The Seventh Princess

by Matt Larkin

  Water streamed behind her as she soared toward the surface. She spared a glance over her shoulder and was met with the rapidly approaching maw of the dragon. It could have swallowed her whole. Dozens of shark-like teeth lined its mouth in multiple rows, all hungering for her blood.

  Namaka breached the surface, a spout of water flinging her high into the air. The next moment the taniwha erupted from the waters beneath her, half the length of its body flying into the air. She could barely hear her own scream over the ringing in her ears. On instinct she twisted the waterspout she rode and had it fling her out far to the side.

  The dragon’s jaws snapped shut over thin air and it crashed back into the sea, sending a wave washing over her. The current spun her around, and by the time her vision cleared, the taniwha was already swimming for her again.

  Namaka swept her hands apart, then clapped them together, creating an undersea wave that slammed into the dragon and stalled its momentum, but only for an instant. Damn it. She didn’t have a good enough weapon against such a foe.

  But she could feel Pasikole’s ship nearby, chasing after them. Probably trying to get a clear shot. She had to give him that. His ship was too damn slow to turn, though. It could never keep up with the dance she and the taniwha had begun. It was devastating against slow-moving foes on the surface or the beach, but against a threat below, those cannons had no power.

  The beach …

  Namaka felt her surfboard floating some distance away. She still needed to be up where Pasikole could see her. As the taniwha closed in again, she launched herself upward, out of the sea to land on her board. It rocked on her landing and she spread her arms to steady herself, then immediately stirred up the waters beneath her, flinging herself forward so quickly it felt like she was flying across the sea.

  As expected the taniwha was less than a heartbeat behind her, though it began losing ground to her incredible speed. But she didn’t need to escape from the monster. She needed to beat it. She glanced to Pasikole’s ship and saw him waving at her, even as his vessel came about. It was never going to get a shot like this.

  Namaka pointed to the beach some distance away. Pasikole stared at her as though bemused, then suddenly nodded. She was going to line up a shot for them. One shot was probably all they’d get—so she had to pray to Kāne one shot would be enough. She turned her board, circling the dragon, letting it draw a little closer.

  Everything she had done, all the mistakes she had made, the price those she loved had paid—they had been to give her this one chance. If she failed them now, then Mo-O’s death, her sacrifice, all the deaths of her people, her father, they meant nothing.

  She didn’t need to ask if Nyi Rara was with her. That question was no longer necessary. They had become each other, together, a single Princess of Sea. And together, they would defend their two peoples.

  Namaka jumped off the board and dove beneath the waves, pulling them along behind her as she did so. All the mana she had absorbed from Mo-O-Inanea’s loving heart she poured out into the sea, calling it. Demanding it bow before her. Her mana, her very life force surged around her until she hit the seabed. Then she spun, launching herself straight at the taniwha.

  It had created a small tsunami when it rose to attack her people.

  That wave was nothing compared to the one she summoned now. Anyone not in the mountains, not in the valleys, they’d be hurt by this maneuver. But she couldn’t think of that now. Couldn’t think of anything save ending this monster once and for all.

  The dragon snapped at her, but a beat of her tail and the surge of the waves carried her beneath it. Carried her, and caught the dragon in its irresistible embrace, sucking the behemoth up in the current. Namaka surged upward in an arc that pulled that current into a single, high wave that rushed straight for the beach with Namaka riding high above it. Looking beneath her, the taniwha tumbled about, end over end, visible only as a giant shadow through the curtain of water they rode.

  Namaka roared defiance at the creature the instant the wave broke over the shore. She wrapped herself in a bubble and flew forward, ahead of the destruction. The tsunami swarmed over the beach, washing away debris that had once been Hamoa Village, sweeping through trees and ripping out their roots, carrying away boulders in a cascade of devastation.

  The taniwha slapped the beach and rolled several times, crushing what rocks and trees the wave had not immediately swept aside.

