Date: 2016-03-16 01:56:32+00:00
Description: Passions flare and adventure erupts. The explosive Princess of Flame, Pele, is on a mission. Her half-demon father has terrorized the Big Island long enough, burning and killing people for no crime worse than living. Even if Pele didn’t have an obligation to protect her people, she knows she has to stop her father’s reign of terror. But Pele has more problems than just her father. A dark spirit haunts the site of her father’s last attack, a ghost even the kahuna cannot seem to banish. And now visitors arrive on the Big Island--unwelcome foreigners and the volatile Sea Princess herself. Pele ca
Publisher: Incandescent Phoenix Books
Rights: Copyright 2017 Matt Larkin. All rights reserved.

The Burning Princess

The Worldsea Era: Book Two

Matt Larkin

Contents

Day 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Day 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Day 3

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Day 4

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Day 5

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Day 6

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Day 7

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

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About the Author

MATT LARKIN

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental.

THE BURNING PRINCESS

Copyright © 2016 Matt Larkin

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Brenda Pierson

Cover by Juhi Larkin

Published by Incandescent Phoenix Books
incandescentphoenix.com

For Kiran. Daddy loves you.

Day I

1

Old legends claimed the world rose from the confluence of elemental forces. The kahuna sometimes argued over the number of those forces. Some claimed there were seven, as there were always seven Princesses. Others held that the war god Kū was sent back to the Ghost World before he could sire enough children to represent every power. The Princesses, his children, were reborn into every generation as if searching for their absent father.

Pele knew that feeling. Except her father wasn’t absent, exactly, though she imagined everyone wished he was. Sometimes, absence was a blessing. She hated him for it, for abandoning her and her sister. And yet, had he been there, Kāne alone knew what kind of Princess she might have become.

Fortunately, she had been raised by the kahuna known as Fire-Keeper, the man now perched in a koa tree, overlooking the village below. Puako Village was a small settlement near the beach, on the island’s north shore. Pele didn’t think she’d ever visited it before, but the truth was, the hundreds of settlements tended to blur together.

She knelt on the mountain slope, placing her palms into the soil. The fires of the Earth pulsed under the land, surging and coursing far below. And despite the layers of dirt and rock separating them, Pele could feel those fires. They ran under all of Sawaiki, under the seas around it, under every island. But nowhere stronger than here, on the Big Isle.

Flame was the purest of the elemental powers. Fire alone could protect mankind from the perils of the cold, of the dark. A purifying conflagration could destroy evil and preserve good, save life. If harnessed properly, of course. If left to run rampant … fire became an all-consuming force of nature, devouring the source of its own sustenance along with anything she might hope to protect.

This was her island, these were her people. And she, the Princess of Flame, would protect them. In the past, she had done them more than enough harm. She had so many things to make up for. But her actions were not born of malice. No, the mistakes she most needed to correct were not her own. They were her father’s.

“He was there?” she asked, indicating the village.

Fire-Keeper was an expert tracker. She had neither the time nor the disposition to learn such arts and it was, in fact, rather surprising the kahuna had managed to do so himself.

“A person can learn to do just about anything,” he had told her once. “One need only make the choice to do so, and be willing to sacrifice something else.”

“Sacrifice?” she had asked.

“Every choice comes from sacrifice. The death of other opportunities, the loss of moments that can never be reclaimed.”

Up in the tree, Fire-Keeper grunted. “I followed the tracks there earlier, talked to the local kahuna. He said Ku-Aha-Ilo attacked a woman.”

Attacked. With her father that could mean anything from raped her to drank her blood and ate her flesh. Like her, her father—Ku-Aha-Ilo—was kupua, a half-god. Or, in his case, perhaps the spawn of some demon from the depths of the Ghost World. Either way, his crimes, his faults, tainted her blood. He had travelled from island to island, sowing his chaos for no reason she could discern. But two years ago, he had returned to the Big Isle and become her problem again. All she could do—pale effort though it seemed—was try to aid his victims. Try, in some small measure, to make up for his predations.

“You are not your father,” Fire-Keeper said, voice soft, eyes sympathetic. The kahuna had a way of reading her, of knowing her fears the moment she felt them.

“People don’t always see it that way.”

At sixteen, her powers had come to her. Dutifully, excited even, she had taken her first lover. And in the moment of her first pain, she had burned him with the fires of her soul, left him a scarred and useless wreck of a man. Word had come he died a few days later. In shame, she had not taken another lover for nearly a year. She thought, had allowed herself to think, it had only been her pain that had caused such suffering. But in truth, her passion had seared the next man, and the next. Until, at last, she had given over taking lovers. Her duty may have been to help the island, to ensure the rise of more kahuna—but that wouldn’t happen if every lover she took perished, or wished he had.

Even thinking of it, walking on the cliffs above the sea, sent her soul trembling. And with it, with her pain and anger, the land rumbled. Magma so deep below responding to her call. More than once her rage had unleashed itself in eruptions that darkened the sky and painted the sunset in all the hues of flame. The people feared her now, and with good cause. She lived atop the volcano, Kilauea, alone save for the company of Fire-Keeper. But sometimes, as now, she donned a kihei to disguise her hair and walked about the island.

“Most people have a small worldview. Anything outside of that view is a threat to be feared. Most of all if the threat endangers their own misconceptions.” Fire-Keeper paused as if to let his words sink in. He did that a lot. Always trying to teach her how to think for herself. He had called fire the light through which mankind could burn away ignorance. That served as his excuse to always force her to draw her own conclusions, to seek her own truths. “There is a time for reflection. But sometimes one must press forward to find the answers.”

Pele frowned. He meant hiding up here in the mountains might allow her to avoid the suspicious stares of her people, but she would not learn what her father had done here. “Are you coming with me?” She already knew the answer.

“Do you need me to?”

No. Fire-Keeper had raised her from the time she was six years old, taught her to control her powers, taught her all she knew. But he was not her father, though he was old enough to have been, even if he didn’t look it. Besides, even had he been her father, she was no child. She was a woman of thirty, approaching the latter years of her life. And, of course, she was kupua, and not least, the Princess of Flame.

And so she descended alone, walking through the village, wrapped in a kihei cloak to conceal her hair. Sometimes she walked with a slight stoop in her step, making herself seem older, making certain no one would recognize her as their Princess. Not that she recalled ever visiting this village before. But she had spent the past two years traveling around the Big Isle, always a step behind her father, always offering such small consolations for the horrors he visited upon the innocent and guilty alike. And what would she do if she ever caught the man? She wasn’t certain. That had never truly been her goal. Indeed, she feared any encounter with him. He had powers, a Gift, unlike any she had ever heard of, and she knew of no one who could fight that power.

Pele grabbed a boy by the arm as he tried to pass her. The boy was almost a man, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, and seemed somehow familiar.

“A woman was attacked recently,” she said.

The boy’s eyes widened, then he jerked his head toward a hut on the village outskirts. The simplest of dwellings, an uneven structure with a roof made of overlapping banana leaves. Part of her wanted to ask the boy what she would find, to prepare herself for the horror no doubt lurking within those unadorned walls. Instead, she released her grip and the boy scampered off.

Pele shut her eyes a moment before making her way to the house. “Aloha,” she called as she slipped inside. A normal person would have waited for an invitation. Pele always found herself skirting the edges of kapu. Perhaps that was her destiny as kupua, or perhaps it was her own admittedly impatient nature. Try as she might, she’d never quite managed a fraction of Fire-Keeper’s patience. Not with anyone save for the kahuna who raised her.

A fat old man knelt over a woman. As she entered, he pushed himself up using his kahuna stick. “Aloha, stranger. You …” The old man rocked back on his heels, mouth agape.

It was difficult to conceal her identity from a kahuna. They could sense the mana within her, feel its flow, its magnetic pull. An inferno of power raging just beneath the surface of her skin. Maybe they felt it from all kupua, but they certainly seemed to detect it in Princesses. That was, of course, how she had first learned of her own nature. Fire-Keeper had found her, explained to her mother why he had to take her away.

With a sigh, she threw back her hood, revealing her red-tinged hair. “The kupua Ku-Aha-Ilo was here.”

“Your father, Princess.”

Pele grimaced. Too much to hope a kahuna might not know that.

“P-princess,” the woman behind him croaked.

Pele shoved the kahuna aside to inspect her father’s latest victim. Half her face was inflamed, covered in boils so bad one eye was swollen shut. Tiny rivulets of blood seeped from the burns. And still, despite the disfigurement, it took Pele only a moment to recognize the woman.

“Mama?” Pele fell to her knees at her mother’s side, hand trembling over her face, afraid to touch the wound.

Ku-Aha-Ilo could control blood, could wield it as a weapon as she wielded flame. He must have brought her mother’s blood to boil on one side of her face, tortured her. But why? The demon had shown no interest in the woman once she had given birth to his child. By Milu, he barely seemed interested in Pele most of the time.

“Why did he do this?” Pele hadn’t seen her mother since Fire-Keeper took her in. She had come back, looking, but her mother had left her home village. “Where have you been all these years?”

“Wanted to punish. I married years ago … after you were … taken.” Speaking clearly pained her mother. Pele placed a gentle finger on her lips and a hand on her mother’s shoulder. But her mother shook her head, as if the years of pent-up silence were about to burst. “We came to Hualali … before we wed … hoped you were there …”

It was the nearest volcano. But Fire-Keeper had taken her to Kilauea, on the far side of the island. Even had her mother known where to find her, it would have been almost impossible for her to make such a far trek. But her mother had come, seeking her blessing to remarry. The thought of it left Pele trembling. When she was young, she’d gone everywhere with her mother. Her father had been gone and it had been only the two of them. Her mother had assisted the kahuna making herbal poultices and remedies. Pele had often gone with her to visit the sick or injured.

When Fire-Keeper had come, had told her mother he had to take Pele, tears had welled in her mother’s eyes. Pele didn’t think she’d ever seen her mother cry before that.

Pele spun on the kahuna, ready to demand he do something to help her mother, when a boy—the same boy—slipped into the house bearing a calabash filled with water. “Who is this?” It wasn’t the first question she’d meant to ask, it merely slipped out.

“My son …” her mother said.

Pele’s knees wobbled. Son? That meant he was … her half-brother.

The kahuna took the calabash from the boy. “Mahalo, Kāne-Milohai. Please wait with your mother. The Princess and I have matters to discuss.” He paused to offer her mother a sip of water, then returned the calabash to the boy. A brother. Named after great Kāne, chief of the gods himself. As if to make up for her mother’s first lover being a demon kupua.

Her thoughts racing, she let the kahuna lead her outside. Her whole world seemed to have shifted. After more than twenty years, she’d found her mother again—found, too, she had a brother. And her father was out there, hunting her family. Damn, but maybe she should have asked Fire-Keeper to come along for this. His ineffable, unshakeable calm could be infuriating, but at times like this it proved a boon, keeping her centered.

“How—why? What happened?” she asked.

“Ku-Aha-Ilo must have learned about your mother and her husband. I suppose we’re lucky it took him this long. He murdered her husband and tortured her, trying to get her to reveal where the boy was. By Kāne’s will he was with me, had wanted to carve a new surfboard so we had gone seeking the right koa.”

Ku-Aha-Ilo assaulted a woman he had discarded decades ago, murdered the man she loved, and for what? To ensure she could have no other happiness? A rumbling built inside Pele’s chest, a violence she could not still. Flames escaped through her clenched fists and the ground itself began to shake with it. What monster would do such a thing? Two years spent offering shallow comforts to those he wronged, and what had she to show for it? She had been afraid to catch him, thinking she could not bring herself to strike out against her own father.

Well, that fear was gone now.

Villagers gathered, murmuring in fear as the ground quaked. Whimpering as her hair burst into flame. Even the kahuna backed away, making a sign of warding. Others fell to their knees, begging for mercy. Pele ignored them, or tried to. She always tried not to let their fear bother her. They had reason for it, after all.

“Where did he go?” she demanded.

The kahuna pointed away, along the shore to the north.

With a long, shuddering breath, she beat down the anger simmering in her chest, and with it, the flames. They vanished from her hands and hair in a puff of smoke, and with them gone, the land stilled. Quiet and calm.

For a moment.

Soon, she would burn. Burn very brightly, indeed.

* * *

“You’re going after him?” Kāne-Milohai asked, as Pele headed away from Puako Village. He had chased after her, away from the stares of the villagers.

She turned. A half-brother she had never known, never imagined. How was she supposed to even react to that? But the rage seething on her brother’s face, that she understood. All too well. “Yes. He’s going to pay for what he did to Mama.”

“Then take me with you!”

She chuckled, then shook her head. “Someone needs to stay here and care for Mama.”

Kāne-Milohai frowned. “I can fight.”

“I’m sure you can.” But the boy would have no means of fighting someone like Pele’s father. The Gifts kupua wielded left ordinary humans ill-prepared for a conflict. Ku-Aha-Ilo would boil her brother’s blood or worse, without so much as a second thought. Indeed, he would probably be thrilled to have the chance to kill the boy.

And maybe Kāne-Milohai knew that, but it clearly pained him to do nothing to avenge the wrongs done to their mother. The truth was, he must know the woman better than Pele ever could. He had grown up with her while Pele had been taken away by Fire-Keeper. She didn’t resent that, of course—the kahuna had proved both kind and challenging, driving her ever forward. Without him, she’d probably have buried herself and her whole village in a lava flow. But still, it would have been nice to know …

“What’s she like?”

Her brother scrunched up his face. “Huh? Who?”

Pele sighed and sat down on a rock, motioning for her brother to join her. “Mama. What’s she like?”

“I don’t know, she’s … she’s my mother.”

“Right. And she’s still a woman, coconut brain. Tell me what it was like, growing up with her.”

He scratched his head then sat on the rock beside her. “Well … she, uh … she talked about you a lot. Oh, she plays the ukeke sometimes in the evening.”

Pele had forgotten all about that, hadn’t thought of it in years, but she remembered … aumakuas, she couldn’t have been more than four years old. Sitting under the shade of a big koa tree, listening to her mother play, welcoming the sunset. Almost, she could hear the melody again, bringing back the smell of poi and the sound of laughter. Her laughter. Pele shook her head. And her mother had talked about her … had not forgotten her.

Her brother was staring at her. She must have the most wistful look on her face. But he couldn’t understand.

“Must have been hard, growing up without her.”

Well, maybe he could understand. Pele nodded, not trusting herself to answer, or to ask what she really wanted to know. Was her mother like her in some way? Maybe all Pele was came from Ku-Aha-Ilo, but she had to hope there was something of her mother inside her, too.

“You were raised by that monster?”

“What? No! Thank the aumakuas. No, I was with Mama for my early years. Ku-Aha-Ilo only came by every so often. I never knew what he wanted. And then Fire-Keeper—a kahuna—he recognized me as a Princess, offered to train me. Offered or insisted, I don’t remember properly. Either way, Mama sent me with him. Even after that, my … father … he found me and the kahuna from time to time, checking in on me. Not out of any love, I think.”

Kāne-Milohai shivered, looking at the sun as it sat low on the horizon. “He killed my father.”

“I know.” One more death, one more crime. Ku-Aha-Ilo was a walking violation of the natural order, the utter desolation of all kapu. “What was his name?”

“Kāne-Hoalani.”

So. It was the father named after Kāne, and the son named after him. Two more lives destroyed by Pele’s father. “Tell me about him.”

“He was …” Her brother shook himself. “You wanted to know about Mother.” For a moment, the boy rubbed the back of his head. “She names the clouds, sometimes.” He pointed at the shapes in the sky, already thick and ready to burst with evening rain. “Like maybe that one is a whale, or the one over there a goose.”

“A goose.”

“I don’t know. I’m not as involved as her, all right.”

Naming the clouds. Pele smiled. She liked that. In another lifetime, maybe she’d have grown up doing that herself. Spending her afternoons lying on grass, staring up at the sky and having no cares beyond what to cook for supper. By now, she’d have a handful of children of her own. But then, had that been her life, her brother would not have been born. Nor would she trade her role as Princess. It came with burdens, for certain, but it was an incredible honor. And there was no rush quite like the glory of flame passing through her, answering the call of her soul.

“I always wanted to meet you, you know,” he said. “I used to brag to the other kids. My sister was a Princess, right? I kept thinking, one day, you’d come here and prove me right.”

Pele sighed. “I didn’t even know about you. If I had, I’d have come a long time ago.”

He snorted. “I get it. They call it the Big Isle for a reason. But I’m going to see it all, one day. Maybe even sail an outrigger over to the Valley Isle.”

Pele frowned. Things were not well across the channel these days. She didn’t want any of her people, much less her newly discovered brother, heading over there.

Her brother babbled on, talking of all the things Pele had missed in her life. Or maybe, missed in her mother’s life. Pele was happy with what she’d been given, after all, she just wished she’d been able to know her mother more. And to have had the chance to see Milohai grow up and become the young man he was now. She had missed too much. But she would fix that now. Now was her chance to have a real family. She just had to take care of Ku-Aha-Ilo first.

As he spoke, though, Kāne-Milohai grew increasingly agitated, casting glances back at the village, or at the descending sun.

“You have some liaison planned with a girl, don’t you?”

“Not today. Not at night.”

Pele folded her arms. “What does that mean?”

“It’s just … ever since that monster came, the nights have been, I don’t know. Darker? Like there’s something out there, something that followed in his wake. People are scared, don’t want to talk about it.”

Frowning, she glanced back at the village. Chances were good her brother and the other villagers were merely spooked by the horror and violence her father had visited upon them. But … she did believe Ku-Aha-Ilo knew of the Art. What if he had visited some curse upon these people? Some further punishment for whatever imagined slight caused him to attack her mother in the first place.

Much as she wanted to visit vengeance upon the one who had done this, maybe they needed her here. “Milohai, listen to me carefully. I’m your sister. But I’m also your Princess. It is my kapu to protect you. I’m sorry I failed to protect your parents. But if there is some curse in the night, I’m going to find it and break it. Do you understand?”

