by Matt Larkin
Pele looked to her. “That was always the plan.”
“And then?”
She meant, Pele imagined, would it stop with this island, or would Pele press a claim to queenship over the entire archipelago. Would she, by right of blood and sheer power, demand fealty from every last ali‘i across Sawaiki? It was a question she, too, had wrestled with on occasion, when imagining her foe from Hilo finally vanquished.
With a sigh, she folded her hands in her lap. “Queen Hinaikamalama of Hana has sworn loyalty to Poli‘ahu.”
Naia snorted. “Ah, well, there’s quite the mo‘olelo about that. In some versions, the Snow Queen laid a horrific curse upon the then-young Queen of Hana to enforce her loyalty.”
Pele frowned. She hadn’t heard that.
The former queen smirked, just a little, apparently having caught the surprise and hesitation on Pele’s face. “Everywhere has history, My Queen. Anyone who tells you that the essence of a place or a people can be distilled into but a few words is lying or a fool. Even I, given more reason than most to hate Poli‘ahu, have heard mention of her suffering, and how we came here.”
What was she to say to that? Did it even matter if the Snow Queen had suffered? By circumstance or choice, she had become Pele’s enemy, had endangered her people, had killed. “I’m done playing games to justify myself through moral outrage or otherwise. My actions hold the only justification I need: necessity. I will protect and elevate my people, and I’ve no need to explain my desire to do so.” She paused. She had no wish to speak of this, least of all on this night, which was supposed to be for her little sister. “If Hinaikamalama will foreswear Poli‘ahu and promise fealty to me, Mau‘i need suffer no further loss of life. Whether it ends with the Snow Queen’s death will fall on the Queen of Hana.”
“Then it just comes to the matter of actually killing Poli‘ahu and ending the war.”
Pele looked back to Hi‘iaka. “Not tonight, it doesn’t.”
16
Ragged streams of mer filtered through the tunnels of Ulu-hai-malama in sporadic bursts, arms laden with what goods and supplies they could carry. Some few had overmastered a dolphin here, a sea turtle there—whatever marine life they could to aid in the evacuation. Many, however, had no such luxury, and rather swam unevenly, overburdened and awkward in their flight. From further down the gorge, Nyi Rara watched as a hapless mermaid tried to find her way upwards while a pair of tridents poked out from a net bundle in her arms. Through the net, Nyi Rara spotted kelp, pearls, and what looked like gold trinkets, perhaps from the East Sea.
Most of that she no doubt held on to in the hopes of trading with mortals or perhaps using to bribe Lemurians who might do the same. A sense of dread had settled over the Muian refugees, stronger even than what had held them since the fall of their great city. Nyi Rara could taste it in the waters. They knew, now, that their glories were lost forever, that they would be at the mercy of one of the other great mer kingdoms.
And mer were not famed for their mercy.
Word had not yet come from Nanshe in Lemuria, but Kuku Lau had insisted on moving the people to the edge of the South Sea regardless, fearing the he‘e might attack Uluhai at any time. Had the evacuation been the correct choice, Nyi Rara might have agreed with the desire to head out, try to find an old border outpost to occupy until the messengers returned. To do what was necessary to protect the people.
It was, however, not the correct choice.
Along the gorge, the waters rippled at the passing of another mer—and more beyond that one—but it was so dark not even Nyi Rara’s mer eyes could make out who. She flexed her fingers, stirring up a hint of current, ready to whip it into blades should the wrong mer find her now.
But it was Kauhuhu that finally came within view, shark teeth descended, though his face retained a somewhat human cast and had not begun to assume his hammerhead visage. “Are you resolved to do this?” the other mer asked without preamble.
Nyi Rara trembled. The thought of striking out against another sister … the Namaka side of her wanted to retch at such an idea. How very much doing so once had cost her before.
But Kuku Lau was destroying Mu. She was, in her fear, eradicating a kingdom that had stood for near to five thousand years. The glories they had wrought, the history, it would become nothing more than memory, if that. All that her father had done, her grandfather, all rendered as vague and distant as the days of legend from before the Deluge. The name of Dakuwaqa—the real mer himself—would hold the potency only of something like Triton or Triteia.