  Namaka rolled over, having to use her power to help herself stand against the rushing current. The last of that power she poured into the sea, pushing it back, turning the tide as she’d done when the taniwha first attacked here. It burned through her veins until fire became ice and she grew cold from draining herself of such mana.

  The waters receded, turning back, leaving the taniwha stranded. It rolled over, pushing itself up on its clumsy legs, then shook its head. Looking back and forth between her and the retreating sea. Deciding whether to close the distance and consume her or return to its point of strength.

  Namaka fell to her knees as the water slipped away from the shore. Her arms dropped to her side. She had nothing left. All the mana she had absorbed from Mo-O-Inanea, all she could call upon from her own soul or Nyi Rara’s, all had been spent. The taniwha must have seen it, because it began to slowly tread in her direction, pulling itself forward with legs not meant for walking ashore. But capable enough of doing so when forced to it.

  And then the sea leveled out and a curtain of smoke engulfed Pasikole’s ship, followed immediately by the thunderous roar of a dozen cannons. The beach around the taniwha exploded in a shower of sand and dust and blood, scales flying free and landing all around her. The sound of the cannons was drowned out by another pained bellow from the monster.

  It had been nearly as majestic as it was horrible, and to see it brought to such an end almost made her sad. For all the destruction it had wrought, she’d had no choice. None of them did. But really, it was the he’e who had done this.

  As the haze cleared she saw the creature, now reduced to a bloody mess, crawling back toward the sea. Its intact eye was now swollen shut, its jaw unhinged and trailing behind its head as though ready to rip off.

  Pasikole’s ship turned about as Namaka watched the dying behemoth. Another volley fired from the ship’s other side. Namaka covered her ears and closed her eyes. This was over. It was truly over. At least for today.

  The he’e were going to answer for what they had done. And for what they had made her do, made Mo-O do. For everything.

  Strong arms lifted her to her feet, and she opened her eyes to find Kamapua’a helping her stand. “Are you all right?”

  Namaka frowned. “I will be.” Maybe never quite whole again. Or at least, never quite the same. Maybe she didn’t need to be.

  Kam patted her on the back and began to walk toward the taniwha’s corpse. It was dead, that she could see for certain now as the second cloud of destruction cleared.

  “Where are you going, Pigman?”

  “Well, if you got that much mana from Mo-O’s heart, can you imagine how much I’ll get from that thing’s?”

  “You want to eat the taniwha?”

  The wereboar grinned. “At least its heart.”

  “That alone is going to be bigger than you are!”

  He shrugged. “I’ll skip supper. I’m still incorrigible, right?”

  Namaka shook her head and stumbled down toward the water’s edge. She sat in the shallows, letting the tide wash over her feet while she stared out over the sea.

  By evening, the villagers had returned to the beach. Nothing remained of their homes. Probably other villages along the Valley Isle had met the same fate. Given enough time, they could rebuild lost houses, replace lost belongings. But the people would never come back.

  Namaka would never again see her father. She had been graced with that one last chance to reconcile the distance that had grown between them in the moment Uncle Kamalo had revealed her fate. Her sojourn to the Ghost World
, however brief, had been the greatest of all the gifts Nyi Rara had granted her.

  The kahuna had spent all afternoon on funerals, sending away ghosts that would otherwise linger. The mourning chant rang out all along the shore, granting rest to the countless ghosts she had seen before. Or she hoped so, at least.

  The bodies—those they could find—had been cremated, their ashes returned to the endless sea. Namaka prayed the ghosts would find peace. And yet, part of her almost wished her father was still there, even as a ghost, watching her. What a foolish, spoiled little girl she had been while he lived. But he had said he was proud of her. He was proud of her. And she had—she dared to hope—at last truly earned the title of Princess of Sea.

  Trust your heart. In it is light, and kindness, and love.