He nodded, eyes wide as if unable to believe she would, or could, do such a thing. Of course, she had no idea how to break a curse, if there even was one, but he didn’t need to know that. He needed someone to tell him everything would be all right, that life would go on.

“I want you to tell all the villagers to stay inside tonight.”

“Believe me, they already do.”

“The kahuna knows about this?”

He nodded. “He prays all night long, trying to keep us safe.”

Good. Let the old man shelter the people. “Go on then.”

She watched as her brother scrambled back toward their mother’s house. When he was safely inside, she set about gathering some kindling. After padding it with dry palm leaves, she snapped her fingers, sending sparks skittering along the tinder. It caught almost immediately, and a wave of her hand sent the flames climbing. It would be some time before the sun set and, most likely, a wait after that for anything to happen.

Folding her legs beneath her, she settled in front of the fire.

2

Just offshore a sea turtle swam through the crystal blue waters around Sawaiki. From the rocks where she sat, Namaka could feel the turtle, could feel the fish, could feel the children surfing atop waves, trying to master their boards. Over the past week her villagers had already begun to reconstruct their destroyed homes, to rebuild the boardwalk that would once again support them, connect them to the sea. The ocean was almost as much a part of the islanders as it was of her, and she was a mermaid and the Princess of Sea.

Except, much as the Sawaikians loved the endless Worldsea, now they had reason to fear it, even if they did not yet understand those reasons. Farther offshore, leagues away in the great reef, the mer city of Hiyoya had fallen to the he’e. Once, Namaka had thought the octopus people near mythical and far removed from humanity. All that had changed. Now, through their betrayal of Hiyoya, and through Pasikole, she knew the he’e controlled much of the world behind the scenes. They manipulated humans, much as they had done with Pasikole himself. Their motives were hard to guess, their very thought patterns and speech alien. But she had to assume they intended to dominate all the Worldsea.

She would need to liberate Hiyoya, and soon. But before she could spare time for such things, a more immediate crisis on the Valley Isle demanded her attention. Pasikole had unwittingly brought diseases with him, and now half of her village—indeed, many other villages as well—had fallen ill. Some people had already begun to perish. Namaka’s own mother was one of those suffering. She had lost her father less than two weeks ago. She was not about to lose her mother too.

She had spent the past week traveling back and forth between here and the Hiyoya refugees, seeking some way to save her mother. If she could get a mermaid to take her mother, it might save her life. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost get a sense of Hiyoya, even so many leagues away. Enough of a sense to know the he’e god-king Kanaloa lingered there. Long had her people worshipped Kanaloa as the god of magic, god of the unknowable deep, without ever suspecting their deity was actually king of the he’e. Namaka, for all her power, had no real way to fight such a foe. The creature was enormous, perhaps bigger even than the taniwha, and a master of the Art. No one in Hiyoya could be certain what the god-king was capable of, and that made everyone afraid.

Even if she could drive out Kanaloa, even if she defeated the he’e and found a mermaid willing to take her mother—and few wanted to claim a host already past her prime—still she’d be unlikely to find one willing to share the body with a human consciousness. Chances were she’d wind up damning her mother to slavery that might last for centuries.

No, she needed another plan. Once again, she found herself desperately missing Mo-O-Inanea. The dragon had raised her, consoled her in moments of weakness, and always had a bit of sage advice for Namaka. And, in the end, had sacrificed herself to ensure Namaka could defeat the taniwha and save the Valley Isle.

With a sigh, Namaka rose and turned from the sea, only to find Kamapua’a tromping toward her. His nature as a wereboar seemed to protect him from disease, just as it gave him near-endless stamina—put to good use for the first time in his life, helping rebuild the village.

“Aloha, Fish Girl,” the wereboar shouted at her.

She hadn’t been able to shake the nickname, but then she probably deserved it for calling him Pigman all those years. She waved at him, then when he drew near, threw her arms around him though she’d had no intention of doing so. They’d grown up together, as best friends, and he was the closest thing she had to a brother. Also, he was drenched in sweat. She backed away, making a face at him, though she knew he’d not be fooled.

“Kamalo is back,” he said.

Thank Kāne. Many of the nearby villages had lost their kahunas, so her uncle had been traveling about, helping to send the dead. Thanks to Nyi Rara, Namaka had once seen into the Ghost World, seen the ghosts that lingered there if not properly sent. Those who lingered too long might be damned, transformed into Nightmarchers. A kahuna’s work was never done and no village could truly afford to be without one. But thanks to the taniwha and the spreading sickness, more and more found themselves bereft of much-needed spiritual guidance and protection.

While Kamalo was certainly needed abroad, he was also the last place she had left to turn to for advice. And despite wracking her brain—now more or less fused with the soul of Nyi Rara—for a week, she had still found no plan to save either her human people or her mer kin. She was one of the most powerful people in Sawaiki, perhaps in the whole world, and she couldn’t think of a damn thing she could do to help.

“Come on,” she said. “I need to see him.”

“Figured.”

She followed Kam along the shore to a lean-to the village had set up just after the taniwha had died. The old kahuna drifted among the wounded, inspecting them, offering prayers to gods that may or may not have even been listening. Her faith in deities above had been shaken on learning Kanaloa was a real being here on Earth. What if the kahuna had also misunderstood the nature of other divinities?

Moela ran beside Kamalo, but yipped and rushed to Namaka at her approach. She had asked Kamalo to care for him now, but Moela would always be her little puppy. She knelt and nuzzled his ears while Kamalo tended a boy shivering despite the midday heat.

“Uncle.”

He turned at her voice, nodded once to her, then whispered a final prayer over the boy. Namaka caught her mother’s eye while Kamalo prayed. She was wrapped in a kihei cloak at the moment, like she too was a child, but she managed a weak smile for Namaka. Part of her wanted to hate Pasikole for bringing this among her people, but he had not meant to. And, in fact, his crew had spent most of their time trying to help rebuild the boardwalk or carve up the dead taniwha—no easy task given its near-impenetrable scales—for much needed food.

Kamalo rose and clapped her on the shoulder, leading her away from the rest of the villagers. Kamapua’a moved to follow them, but a glance from her uncle stilled the wereboar, who shrugged then took off back toward the construction work.

“He has grown in recent days.” Moela fell in step between them.

Namaka nodded. “I guess we all had to.”

“He’s still a far step from properly following kapu, but it’s progress.”

“How are things at the other villages?”

Her uncle sighed. He now leaned heavily on his walking stick, the badge of his office. Finally, away from the others, he sank onto the sand and motioned her to do the same. He was just tired from his long trek, that was all. Sure, Kamalo was getting old, his hair long since gray, but he was fine. He had to be.

“The situation is dire. There are more dead than I can send in a timely manner and I will soon have to travel even farther abroad, make my way to villages on the far side of the Valley Isle. I had to see you first. The truth is, Namaka … after the attacks, we just … We need more kahuna.”

She nodded, then shut her eyes when she realized the depth of his meaning. Kamalo might train apprentices, but a real kahuna got his power from mana siphoned off a Princess. And short of letting one consume her flesh, the only way to transfer such mana was by sharing her body, by allowing the potential kahuna to sexually satisfy her. Kapu had demanded she take a lover already but, after all that had happened, she’d decided her kapu had changed. She was, after all, now as much as mermaid as she was a Princess. That might have justified her decision under ordinary circumstances. But if she did not do as Kamalo suggested, did not take a lover—or many, as it were—ghosts would linger across the island, haunt the living, and be trapped in torment. Even if Kamalo could send all the ghosts killed by the taniwha, more and more people would perish over time. That was inevitable in life.

“How can I even think about taking lovers while my mother lies dying? She may have mere days left. What am I supposed to do? What are you going to do about it? She’s your niece.”

Kamalo grunted, then looked up at the evening sky. “Great thing about walking is, it gives you lots of time to think, to reflect. In your case, I guess swimming might do the same. I was reminded of a story I heard as a young kahuna in training. It comes from the Big Isle, a long time ago. A man’s beloved wife had fallen deathly ill. And this man, he traveled across the full island, searching for the Place of Darkness. There, locked away from mortal eyes, Kāne had hidden the mythical Waters of Life. And this man faced great danger and claimed the waters, and they saved his wife.”

Namaka bit her lip. What was he saying? That he thought this old legend was true? That such life-giving waters might really exist? If so, they could prove the miracle she’d been searching for. But such powers tended to come with a cost. That, the part of her that was Nyi Rara knew for certain. Even mer—who were in fact beings of spirit—avoided use of the Art when possible. Still, she had to try. It might be the only way to save her mother, to save everyone.

She rose, nodding at Kamalo. “I have to go, then.”

“I know you do. But, about the other issue …”

She shook her head. “Not now, all right? After I save my mother, I will find a lover. I swear. First, so many more people need my help.”

She ran back toward the lean-to, Moela chasing after her. She knelt by her mother’s side, planting a light kiss on her forehead. It was burning up, flush with fever. She had so little time. “I love you,” she whispered. “And I found what we need to get you well. I just have to go away for a few days.”

Her mother bobbed her head, so slightly, then shut her eyes.

After giving her dog a final pat on the head, Namaka rose and dashed for the sea.

* * *

The people of Hiyoya now lay scattered across a dozen or more small camps, hidden in reefs off Sawaiki, seeking shelter in trenches, hiding in undersea caves. Some, Namaka had heard, had even fled as refugees, seeking solace in Mu. Perhaps they thought even enemy mer were better than being hunted down by the he’e. The octopus people had sent out occasional scouting parties, taking out stray mer. The ability to change the color and texture of their skin meant the creatures were nearly impossible to spot until they attacked.

At least for most people. Namaka sensed something was off the moment she entered General Ake’s chamber in one of the trenches. The grotto had been bored out of the side of the trench, intended to serve as an outpost against Mu. Instead, it had become a refuge from the he’e. The water around the room was disrupted, the current slightly off.

“It’s good you’ve returned, Princess,” the general said.

Namaka kept her eyes locked on Ake, trying not to reveal what she knew until she could determine the spy’s exact location.

“Is something wrong?” Ake asked when she didn’t respond.

By now, the spy would be wondering the same question. He’e were clever—quite possibly smarter than humans or even mer. That, of course, was their whole problem. The he’e ambassador had manipulated her into believing they sympathized with the plight of Hiyoya, had tricked her into asking for assistance the he’e had no intention of giving. And then, while Hiyoya was already breaking itself in the war against Mu, the octopuses had taken the city. The people of Hiyoya had underestimated the he’e simply because it never occurred to them that any mortal race might prove more cunning, more devious than beings of the Spirit Realm. The he’e were mortal, yes, but they were ancient too, having existed since some prior version of the world. And guided by Kanaloa, they had become the implacable foe no one had prepared for.

Moving so slowly as to be—she hoped—imperceptible, she raised her hand, summoning a jet of water around her fingertips. Ake glanced down at her hand at the same moment she felt the waters shift, as the spy began edging toward the grotto’s side entrance. Namaka spun, launching the jet forward like a blade slicing through the ocean. At once, Ake jumped back, shouting, but it took the merman only a moment to realize she wasn’t attacking him.

Her blade impacted the grotto wall, mixing a shower of rock, dust, and sand with an explosion of blood and ink as it sliced the he’e in half. The creature flopped around for a moment, its severed arms trying to crawl away on their own.

Namaka grimaced. “I suppose I should have tried to take it alive.”

Ake, eyes still wide, looked back and forth between her and the dead he’e. After a moment he visibly composed himself, then shook his head. “Temperance is a virtue, but I doubt it would have mattered in this case. He’e do not generally break under interrogation. Better it’s dead. Who knows how many of our war meetings these creatures have spied on?”

With luck, very few. Namaka could only hope the he’e didn’t know many of the points the Hiyoyans had retreated to. Some of those locations were old colonies from the glory days of Hiyoya, long before Nyi Rara’s time. Many they had abandoned centuries ago. Such places now lay beyond the official borders of the Hiyoya kingdom. A good number, in fact, lay within the kingdom of Mu, making the position of the refugees precarious in the extreme. If discovered by Mu forces, they might face capture or execution. The truth was, her kingdom had been in decline for centuries. With the powers of a Sea Princess she might change that, but only if she was able to defeat the he’e first.

She rubbed her face. “I can’t stay.”

Ake sighed. “Again? Your people need you.”

“I have more than one people now. My human people have an even more pressing need, Ake. I swear I will come back as soon as I can. I just have to take care of one more thing, and then we can find a way to stop Kanaloa.”

“How am I to wait for you, Princess? Our people are dying. With every passing day they are more likely to be discovered by the he’e or by Mu. We’re rapidly running out of places to hide. If we do not turn this around, find a way to make an offense and take back our city, our kingdom will fall.” He seemed like he would say more. Whatever it was, though, it died on his tongue.

Sometimes, the way he looked at her, she imagined the merman caressing her tail with his own. He had sufficient rank for such a liaison to be accepted by the court. But he never made any such move. And she … she could no longer separate the roil of emotions tying Namaka and Nyi Rara together. It made it almost impossible to decide what she wanted.

Easier, then, to just change the subject. Pretend she hadn’t seen his glance linger a heartbeat too long on her eyes. “What of my aunt?”

“Queen Latmikaik commands me to begin gathering our forces for a mass assault on Hiyoya.”

That didn’t sound good. Even if the he’e army could be defeated, how did Ake intend to fight Kanaloa himself? No one had begun to find a solution to that problem. They had to assume he would have prepared for such an attack.

“Do you have a chance?”

“We’d have a better chance with you at our side.”

Of course she had a duty to her mer kin. But she could only be at one place at a time. “If that’s the case then it is all the more reason you need to wait for my return. Do nothing save prepare until then. If you must, tell my aunt the reason, that I plan to join the assault but I have to make ready first.”

“You give too much care to these humans. Their lives are short, mortal. Even if you spare them from the diseases, they will still die in a few years.”

There was a painful and unavoidable truth in that, she knew. With Nyi Rara possessing her body, Namaka might live for centuries. And in those centuries she would watch her mother, her uncle, and all the people she had known and loved grow old and die. All save Kamapua’a, who would suffer the same losses she did. And still she was lucky—most hosts lost everyone including themselves.

“Because a life is shorter than yours does not mean it has less value,” she said.

“Of course it means that. Do you imagine a minnow’s life compares to a whale’s? Humans are lesser beings. Just as they prey upon fish, devour them to sustain themselves, we use human bodies to sustain our existence. And they no more compare to us than a fish roasted for their supper compares to them. It is the order of the world, of all worlds.”

Namaka shut her eyes. She refused to believe that. Ake had lived for something like two thousand years, since the earliest days of the Worldsea. It surely made him knowledgeable. Did it make him wise? Or, in the passing of so many years, in their blurring together in endless procession, had he lost perspective? Perhaps he had spent so long taking in the vastness of the sea he no longer appreciated the splendor of life within its waters.

“You should be with … us. By our side, by your real peoples’ sides.”

“I am going,” she said. “And you will wait for me.”

She didn’t care what the ancient general had to say on the matter. She was going to find a way to help both her mortal and her immortal peoples. Because neither had a great deal of time left.

3

A slight rain had come and gone, briefly forcing Pele to expend energy to keep her fire going. It wasn’t as though she truly needed it—the night had grown at most brisk, not cold. But flame was a comfort, always. Too long away from it and she found herself lost, as if the burning itself offered some guidance. Such musing was pointless, but Fire-Keeper had always encouraged introspection. And why not—he too so often lost himself for hours, staring into flames as if they might hold the answers to questions she had not yet imagined.

The moon had risen, but it was largely hidden by the clouds, keeping everything beyond the edge of her fire shrouded in darkness. If there was something out there, perhaps she would never see it. Not only did the fire ruin her night vision, but its light and warmth kept darkness at bay. Her whole exercise would prove pointless unless she submersed herself in the dark, welcomed it in and drank up the unnatural terror it had evoked here. Sighing, she clapped her hands together, extinguishing the flame.

Pele rose and padded through Puako Village. All the huts were closed now, kapa cloths draped over the entryways. Every single person in the village had fled inside, huddled together in whatever slim protection their houses offered. Everyone save her. To walk the village and see not a single soul, it made the place seem abandoned, forgotten. Pele was not given to loneliness, but the sheer emptiness here felt like a hand squeezing the back of her neck, weighing her down.

And that realization led to another—with the fire’s crackle silenced, an unnatural stillness had settled here. No birds cawed in the night, nor did she hear any of the other sounds one associated with a sleeping settlement. No snoring, no sound of couples gently making love. Not even the chirp of insects. The only sound at all, the pad of her feet on the ground and the distant waves.

The sensation of a waking dream crept into her mind, and once it did, she could not shake it. It left the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, a tingling in her feet as though she might float away.

An almost irresistible urge to light her hand aflame seized her. To do anything to banish the silence and stillness of the shadows lingering all around. She clenched her fists to fight that urge. Aumakuas, what was going on here? A slight rustle behind her. She spun, transfixed by a sound that wouldn’t have even caught her notice under any other circumstance.

The leaves on the trees at the jungle’s edge were twisting, as though some breeze had caught them. But all wind had died this night and no source of the movement revealed itself. And still, first one branch moved, then another. Like some vast, invisible, intangible force slithered through the jungle canopy, just out of her sight.

A gasp escaped her as instinct to flee wrapped around her gut. Her breath misted the air, though the night wasn’t cold enough for that. What on Lua-O-Milu?

“Where are you?” The night seemed to swallow the sound of her voice until it was nothing but the hesitant cry of a baby bird.

And then a breath brushed the back of her neck. Icy, hostile. She froze. Something was toying with her. Shrieking, she lit both hands on fire and spun, flailing at whatever stalked behind her. Her hands swept through thin air. Nothing. Nothing there.

Damn it. Damn her. Being spooked by a breeze like some child.