If she did nothing, history would wash away, forgotten.
Was history worth the loss of the present? Was it worth losing what she held dear now to preserve the traditions and pride of what had been in days before? She looked to Kauhuhu, faltering, feeling like she could be sucked down into a chasm and swallowed by the pressures so far below the surface.
Deep! If history did carry weight, did that not too render the deeds of the present meaningless in the scope of time? If she did not carry forth the memory of those who had been, were they rendered into nonexistence?
“I have no choice,” she said, her voice a rasp that seemed to burn her throat.
What was a queen to do? What was a princess to do? Surely, there was an order to things, a flow of mana she most uphold, and part of that flow came from the living mo‘olelo—the story that would bind her back to her ancestors and the glories of Mu, if she had but the will to tie the present to the past in such a chain.
“I … must ensure the continuation of Mu.”
Kauhuhu grunted. “So be it.”
Several beats of her tail carried her upward—knowing Kauhuhu followed—toward the tunnel entrance of the main vestibule, where so much of the population of Mu now thronged, each awaiting their turn to retreat to Lemuria. Dozens of mer clustered about, each as overburdened as the mermaid she’d watched a moment ago. Some carried human-crafted chests of valuables, some had rigged nets in such a way they could be slung over shoulders. Nyi Rara caught glimpses of ceramics, too, coral weapons, and many, many trade goods. Everything the refugees had brought from Mu … most of which would now find its way into the hands of Lemurians.
At the center of the vestibule, Ake swam about overseeing things. The Ranger Commander looked to her, watching her sudden entrance into this place when everyone else was trying to escape, and his face twitched, the spasms now seeming to transform the whole of his flesh. Were he more stable, maybe she could have approached him with her plan … but, no. The Rangers were sworn to the Voice of Dakuwaqa and she could not trust them to act against Kuku Lau even for the good of all Muians.
He watched her, eyes opalescent yet gleaming, as she swam deeper inside, hunting for Kuku Lau. How much did he suspect?
And was Nyi Rara truly doing this? Would she kill her sister’s host? Discorporating Kuku Lau would weaken her … probably her sister would be safe in Bulotu, but a weakened spirit was always in danger from others eager to sustain themselves upon her soul. A spirit could sustain itself in the Spirit Realm for eternities only by becoming an apex predator. By feasting on the souls of weaker spirits or by feeding off the life and mana of a human host. Those in Avaiki always sought prey …
She swam slowly now, having to wend her way around many other mer and into the narrower confines of central Uluhai. Oh, by the Elder Deep, how she wished Kuku Lau had given her some alternative to this.
She found her sister in the grotto outside the Council Chamber, along with Till Pimoe, and a dozen other ranking members of the Muian court. No sign of Daucina, whom she might have counted on for an ally, but otherwise, most were here. She glanced behind herself. Kauhuhu had picked up four of his Nanaue along the route they’d traveled, more than enough to overcome the pair of guards Kuku Lau had here with her.
But, still, Nyi Rara hesitated. This made her a traitor. A betrayer of kin and of her kingdom—at least until she succeeded. It was not unheard of for a younger spirit to overthrow an elder,
though it remained a rare occurrence, not least because spirits who managed to survive long ages grew in power, mer being no exception. In truth, though, Kuku Lau had but a few centuries on Nyi Rara, nowhere near enough to make up for the difference in mana Nyi Rara had gained from her host’s kupua body.
She knew, of course, letting her mind wander thus was but a means of delaying the inevitable. Of avoiding the distasteful task she had set before herself.
“Nyi Rara?” her sister prompted. “What are you doing here?”
They were looking at her now … she could still alter her course, let the current take it where it would, let Mu pass into history and legend. Maybe, given enough time, she could work her way through the court of Lemuria and gain purchase there. But it would mean the sacrifice of too much. It was not the place that carried such import, though the grottos and halls of Mu were works of wonder, but rather the legacy of the place. If they swam away like minnows now, they betrayed something greater.
Her shark teeth had descended in agitation and refused to retract. “I cannot allow you to condemn Mu like this.”