  She would not forget it. Years of fear and anger had held her back, kept her from understanding the things Mo-O and her parents and Uncle Kamalo had tried to teach her. And letting that go felt like some enormous burden was lifted from her.

  As she walked through the wrecked village, Moela raced to her side, barking with such undisguised adoration she had to smile. Some things you could count on. She knelt and nuzzled the dog’s head.

  Already, some of the villagers had begun to erect a communal hut, one covered with palm leaves to keep the sun’s heat off the weak, elderly, or injured. Namaka’s mother counted among those, as did so, so many of the villagers. Namaka drifted toward the hut, Moela at her side, frowning at the thought of what Nyi Rara had told her in the Ghost World. Pasikole and his men had unwittingly brought death in their wake in more ways than one. The foreign captain had helped her fend off the attack of a monster, but he would have no means to heal those grown sick. Even now, most of the village didn’t seem to understand what was happening. Many had grown feverish, drenched in cold sweats. The sick lay about, unable to help rebuild Hamoa Village.

  She had spoken to Uncle Kamalo of what Nyi Rara had told her, and he had nodded with grim acceptance. Others whispered that Kāne or Lono or some other god had grown displeased with them. They blamed divine punishment for the disasters that had fallen over them in the past week. How quickly things had turned around. A few days ago, they had celebrated the arrival of Lono’s emissary.

  But Pasikole was just a man. He might have come here with ill intent, but he had given it over when he had gotten to know her and her people. She couldn’t hate him for that.

  Namaka knelt beside her mother when she reached her. “I’m here,” she said, stroking her hand.

  Her mother opened her eyes and smiled weakly. “You know, I’ve missed you so much.” Her voice was soft, not for the ears of others. “I know it’s tabu, but I always wanted to be more a mother to you.”

  “You always have been.”

  “I love you, Namaka. However far you go in this life, remember that.”

  Namaka leaned in close, until her cheek was touching her mother’s. Her flesh had gone from burning up to icy cold, and that was almost more frightening. “I’m not going to let you die. The mermaids in Hiyoya have a solution. I don’t know if I can save everyone, but … if you become like me they can fight the sickness growing inside you.”

  “Like you? A mermaid?” Her mother smiled, then coughed. “Sounds beautiful, darling. I’m going to rest a little before that.” She shut her eyes and almost immediately fell to snoring.

  Maybe sleep would help her. Namaka rose, frowning as she took in all the others who had fallen ill. Even if she saved her mother, much of the village would die. Nyi Rara had told her that, and now, merged with the spirit, she knew it to be truth. Maybe she could convince a few others to accept a role as host to mer as well. Of course, most such spirits would not be interested in symbiosis. They would ride their host like a canoe, giving them neither freedom nor hope. Just year after year, centuries even, of slavery in their own bodies. And how was she to ensure that any spirit invested in a given host, even in her mother, would be any different?

  Damn.

  She was walking toward the sea when Pasikole approached her. She had briefly seen the captain this afternoon, after the battle, and he’d looked more bedraggled then. Now, it appeared he had shaved and cleaned himself up. He approached her with a broad smile that almost covered the slight hesitation in his step. “Namaka.”

  “Captain.”

  “We did it. We saved the village.”

  Namaka nodded, not quite certain how to tell the man his mere presence here had brought even more death among her people. She knew damn well he hadn’t meant to, and the damage was already done in any event. “We stopped the taniwha, yes. There are still dangers out there. The he’e are attacking Hiyoya. I have to go back, help them.”

  Now that she was, in a sense, Nyi Rara as well as Namaka, she felt an irresistible calling back to her other people. And the mermaids would always be her people now. She’d tried to rest, to regain her strength, but it would probably be some time before she could manage any real control over the waters again. The mana she had drawn from Mo-O was gone forever, and her own had yet to replenish itself. Spending time near the sea would help with that, of course.

  “I … uh … Well, I understand you have to go. But I wanted to ask something. This morning you told me you had dreamed of us being lovers. And I …” He dropped to one knee in a strange pose. “I want that. More than anything now. Marry me, Namaka.”