She stalked through the village, passing hut after silent hut. At the edges of covered windows and doors the welcoming light of candles burned, almost but not quite escaping the homes. How easy it would be to duck inside one, weather the night and leave in the morning.

There was nothing here. These people were afraid of nothing.

Footfalls sounded behind a house. Her heart leapt into her throat. She fought it down, then dashed around the back of the hut. Only emptiness and shrubbery, swaying in an imagined wind. Heart pounding, she stumbled back into the center of the village.

“I’m going to find you. You hear me? I’m going to find you!”

Her only answer was a bird cawing, high overhead. She’d thought the silence was bad, but the sound that shattered it sent her ducking from imaginary attackers. At least for an instant. Damn, was she glad none of the villagers had seen their Princess cower at a fucking bird.

Squinting at it, she could barely make out its form in the darkness. It banked sharply, as if it might attack her in a dive, though it was too large to be a hawk. Another frantic beat of her heart and she realized it wasn’t diving. It was plummeting. It fell like a stone from the sky, slamming into the sand with an impact that threw up a cloud of dust a pace high.

She ran to the bird’s body. Its wing had bent back on itself, its feet twisted above its broken head. A black-footed albatross. Fire-Keeper loved birds, had taught her the names of hundreds of them. An albatross shouldn’t have even been out this late at night.

Not certain she wanted to know, but unable to look away, Pele knelt beside it to examine it. She had to try to understand what had caused it to crash. She extinguished the flame on one hand, used it to pull the broken foot away from the bird’s face, while bringing her other torch closer. Then she gasped, barely able to avoid retching.

The bird had no eyes.

What on Lua-O-Milu? She scrambled away from the corpse on all fours, then fell back, hand to her mouth. What could have done such a thing? Though still feeling like she would vomit, she forced herself to take another look. The bird’s body had been broken in the fall, but the eyes—they looked like they had melted. It must have been dead before it even hit the ground.

Maybe … maybe she could have dismissed the other signs. But this … Something was horribly wrong here, something protruding into the natural world. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be seen, save perhaps for the effects it had. The revolt of nature against the profoundly unnatural.

She reached a hand toward the bird. Even as she did so, its wings began to disintegrate, turning to dust and disappearing into the sand. The desiccation spread until, in the space of a few heartbeats, the entire bird had vanished.

She’d been wrong. She wasn’t alone at all. A presence lingered here, watching her, seeming to come from all around her. Like eyes peering at her from every tree in the jungle.

How was she to fight something like this? Had Ku-Aha-Ilo evoked some forgotten, buried evil with the Art?

She should have known it before, should have been more attuned to the signs, even before the bird.

She climbed to her feet, relighting the torches on both hands, blazing them brighter than ever. The flames offered her the only protection against the night. Maybe that was the only reason she yet lived, not consumed by whatever vileness had desiccated the bird. At that thought, she lit her hair ablaze as well.

Maybe the flames would prevent her from seeing into the darkness of night.

As she returned to the center of the village, she was no longer certain that was a bad thing.

Either way, it would be a very long night.

Day II

4

Here he was, slaving away in the hot sun building a boardwalk, and Fish Girl had swum off to play in the sea. Well, sure, not to play, exactly. But to explore the Big Isle. Pig shit, but that sounded exciting! And did she even ask if Kam wanted to go with her? Nope. No room for a wereboar on that trip. He could have ridden her back like a … like a man riding a sea turtle. That’s what. Namaka could have been his sea turtle and swum along the surface and he could have sat on her shell. Which she didn’t have. But he could have built her a shell. Shit, he just built a house or ten. A shell was nothing.

Kamapua’a huffed and flung another stone into the ocean. “Take that, Worldsea! You want some more, huh?” With a snort, he kicked a pile of sand off the beach and into the water. Just for this, he’d fill up her whole damn ocean with sand. Let her swim then.

Traders often took outrigger canoes over to the Big Isle. Given the right winds, one could make the sail in a single day. Stupid Fish Girl swam much faster than that, of course. He ought to just grab an outrigger and sail over there.

Mo-O-Inanea had never allowed Kamapua’a to leave the Valley Isle, had insisted he remain under her guardianship. But years earlier, before coming to the dragon, he’d traveled around Sawaiki with Kamalo. That had been fun. Sometimes he assumed boar form in the night—stupid sun kept him locked in human form—and ran through villages grunting at the locals. Damn, the looks on their faces had been better than a luau’s worth of poi.

“Something bothering you?” Pasikole asked.

Kam snorted. He’d heard the man approaching, of course. He was just busy filling in the stupid mermaid’s stupid sea. “Well, shit yes, lots of things. First, I asked Inemes to rut with me and she said no.” Pasikole raised an eyebrow at that, like he didn’t know his own first mate was shitting luscious. “Then I wanted it to rain this morning and it didn’t. And then, after all that shit, Namaka decided to go run off to the Big Isle without me. Just up and left last night. We’re supposed to be best friends, and now she goes on all these adventures alone, leaves me behind. Doesn’t even say aloha. Maybe I’ll urinate in it.”

“Uh, the Big Isle?”

“Her ocean! That would show her.”

Pasikole brushed hair back from his face. “Indeed. I’m quite certain no one has ever relieved themselves into the ocean before.”

Kam folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. He was pretty certain he was being mocked. “All right, Captain Ugly Pants. You’ve got a big ass boat. Why don’t you sail us over there and we can help her.”

Pasikole glanced out over the sea, looking lost.

“I know where the Big Isle is,” Kam said. “You can see it from some parts of the Valley Isle, on a clear day. I can show you how to get there. I’m a mighty navigator.”

“Kamalo says the sickness affecting your people came from mine. I wanted to see all of Sawaiki, to map it, understand its wonders. But if I go to more islands, I risk spreading the sickness farther.”

Kam scratched his beard. “Oh. Yeah, well, people head over there all the time. Word was some there have already gotten sick. Not me, though. I don’t get sick. I’m too mighty.”

Pasikole rocked back on his heels, looking like he might retch. “It’s already spread …” He shook his head slowly. “What have I done?”

Kam shrugged. “Right. That’s why Kamalo sent her there. She thinks she can find some ancient magical cure and save everybody. Without me! Shit, Pasikole! I just thought of an even better reason to save everyone than boredom! Do you know how many girls would spread their legs for the heroes who saved everyone from killer diseases?”

The captain’s mouth hung open for a moment like he couldn’t even form a response. He thought he was so clever, but he’d probably never even considered the benefits of heroism. “You are a vulgar man, Kamapua’a.”

“Well, yeah. I’m a pig. Hey, if I save humanity from sickness, you think Inemes would want to ride my canoe?”

“No.” Pasikole shook his head. “No. But let’s do it anyway. If Namaka truly thinks there’s a cure on that island, I have to help her find it. I may not have meant for this to happen, but it did. It happened because I came here, and hardly with pure intentions. If I can help repair the damage in any small way, I am honor-bound to do so.”

Kam grinned. At last, some real adventure. Heading over to the Big Isle, facing danger and excitement, that’s where he belonged. Plus, it would be more fun than trying to fill in the ocean. That would have taken all shitting day.

5

As expected, Fire-Keeper remained by the tree where she had left him. Probably the kahuna had slept up there, although now he sat in meditative repose, eyes closed, face turned to the sun.

As Pele drew near, his eyes popped open. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

She paused, considering. It was possible Fire-Keeper had known her mother lived in that village. It was even possible he’d known she was the one who’d been attacked. He always held some things back, claiming the best way to teach her was to show her how to learn. He claimed the best kahuna separated themselves from their subjects, whatever that meant.

The man rarely spoke much of himself, either. Once, late at night, she’d asked about his family. He’d said he’d had a daughter, that she had died long ago. It was the only time he’d spoken of her, his words slow, so strained she’d never raised the question again. It was the only time she’d seen the kahuna so shaken.

Finally, Pele shook her head. “Ku-Aha-Ilo was here. He attacked my mother. Did you know I have a brother?”

“Does it surprise you to learn your mother would take other lovers after your father?”

“I guess it shouldn’t.” She shook her head. Really, she should have been more surprised her mother didn’t have a half dozen other children already. But that wasn’t the reason she’d climbed back up here. “I think my father left something behind. There was a … presence, out in the night. Like a … a disruption in the world, an anger seething in the shadows.”

Fire-Keeper’s face remained unreadable, save perhaps for a spark of curiosity in his eyes. But curiosity about the subject, or about her grasp of it? He watched her as though waiting for her to say more. The latter, then. Another test of her knowledge.

She folded her arms and glared at the kahuna. Considering she felt like she’d spent the night in Lua-O-Milu, she was in no mood for tests. “Just tell me.”

“The passions of a moment can cloud perceptions, make it hard to consider all possibilities. Hard to think clearly when the loudest sound you hear is the pounding of your own heart.”

At that, Pele shook a flaming fist at him in mock threat. Sadly, he didn’t even flinch.

“It felt like there was a presence …” he prompted.

So either there was one, or she had conjured up her fears out of her own mind. Pacing, she considered that. She might be able to attribute the sensations, even the oddly swaying trees, to nerves in the dark, but the eyeless bird was another matter. She hadn’t imagined that sickening sight. With a sigh she sat down in front of the kahuna and recounted the experience.

Fire-Keeper didn’t move during her telling, kept his hands on his knees until she had finished.

“So?” she asked, at last.

“What do you think?”

She threw up her hands. If she already knew what to think she wouldn’t have climbed back up here. “An angry spirit? A ghost … oh. A Nightmarcher, perhaps?” The most feared ghosts across Sawaiki were said to be born from souls not properly sent away by kahuna, consumed by their rage. A ghost lingering on the edge of the human world would eventually become either an aumakua—a protective ancestor—or something worse. Lose itself in its anger and pain.

There were stories, of course. Fire-Keeper himself had recounted tales of the angry dead, haunting the living forever in some twisted attempt to share their anguish. But the thought of actually finding such a dark, angry ghost … even kahuna would have feared that. And still, she had heard rumors of Nightmarchers on the Valley Isle. Given the stories of mass death across the water, she believed it.

Fire-Keeper, however, looked more concerned than afraid. “It’s possible. But the spirit hasn’t killed anything but a bird—as far as we know. That tells me its journey to becoming a Nightmarcher might not be complete.”

“There’s already a kahuna in this settlement. Shouldn’t he have sent the spirit away?”

“The rituals don’t always work, Pele. Sometimes if a ghost is angry enough, bound by strong enough emotion, it will remain. There are never any guarantees when you try to apply knowledge to worlds beyond our own. Besides which, the ghost may have simply wandered into this place, or been brought by your father. The kahuna can only send the recently deceased. If this is a ghost, it has already missed—or refused—its chance to cross to the Ghost World and leave the Earth behind.”

“So what do I do? How do I kill the damn thing?”

“You can’t. It’s already dead. Maybe you could send it on its way to whatever lies beyond. If you could find a way to sever the ties it feels here.”

Pele groaned and rubbed her eyes. They burned from lack of sleep. She was too tired for this. “If my father sent that ghost here, maybe he can call it away.”

“A bound spirit? Yes, maybe. We do not have enough information to say for certain.”

“I need a few hours’ sleep. Wake me later and I’ll go after Ku-Aha-Ilo. Do you know where he went from here?”

Fire-Keeper nodded. “I found some tracks leading into the wilds. His, most likely.” He frowned. “You’re going to confront him directly?”

She nodded. It was the only plan she had at the moment.

The kahuna sighed. “There are legends, Pele. Old, old stories about him. Maybe the stories don’t all talk about the same man—”

“What stories?”

“A long time ago, there was a great warrior, a disciple of Kū. He defeated all challengers in single combat. And each foe he overcame, he feasted on the man’s flesh, drank his blood. In so doing, this warrior absorbed vast amounts of mana. He wandered the archipelago searching for stronger and stronger opponents. Until, at last, no one would accept his challenge.

“And then the warrior began to challenge the inhuman denizens of the world. He killed and feasted upon nanaue, mer, menehune. And in so doing, he learned of their secret Arts. Infused with the mana of a thousand victims, he kept himself young for centuries, becoming like a living Nightmarcher.”

“So you think Ku-Aha-Ilo is the warrior in the story? That he’s lived for centuries?”

Fire-Keeper shrugged. “Immortality might do strange things to a man’s mind. If it were true.”

Pele shook her head. The embers of a fire the kahuna must have built in the night had dwindled. Pele wakened them with a wave of her hand, then curled up next to the flames.

The truth was, it didn’t matter who Ku-Aha-Ilo really was or where his powers came from. Maybe he was born a demon, maybe he had made himself one. All that mattered was forcing him to call off the literal Nightmarcher he had unleashed.

* * *

It felt like she had only shut her eyes when Fire-Keeper shook her awake. By the look of the sun, though, he had given her a few hours’ rest. Mumbling under her breath, she rose and excused herself to take care of basic necessities.

A cliff ran along a fair part of the north shore. From here, Pele could see a few of the other islands. She had never left the Big Isle, maybe never would. It was a hefty tabu for a Princess to intrude on another’s domain, after all. But she liked to imagine herself walking, unknown, among the other islands. There, perhaps, she might stroll without a disguise and still not have people fall at her feet, beg her mercy.

They feared her for the very thing that made her great—her status as a Princess. Were all Princesses so feared by their own people? Fire was the purest force, the preserving force. It lit the darkness and warded against threats in the night. But it could also burn the living, and she had done so too often without intending it.

Now though, for once, she had a reason to want to burn a man. Ku-Aha-Ilo had crossed a line from which there was no turning back. Maybe he had done so long ago and she had been blind to it. Or had turned a blind eye to it. Of course she had known he was a monster—it was the very purpose of her sojourn across the island, trying to help his victims. But now … now he had hurt her own family, and for no reason other than pure spite.

And so, she would introduce him to real, true rage. The rage of a volcano unleashed, a fury mankind could not begin to fathom. She needed only find him.

Fire-Keeper had not tried to dissuade her in her course. She had thought he might, but he accepted.

As she rose, something on the sea caught her eye. In the distance, a great sailing vessel approached, larger than any outrigger canoe she had ever seen. Pele frowned. A few days before, she had walked among another village—disguised, of course. The locals had spoken of the goings on at the Valley Isle last week, how disaster had befallen there, culminating in—if tales were true—an attack by a taniwha. The timing matched up with reports of great waves crashing against the shores here. The Sea Princess, Namaka, had brought the wrath of the Ghost World upon her island, probably by violating kapu. And all the chaos was heralded by the arrival of such a ship from somewhere far beyond Sawaiki.

And now that vessel headed here, coming to her island, to the people who depended on her for protection. Her people feared her and she hated that, though she had given them reason to fear. As had Ku-Aha-Ilo. Her father had wrought destruction and terror across the Big Isle for generations. All that would now to change. Pele would become a protector, a guardian men and women turned to.

If those foreign ghostfuckers thought they could land here, spread their ill fortune on the Big Isle, they had a surprise coming to them. Between Ku-Aha-Ilo and this angry spirit, Pele had enough problems to clean up. She had no time to deal with cursed foreigners on top of everything else.

She knelt on the cliff and pushed her hands hard against the rocky soil. Most people thought flame was an instant thing, burning for a moment and then gone. But flame was eternal, it was life, running through the world. Beneath the land and beneath the sea, always waiting to touch the sky. To be free. Pele’s arms shook as she poured mana deep into the island, letting her soul wrap itself into lava tubes running out into the ocean. The trembling spread to encompass her chest, her neck, her head. Her eyes heated first, followed by a flush in her face, a fever that would have consumed a mortal in an instant. Not her. Not the Flame Princess. Her hair burst into flame, writhing in it, yet never burning away. Lava pooled up through the ground, bubbling around her fingers and she gasped at the fabulous, all-consuming heat rushing through her. As she opened her mouth, a cloud of sulfuric vapors escaped, spewing forth toxins from deep within the belly of the Earth.

Down.

Farther out. The island shook, mirroring her own rising anger, much as she tried to direct it to the undersea vents. And then, all at once, the seabed exploded in a torrent of ash rapidly cooling into rock. The eruption ripped through the trench separating the islands, spewing a cloud of steam and volcanic debris into the air just before the ship.

Pele could not see the men or women on that ship. But she saw it veer suddenly, violently listing to one side. An instant later, flames spread along its sails.

The foreigners would be stopped. And, with any luck, Ku-Aha-Ilo had seen the eruption. She wanted him to know she was coming for him. It was his turn to know fear.

Pele smiled.

6

The disturbance in the sea hit Namaka like a physical blow, made her lose her footing as she climbed the steep, green-covered mountains that rose just beyond the shore’s edge. Her ankle twisted and she tumbled downward four paces before smacking her shoulder on a tree that arrested her fall. For a moment she lay there, dazed, uncertain what was happening. The waters had been so clear today, calm and blue as the sky, belying the turmoil raging in nearby Hiyoya.

But this … a boiling rose beneath the surface, a trembling that shot through her awareness as violently as one of Pasikole’s cannons. And it still continued. A gut-wrenching writhing of the ocean floor that made the pain in her shoulder seem a mere annoyance.

Using the tree as leverage, Namaka pushed herself up and started back for the beach. A sudden, violent eruption from the seafloor sent her stumbling back to the ground—not just from the quake on the island, but from a shaking in her soul. An undersea volcano had erupted.

“Damn it.” Namaka grabbed the tree again and pulled herself up through its branches. Climbing offered her a fresh reminder of the pain in her shoulder, but she had to see with her own eyes. Finally she broke through the jungle canopy, dangling over the mountain at an angle so she could catch a glimpse of the ocean. Far out, waves tossed a ship to and fro, its sails aflame. The once-calm ocean had become as turbulent as though a typhoon had swept in.

Pasikole …

What was the captain even doing here? He should have stayed on the Valley Isle. Or maybe he should have left Sawaiki completely, though part of her would still be sad to see him go. Namaka frowned. Those flames would soon swallow his ship. And then Pasikole, his crew, all those people would feed the deep. Some, perhaps, would drown and give their bodies to mer spirits. Give them or have them taken.

