The Seventh Princess

by Matt Larkin

  “The more you fight, the worse it will be.” His eyes had a tinge of ethereal green.

  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. “Please don’t kill me,” she mumbled.

  “Killing you would only solve the problem for a single human generation. No, your body is suffused with power. It’s time we controlled that power.” He grabbed her skirt and ripped it off her.

  New fear clenched her gut. Did he intend to force himself on her? Surely he had to know he couldn’t take her mana that way. She started shaking her head, blubbering and trying to explain that mana could only be given, not taken.

  For a moment his eyes showed a brief flicker of sympathy. “Nothing so vile as you think, Princess. And 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 Lua-O-Milu 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 second mermaid—the one she had thrown against the cave was glaring at her with murder in her eyes—and the creature swam over to her.

  “Drown her,” the merman said.

  No. Kāne, please no. Namaka wanted to cry, to beg them not to do this. 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.

  Kāne, please!

  She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live and love and make things right. To fix everything. She wanted to see her parents and her people and mourn for Hau-Pu and to curl up beside Mo-O-Inanea. Why hadn’t she just done as the dragon commanded and remained in the cave? Why had any of this …

  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 presence.

  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 deity?

  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 mermaids 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 also a princess.

  And then she understood. If the mermaid spirits were like the boar spirit in Kamapua’a, they could keep a human body alive much longer than normal, slow the aging process once the host had reached her prime. This Ake had claimed that to kill her would solve their problem only for a single human generation. So instead they would possess her body and thus prevent her mana from returning to the isles for … how long?

  Centuries.

  Had the spirit spoken to her? The voice was like a hollow echo in the back of her mind, haughty and filled with disdain at the thought of conversing with a mere human.

  “Princess Nyi Rara,” Ake said, “we must hurry back to Hiyoya. In the years since your last host died, open war has engulfed the entire kingdom.”

  “Lead the way,” Namaka felt her mouth say, though the words had not originated in her mind, and thus tasted odd.

  At that, her body dove back beneath the sea.

  10

  Even boars get tired eventually. Trying to catch mermaids. Stupid mermaids. Kam huffed as he pulled himself back onto the shore near the Sacred Pools. Stupid underwater mermaids. Swimming with their stupid underwater tails.

  Moela raced over to his side the moment Kam exited the water. Poor dog had probably been dashing around the shore this whole time, just as upset as Kam about Namaka. Where had those fish people taken her? If they hurt Namaka he’d cook every last one of them in the imu.

  Shit.

  Big old pig shit.

  What was he supposed to do now?

  Kam scratched his beard. Milu’s tits, what would the whole Valley Isle do without their Princess? Namaka’s presence had protected all the villagers, dissuaded the majority of raiders. Without her, they’d probably be facing more nights like last night.

  He paused just long enough to snatch up his discarded skirt.

  “All right, come on.” He grabbed Moela under his arm and began the climb up the slippery rock path. Humans struggled with such a climb, but he was more than human, and even carrying a wiggling dog was little challenge. “You know you wish you were half as tough as me,” he said to the dog.

  Not tough enough to chase mer under the sea, though.

  Stupid shitting fishy shitters.

  The boar rumbled around, deep inside him, urging him to rip his enemies in half. Stomp them like poi and shred them into tiny pieces. “I have to catch them first, you stupid pig.”

  His breath had already slowed by the time he crested the ridge and set Moela down. The dog immediately took off running, barking like he had a clue what they should do now. That would have made the dog about twice as smart as Kam.

  Think, damn it. Think.

  Ah, shit. He hated thinking up stuff. That was what Namaka was for. And Mo-O-Inanea. Dragon always knew what to do. All right. All right. It meant he needed to head back to the dragon, and in a hurry.

  “Well … we’re gonna have to run, boy,” he mumbled.

  Moela barked like he understood.

  That was going to be a long run. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting. And that meant the boar could finally come out of the cave. He looked back at Moela. “Yeah. You wanna see the boar? You know you wanna see the boar.”

  The dog barked.

  Sure. That sounded like a yes. Kam tossed his grass skirt aside, flexed his muscles. As the moon rose, he dropped down on all fours, welcoming the pain, the change. Bones and muscles tore, shifted, as his form changed. Coarse hairs burst through his skin and he shook himself, snorting as the transformation turned him into a true boar. He jerked his snout at Moela, then took off, running through the jungle, the dog chasing after him.