Kuku Lau groaned. “We have been through this. More times, in fact, than I would have cared to. Besides which, the Council has spoken, the decision has been made. I had thought you already well on your way to the South Sea.” The mermaid swam closer, shaking her head. “Gather your possessions, sister. We are leaving.”
A tremor shot through Nyi Rara. Pain—the torment of her own plan. Her hand launched out, webbed fingers wrapping around Kuku Lau’s throat, enclosing one side of her gills. “Forgive me.”
The current surged and an impact slammed into Nyi Rara, breaking her grasp, driving her into the seabed with tremendous force, enough to send her vision into a haze for an instant. It took her a breath to realize Kauhuhu now held her down, oversized hand pressing against her sternum. His aspect had become almost entirely that of a hammerhead now, eyes spread to terrifying width.
“I did not want to believe it of you,” Kuku Lau said from over the Nanaue’s shoulder. “When he came to me, said you would betray me … I demanded proof. I wished to deny that my own sister was capable of such treason.”
Kauhuhu pressed so hard against her chest it felt her bones would crack, even as she stared her desperate glare back at him. He had betrayed her? Why? She had recruited him in the first place, restored the glory of his ‘ohana. Why, she wanted to demand, but the press against her chest pushed the breath from her, and all she managed was a wheeze.
“What am I to do with you now, sister?” Kuku Lau asked. “Such treason warrants feeding your soul to the Elder Deep, and surely I cannot deny her. But nor can I stand the thought I would never see you again. That I would lose you forever as I lost Father.” She swam closer, seeming genuinely distraught. “Do you have any idea the position you’ve placed me in, Nyi Rara?”
Her fingers twitched, summoning a blade of water that might have taken Kauhuhu’s head clean off, though she hated to kill so valuable a warrior for Mu. But he left her little choice. She couldn’t breathe …
His other hand shot out, slammed down over her wrist and pinned it before she could act.
The pain, the rage—it gave rise to a heat within her, bubbling up in her chest as if the pressure Kauhuhu inflicted had created a furnace. No … it came from deeper, rising up through her loins, into her gut, into her chest. Heat seemed to bleed into her eyes, casting a haze into—while somehow enhancing—her vision.
“What in the …?” Kuku Lau murmured, her gaze locked on Nyi Rara’s eyes.
Snarling, Nyi Rara caught Kauhuhu’s wrist with her free hand and pried it off her chest slowly. His inhuman visage didn’t allow for expression, but his mouth twitched in disbelief.
The heat was her rage, and it coursed through her, molten and all-consuming. She flicked her finger up, coiling water around it into a lance. That lance shot out, caught Kauhuhu in the ribs and punched in one side and out the other in a pink slurry.
His grip slackened and Nyi Rara used a water jet to fling herself away before any of the other Nanaue could close the distance. Wild, uncontrolled, she hurtled into the nearest hall, then beyond. The waters spoke to her, announcing those pursuing her. Almost at random, she dove into tunnel after tunnel.
They had betrayed her.
The Nanaue had betrayed her coup, and she had to imagine that, any moment, Kuku Lau would summon whatever Dakuwaqan Rangers remained in Uluhai to hunt her down. Ake among them. Rangers’ enhanced senses would make it twice as difficult to hide from them, and Nyi Rara certainly could not fight all her foes here. To say nothing of the fact she didn’t want to kill a single defender of Mu when the true foe remained Kanaloa.
Oh, godsdamn it all. How had things gone so wrong? How had she misjudged Kauhuhu’s loyalty so badly? Clearly, he thought his ‘ohana better off following the queen than joining any attempt to usurp the throne.
Was it the Namaka half of her soul, so used to being the queen, that led her to expect obedience without sufficiently ensuring it?
Shouts reverberated through the labyrinthine halls of Uluhai as guards, Nanaue, and now Rangers searched for her. But Nyi Rara could feel the presence of others in the water, using it to constantly dart down new tunnels and avoid any with occupants.
Because she was truly alone now. There was not a single mer left here she could trust.
Was there?
Daucina … in the College.