Either way, she had to help.

Using her good arm to hang off the tree, she reached her other toward the ship, calling to the sea. Precise control at such an extreme distance likely exceeded even her ability. She grunted, forcing her will upon the waves, pounding them into submission, maybe enough that Pasikole could regain control of his ship. Which would do no good with those sails on fire.

Damn it. She would to have to extinguish those flames for the ship to have any chance. Namaka blew out a long breath, letting mana flow from her and into the sea. Once, having consumed her beloved dragon’s heart, she’d held so much mana she might have controlled the sea with precision even at such a distance. But she had burned through that font of energy to defeat the taniwha and now she had only herself to call upon. Finesse was not an option.

Namaka jerked her palm forward, pushing the water out from underneath the ship. The vessel dropped several paces, lurching to one side as it fell. Immediately she yanked her fist back inward, calling the sea back with it. The undertow she’d created rose up into a massive swell that swept right over the ship, blocking her view of it.

That would have extinguished the flames, for certain. Extinguished fires and quite likely a number of lives. The wave continued, hurtling the ship toward the shore. Maybe that was a small blessing. There was no way Pasikole’s crew was in control at the moment, not after what she had just done. But if the ship made the shallows, the crew would have a chance.

From this distance, she could do nor more for them.

She hung there, watching the ship rush toward the shore until, finally, it breached on the shallows. Should she go to them? She could climb down the mountain and swim there, check to see if everyone—if Pasikole—had survived. Namaka grimaced. Go save the foreigners and let more time pass for her own people, let the disease worsen. And then she’d have to start her climb once again, once again head toward the center of this massive island.

There was just no time. She had to find this Place of Darkness and make it back to the Valley Isle. Every moment she delayed brought her mother, brought all the villagers, that much closer to passing into the Ghost World. And really, that meant she had no choice.

She had to press on.

7

“Brace for impact!” Pasikole shouted a moment before the ship scraped along the seafloor.

Kamapua’a had no idea what he was talking about until that impact flung him off his feet, over the rail, and into the open air. For an instant he flew—a flying pig!—then he hit the sea and splashed down hard enough to actually touch the bottom. He kicked off the sand and swam upward, bursting through the surface to see the crew slump to the deck.

Lazy shitters looking all tired. Shit, that was about the most fun he’d had all morning. If anyone had asked, he’d have been more than happy enough to try it again. The looks on Pasikole’s and Inemes’s faces made it seem unlikely they’d go for it. Shame. He swam over to the shore, then waved to the captain.

After a few moments, the foreigners lowered a boat and began to row ashore. Kam shook the water from himself, stripped off his skirt and wrung it out, then replaced it while Pasikole and Inemes and a few others came ashore.

Pasikole approached, clutching one of his arms to his chest. As he drew near, the reason became obvious. His skin was raw, red—burned from the fires. The captain must have been trying to put out the flames along the sails. Lots of the crew had tried. Kam would guess Namaka was the one who succeeded, though.

“That hurt?” he asked. “Ka Moho’s stinky farts, that looks like it hurts!”

The captain favored him with a withering gaze. Which didn’t work at all, because nothing withered a wereboar. He was mighty.

Kam shrugged instead and pointed up the beach. “I think there’s a village that way.” It had been years since he’d been to the Big Isle. Not since Kamalo had left him with Mo-O-Inanea. Kāne rest the poor dragon’s soul. She had begged Kam to kill her, to cut out her heart. And he’d done it. He’d done everything she asked of him. He never did what others wanted, had figured kapu was a silly set of rules for other people. Except that one time. That time, he’d swallowed his pride and done his duty. And damn had it eaten away at him since then.

Had he done the right thing, then? It wasn’t a question he had often bothered with. He rarely gave a pig shit what the right thing was. Killing his dragon had let Namaka destroy the taniwha, that was true. And Mo-O had wanted him to do it. Did that make him a hero? He hadn’t felt like one.

Kam shook himself, then cleared his throat. Silly boar, getting all caught up like that. “We should try to make it there before dark. I mean, I can see in the dark, but you can’t. Mortal.”

“I have a hard time telling when you are in earnest.”

“Earnest?” Kam shrugged. “Never been there, far as I know. But I think I’ve been to that village. Come on.”

He led the way, not bothering to look back to see if Pasikole and his crew followed.

8

The foreign ship had washed up onshore, saved by a rogue wave that could only have come from a Princess of Sea. Here, on Pele’s island. It made no sense. A Princess always remained on her own island, always had to remain there to protect her people from raiders and other threats. That was the gulf that forever separated them from one another. That, and the unbreakable tabu against such trespasses. According to the legends told by kahuna like Fire-Keeper, the first Princesses had been sisters, children of the war god Kū.

And even her real sister—once her nature as another Princess was discovered—was forced from Pele’s side. They shared the same father, a kupua who had made his way among the islands, spreading his seed and caring nothing for how it would grow. Almost nothing—for Ku-Aha-Ilo had at least bothered to dump Pele’s half-sister Hiiaka at her and Fire-Keeper’s feet. Perhaps the only good thing he had ever done, and he had done it with no explanation. Hiiaka, a child barely old enough to walk, and Pele herself had only been thirteen. And still they were family, at least for a few years. Until Fire-Keeper realized Hiiaka herself was a Princess, bound to her own birth island.

Pele huffed. If another Princess dared come to the Big Isle, she would find it well-guarded. Oh, Pele had heard the stories of this new Princess of Sea. How her careless use of power had brought the wrath of Hiyoya down on her people, how her island was now dying of plague as the aumakuas turned their backs on their descendants, perhaps aghast at the arrogance or presumption of their Princess. Namaka was as cursed as the foreigners, and none of them belonged on the Big Isle.

She was not going to allow that curse to spread here. For once, it would serve her purpose to walk openly among the people of her island, to let them see her face. See her anger. How dare this Namaka tread upon her island, breaking all tabus, asking neither permission nor blessing of its Princess?

And, if rumors were to be believed, Namaka might have somehow become a mermaid. That sounded preposterous, of course, but if even half the stories about the Sea Princess were true, she was a blight on Sawaiki.

She needed to find Ku-Aha-Ilo, of course, but she had to deal with Namaka first, before she brought more chaos here. Too many duties pulled her in too many directions. The kupua, the ghost, the foreigners, and now this Princess. She shook her head in frustration.

* * *

The ground rumbled beneath her feet as Pele trod down the mountain, toward Puako Village and the crashed ship. With considerable effort, she forced her arms to her sides, forced herself to release the tension welling within her. Fire-Keeper had taught her that, had showed her how to calm herself by seeking a quiet deep within the corners of her own mind. And when she failed—the world burned.

That, of course, was why she lived on Mount Kilauea. There, in the crater of the most violent volcano in all Sawaiki, she could let her emotions loose. Let them rip to the surface, bringing with them the fires of creation, the burning heart of the Earth. It was through those fires that new earth was born, new land created from molten stone. Once, in a fit of mindless rage after Fire-Keeper had taken Hiiaka away, she had screamed at Kū for abandoning his daughters as her own father had done. Had cursed the gods and the aumakuas. Kilauea had seethed with her fury, erupted with it, darkening the evening sky and blanketing its slopes in waves of lava.

The whole island had trembled before the anger of a young woman as one more family was taken from her. The lava didn’t burn Pele, of course, although Fire-Keeper had warned her not to let herself get buried in it. More than one Flame Princess had suffocated, trapped beneath tons of molten rock.

That day, all of Sawaiki must have seen the explosion. Fire-Keeper, even over thirty leagues away on the Pineapple Isle—would have seen the eruption, felt its effects. And still he said nothing of it on his return. Maybe the old kahuna understood, perhaps better than her real father ever had. Instead, he had merely encouraged her to join him in further meditation. Pele did not like meditation. All that sitting around and thinking about not thinking was torturous.

“I felt better,” she had blurted. “After the eruption.”

He shrugged. “You kept your anger inside so long and so bitterly it had to find release somehow, and through it came a measure of catharsis. But there are other, less destructive ways to deal with your emotions. To release them before they boil and writhe beneath your skin.”

It would have been easy to dismiss his words. She had so wanted to do so back then. How could anyone understand the pain, the coiling, seething anger trying to consume a Princess? He was, however, one of those rare kahuna with the ability to harness his mana, to turn it into something real. Not like hers, of course. Fire-Keeper had earned his name for his ability to control flame, but he could never match the scale of Pele’s powers. Besides which, he was calm, and, more importantly, calming, endlessly patient with her. All the things Ku-Aha-Ilo ought to have been.

It had taken her many years before she was in control enough to attempt her journey across the Big Isle. And now, everywhere she went she found more victims of her father’s cruelty. But she had also found her mother, found her brother. Found, despite all her father had taken from her, she still had family.

Pele shook herself. She was too easily prone to such brooding and it never brought her anything but trouble. At the moment, she had a more immediate task. And for once, her power might be used to protect, to save.

Fire-Keeper met her halfway down the path to Puako Village. “You shouldn’t have attacked the ship.”

She waved him away. She had no choice. She couldn’t allow any more threats on this island—Ku-Aha-Ilo was enough of a problem without Namaka and her foreign friends.

“Follow his tracks and see if it really is him.” She didn’t need to explain who she meant. “Just don’t let him see you.”

A very slight frown creased his brow. “Is that a command, Princess?”

Now it was her turn to frown. “Please just help me, all right? That ship crashed far too close to Puako. I have to go down there and see to them.”

“I will always help you, Pele. But don’t let your anger control you. Those people might not be your enemy.”

She shook her head. Maybe not. But if they brought their curses with them the aumakuas would be displeased. She could not risk the disasters that might follow.

9

The sun was setting by the time they reached the village. Although it featured several piers that served as launching points for canoes, the majority of the village was farther inland, just beyond a thin grove of koa trees. Place seemed just familiar enough to Kam he figured he’d been here before. Unless there was another village similar to this one. Which could be.

Either way, this village was probably near enough to the Valley Isle to have heard of Pasikole and his crew. All good things, he was pretty sure.

“Aloha,” he said as a pair of girls approached. Each lifted their hands to their mouths in a gesture of greeting. They wore headbands and bracelets made of leaves. Kam liked leaves. Reminded him of the jungle. The boar was most at home in a jungle. Or in a woman. So jungle women were twice as good. He was pretty certain he’d forgotten whatever else he intended to ask the locals.

Fortunately, Pasikole spoke. He was good at that. “Aloha. Our ship was damaged and our people injured. Can you help us?”

The two girls glanced at one another, then the one in the lead nodded and motioned for them to follow. Kam trotted right behind her, Pasikole and a dozen of his crew in tow.

The girls led them toward what had to be the chief’s hut. It was the biggest, after all. As was the man standing in front of it. He had a belly that made him look like he’d swallowed a boar whole. He wore a feather cloak and waved a smoking bush around like he thought he was a kahuna, watching them with his nasty little eyes. Shit. It wasn’t like Kam planned to break any tabus. Well, sometimes he planned it, but most times it just happened. Someone made a stupid rule and Kam forgot to follow it. Or didn’t like the rule because it wasn’t fun. Sometimes people tried to make fun itself tabu. Tabus were stupid.

“Aloha, Chief!” Kam shouted. “I’m Kamapua’a of the Valley Isle. These are my followers Pasikole and Inemes and, uh … the others don’t have names.”

“Of course they have names,” Pasikole said. “This is—”

“Sure, fine,” Kam said. “How about a feast, Chief …?”

“Chief Tangaloa,” the man said. Stupid, nasty, narrowed eyes. What did he have to be suspicious of? All Kam had asked for was a feast. Shit, good thing he hadn’t asked for a whole luau. They should throw him one though. Kam was mighty. Mighty boars deserved luaus. “Welcome to the Big Isle.” The chief waved the stupid smoking branch again.

“Our ship was damaged by an undersea volcano,” Pasikole said. “Could I prevail on your people to assist in repairs? I’d be happy to grant you boons. We have gunpowder, liquor—”

“You’ve got more of that shit?” Kam demanded. The foreign liquid burned like fire and made the boar in his soul damn happy, ready to romp, rut, and run.

“Not for you, Kam. Not after last time.”

Kam frowned. What in Lua-O-Milu was the foreigner even talking about? Did he object to Kam dancing the hula on his ship? Or was it because Kam had done so naked? Stupid foreigners were so uptight about that. Like not wearing clothes was some kind of tabu for them. They all needed a good rut or two to get over themselves.

“Where is she?” a woman’s voice demanded. The sound silenced everyone, crew and villager alike, as all spun to look at the speaker. The woman was sleek, her black, red-tinged hair flowing like a wild river about her shoulders. She was darker than a typical Sawaikian, tall and poised, walking with the absolute command one might expect of a kahuna.

Except she couldn’t be a kahuna since she was a girl. Princess? Kam liked Princesses. One was his best friend and another his mother. So far that set him up with a pretty good record with them. He should probably try to take the other five to bed.

The locals fell to their knees before the newcomer. Yup. Had to be a Princess.

“Princess Pele,” Chief Tangaloa said, waving his stick of stupid in her general direction.

Pasikole and his crew bowed to her as well.

Kam opened his mouth to speak, but Pele beat him to it.

“Where is she?” she repeated, her voice thick with luscious venom. Someone was in the shit.

“Princess?” Tangaloa asked.

“Where is the other Princess?”

Other … Oh. So Namaka was in the shit then. That wasn’t going to work. “Uh, aloha!” He grinned when Pele turned to him. By the aumakuas she was gorgeous. “I don’t actually know where Namaka is right now. But trust me, she’s a nice girl. Always trying to help other people and follow kapu and uh … and shit. But forget about her. I just want to say, Princess, I love you.”

Pele’s face screwed up in what he chose to take as a half smile, then she strode toward him, eyes darkening. With each step, a tendril of smoke began to waft off her shoulders. Then all at once, her hair burst into flame. Her eyes were lit by it, unearthly in their furious beauty.

As she drew near he had to fall back a step from the incredible heat surging off her body.

“Who do you think you are?” she demanded.

“Well, uh … I think I’m Kamapua’a. You know? Father of your future children. Fulfiller of your secret passions. Also, lots of fun at a luau. Even without stupid foreign liquors.”

For a moment she stood there, mouth agape. Sometimes he had that effect on people. Then she placed both palms on his chest and shoved him. Her strength was nothing compared to his, but still he fell back, his bare chest scorched where she had touched him. The pain didn’t end with her contact and he looked down to see her handprints, fingers and all, seared into his chest like great red welts.

Well, shit.

Pele spun on Pasikole, not giving Kam another look. “Reveal her location to me or a few burns will be the least of your worries.”

Pasikole folded his arms over his chest and stared at her with admirable defiance. Defiance was always admirable, after all. “I don’t know. She came looking for a cure to the plague on the Valley Isle. I assume she went inland. And you—you’re the one who attacked my ship, aren’t you?”

Pele flexed her fingers once, then a flame leapt from her palm, surging up from her skin. It was no larger than a torch fire, but it sat there in her hand, not burning her any more than the fire in her hair did. Glorious. “If I had attacked your ship, you, and it, would be cinders. You failed to take my warning not to come here, foreigner. We want nothing of the disaster that follows in your wake. We have seen what happens when the aumakuas are displeased. Be gone before you make me—or them—truly angry. Do you know what happens when I get angry?”

A whimper escaped the chief and, when Kam looked about the village, every eye was turned down to the sand. Stupid villagers were afraid to even look at their own Princess. Some crazy shit was going on in this place.

“I’ve seen what happens when Namaka gets angry,” Pasikole said. “Perhaps you should calm down before you go looking for her.”

“Get off my island!” Pele snapped and spun around, a trail of embers following in her wake.

“Wait!” Kam called. “Will you marry me?”

The Princess froze in place for an instant, jerked her shoulders down, and stormed off into the village without looking back at him.

Yeah. He was going to have so much sex with her. Musicians would write songs about them. The Love of Pele and Kamapua’a. It would be a classic played at wedding feasts for centuries. He could hear it now, played on a pahu drum—bumpa-bumpa-boooom!

“We have to warn Namaka,” Pasikole said.

Kam shrugged. “Fish Girl can take care of herself. She killed the damn taniwha.” So Pasikole had helped with that. Whatever. “Anyway, I thought you wanted to fix your ship.”

The captain sighed then, and nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s just …”

Yup—Kam knew what it was to fall for a Princess now. Like being in love with a goddess. Nothing else mattered. He stared wistfully in the direction Pele had gone.

“You cannot possibly like that woman,” Pasikole said.

“I can! I do.” He sighed.

“The Princess has commanded you be gone from this island,” Tangaloa said.

Pasikole turned back to the chief. “I can’t do that until my ship is repaired. It won’t sail. Will you help us or not?”

The chief narrowed his eyes like someone was playing a trick on him, then finally nodded.

* * *

Kam had spent the better part of this stupid day helping the locals cut down koa trees to repair Pasikole’s stupid ship. Again. Shitting foreigner seemed to break his stuff every time there was a tsunami, volcano, typhoon, or overloud fart. So instead of tracking down Namaka and saving Hamoa Village from sickness, he was busy doing this shit. Princesses had all the shitting fun.

With a huff, he hefted a plank between his shoulders, making certain the locals got a chance to ogle his bulging muscles. A boar needed to look good, after all. In fact, one of the local girls didn’t seem to be watching. That yellow-dressed beauty was going to miss his whole show.

“Aaaaloha!” he bellowed loudly enough to send a flight of birds scattering away from the trees. Wide-eyed, the girl turned to watch him. As did everyone else. “Just wanted to make sure everyone knows—I’m mighty!” For emphasis, he lifted the plank above his head with one hand.

The villagers stared at him. Clearly awed with his incorrigible mightiness. He winked at the girl. “See you at the next luau, my little pineapple.”

“Kamapua’a,” Inemes called to him.