  11

  They swam far offshore, passing a myriad of ska
tes and rays and fish of every color as they entered into a reef. Above them a hammerhead shark swam, paying them no mind. Despite the shock of losing control of her body, this world was beautiful, this feeling of absolute power mingled with fluid grace. And to be this far down, and yet breathing, was like coming home.

  You want to be a host?

  Nyi Rara’s voice in her mind jolted her from her reverie. The mermaid princess had been silent so long, the whole experience had begun to feel like a dream, like watching herself behold it all. And did she want to be a mermaid? Maybe she did. To never have to go back and face Pasikole and the damage she had done to her people. Without her Gift, maybe they would be lost, but … maybe, in the long run, they’d be better off. Maybe all of Sawaiki would be better off without its Princesses, tapping into powers never meant for humans, while still bound by very human emotions.

  How very insightful you are—for a human.

  Or maybe it was just she was the Princess of Sea and being down here was like finding a part of herself she’d never known was missing. Being a mermaid brought her closer to the sea, and thus more in touch with her own soul—her truest self.

  Nyi Rara followed Ake deeper into the reef, the other two mermaids lagging behind. Faint lights radiated from somewhere within the reef, granting them illumination despite the sun having long since set. There were buildings inside the reef, covered in coral and—at their peaks—algae. Those lights she saw, they came from windows, from homes where mer lived. She had entered into the benthic city of Hiyoya without even realizing it. Everywhere she looked, wonders abounded that a human could barely have dreamed of.

  And the farther they swam, the more lights she saw, casting all of the city in a blue-green glow that seemed like something out of the Ghost World.

  Perceptive, though we don’t call our native realm the Ghost World.

  Namaka frowned, planning to ask what Nyi Rara meant, then started when she realized she had moved her mouth. How had that happened? She thought the mermaid spirit had taken all control from her?

  A moment of weakness, host. Do not expect another. Be still.

  The center of the reef opened into a great circular grove, revealing the city proper. And what a city it was—buildings of stone two, even three stories tall, carved with a precision she had never imagined. And ahead, a palace towering over the city, light pouring from its innumerable windows and great arches. This was a dream.

  And the smells! As a human she had never considered that anything beneath the sea might smell. But aumakuas, she could smell the scents of a million fish, of other mer, of the coral itself. Her new form opened her up to so many sensations it was almost overwhelming.

  A pod of dolphins circled far above the city, mer clinging to a few of them, like some kind of patrol. Or maybe that was exactly what it was. The mer must exert some level of control over sea animals.

  Sea turtles swam above, and thousands upon thousands of fish darted in and out of crannies around the city. Hundreds of mer swam about as well, or poked their heads from windows as she passed. The mer paid no attention to the animals, save a handful of jellyfish which they avoided.

  Before the palace a circular stone landing rested, surrounded by orbs radiating yellow-green light. Namaka couldn’t even think of what to call this magic.

  Wisp lights.

  Once again, the mermaid princess was speaking to her. One moment she acted like she disdained Namaka, the next she was conversing, explaining.

  I do disdain you, human.

  Wouldn’t it be easier to work together?

  Namaka jerked suddenly, then twisted in wonder, having control of her body again. Her powerful, sleek new body. It was glorious—and brief as the mermaid princess hit her like a physical force, driving her back down.

  How can you think such thoughts? A host must be brought under control, must be tamed like a wild dolphin, taught to serve.

  Namaka tried to laugh, though no sound escaped. It wasn’t like her old life was so much better. She was a slave up there too. She existed only to serve her people. A ruler in name, but denied a life of her own. Why should this be any different? And maybe that attitude was why most hosts didn’t take to being so used—they had something they wanted to get back to. Namaka didn’t have so much left. She had her family … If they would even take her back. Hiyoya was just so much more interesting. Besides, wouldn’t both host and spirit benefit from working together, like the shifter Moon spirit in Kamapua’a?

  You dare compare me to those petty animals?

  It seemed the mermaid inside her was a bit touchy. It didn’t matter. This place was as good as any other.

  You run from your own life.

  No. She’d never had her own life. One could not run from something never experienced.

  The unknown is the most basic of fears.

  The landing was carved with strange designs, just regular enough they seemed to have meaning, but she could not begin to guess what.