No, they would already be looking for her there, and she couldn’t take the chance of him betraying her, too.
Not again.
Instead, she pushed deeper. A half-excavated chasm delved further underground, but she could feel the water flowing through it, so there must have been some egress. The question was, could she find a way back out into open sea without passing through the vestibule? She had to hope the Rongomai architects had designed back ways out of the city. Surely, they would not have trapped themselves within?
But even if so, it was a fragile hope that she would find such an exit before getting cornered by her pursuers. Then she would be forced to kill, or else to fall into Kuku Lau’s grasp and risk having her soul fed to the Elder Deep. Neither option much appealed.
Downward she pushed, worming her way through the chasm. The walls were so tight they scraped against her tail and the more tender flesh of her torso. Grunting, she squeezed through a tiny gap, and deeper, into a larger chamber below, one illuminated only by a handful of inadequate wisp lights.
She felt the presence of another mer too late, the disturbance in the water not enough to easily notice a small mermaid who held so still, save for a slight tremble. A gasp, and a vial of ink cracked in the other mermaid’s hand, spilling darkness around her.
Taema.
And her cousin was clearly well aware Nyi Rara had become a fugitive.
Somehow, Nyi Rara had stumbled into the cavern Taema and her sister had claimed as their tattoo workshop. It did lie far beneath Uluhai, so perhaps …
Nyi Rara glanced from Taema to the main entrance and back. “Show me another way out of here.”
“I …”
Water jets and a beat of her tail closed the distance between them in an instant, and Nyi Rara seized the other mermaid by the back of her skull. “You’ve been down here long enough to have explored. I know you must have a way back to the open sea, and you’re going to take me to it. Now.”
“I …”
“What in the depths of Naunet!” Tilafaiga demanded, now swimming in through the main entrance. “Taema! You were supposed to grab the ink and join the evacuation.”
“I heard her …” Taema murmured.
The urge to throttle the timid mermaid seized Nyi Rara. Instead, she merely wrapped her arm around Taema’s neck, fingers hovering close to her gills. “No closer! And don’t even think about alerting anyone else.”
Tilafaiga swam nearer, albeit slowly, not raising her voice. “You’re not going to hurt your own cousin.”
Nyi Rara scoffed. “
I was prepared to discorporate my own sister. You think I would demur at doing so to a cousin?”
A wash of emotion warred on Tilafaiga’s face. Taema had always been weak—and Tilafaiga’s weakness. “Then take me instead.”
“No!” Taema yelped. “You can’t!”
Now Nyi Rara could only growl in frustration. Nothing had gone as she intended this night. No one save Kuku Lau was supposed to get hurt. She was just trying to correct a mistake that would undermine the kingdom. She was trying to save Mu. Now here she was, threatening to tear the gills out of her own cousin. “She’s coming with me.”
Tilafaiga pushed forward. “You want a way out? I can give you that. Do you truly believe Taema was the one exploring the tunnels beyond this cavern?” Tilafaiga’s shark teeth had descended, making her half-hearted grin even less convincing. “I can guide you, cousin.”
“No.” Nyi Rara shook her head. Tilafaiga might have spoken the truth about Taema not exploring a damn thing, but the other sister was also a far more pliant hostage. “You’d act against me, and probably force me to kill you. Neither one of us really wants that.”
“I won’t.”
All she could do was sneer. She had made that mistake with Kauhuhu once already. There was no trust left to be had.
But Tilafaiga continued to push forward. “I’ll give you a soul oath.” That alone had Nyi Rara’s fingers drifting away from Taema’s gills. Spirits almost never willingly swore upon their souls, for such oaths held, no matter how much one might regret the giving. One did not offer such things, and to ask for it was not only tabu, but considered a crime in most of the Seven Seas.
“She means so much to you?” The words slipped from Nyi Rara’s mouth of their own accord. The question, the wonder, at how anyone could mean so much. Would she make such an oath to save Kuku Lau? Obviously not, nor any of her kupua mortal sisters. Nor any other being, she imagined. To leave her very soul beholden to the Will of another was tantamount to a primal surrender of the self—a loss of Will not unlike a slow suicide.