So the foreign first mate finally knew his name. That was called progress. He tossed the plank aside, ignoring the shouts of crewmen as he disrupted their work, then stomped over toward her.

“Did you seriously just call that girl your ‘pineapple’?”

“Well, yeah. I mean she’s pretty. And yellow. And tasty. Probably tasty. Like a … like a pineapple.”

Inemes shook her head. “You sound like an idiot.”

“Sounds can be deceiving. Sometimes I even deceive myself. Once, I tricked myself into thinking I was stupid. Then I realized I was sleeping. So I farted.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “The captain wants to see you right away.”

Kam shrugged and motioned for her to lead the way. “Did you see my muscles?” he asked while they walked.

“Yes.”

“Impressive, right?”

“A few hours ago you were in love with the local Princess. What happened? Now you want to impress me?”

Kam grinned, though she didn’t look back to see it. “I always wanted to impress you, darling. And shit, Pele is glorious. I’m going to marry her one day. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day. We’re going to have lovely piglets together.”

The woman scoffed. “And you think that Princess wants piglets?”

What a stupid question. Who didn’t want piglets? “I get it, I get it. Now you’re jealous. But I’m not married yet. So if you really want a good romp, we can go out in the jungle tonight. Or a midnight surf if that’s your thing. Rutting on a surfboard takes practice, but it can be done.”

Her shoulders suddenly tensed. Had he offended her? That happened every once in a while. People taking offense at his words for no obvious reason. People were weird. Always worrying about things you’re not supposed to say out loud and other such pig shit. Whole world would be better if everyone just admitted what they were thinking in the first place. If you wanted to sleep with someone you ought to be able to just say so. All this dancing about and ritual and courting all so you could pretend you weren’t going to do what came natural in the first place. Stupid human pig shit.

“Let me ask you something,” he said just before they reached the Startracer. “You ever think all this tabu stuff about courting and ‘do shit proper’ and so forth … ever think it’s only so you can make yourself feel better when you finally get a mate? Like you accomplished some great feat? Except, it only became a great feat because you made it ten times harder than it had to be. Ever see wild boars mate? Beforehand, what, you think he brings his sow flowers and sings to her and spends half a month wooing and shit?”

“That’s what makes people better than boars.”

“Well now, that’s just arrogant. Thinking you’re better than other people.” Stupid foreign girl. Nothing wrong with a boar. They were primal. Boars said what they really felt. Said it with feeling and tusks. He stepped around the woman and trotted over to where Pasikole stood near his ship having another fit.

“See now!” Kam demanded when he approached. “See, this is my point. If you and Namaka had just done the horizontal hula when you both wanted to, you wouldn’t be fretting over her now. Nobody shitting listens to me.”

Pasikole spun on him, an instant of confusion washed away as his face reddened in anger. “Those villagers stole one of my cutters.”

“Well maybe they really wanted one. What’s a cutter?”

“The boats! The boats we use to travel ashore when the Startracer is anchored farther out. With the ship run aground, they just swam over and stole one while we were busy trying to repair the sails.”

Kam shrugged. “Those big ass outriggers? Shit captain, I can build you a better canoe than that.”

Pasikole glowered at him before shaking his head. “Sails loosed, cutters are faster than most outriggers. I want my boat back, Kam. Tell me you can catch their scents, follow the thieves.”

Now it was Kam’s turn to frown. Could he track men by their scent? He hadn’t really practiced that. Women sometimes, sure. But men? Eh. Besides why was one shitting canoe such a big deal anyway? Oh. This was another one of those positioning things—men trying to prove they were important by demanding respect. That local chief had dishonored Pasikole with his behavior. Or maybe the foreign captain actually felt like he truly needed the boats. He did only have two of them. Kam only had two balls, and he liked both of those. Well, shit. If the villagers had stolen one of his balls, he’d be mad as a shitting boar.

Truth was, Kam liked Pasikole. The foreign captain treated him more like a man than a scary kupua, and that counted. He was almost a friend. More or less. And if he wanted Kam to track down a boat and thump a few thieves, that sounded like fun. Not as fun as playing hero with Namaka, but fun.

He tapped his nose. “Moon will be up soon. Once it is, I can take boar form and this here snout becomes a force to be reckoned with. Just try to keep up.” With that, he trotted off to try to catch the thieves’ scents.

* * *

For hours he’d chased after the damn boat thieves. With the moon up—almost full!—Kam had taken boar form and run along the riverbanks, leaving Pasikole and the half dozen men he’d brought far behind. The thieves sailed the cutter in and out of riverways, breaking out into the ocean now and then. Made it hard to keep their scents straight. Shitters.

“Kamapua’a!” Pasikole shouted from some distance behind.

Kam snorted. Slow ass humans running around on two legs. Huffing, he forced the spirit inside him down, forced himself back to human form.

When Pasikole drew near he tossed Kam the skirt he’d discarded earlier. Stupid foreigners, always afraid of their own bodies. Afraid of letting others see them without clothes. Like that shit mattered.

“We’ve been here before,” Pasikole said, once Kam had donned the skirt.

Kam looked around. He stood on black rocks near the sea, well beyond Puako Village. In the moonlight, the shallows actually looked green, vibrant like the jungles just beyond. Ahead of them rose a steep slope, carved in rough tiers by the ceaseless winds of Paka’a and his calabash. Yeah. Kam had seen this place before. He scratched his beard. “So they’ve doubled back on their own trails.”

“Or you’re leading us in circles.”

Kam frowned. “I’m leading us in circles because they’re going in shitting circles.”

Pasikole spoke to his crew in his own language before turning back to Kam. “They’re wasting our time. Playing with us.”

That was fine. Kam loved games. Playing was a lot more fun than working. Huh. Was it fun in contrast to working? Would it still be as much fun to play, if he never worked? Or would the lack of contrast diminish his enjoyment? The only way to be certain was to stop working for a while—a few years maybe—and see if he got bored playing.

“So, uh, what do you want to do?” Please let it involve food or sex. Please let it involve food and sex.

Pasikole stared over the sea for a time, pretending to be lost in thought. Kam was pretty certain the man was just enjoying the moonlight. The moon was the best thing in the sky, after all.

“I don’t think those people would have acted without their chief’s knowledge.”

“Nope. Probably not without his blessing, in fact. Most people are always worried about doing things proper, following kapu. Eat this, don’t eat that. Be polite. Don’t hunt here. Don’t fart there. You can’t piss on someone just because you don’t like them. So many stupid tabus.”

“The Princess here—”

“Pele.” Kam spoke her name with reverence. That was just the only way to say it. Even the name sounded glorious. Pele. Fiery goddess of love.

“She dismissed us, disdained us. And after that, Chief Tangaloa must have decided we were no friends to his island.”

“Well you did bring diseases that might kill everyone on the Valley Isle.” Actually, that was a horrifying thought. Finding the boat suddenly sounded fairly stupid next to helping Namaka. He sure as Milu’s frozen tits didn’t want everyone he’d ever known to die.

Pasikole frowned and shut his eyes a moment, apparently actually hurt by Kam’s words. Suppose he should watch that. When he opened his eyes he turned back to Kam. “Maybe that’s all true. Pele seems to think this the result of your gods turning on you.”

“Uh. Isn’t that where disease comes from?”

Pasikole shook his head. “Maybe your aumakuas can ward off illness. I can’t speak to that. But they weren’t the cause of it. Either way, Tangaloa made a serious error if he thinks he can steal from me.”

“What are you going to do?”

“We’ll snatch him before the sun comes up and force the natives to give up the boat in exchange for their chief. By then, Inemes should have the sails repaired and we can get off this cursed island.”

Kam scratched his beard again. “Huh. What about Namaka?”

“She doesn’t need our help—she never did. And either way, she has more than a day’s head start on us.”

Well that was stupid. Of course Namaka needed his help. She always needed him. Just because she was a Princess and crazy powerful and now a mermaid, too, she was still his best friend. Why would he let her face all this shit on her own? But Pasikole was a friend, too. And without Kam’s help, he was gonna land himself in a big pile of pig shit.

“I think kidnapping the chief might be tabu.”

“That has never stopped you before.”

Nope. Never had.

10

The foreign captain had known nothing useful, and Pele had no desire to remain near them. Especially not the bizarre, lust-addled warrior the man brought with him. She’d charred the fool and still he thought to pursue her. Imbecile.

Instead, she had returned to her family’s hut. Chief Tangaloa had offered to house her in his own great home, but she’d dismissed the idea immediately. She had to tend to her mother, her family, as best she was able.

She had no idea how to address the issue of the spirit just yet, but she wasn’t going to let it harm her mother or brother. Fire-Keeper had said it hadn’t killed any humans—yet. But given what the entity had done to the bird, maybe it was only a matter of time.

Nor could she go after Namaka until she learned where the Sea Princess had gone.

Her mother had drifted off into fitful sleep as the sun set, her brother sitting by her side. Pele now sat on the threshold, staring at the kapa cloth Milohai had hung over the door.

“You can’t break the curse, huh?” he asked, finally shattering the silence that had settled between them.

“Of course I can.” She tried to force as much bravado into her voice as possible. Her people needed to see her as confident, even haughty. Irrepressible and undefeatable. No matter how helpless she felt in the face of a foe without form. This enemy could not be burned, could not even be seen.

“Then why are you in here, instead of out there?”

Pele favored her brother with a withering gaze and he wiped his nose and looked away. “I’m watching over you.”

“I’m not a child.”

She turned back to the doorway. Outside, the wind was howling, agitated—or hungry. “I didn’t say you were.”

What play went on in the shadows obscured by the kapa? She could almost feel something moving out there, sending her skin crawling. No villager would be out in the night. As far as Pele knew, none of them had yet begun to whisper of Nightmarchers, but that was only a matter of time. They didn’t know what seeped into the village as the sun set, but they knew there was something out in the night. Something angry.

And in her awareness of that anger, it pounded at her temples, pulsed through the land. Milohai was right. She should be out there. Was she lying to herself? Thinking she was here to protect him, her mother, when the truth was she was hiding from a foe she didn’t understand and could not overcome?

“The kahuna said Mother will get better,” Milohai said.

Just trying to fill the silence? He was afraid, too, and her lack of action probably exacerbated his fear. “She will.” Pele rose, not looking back at her little brother. “It’s time.” Make it sound like going out had been her plan all along. Before she could think better of it, she hugged Milohai. Then she lifted the kapa and stepped around it.

Fog had drifted in with the night, creeping through the village and pooling in the spaces between houses. Clouds once again obscured the moon, so with the fog she could see only three or four paces ahead, if that.

“Where are you?” she whispered, edging away from the relative safety of the house. That safety was a facade, most likely. The local kahuna would keep praying, perhaps warding the houses. But if there was a Nightmarcher here, sooner or later it would find its way into a home. Invisible and intangible, it would hover above a sleeper, whispering of fear and damnation. Siphoning off bits of the victim’s life, its soul.

She shook her head, then lit a torch in her hand. What was she doing? Intentionally frightening herself by remembering every story she’d ever heard of Nightmarchers? Fire-Keeper had said the ghost probably had not become that. Not yet. But unless she found a way to send it off, it eventually would.

Passing through the fog was like wading through a nightmare, everything around her twisted, obscured. Seeming too far away. Like huts that should have been a few paces from her suddenly stood beyond reach, as if she herself had stepped into the Ghost World.

No insects chirped, but there was some sound on the edge of her hearing, something she couldn’t quite make out. She wasn’t certain whether that was worse than the oppressive silence from last night or not. It was like … whispers. Like men whispering far away, their words lost.

She turned slowly, using the torch to burn away fog as she passed. And still finding nothing. It wasn’t going to come to her, especially not with the fire lit. She knew that. A Nightmarcher was a spirit of the Dark. It would not easily cross into light, not even fire light.

Reluctantly, she closed her palm, snuffing out the fire. “All right, then.” Even her voice seemed like a whisper, stolen by the howling wind. Shivering, she spread her arms wide and turned about in the fog. “Here I am.”

Nothing.

Just the wind, the whispers. A scent maybe, coming in off the breeze, like the smell of fish left to rot in the sun. And the intense, ever-increasing thumping of her heart, threatening to climb up her gut and lodge itself in her throat.

Teeth clenched, she willed herself to calm. Shut her eyes for a moment, though the thought of being even more blind left her shaking. One breath, two, to steady herself, then she opened her eyes. Continued to turn.

From the corner of her eye, a shadow, a silhouette, seemed to pass through the fog. She spun to face it. Only the blanket of white, concealing fog. Had that looked like a man? Or was her mind playing tricks? Pele took a few steps in that direction, but nothing was there.

The sensation of a presence suffused the fog, though. Nothing to be seen, nor readily detected with any of her other senses. And yet … she felt someone, something there. Watching.

A scream echoed through the night. Brief, brutal, and all the more shocking for the stillness that had seized Puako. It had come from the beach. Pele hesitated, afraid to know what had made such a sound. She could still find her way back to her mother’s house.

Instead, she relit her torch and hurried down to the beach. Whatever had made that sound had been in agony.

She didn’t want to know. She had to know.

A form lay crumpled there, lying facedown in the sand. The slight form indicated a boy or maybe a woman. Pele knelt by the body and rolled it over. By its size, she’d have guessed a teenage boy, but his face had been so desiccated as to scrunch up with wrinkles befitting an ancient man in his final years. The boy’s eyes were so bloodshot they seemed almost red, and trails of blood wept from the corners.

“Fuck you,” she whispered into the darkness. This thing had killed a person now. A foreigner, by his clothes and pale skin. But still, it had killed a human being on her island.

Men’s voices shouted, and their forms ran in her direction. Pele rose, extinguishing her torch, and stepped back into the fog. Almost immediately more foreigners, bearing torches, rushed over to check the body. Cries of horror went up, followed by a rapid exchange in some foreign language.

A woman looked to be in charge. She could have passed for Sawaikian, though she wore foreign clothes. She pointed back down the beach, and the men withdrew. One of them stopped to grab the boy’s body, first making some kind of sign of warding before touching the corpse.

Pele watched them leave, uncertain what to do. They were not her people, and she had no comfort to offer. The truth was, she had no solace to offer anyone this night.

She had asked the local kahuna, and he too thought they must be cursed by the aumakuas. Maybe she should have killed them all, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She would give them the chance to leave in peace. A day, no more. Namaka, though, she had to leave immediately. The Sea Princess must be the source of all the chaos. Every moment she lingered here, things would surely worsen.

Still shaking, she stalked back toward the village. The darkness, the fog, seemed to well at her periphery, scattering whenever she looked too closely. It was out there, watching her, mocking her weakness. Perhaps even feeding off the fear it engendered. Some spirits were like that. If this one fed on fear, it would soon find a feast in this village.

The overwhelming sense of a presence approaching stalled her steps, and she spun to see a silhouette in the fog once again. Damn it. Damn this thing. She took a step toward it, casting alight both hands. This time, the shape did not scatter. Indeed, it moved toward her with obvious intent. Ready for another victim.

“I will burn you to ash,” she said.

“Pele?” the silhouette called from the shadows.

A moment later, Fire-Keeper strode into the small ring of light her torches radiated. His face was awash with concern, although she thought his eyes might have been slightly amused. Of course, it could have only been the way they reflected her torches. “Are you all right?”

“No.” No, she was not all right. “This village is haunted. My father is a monster. And another Princess is tromping around my island.”

“I know. I saw her tracks while I was out looking for Ku-Aha-Ilo. That’s what I came back to tell you.”

Pele drew nearer the kahuna, as if his mere presence might somehow scare away the angry spirit. “I don’t know what to do about the ghost—if that’s what this spirit even is. It killed a boy now. A foreigner.”

The kahuna scowled. “I thought I heard something.” He shook his head. “You need more information before you can do anything about the spirit.”

Damn it. Pele turned about, shaking her head. “Where do the Princess’s tracks lead?”

“I think she made camp in the caves in the cliffs.”

“And my … Ku-Aha-Ilo’s tracks?”

“They lead farther inland, into the valleys.”

The island’s interior was a vast wilderness of volcanoes, mountains, and valleys—all covered in jungle. She had trekked through it with Fire-Keeper, but navigating the wilds was never easy. She shook her head. She needed to find Ku-Aha-Ilo, get him to call off the spirit, assuming he had brought it in the first place. But Namaka was closer, easier to reach. And that could change quickly, once she broke camp.

Pele groaned. “I have to go after her now, while I know where she is. Try to watch over the village, protect them as best you can.”

“You’re going to leave in the night?”

“I have to. I can reach those caves by morning if I hurry.”

The kahuna nodded, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Be careful.”

She nodded. She was much more worried about the people left here in Puako Village. This spirit grew more aggressive with each passing night. She could only pray Fire-Keeper and the local kahuna might work together to protect the people.

11

A million stars lit the night sky. They reflected off the waters where he stared over them, leaning on the gunwale. It was so clear Pasikole could stare into the blackness of the heavens and imagine gods truly lived up there. Reality, what he learned from all his studies, however, told him deities were spirits living in a whole other reality. A place that was not a place, a realm that could sometimes be felt, but not seen by mortal eyes. And what did that make the stars? Astrologers—pretenders to the Art, by and large—sometimes claimed the stars guided the course of destiny. Pasikole tended to think they had misconstrued the meaning. He had spent years charting a course by them, cataloging the constellations and trying to make sense of them. The beauty of the heavens was immeasurable, but by the same token it forced one to gaze into the infinite and realize just how insignificant a man was. Even here, on Earth, they were plagued by beings older and wiser and crueler than humanity could imagine.

And among the constellations, the Pleiades were the most beautiful to him. Bright stars, almost seeming to guide his course.

He had returned to the Startracer to wait out the night, knowing he should rest, sleep. And knowing full well he wouldn’t do so. Only a few of the crew were awake so late—it had to be almost midnight—and they must have sensed his mood, for none spoke to him.