  Nyi Rara followed Ake inside the palace, and Namaka took the opportunity to ogle the divine construction, the magical lighting, and the collected treasures. Even more so, the mer themselves. Every one of them had a different tail, blue or silver or green, often a mottled match like some tropical fish. Her own was a vibrant orange like the kou flower. Did the spirit choose their tail, or was it always the same?

  The mermaid princess said nothing, but Namaka could feel that she had almost spoken, had wanted to. Why was the princess so intent on treating her like an enemy? Could she not be more useful as an ally?

  Symbiosis? You believe that?

  Why not? If they worked together, if Nyi Rara would just give her a little freedom, let her speak and enjoy this … then the mermaid wouldn’t have to waste her energy trying to control her host. Did she really want to spend centuries, as she had put it, struggling for dominance?

  For a moment, the mermaid was silent.

  Amuse me, mortal.

  Suddenly Namaka felt herself in control again. She jerked to a halt, then darted after Ake.

  “Wow. This is amazing!”

  The merman turned to look back at her. “Princess?”

  “Oh! Well, she’s in here too. We’re just working out living arrangements.”

  Ake frowned. Did he disapprove of her working with the mermaid? He opened his mouth, then jerked his head to the side.

  Namaka followed his gaze but saw nothing but shadows. At first. Then something seemed to melt off the walls, its colors shifting—a moment ago they had perfectly matched the stonework, but now became a mottled purple color. An octopus, one as large as she was. It drew itself up close, staring at her with eyes that seemed wells of darkness sucking up light and revealing nothing of a soul within.

  Namaka shuddered under its unfathomable gaze, not able to look away even as it reached one of its tendril-like arms up to her.

  “A traditional he’e greeting,” Ake said. “Ambassador Punga, may I present Princess Nyi Rara.”

  The he’e watched her, as if waiting for some response, and Namaka struggled not to squirm under his gaze. She had seen octopuses, but never a true he’e. After looking at the creature, feeling it staring into her, Namaka was damn glad of that.

  “Not at the moment, one must imagine,” the he’e said. His voice was thick, slow, and ushered from a mouth muffled beneath all those arms, so it took Namaka a moment to realize what he’d said. And an instant more to understand he meant she wasn’t Nyi Rara at the moment.

  And face to face with this strange creature, she wished she was.

  As you wish.

  Just like that, the mermaid was in control again, and Namaka felt herself staring back at the he’e ambassador with renewed confidence. Still his eyes gave away nothing of his thoughts, so perhaps he had them at a disadvantage, but at least she was not alone.

  You were not alone before.

  Nyi Rara extended her hand, mimicking the he’e greeting gesture. “You must excuse me, Ambassador. My aunt will wish to see me. W
e’ve waited long enough for our reunion.”

  The octopus blinked as if that were some kind of answer, then slipped off into the shadows, dragged along by arms that seemed to move each of their own accord. It was like eight squirming, slithering eels, each with the ability to become all but invisible.

  “That was horrifying,” she said. The words echoed aloud. Nyi Rara had released her again, just as easily.

  You are not like any host before. I just wonder if …

  She must wonder if she might have been more successful in the past had she worked with her hosts.

  Yes.

  Namaka knew what it was like to question everything about her life, to wonder at the countless mistakes she had made. The assumptions made too easily led her to … here. This moment.

  The mermaid said nothing else, but Namaka could feel her there, waves of distrust and doubt intermingling. So maybe she hadn’t earned Nyi Rara’s support yet, but she would.

  “The he’e have their own kingdom a few leagues south from here,” Ake said, then beckoned her to follow as he led her through the palace. “They call it their Aupuni. The ambassador has been here for over a year now. We’ve been trying to maintain diplomatic relations with the other powers in the sea. It galls us to cater to the whims of a mortal race, but the he’e are ancient and cunning. Some claim they are older than this world. With the war against Mu, we cannot risk making more enemies.”

  “Your diplomacy doesn’t seem to include humans.”

  Ake snorted. “Humans serve their purpose. We need bodies, after all.”

  Namaka shuddered. This was what they did with their sacrifices. They didn’t eat them, they possessed them.

  “And what is Mu?”

  Ake paused before a mighty archway and pointed within. Nyi Rara seized control of her body and swam into a great throne room. The ceiling was massive, stretching up four stories and following the same arch shape, creating an airy grotto. Thousands of polished shells decorated the throne room, the most notable of which was the throne itself. It had perhaps been a giant conch the size of a person, but had been broken open to allow the queen to rest upon it.