bitch was so full of herself. Well, fine, Pele would put her in her place if that’s what it took to make sure Vai‘i didn’t wind up like Uluka‘a. She knelt one knee on the sled and almost immediately recoiled from the touch. The surface was so cold it actually stung. And if she used her power to warm her limbs, she risked melting the sled. Shaking her head, she grabbed the handholds and braced herself.
Yes. Lonomakua would be hearing about this.
“Ready?” Poli‘ahu asked with her mocking coyness.
Pele blew out a breath, trying to forestall her temper. Devastation. The utter desolation of an entire island. Focusing on that would help her resist the urge to melt this bitch’s face off.
She nodded, then used one leg to kick the sled forward. At first, it started slow. It had been years since she had tried this, and her attempts to get it moving only nudged it forward.
Poli‘ahu laughed from behind her.
Finally, Pele flung her full weight forward and the sled pitched over the slope, its angle dragging her onward. In a heartbeat, the wind was whipping her hair out behind her, streaking against her cheeks with its icy blast. Her kihei tugged at her shoulders, flying in the passage.
As she descended the slope, trees began rapidly approaching. When Lonomakua had tried to teach her this she had grown frustrated, given up. That had been a mistake. She lurched to the left, trying to edge around a tree. Her motion sent the sled much farther off course than she expected and left her flying wide, heading toward the precipice.
&
nbsp; An instant later Poli‘ahu zipped past her on her own sled. The Snow Queen moved with absolute control, as if her sled responded to her every whim …
Of course it did!
The cheating bitch had made herself a better sled. Pele yanked her sled back, trying to draw a narrower course down the slope.
She had to win this. She wasn’t going to lose to Poli‘ahu. Not today.
As best she might, she followed as the Snow Queen darted between trees, zigging and zagging with ease. Pele could feel her hair trying to ignite, starting to simmer as her frustration mounted. She twisted her sled, trying to cut the path even more narrowly, make up lost ground.
And then a blade of her sled caught a tree root. Without even time to think Pele was flying in midair for a gut-wrenching instant before she crashed in the snow. Her momentum carried her another thirty feet down the slope, tumbling at odd angles before she finally slammed into a snow drift.
There she lay, gasping, trying not to retch as the world spun around her. It took a moment to even be certain nothing was broken. And several more to recognize the sound she was hearing was the damn Snow Queen’s laughter. Again, from below the slope.
Groaning, Pele rolled over and rose to her knees. Immediately, she pitched forward back into the snow. Everything was whirling around her. She sat on hands and knees for several breaths before struggling to her feet. She should have just burned the damn woman and been done with it. These fool games were a waste of time.
Her clenched fists sizzled, releasing trails of steam she barely managed to extinguish.
Pele stormed toward the Snow Queen. “That was hardly a fair race. You gave me an inferior sled. You knew I wouldn’t win with that piece of junk! Or you cheated and used the snows to throw you forward.” Heat had begun to bubble out of her fingertips, build behind her eyes.
“What? I never cheat. And both sleds were the same. I’ll prove it to you. Take mine. You lived through this attempt, I’ll give you another chance to kill yourself. But when I win again, you grant me a boon. Accept me as the true queen of Vai‘i.”