He’d come to Sawaiki with ill intent, true enough, but he’d told himself he was an explorer, a scientist. And when things had gone so awry, Pasikole had done all in his power to help Namaka right them. Even now, he’d come to the Big Isle in hopes of finding some mythical cure to illnesses he’d never intended to spread. Never even imagined it possible. His studies were broad, but they had not included medicine, and that gap in his education now haunted him.

Of course, he couldn’t allow these villagers to steal from him. The cutter was an essential part of the Startracer, necessary for any offshore or riverway explorations. Besides which, if he returned to the Royal Trade Society without it they’d take its value out of his hide. His entire crew would likely suffer docked pay at best, if not wind up blacklisted, unable to find more work.

Of course, even if he got the damn cutter back, return to the Society was … complex. While the Queen’s Council might have openly ruled the colonies, the he’e pulled the strings there. And he had to assume the he’e here would eventually send word to those at home of his betrayal. What option did it truly leave him? There was nowhere in the Worldsea the he’e could not find him. Besides, was he also to deny his entire crew the chance to return home? That was impossible. His choices had brought them enough harm, enough death, enough pain. He could not force them into unwilling exile as well. Perhaps if he took sole responsibility for all that had happened on the Valley Isle he could spare them retribution. Either way, his and his crew’s only chance for leniency was to keep the Society as much on their side as possible.

No, letting the locals keep the stolen boat bore no consideration.

He would have to return home and throw himself on the mercy of the Society and of Brine, the human emissary of the he’e on Pier City. Though the night was warm enough, a chill wracked him at the thought. He was likely going to his death, or worse, if the tales of the Art were true. Unless … unless he could find a third option.

But he was so close. Staring up at the stars, he was certain of it. Could the constellation really mean what he thought?

He jerked at a hand on his shoulder, turned to see Inemes looking up at him with undisguised concern.

“When did you get back?”

“Not long ago.”

His first mate removed her hand, as if suddenly uncomfortable at the gesture of intimacy. Once, they had been lovers. But that was so long ago, both of them so changed, it felt like a dream.

“You ever feel like we should have tried harder?” she asked. How like her, to know thoughts he refused to speak.

Pasikole offered a small smile, the most he could manage at the moment. They both knew the answer—it was too complicated, too hard. And the truth was, he’d been ready to make the same mistake with Namaka. She was young, vibrant, and entrancing. But Pasikole had seen too much, gone too far to live a normal life. He’d seen one brother drown, only to become possessed by a merman. Somewhere, at the bottom of the Worldsea, he had family that was no longer his own.

Knowledge was the only real weapon humanity had against the powers of this world and the worlds beyond. And the pursuit of those forgotten secrets, of all knowledge, cost him his ability to let go. In being so consumed by his passion, he left no room for true connection with another soul.

Or at least, he told himself that was why things didn’t work out with Inemes and would not have worked with Namaka.

“Pas … Thomas is dead.”

“What? What happened?”

Inemes shook her head. “I don’t know. We brought his body back. Something ravaged it.”

Pasikole’s stomach sank as she led him into the hold, where the boy’s body lay. They had wrapped him in a tarp, but now the crew gave the corpse a wide berth, watching it from the far sides of the hold as though they feared it would get up and bite them.

Palms sweaty, Pasikole pulled away the tarp to reveal the corpse. It looked as though all moisture, all life had been sucked out of it. Thomas’s skin was dry, flaking, his hair brittle. And his eyes! They were completely filled with blood. Pasikole dropped the tarp back over the boy. He’d been the youngest member of the crew, only fourteen. So eager for this, his first long voyage. Too young to be a soldier.

Pasikole felt sick, barely able to contain the surge of bile in his throat. “You have to burn the body.”

“What?” Inemes asked. “We’re going to commit him to the deep at sunrise.”

“Something foul did this to him. Maybe the locals used the Art, maybe … maybe something else. Either way, you need to have the men burn that corpse.” He pointed to two of the gawking crewmen. “Take him ashore and build a pyre. Immediately.” Lore sometimes spoke of spirits possessing corpses. They could not afford to risk such a thing.

His legs wobbled as he made his way back toward his cabin. Inemes followed.

He turned to her. “I have to get that cutter back.”

Inemes sighed, obviously not pleased that was the only answer he’d given her. “Even if we were to run, not go back to the Westlands …”

“I can’t deny the rest of the crew the chance to ever see their homes, their families, Inemes. So many have already died on this voyage. Look what’s happening here. Those who survived, we have to get them back to their loved ones.”

“What happened to mapping every island on the Worldsea? What happened to the relentless pursuit of forgotten lore?”

He shook his head. Maybe he should have listened. Others, many others, had warned him he might pay a steep price for his investigations. But he had been so certain. And boys like Thomas had paid the price. “Kamapua’a and I are going to kidnap the chief, force him to return the cutter. I need you to have the Startracer ready to make sail at dawn.”

She groaned. “Fine. I’ll wake the crew, get them back to work on repairs.” She turned to go.

“Inemes, wait. There’s something I want to show you. Come with me.”

* * *

Inemes had followed him back to his cabin and now stood leaning against the hatch, watching him dig through a footlocker. He knew it was in here somewhere. Life had been so chaotic over the past two weeks, he hadn’t had much chance to look, to be certain. But …

There. He found the scroll he needed. It was old—he’d been working on it for half his life—and crinkled as he unfurled it on the chart table. The paper was so long it spilled over the ends of the table and he had to shift it around to find the important bits.

His crew, men and women like poor Thomas, had fallen on this voyage. Deaths to scurvy on the journey here, to pirates, to tsunamis, he’e, a taniwha … and now some vile spirit or to the Art. Their deaths had to mean something. If not … if he returned home with nothing … He’d be worse than a failure.

On this scroll he’d been trying to chart the course of history and now it was covered in copious notes, half of which he’d crossed out and rewritten. Were his dates right? Were the events represented mere legend, or did they have basis in truth? Sometimes, he fantasized that understanding the Art would also allow him to divine the truth about the world’s history.

“Look,” he said, pointing to a spot on the chart. “Here. I feel fairly certain the Worldsea came about around two thousand two hundred years ago.”

His first mate pushed off the hatch and came to stand in front of the chart table, hands on hips. “Uh huh.”

“Now, before that, there was more land. A lot more.”

“Right. So you’ve said. And there used to be human masters of the Art and they evoked things they shouldn’t have and finally the world was flooded.”

He held up a finger to forestall any objection. She generally had more patience, but then they usually had these talks over afternoon tea, not in the middle of the night, not after viewing the corpse of a young man whose life had barely begun. But it was important, had been running around the back of his mind since he met Namaka. Only on meeting Pele, though, had the pieces truly snapped into place.

He pushed the scroll farther back, pointing to his earliest notes—conjectures, really. “I found a few stories, very few, about the time before even that. About gods that used to walk the Earth and rule mankind. Maybe that was how the world began, I don’t know. One of those stories called those gods titans. And they were wicked, and were eventually killed or—” he pointed to one note “—or possibly bound living in the underworld.”

Inemes spread her hands. “If you’re serious about getting underway at dawn, I have a lot of work to do.”

“Namaka told me her powers come from the god Kū. That he escaped from the underworld where their chief god, Kāne, had bound him. Escaped and sired seven daughters. Seven.” He paused for emphasis. “Seven Princesses. Now that number is interesting because of a legend from … Damn, where did I hear it?” He searched the scroll, careful not to further damage its delicate paper. “Here. The Pirate Nation. It was one of the legends of the titans, about a titan who had seven daughters. Atlas, they called him. And when the king of the gods sent him back to the underworld, those daughters became the stars in the sky. The Pleiades constellation, the Seven Sisters.”

Now, finally, his first mate arched an eyebrow and leaned in to examine the paper. “You’re saying … you think the pirate legend was about the Princesses of Sawaiki?”

“I think so. It would mean Kū was a local name for a titan, the one the pirates called Atlas. More than that, though, it means the legends about the glory days of mankind are true. Namaka, Pele, they’re living proof there was a time before the mer and the he’e ruled the world.”

“Fine. Sawaikian god, titan, what difference does it make?”

He sighed. Sometimes he forgot not everyone seemed to care about knowledge for its own sake. Inemes wanted a practical use for information. “Those girls, the Princesses, they have titan blood. What if …” He was almost afraid to say it. “What if we could use them to do more than give the Art back to mankind? What if they could actually kill the he’e god-king?”

He wouldn’t say the name aloud, couldn’t take the risk. Some legends claimed such powerful beings might be drawn by the sound of their name. Certainly Kanaloa had the power to spy upon events from afar. And he was the true power of the deep, the force wielding the world by puppet strings. If the god-king fell, mankind would truly have a chance to come back into its own.

Inemes shook her head, then placed a palm upon his cheek. “You’re dreaming. Focus on getting the cutter back. We need that. Whatever you want to do after that … we’ll talk about it later, all right?”

She was right, of course. He ought to rest, to let her work.

He ought to. But the thought left him too energized to consider anything else. It would be a long night.

Day III

12

Less than an hour before sunrise they stole into Tangaloa’s village. Pasikole had insisted on leading the way himself, taking the same six men he’d taken hunting for the cutter in the first place, as well as the wereboar. Kamapua’a was useful, at least when he could be directed to a task for more than a few moments.

In boar form, the kupua had gone to scout the village, check for guards, while Pasikole and his people waited around the back of one of the huts. His men shifted nervously, not speaking, but checking their pistols, making certain their sabers didn’t stick. Their anger, bubbling just beneath the surface … he could almost taste it. And it tasted so wrong.

Part of him wanted to shout at the locals, scream the truth at them. He was trying to help them, to help everyone. But his efforts had turned to ash. Ash, like the body of a boy he had just scattered over the sea.

Pasikole had allowed himself to be seduced by the promises the he’e offered him, secrets of the Art. And for those secrets he’d come here, intent on trading away Namaka. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d brought death to the Sawaikians.

And he had been so blind, never delving deeply enough to understand why the he’e wanted Namaka. They said she had a Gift, a power. He had thought they merely intended to deny that power to mankind. But it was more than that. The he’e were ancient, had quite likely understood the truth about the Princesses. Had known that those girls alone might pose a threat to them. Especially Namaka. They bore titan blood, he knew they did.

The boar trotted over toward him, then snorted.

“Does that mean we’re clear?” one of his crew asked.

Kam snorted again.

“Kam, watch our backs. The rest of you, with me,” Pasikole said, then crept toward Chief Tangaloa’s hut. He absolutely had to lead his people himself. They were too worked up as it was. If things here became heated, they might well draw those pistols. The villagers would be slaughtered. He could not allow that.

He had come here hoping to help humanity, not spill the blood of innocents. And he needed help from the Princesses.

With a last glance around, Pasikole slipped into the hut. The chief was already awake, his woman tying a grass skirt around his waist. Both turned to look at him with wide eyes.

Damn it.

Even without looking over his shoulder, Pasikole could feel pistols being drawn, violence permeating the air. Could the chief feel it as well? Pasikole watched the man’s eyes for an interminable moment. Yes. This was a man who understood.

“You need to come with me,” Pasikole said, extending a hand.

Tangaloa’s jaw was set and he hesitated, but only briefly, before taking Pasikole’s hand.

“Tangaloa, no!” his wife shouted. He forestalled her with his other hand.

Good. The chief understood what could happen here if he didn’t cooperate. Pasikole just had to get the cutter back, then these people could go about their lives. He’d find Namaka, find a way to defeat the he’e god-king.

He turned, taking in his people with a long glance, silently ordering them to put away those weapons. They did so, and he led Tangaloa through the village and down toward the beach.

He’d take Tangaloa to the Startracer and then demand the return of the cutter.

“Stop!” the woman cried from behind him. “Leave him!”

Pasikole cringed at her shout. The villagers would have rise by now.

“Move,” he snapped at Tangaloa, not bothering to look back at the man’s wife.

The chief, however, glanced over his shoulder. Pasikole yanked the man forward. They had no time for this.

As they neared the sand, the woman rushed in front of them and flung herself at their feet. Almost at the same instant, James leveled a pistol at her.

“No!” Pasikole snapped. “No bloodshed.”

The woman’s wailing continued.

Pasikole tried to step around her, but the chief pulled him to a stop. Or rather, simply stopped walking, and Pasikole could not easily drag the bulky man behind him.

Villagers began to gather, drawn by the cursed woman’s cries for her man.

“Shut up, shut up!” James shouted at her.

“Stop!” Pasikole released Tangaloa and grabbed James’ pistol, forcing it away from the chief’s wife. The last thing he needed was a dead woman in the sand.

More and more people gathered, surrounding them. Some had spears readied for war. An old kahuna was waving a coconut, calling for attention.

None of this was going according to plan.

13

A cluster of villagers had surrounded Pasikole. Kamapua’a dashed toward him on all fours, kicking up sand beneath his feet. And then the sun peeked out from the horizon. It struck him like a blow and sent him stumbling along the beach, digging a trench of sand. Muscle spasms ravaged him as the sunlight forced him back to human form, beating down the Moon spirit whose shape he had assumed. Having the spirit forced down by the sun was like getting kicked in the shitting balls.

Kam gasped, grunting through the pain. You got used to it, but it was never fun.

He looked up in time to see a warrior approaching Pasikole from behind. The captain was watching the kahuna, waving that shitting coconut and screaming about curses. Kam tried to call out a warning, but his human vocal cords hadn’t finished reforming. It came out as a mere guttural shout. Enough to draw the captain’s eyes.

Not enough to make him turn as a club descended.

Crashed into his skull and split it open.

Everything stopped. At least for Kam. For the others, it erupted into chaos. The deafening retort of several pistols as Pasikole’s men fired into the crowd. And then warriors were on top of them, stabbing spears down again and again.

By the time Kam gained his feet, it was over. Hard to tell how many locals had fallen—five or six—but all of Pasikole’s men were down, stabbed repeatedly. As was the captain.

“No …” Kam groaned.

A warrior with a spear rushed at him.

Kam roared in bestial rage, unable to form words. As his attacker drew near, Kam caught the man with one hand on his spear and the other on his neck. He hefted the villager in the air and slammed him straight down into the sand with one hand. The sickening crack told him he’d broken the man’s neck, probably his back too.

Kam shrieked mindlessly at another attacker. His fist crashed into the man’s chest, reducing him to a gasping heap on the ground. Few of the other villagers were paying him much mind, and those who did now backed away in horror. Stupid shitters knew he was kupua now.

Rage coursed through him like blood, until his jaw hurt. Against all logic his form began to change, muscles enlarging as tusks jutted from his lower lip. Despite the sun above he was changing, though his form was neither boar nor man, but something in between.

Someone screamed, and a panicked shout raced through the crowd.

A dozen warriors brandished spears at him, but none seemed intent to close on Kam.

“Kill the wereboar!” the kahuna shouted, then turned to Pasikole’s body. “The captain has great mana. We must consume him. Do not let them take the body!”

Kam hesitated. Shit. What was even happening to him? His arms shook.

At the kahuna’s words, the villagers set out to make a pyre. Maybe Kam could fight his way through all of them. Probably not. He was mighty, but there were a lot of the shitters. And no matter what he did, Pasikole and his people were already dead.

Shit!

Kam screamed at those villagers still watching them, then took off, running into the jungle. And the beast in his soul rose, roaring and screaming, until wrath became his world.

14

Namaka, for whatever reason, continued heading inland. If she were to hold this course long enough she might even reach Kilauea. Perhaps the Sea Princess sought Pele. The thought made her smirk. If so, Namaka would find her a lot sooner than she expected.

The sun had just risen, and a cool wind mixed with a drizzle of rain to create a generally miserable morning for such a trek. But some things could not wait.

Hood of her kihei up against the rain, Pele stalked toward the caves above the cove. She and Fire-Keeper had sheltered there themselves not a week past. A narrow ledge led up them—hollows carved by now-empty lava tubes that looked out over the sea some twenty paces below. A stunning vista, especially at twilight or sunrise.

It was almost unbelievable this Princess seemed to be seeking her out. Perhaps it was meant as a sign of respect. After all, there were no clear traditions to follow in meeting another Princess, for it happened so rarely.

“She’s not far ahead now,” Fire-Keeper said.

By the time she had climbed the path to the cave entrance, her breath came heavily from the long hike. Little sunlight reached into the caves, especially given the cloud cover from the rainy morning. Rather than walk into darkness, Pele flexed her palm, calling forth a torch flame from it. Then she strode into the tunnel. The rock was slick from when lava had once carved it out and now slippery with rain, forcing her to choose her steps with care.

Perhaps a dozen paces inside a woman sat—a mere girl really, probably not even twenty. Legs folded beneath her and arms at her sides, clearly meditating. A spark of fresh irritation shot through Pele. Who was this child to master such an art before Pele herself? And doing it here, as if to taunt her.

The ground rumbled beneath her, responding to her rapidly dwindling patience.

The girl’s eyes shot open but she said nothing, though her gaze clearly took in the flame floating in Pele’s hand. Her face might have registered surprise, but not really fear. Much as she hated being so feared, somehow not getting that response from Namaka felt like an insult.

“You have trespassed on my island, Princess.” Pele took a step forward and summoned another flame, keeping both hands lit, well aware of the intimidating figure she must pose, face illuminated by flickering flames in the darkness. She needed to make certain her message was understood.

Finally, the girl stood, advancing with narrowed eyes and not a hint of deference. “You attacked my friends.”

How dare this little bitch come to her island with such an attitude? Because of this girl, the Valley Isle was in chaos, her own people dying. And now she had come to bring her curses and plague here. Pele had sworn to herself, to her people, that she would make up for the wrongs her father had done on this island. And if the only way to do so was to ensure Namaka and the foreigners stayed away, well, she could do that much.

Fire was life. But fire could also be death. And through it, protection. “Your presence violates the most ancient of tabus, and I will not have the aumakuas here turn against my people. Leave this island immediately. Or you will find out what an attack actually looks like.”