  Namaka’s mouth opened but she only managed a squeak. She had dreamed of it, had wanted him to say he wanted her. Part of her still did. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she still saw them together. But that was a dream. Too much had happened. And she had to set what she could right. That was her role, her duty as the Princess. There was no more running from that, no more putting her own desires before it, even if she could have gotten past all the destruction Pasikole’s presence had brought.

  Her father had told her she was like no other Princess before her. A new kapu applied to her, now. Maybe that was his way of telling her she need not choose her mate on any deadline. He had said to follow her heart, after all.

  Her mouth trembled as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I … I can’t be with you. I can’t be with anyone right now. I have a role to play that’s beyond me, and beyond my desires.” It was the truth—the hard truth Mo-O had tried to teach her for years. The dragon had finally succeeded only through the ultimate sacrifice. But Namaka would never forget that lesson. Not if Nyi Rara’s soul kept her body alive for the next three hundred years or more.

  Pasikole’s face fell. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he could protest, pulling him up for one last kiss. It filled her with such warmth, she felt her heart trying to rip itself in two. Namaka broke away before her emotions could betray her or overcome her resolve.

  She ran down to the sea, not looking back even as Pasikole shouted her name, or at Moela’s pleading barks. Instead she dove into the waves, assuming her mermaid tail, and swam. On and on, at a slow, steady pace. She had no energy to make extreme haste this time. Even if the battle still raged, she didn’t have the strength to aid Hiyoya in it. Not yet. But one way or another, she would punish the he’e.

  That and find a way to save her mother, to save as many of her village as she could.

  At last Hiyoya came into view, but she had not crossed into it before a merman darted out from the reef and grabbed her, pulling her back into a crevice.

  Ake looked her over, face grave. “I thought you had been lost.”

  Namaka frowned. “Maybe I was. I guess I found myself now.”

  The merman shook his head, not bothering to hide his perplexed look. “The he’e have taken the city. I’m only here with a small scout force, watching them.”

  Taken the city … Namaka had a sudden fear for her aunt. Or for Nyi Rara’s aunt, really, but Latmikaik now felt like family, if not as close family as her mother. She was only beginning to understand the complex relationships these spirits had to one another. The bond between her and Latmikaik was not affection,
not exactly. But she would hate to see something happen to her.

  “Where is the queen?”

  “Escaped just before Kanaloa sacked the palace.”

  “Kanaloa?” The god-king of the he’e.

  Unable to resist the sudden urge, she stuck her head out of the reef and peered at the palace. Despite the darkness, now she saw what she had missed before—octopus arms peeking out of the windows, the entrances, but arms far larger than those of the he’e. It was impossible to judge their true size when seeing mere glimpses of them. But Namaka had to guess this he’e god-king must be near as large as the taniwha itself had been. Maybe larger.

  This too, the Urchin had tried to show her.

  The dragon had been a mere distraction, meant to draw her away while the he’e took the palace, took the entire city. The taniwha had done its work well, and it had cost her more than she could measure.

  And now Kanaloa, god of magic, lord of he’e, controlled the Urchin and all the power and knowledge it represented.

  This creature, whether god, mortal, or something in between like herself … it had brought all of this down on her. It had hired Pasikole to kidnap her and thus spread disease, cost lives, brought about violence. It had betrayed the alliance with Hiyoya and slaughtered her mer brothers and sisters. It had defiled a royal palace that had stood for nearly two thousand years. And it had sent a taniwha among the people of Sawaiki as nothing but a gambit, a ploy.

  But if this creature had intended to kill her with the dragon, it had failed.

  Namaka turned back to Ake, took him by the hand. “Take me to the queen.”

  “We’re meant to keep watch on the he’e.”

  Namaka shook her head. “This battle is lost, Ake. It’s time we start planning for the war.”

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