The girl spread her arms wide, flashing a wicked grin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Damn her. Pele roared, jerking one arm forward and flinging the flame it held at Namaka. The fires spread, thinned into a wave that would bake the Princess alive and leave her a quivering mass begging for death.

At the same time, Namaka flung her own arms together. As she did so, all the water in the cave coalesced before her like a wall. Pele’s flame hit the wall and evaporated in a shower of steam. The vapors filled the cave, cutting off her vision.

The Princess shoved past her, sending Pele stumbling to the ground.

“Bitch!” Pele shouted. She slapped her palm against the ground. If the Sea girl wanted to play, she would play. Pele fed mana into the earth and immediately set it to rumbling.

These lava tubes were old, long emptied. But far beneath them, magma still ran. Magma ran everywhere if you dug deep enough. As the steam cleared and revealed her prey, Pele screamed her rage. A crack tore through the cave floor, spreading like a bolt of lightning straight for Namaka.

The Sea Princess dove to the side, avoiding the crack. But that was not the threat. Pele poured more mana into the Earth and a spout of lava ripped through the rupture. It blasted against the roof and rained around the cave in a shower of searing destruction.

Namaka screamed, both in pain and satisfying fear. The girl scrambled out of the cave then leapt off the ledge, falling toward the sea twenty paces below. By the time Pele had reached the edge, the girl had crashed into the ocean. Most likely she would have died on the rocks below.

Rage continued to boil inside Pele. So hard to let it go, once it began to erupt. She wanted to …

A maelstrom built in the ocean, swirling faster and faster. What in Lua-O-Milu? With no further warning, the sea erupted like a volcano itself, a geyser of water shooting twenty paces into the air.

Pele stumbled, fell on her ass just to get out of the way. A shadow rose from the geyser—the girl. She was standing atop it, staring at Pele with hateful eyes. More powerful than Pele had credited. Fine. If Namaka wanted to test her limits, Pele would oblige. Hands still on the rock, she fed more mana into it, digging deep beneath the land.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could have done so,” Namaka said. Her voice had become almost hollow, like Pele might imagine a ghost’s. Was this Princess somehow possessed?

If so, she’d be doing the whole world a favor by ensuring her mana was freed from her current body. “You should have.” Pele shut her eyes for an instant, releasing all her rage at once. The cliff exploded as it turned itself into a miniature volcano, spewing destruction into the air. The trembling earth threatened to collapse the cave around her, and dust and sulfur blocked her vision. She had to get out of this place.

With a wave of her hand she summoned a jet of lava and jumped on it, letting it carry her forward like she rode a surfboard over a wave. The jet hurled her into open space, allowing her a view of the cataclysm she had wrought. The sky was blacked with toxic fumes and volcanic lightning ignited in the air as heat collided with ice high in the sky. Incandescent rocks fell into the sea, and sent up plumes of steam. Namaka’s geyser had collapsed.

All this she took in during a single heartbeat before she started to plummet. It was dangerously far to fall. Instead, she bent the lava jet she rode backward, using it to fling her atop the cliff. The clumsy maneuver barely carried her far enough. She hit hard, rolling several times and scraping her arms over the rocks. The lava she rolled over didn’t burn her skin, but her clothes ignited in an instant.

Coughing and panting, she pushed herself up and discarded her ruined kihei. As she stood an enormous shadow fell over her. The volcanic eruption had left her ears ringing, so she heard nothing. She turned. A wave rose over the cliff like an implacable wall.

Her heart leapt into her throat. She tried to scream but never got the chance. The wave washed over her with the force of a falling star, knocking all wind from her lungs, all thought from her mind.

The next she was aware something had coiled around her, crushing her arms to her side. She gasped for breath, trying to make sense of a world spinning and tumbling. Her vision cleared just enough to make out Namaka, standing on the cliff again. Upside down.

No—Pele was upside down. Held aloft by a tendril of water rising out of the sea, forcing her to look in the face of the girl before her. Those eyes were old, powerful. She’d been wrong. This was no mere girl at all. She had become a mermaid. And Pele had to protect her people from her.

Despite her grogginess, she summoned flames to her palms, or tried.

The Sea Princess sneered, then waved her hand. In time with the movement, the tendril holding her aloft uncoiled like a spring, flinging Pele far out over the ocean.

She screamed as she fell.

Hitting the water was like hitting a mountainside. Everything went black.

15

Kam stumbled out of the jungle, punching a tree trunk for good measure. And now his fist hurt. Stupid Chief Tangaloa and his stupid warriors and pig shit trees. An irresistible urge to take on boar form and run had overcome him, futile though it was beneath the sunlight. His bizarre, half human form had receded within moments of getting away from the village. He had no idea what the shit that was about.

And so he’d wandered the jungle, hardly able to shape a thought. Pasikole had been a good man—odd, but good. And Kam hadn’t done shit but watch as Pasikole got murdered.

A short walk down the beach and the man’s crew was bringing one of the other boats ashore. No doubt wondering where their captain was. And that was what Kamapua’a had finally come back to tell them. Being the messenger of shit news was a pig shit task. Arms folded over his chest, he stood watching the boat approach. He ought to just run back into the jungle. Run and run until his legs gave out and then fall into a heap and sleep until the moon rose.

Kam wasn’t much for praying. But he’d heard kahuna could pray to the Poison God, Kalai-Pahoa. People said an angered kahuna could pray a man to death. Kam wasn’t a kahuna, but he was pretty shitting furious.

And that was Inemes herself on the boat. Pasikole’s first mate. Shit, that had been a shock, finding out that ‘first mate’ didn’t mean ‘first lover.’ He’d thought that an odd title for a member of the crew.

The woman looked to him now, eyes questioning as the boat drew near the shore. Wondering where in Lua-O-Milu her captain had gone. Well, he probably was in Milu’s underworld now. Or maybe his ghost was sitting around watching them. Was that likely? Maybe the village kahuna would have tried to send Pasikole’s soul onward. Maybe not yet.

And if he was here?

Kam looked around, but he didn’t see anything invisible. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry I let you down.”

“Where’s Captain Pasikole?” Inemes shouted as she leapt from her boat.

Yup. The shit was here. Right here, right now. Big old pile of pig shit.

“We tried to grab Tangaloa,” Kam said.

“I know, he told me the plan. You were supposed to be back here hours ago. Where is he?”

Kam threw up his hands. “I tried, all right? I tried to … They attacked us right at sunrise and I couldn’t … Stupid shitters killed them. Killed them all and I was useless as a wart on the ass.”

The foreign woman’s face went blank for a moment, like maybe she hadn’t heard him. Or hadn’t understood.

“I … uh …”

She clenched her teeth and turned her head away, looking at something Kam couldn’t see. She’d been close to Pasikole. Must have been, even if she wasn’t his first lover. Close like Kam was to Namaka? Kāne, what would he do if something happened to her? Tear mountains down with his bare hands, most likely. And Inemes would want to do the same. She’d go into that village and try to kill them all. And most likely, she and her whole crew would wind up dead as well. Those pistols they carried were deadly as lightning, but they only worked once. Pasikole had told him as much.

“You can’t go there,” he blurted.

“What?” she spun back on him, darkness like nothing he had ever seen lingering in her eyes.

“You want revenge, right? Can’t. You might kill them, but if you go storming in there, you’ll get dead too. I don’t think Pasikole would have wanted that. He liked you. So don’t get dead.”

Inemes took a step toward him, glaring at him with a fire that would have made a kahuna proud. “I’m just supposed to walk away?”

“Uh, sail away. You want to punish Tangaloa? Let me do it. Quiet like a boar, middle of the night.”

“Boar’s aren’t quiet. And—”

Kam held up his hand. “Mighty Kamapua’a has spoken. You go get yourself and your crew to safety. Honor Pasikole’s wishes.”

Eyes narrowed, she folded her arms over her chest and watched him for a moment. Hopefully considering what he’d said. He wasn’t so good at convincing people of shit, but he really didn’t want her dead too. So many people had died these last two weeks. Ever since the Startracer came to the Valley Isle, death had been everywhere. They should go, leave forever.

“You swear you’ll make them pay?” she asked.

“I’m a boar of his word.” Most of the time. When it was convenient. But this was a promise he fully intended to keep. Tangaloa would catch a rancid lump of wereboar fury.

After a long sigh, Inemes nodded, then raised a hand to her face like her head hurt. “You’re right, I suppose. He wouldn’t want any more of the crew to fall. He was determined to get us all home. To take the blame with the he’e. He told me that last night …”

“Yeah, I’m always sometimes right. Wait, the he’e?” What did the octopuses have to do with anything?

At that, Inemes glanced back at the sea as if she thought one of those creepy shitters was going to jump out at any moment. “They’re more powerful than I think your people realize. Slowly but surely they’re gaining a foothold in all human lands, taking over the world both above the sea and beneath it. And some of them are …” The woman swallowed, like she was afraid to say the word.

“Are what?”

“Sorcerers.”

“What’s that?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Wielders of the Art.”

“Oh. Like kahuna.”

“No, Kam. Not like kahuna. They practice profane rituals designed not to send spirits on to the Ghost World, but to call them forth, bind them. Pasikole was trying to learn about them, uncover their secrets. It was his greatest mission. And now that’s lost. He thought he could use Namaka and the others to defeat their god-king.”

Kam shrugged. “I don’t know what all that means. I mean, I was pretty sure profanity was damn good. And I don’t see why his mission is lost. You can carry on. Not here. Obviously, not here. But you can still continue his work.”

“Me?” Inemes glanced back at her crew. They looked expectantly at her. Not even understanding a word that had been said. Poor shitters. Didn’t even know how to talk right. “You think I could? That I should?”

He shrugged again. “Only you can decide that. Me, I got some things to set right here on the Big Isle.”

16

Pain was the first thing she was aware of. Pain pounding in her head, coursing through her back, neck, shoulders. Everything hurt. Everything save a welcome warmth radiating near her cheek. Pele opened her eyes and looked into the small fire before her, seeing nothing else for a time.

At last she turned enough to catch a glimpse of her surroundings. She lay in a grove in the forest, probably not far from the shore. Late afternoon, by the look of it. Something stirred beside her, then Fire-Keeper sat near her, his back to the flame. The kahuna pressed a calloused hand to her forehead, then nodded to himself and offered her a gourd of water. She tried to sit, but the pain of it blurred her vision and left her gasping.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Take it slow.” He lifted the back of her head, then dipped the gourd, pouring a few welcome drops into her parched throat.

Pele coughed, half choking on it, and Fire-Keeper laid her gently back on the ground. “How did I get here?”

“I saw the battle and swam out to find you.”

She shut her eyes again.

“Can you feel the energy of the flame?” he asked sometime later.

“Mmmm.”

“The strongest Princesses of Flame can not only control that energy, they can draw it into themselves, converting it into fuel for their bodies. Do you want to try that?”

Oh. So this would be a lesson then. It was undoubtedly too much to ask that her nearly dying should earn her a reprieve. Rather, her failure had earned her a lecture.

“Instead of sending your mana out to control the flame, pull mana from it. Call it into you and direct it to the places that hurt the most. I know you can do this, Pele. Just put your hand in the fire.”

She grunted. Sure, easy enough. If she could move. She hesitated just long enough to see if he intended help her. He didn’t. Part of the lesson, she supposed. Forcing her to pick herself up, to drag herself that last half pace or so to the fire. Pele rolled onto her side, panting with effort. Then, trying her best to ignore the pain, wiggled her way along the ground until she could drop her hand into the fire.

It didn’t burn her, of course. Its incredible warmth was relaxing, actually. For a few breaths she just lay there, trying not to think. That was not her strong point. She had challenged Namaka, certain she could defeat any foe. Because contact between Princesses was so rare, those few fights that occurred became the stuff of legend. Would her defeat at Namaka’s hands now be passed down from generation to generation, immortalized in song? Her failure a jest for old men and children?

The flame reacted to her sudden bout of anger, flaring up.

“Wrong direction. You have to draw energy from the flame, not feed it.”

Damn it. Why was it so hard to control her rage? Was that a gift from her father?

No.

No, thinking about him would only inflame her anger. She needed calm. She needed to get as close as she could to the meditative trance Fire-Keeper always urged her to achieve. The kahuna liked to reach that state by staring into the flicker of a fire. Watching its patterns unfold, always changing, always shifting, adapting, and yet—somehow—always the same.

She kept her eyes locked on the fire he had built for her. The kahuna was always watching out for her. Oh, but he would let her fail. Let her get hurt. And sometimes, mostly at night, he would remind her that one day she would have to be strong enough to live and rule without him backing her up. She liked to tell herself that day was a long way away.

Of course, she knew she was probably lying to herself. She likely had no more than another decade, two at the most. So Fire-Keeper would have far less.

That thought, and the secret burst of fear it carried with it, cost her her concentration, and again the fire flared. This time, the kahuna said nothing, just slunk down across the fire from her. As he faded from her sight, she pushed him from her mind. There was only the fire.

Fire was the source of light, heat, and ultimately life. Creating and consuming. And all her fears and pain and rage, she was meant to pour those back into the flame to be transformed. Everything goes into the flame. Fire-Keeper had repeated that mantra again and again when first trying to teach her meditation. No matter how many times she repeated it in her mind, she had never quite gotten there.

Still, she let the mantra roll through her consciousness. Everything goes into the flame.

With a sudden start, she felt herself falling. Her balance disrupted, she jerked upward, trying to steady herself. The fire had dimmed, diminished. And with it, some of the aches of her body had begun to fade. Indeed, how had she even managed to sit up? Moments ago she could barely move. Had she done it? Somehow drawn the energy back into her body? It was as if, in pouring all her thoughts into the fire, she had emptied herself and allowed it to fill the void.

“You’re afraid to let go,” Fire-Keeper said, his face now visible across the dimmed fire. “For a moment you teetered on the edge of eternity, ready to connect with the universe. And in fear, you pulled back.”

Pele bit back any response. Yes. She had been frightened, instinctively righting herself when she began to fall. Who in Lua-O-Milu wouldn’t do so?

“What news from Puako?” she asked instead.

“The sickness that ravages the Valley Isle has begun to spread here.”

Her stomach lurched. She had failed. “Namaka brought the curse of her island with her.” Already.

“I’m not so certain. I think common traders most likely carried it with them. Perhaps it became inevitable from the moment the illness entered Sawaiki. Either way, Tangaloa’s people ate the foreign captain this morning.”

Pele started. Honestly, she had no idea how to feel about that. She had merely wanted the man to leave. With a sigh, she shook her head. The disease was far more concerning. She had no power over such things. Did Fire-Keeper think it was not caused by the aumakuas, by their displeasure with Namaka? What else save angry spirits could cause mass sickness?

Whatever the cause, she could not allow her people to suffer and die without pursuing every possible track.

“What do I do?” she mumbled.

“You have to decide that for yourself. You are the Princess.”

Death stalked amidst her land. The kahunas were healers and experts on the Ghost World. But the kahunas of the Valley Isle had already failed to help their own people. Maybe they would find a solution, an answer. But she couldn’t rely on that, nor wait for it. She needed someone who knew secrets beyond even the kahunas.

Pele groaned. She couldn’t well question the gods themselves. That left her only one place left to turn. Half-gods walking the Earth. Someone who knew forgotten truths and wielded power beyond mankind’s reach.

Someone like her father.

* * *

Facing Ku-Aha-Ilo at less than full strength would have been a foolish risk. According to Fire-Keeper, the kupua’s tracks led near here, but since she had found herself near Mount Hualali—one of the four great volcanoes on the Big Isle—she decided to instead climb the mountain. It had taken extreme effort in her condition, and Fire-Keeper had to help most of the way. But with every step closer, she felt her strength returning.

Below her lay the smoldering crater, covered by a blanket of sulfuric vapors. She cast aside her pa’u skirt. It would only catch fire anyway. Breathing deeply, Pele skidded down the slope to come to rest on the rock ledge surrounding the lava pools. This place would kill a human, but to her, it offered a reprieve.

The kahuna had agreed to remain below, watching to see if Ku-Aha-Ilo left his lair. There wasn’t anything for Fire-Keeper to do in the crater, even if he could have survived this close to the lava pools and toxic fumes.

This volcano had not erupted in long years. Instead, its lava had burned out an almost inverted bowl on one side, creating a large overhang that shadowed much of the cavern and locked in the radiant warmth.

Pele dipped a toe in one pool, shivering from its intense heat. Some humans liked to luxuriate in hot springs. This was pretty much the same thing for her. Slowly, she sunk waist deep into the molten rock. It was much thicker than water, so it took more effort to submerge herself in it. As she did, the heat began to soothe away the aches in her legs and back. She sunk lower, until only her shoulders breached the surface.

This place, any volcano, was suffused with mana, bubbling up from far beneath the surface of the Earth. Here, the fires she always felt below her were manifest, released in such glory she could not help but absorb strength from them.

A few hours bathing in lava and her body would be replete with mana, her strength returned. She shut her eyes, basking in the heat on her face. The smell was an acquired taste, of course. Most people would blanch at the smell of sulfur, and rightly so. But a Flame Princess was not most people.

For a long time she sat, resting, half asleep, her waking dreams beset by visions of her mother, of the boils on her face. And of the sick, of whole villages dying of a plague whose source she was no longer certain of. And, perhaps most of all, she dreamed of the unrelieved anger of the spirit haunting Puako. Whether sent by Ku-Aha-Ilo, or mere coincidence, the ghost was filled with a palpable rage that even now threatened to choke her.

Its fury hit her like a physical blow, jolted her into full wakefulness. She rose, lava streaming down her back and dripping over her breasts, the presence still haunting her. Indeed, she once again saw a silhouette, moving at the corner of her eye, deep in the shadows of this crater.

She spun, and this time the presence did not vanish. A man-like form passed in and out of the fumes suffusing her refuge. The man, or ghost, stepped forward, seeming for all the world solid. And as he passed out of the fumes, she at last got a look at him, enough to be certain it was no living man. His features were distorted by the ravage that had become his neck—it looked to have erupted like a volcano, displaying charred, loose flaps of skin and revealing too clearly the spine beneath.

The ghost strode forward, approaching her until its path brought it to a beam of sunlight reaching into the cavern. There the ghost faltered, seemingly unable to cross the light. Hatred, rage lit its eyes and wafted off it, leaving her trembling. It opened its mouth, but only a gurgle of blood escaped.

Pele reached a hand toward the ghost, not certain what she meant to do.

Its form flickered a moment, then vanished.

She let her hand fall back to her side. What had that meant? Had the ghost followed her here? She had, after all, challenged it, threatened it. And it had clearly intended to strike at her, had even revealed itself. Maybe she’d only been able to see it now, in this sacred place, because she had absorbed so much mana. Places like this were liminal, closer to the Ghost World. Perhaps that was how the spirit had manifested itself. But even if that explained the how, it did not answer the why. Had it shown itself merely to increase her horror—surely it was a revolting sight. Or maybe it had to reveal itself before striking. If so, that beam of sunlight had just saved her life.

That would mean, though, that the ghost was not bound to Puako, could follow her anywhere. And she had only a few hours of sunlight left. If it had determined to end her, she wouldn’t have much time.

“Lua-O-Milu,” she mumbled. She was not going to enjoy tonight.

* * *

As expected, Fire-Keeper waited for her on the lower slopes of Mount Hualali. Concern lit the kahuna’s eyes, as if he had sensed the spirit’s presence up in the crater. Pele recounted her experience as quickly as she could—she had no time to lose.

“Where is he?”

Fire-Keeper pointed to a mountain just beyond Hualali. “There’s a valley there. You’ll find a pass through the jungle, albeit a difficult and hidden one. Do you want me to show you?”

Pele shook her head. “No. Just find out where Namaka went.” One way or another, the Sea Princess was tied up in the chaos erupting across Sawaiki, and Pele could not afford to lose track of her. “I have to deal with Ku-Aha-Ilo myself.”

Fire-Keeper only nodded, but she could see in the man’s eyes he was proud of her for it. Some things a person had to do for herself, without the crutch of parents to lean on. “Pele, you have to hurry. When night falls, Dark spirits grow stronger. It sounds as if this ghost stands on the verge of becoming a Nightmarcher, if it has not become one already.”

Indeed. On impulse, she embraced the kahuna. “Please try to protect everyone.”

“I always try.”

With that, she took off at a near run. Suffused with mana from the volcano, she felt almost bursting with energy. She had to hope it would prove enough.

* * *

The valley Fire-Keeper spoke of was practically inaccessible to humans. Sheer greenery-covered mountain slopes dropped off a hundred paces or more, accompanied by numerous waterfalls pitching down into a river flowing through the jungle. Only by trekking through a narrow pass in that jungle could a person even hope to access this place. It seemed Ku-Aha-Ilo valued his privacy.

Pele, however, didn’t care what her father valued. He alone might be able to save the victims of this disease, to say nothing of calling off this ghost now pursuing her. Of course, begging him to do so meant forgoing her vengeance against him. The ghostfuckere had boiled her mother’s cheek, would have killed her brother for even existing. Ku-Aha-Ilo deserved to be purged from the Earth in a cascade of flame. Even the thought of it built a rumbling in her chest she had to struggle to contain. Vibrations surged from her, would have sent the ground trembling, seeking to erupt and bury the entire valley before her in a blanket of lava.

Shaking, she knelt by the river and dunked her hands, raising a few sips to her mouth.

With a sigh, she rose and flung the water from her fingers. Mild aches still ravaged her body from the beating Namaka had given her. Despite her best efforts, Pele had not managed to draw any further strength from the flames. Maybe one day she’d have the calmness of mind and heart to do such a thing. Not today. Today she could taste rage on her tongue like sulfuric vapors, acidic and foul and desperate for release. The influx of mana had given her strength, but it also fueled her own tumultuous nature. That was fine—sometimes rage was a good thing.

She followed the river toward the valley until she came to a circle of ki’i masks, each three paces tall. Unlike the familiar gods of her people, she recognized few of the fearsome visages. Ghosts or demons, perhaps, though the one on the left was certainly Kalai-Pahoa, the Poison Tree God. A slow smile crept over her face. What lengths Ku-Aha-Ilo had gone to just to remain hidden here. Any that even braved the jungle would be stalled by the masks, never daring enter such an ancient, protected place. Surely walking here was tabu. Pele walked on anyway.

The waterfalls emptied into a pool that itself dropped into the river over another fall. The locale was so pristine Pele had to pause for a moment and take it in. How could a being so foul choose a place so divine to live in? The crash of water muffled other sounds, even the sound of her own approach. As she neared the pool, however, a woman surfaced from beneath it. She was perhaps Pele’s age, beautiful, and looking far too at home here in the valley. Could Fire-Keeper have been wrong? Had Ku-Aha-Ilo never come here at all?

The woman started at Pele’s approach, then swam over to where she’d left her skirt. Eyes never leaving Pele, she wrapped the skirt around her waist, then placed a flower wreath on her head like she herself was some Princess.

“Where is Ku-Aha-Ilo?” Pele asked when the woman approached her.

“Who are you?” Haughty. His mate? Perhaps thinking herself important, mated to a kupua. Never imagining what Ku-Aha-Ilo did with his discarded playthings. The fresh vision of her mother’s burned face brought a glower to Pele’s own.

“Where is Ku-Aha-Ilo?” Pele repeated, taking a step forward and letting flames creep into her eyes.

The woman recoiled, her bravado broken in an instant, mouth trembling. She glanced back at the pool as if she thought diving in might protect her.

Pele advanced until she stood close enough the other woman would feel her radiant heat. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

Eyes wide, the woman jerked her head toward the far side of the pool. Pele stared in that direction, but she didn’t see anything. Behind the foliage, perhaps?

“You’d better not be lying to me.”

Not sparing her another glance, Pele strode around the pool, trying to keep confidence in her steps despite the pounding of her heart. Intimidating a common girl was no feat, but facing her father … Damn. She couldn’t afford to think of him like that. This was Ku-Aha-Ilo. He’d never been a father to her. Never.

There. In the spot the woman had indicated, a cavern cut back into the mountainside. Ferns and overhanging vines covered it so perfectly you had to stand right next to it to even see the place.

Pele pushed aside the foliage and stepped into the cavern. The sunlight barely reached inside and she could make out little in the darkness, but even so, something seemed off. The cavern itself looked wrong somehow, the angles and position not quite the way a river should have carved this place. Nor was it a lava tube. Pele frowned. Was it possible that people—or kupua—had made this cavern? If she were determined, she might be able to direct lava flows to do something like this. But why? Had Ku-Aha-Ilo created this haven merely because he liked the valley?

The Big Isle—all the islands, supposedly—was riddled with tunnels dug by the menehune, the inhabitants of Sawaiki before humans had come here. Maybe the menehune had really created this place and Ku-Aha-Ilo merely suborned it for his uses.

Frowning, she summoned a flame to her hand, a torch to light the way. With a last glance over her shoulder—back at the relative safety of the sunlight—she trod forward.

The cave wound around a bend, blocking out sunlight and much of the sound of the waterfalls. The echo of her footfalls told her the cavern was deep, and before long the tunnel began sloping downward. She followed it for perhaps thirty paces before it opened into a larger cavern. Here, the ceiling receded to such heights she could barely make out the stalactites above. Staring up at them, she could swear she heard them whispering to one another, telling secrets never meant for mortal ears. Was this place home to restless ghosts?

Kāne preserve her. She never should have come down here. Probably never should have come looking for Ku-Aha-Ilo in the first place. And she was twice damned for telling Fire-Keeper to leave. By all the aumakuas what she wouldn’t give to feel his comforting hand on her shoulder, guiding her.

She could still turn back. Retreat the way she came. The cavern was so dark she couldn’t see across it. Yes. Turn and run like a little girl. Pele sneered. She was better than that. So filled with anger, she had no room in her for fear. And anger was like a flame, best kindled often. She flexed her other hand, calling forth a second torch, before trekking onward.

Something cool and hard crunched under her foot. Almost afraid to know, she bent. Bones. A human femur most likely, grown brittle over time. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her torches low to the ground now revealed a trail of bones, including at least two dozen skulls. Most were old, cracked, but a handful appeared to have been set aside, preserved carefully.

A feeling of being watched, coupled with an alien anger and hatred, crept in around her. She knew that feeling by now, had come to associate it with the ghost of Puako Village. It was here, chasing her, and she had walked out of any protection of sunlight. If anything, the spirit’s anger had grown. In mere moments, it might manifest again, strangle her. Perhaps her flames might ward it away for a time—she knew better than to think she could actually burn a being without form.

The sound of bubbles rising drew her gaze to a pool on the far side of the cavern. Pele strode over. The light hit the liquid. Not water—blood. Bubbles rose from a pool of blood at least three paces across. A head followed those bubbles, and then shoulders. Pele’s heart leapt into her throat and she fell back a step. The vile man who stepped from the blood pool was not tall or especially broad-shouldered, though his muscles were taut.

Pele had not seen her father in many years. But it was him. Of that, she had no doubt. And if she had ever doubted Ku-Aha-Ilo was a demon before, she no longer did so. His head was shaved in the front, but he wore the rest of his hair long, halfway down his back, and at the moment, dripping with blood. He had a short beard and a series of tattoos covering one side of his face and one arm, though she could not make out the designs beneath the crimson now staining his entire body.

Her stomach lurched.

That spirit had retreated as she drew near Ku-Aha-Ilo’s blood pool. Unwilling to intrude upon its master, but probably ready to attack should he call it.

Ku-Aha-Ilo stepped forward, so close to her she fell back another step without even meaning to. She ought to bury this entire place in lava. Fill in this cursed cavern so no living soul would ever walk here again. Perhaps doing so would mean this demon could never help her cure the disease, perhaps even she would die here, buried alive. Might be worth it to rid the Earth of such vileness.

He spoke before she could even form words. “One of my brood, aren’t you?” He grabbed her chin with a slick, too-warm hand. Was that human blood he smeared all over her cheeks? “Oh, yes. Pele. I seem to have a knack for siring Princesses. Hmmm.” With that, he released her.

Pele backed away so quickly she stumbled and fell on her ass, barely keeping her torches lit. She should be embarrassed, but the terror drowned that out at the moment. Best get what she came here for quickly and escape while she could. “A-a foreign illness spreads across Sawaiki. People are sick, dying. It’s like the aumakuas have turned on us.”

“So?”

“So you have ancient knowledge, secrets not even kahuna possess. You must know a way to save them.”

He shrugged. “I’m not going to get sick. Neither are you or any of my brood. The humans are inconsequential.”

“Inconsequential?” He was serious. She pushed herself up, forced herself to meet his gaze. “You’re already sick, father. Are you going to just let hundreds, maybe thousands of people suffer and die?”

He chuckled, the sound filling the cavern with echoes deeper than any man’s laugh had a right to. “Suffering and death are the meaning and entirety of human existence. There is no cure. Only cycles of pain, agony to be feasted on by their betters. Beings like us. Would you grant them a reprieve, however temporary? Then purify them with your flames. Burn away this disease before it spreads.”

Pele backed away from his mad tirade, shaking her head long before he finished speaking. “What are you?”

“Transcendent. Something beyond these humans you seem to care so much for. This compassion is your weakness. Come back to me when you’ve burned it out. Then we will speak of forgotten secrets.”

Damn him. Was she so easy for him to dismiss? Her anger sent the cavern trembling, and he turned back with a raised eyebrow.

“Why did you attack Mama? Why kill her husband?”

He shrugged. “Surely you know mana passes from flesh to flesh. The mana that passed from me to her, she would have handed down to her latest brat. And his flesh would be worth feasting on.”

He wanted to eat Milohai. The ghostfucker was serious. His powers were horrifying, maybe unbeatable. But she was almost willing to test their limits. To fight him right now, despite the cold sweat running down her back. “Did you set a spirit loose to prey on that village?”

“No.” With that, he turned away from her and descended back into the blood pool.

That stopped her. Heart pounding so loudly he had to hear it, Pele backed away. Was he lying? In his extreme arrogance, he didn’t seem inclined to lie or make any denial of his crimes, didn’t seem to even consider them crimes. But if he had not sent the spirit … An angry hiss seeped in through the edges of the shadows even as Ku-Aha-Ilo disappeared into the pool. The ghost still lurked here. Had it actually fled from the demon? Feared him?

Aumakuas protect her. As long as she stayed in this place, she was powerless. She needed time to think, or failing that, to flee back to the relative safety of Puako Village. At least there the kahuna could try to ward against this spirit. And its anger seemed to grow with each breath she drew.

She turned and fled, scrambling out of the cave as fast as the darkness allowed.

* * *

The sun had dipped low on the horizon when Pele stumbled from the cave, her whole body shaking. Her stomach lurched again, and she fell in the bushes and retched. Her childhood memories of her father were clouded, distant. But this was a fresh horror. He’d called her one of his brood. Kāne protect her. What did that even mean? She’d thought Ku-Aha-Ilo’s children mere byproducts of his lust. Were they actually intended? Did he want to create other kupua like Pele and Hiiaka? Why?

She looked at the sky. Sunset would free the spirit. Pele would never make it back to Puako Village. Maybe she could ward herself with a large enough bonfire.

She shook her head. Ku-Aha-Ilo was monstrous. She could only assume he’d devoured the owners of all those bones, perhaps drained them of their blood to fill that profane bath of his. He had all but confirmed the legends, that he absorbed mana from his countless victims.

Pele wiped her mouth then rose and made her way back to the pool, where she washed her face. Beautiful and serene as this valley was, it housed a monster. He bathed in blood. Maybe she should just bury it all in a volcanic eruption. She could drive Mount Hualali into a grand detonation, cover this entire valley. Using her power on that scale would no doubt have horrific ramifications across the entire north side of the island. Whole villages might be endangered, maybe even swept away. The toxic residue would pour into the sea and kill the local wildlife. And she couldn’t even be certain she’d finish off Ku-Aha-Ilo.

Besides which, she would likely destroy Puako Village as well. She couldn’t do that.

“Find what you were looking for in that cave?” The haughtiness had crept back into Ku-Aha-Ilo’s woman’s voice.

Something in Pele snapped. Her hair ignited and her hands glowed like they were made of living magma. The woman shrieked and fell as Pele rose to tower over her.

“Who are you?” Pele demanded.

“H-Hiilei.”

“No. You’re a little bitch Ku-Aha-Ilo is trying to plant his seed in.” Pele grabbed Hiilei by the hair, but it turned to cinders almost instantly, filling the air with an acrid stench.

The woman screamed again.

Pele shook herself and let the fires about her dwindle. What was she doing, traumatizing this petty girl? This woman had no idea what she had gotten herself into. If Pele was a proper Princess she’d try to save the woman, not frighten her with a pointless display. Her father either wanted Hiilei as a place to sate his lust, or, as she had just claimed, to increase his brood.

Either way, though, he did want Hiilei. Pele hesitated. Ku-Aha-Ilo was a monster. And if Pele truly wanted to defeat him, to force his help, maybe she needed to become one as well. How vile. To challenge her father she needed to become like him. And if that was the price to save her island, she would have to pay it. As Princess, she was the first and final line of defense for her people. Her father had called them inconsequential. He was wrong. The people were everything. They were a reason for her to be more than Ku-Aha-Ilo could ever hope to be.

“Get up.”

Hiilei did so, slowly, eyes locked on Pele’s hands. “If you hurt me, he’s going to …”

Pele grabbed the woman by her shoulder with one hand and lit a torch in the other. She half pushed, half guided Hiilei back into the cave. Just what would Ku-Aha-Ilo do to protect his woman? Would he give up his secrets? Would he tell her how to save the villages? How to stop the spirit?

Oh, but she had not forgotten what this demon had done to her mother. Maybe vengeance would have to wait. Now she knew where he laired. One day, she would return and make him answer for his crimes. Today, she had bigger duties.

In the open cavern, Pele pushed Hiilei down to her knees. Then she lit a second torch, holding the flames on either side of the trembling woman’s head. “Ku-Aha-Ilo! I have your woman, monster. Show yourself!”

The cavern remained still long enough Pele began to wonder if Ku-Aha-Ilo had left by some other exit. The place was so massive there could very well be a half dozen other tunnels leading from out. As she pressed forward, he came strolling toward her, dripping a trail of blood behind him.

“Help me,” Hiilei whimpered.

Pele glanced down at the woman, but Ku-Aha-Ilo did not. He never took his eyes off Pele’s.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know, or I will burn your woman’s face off.”

“My woman?” He chuckled. “Three moons and still she bleeds. She does not appear primed to carry my lineage. I approve of your tactic, but you have vastly overestimated the bitch’s value. Burn her, by all means.” He waved a dismissive hand and turned away.

“Ku-Aha-Ilo!” Pele shouted.

“Oh,” he said without turning around, “you really should call me Father. I here it’s tabu to refer to your parents by their names.”

Hiilei whimpered, though whether at learning Ku-Aha-Ilo cared nothing for her, or that the woman holding her hostage was his daughter, Pele didn’t know. Nor truly care.

“You think I won’t harm her?” Pele demanded.

“Oh, I hope you do. I’m certain it will make you stronger, more useful. Either way, I would have consumed her in a few days anyway.”

“W-what?” the woman screamed.

He waved his hand around the cavern. “Where do you think all these bones come from, you stupid bitch? Infertile, useless specimens. Not every woman has the strength to carry my seed, after all.” Without waiting for further reply, he walked back into the darkness of the cavern.

Pele’s fingers contracted, constrained the flames, even as the land began to rumble with her rising anger. It was wordless, formless indignation that this creature could so dismiss human lives. His lover was—no. No, it soiled the word lover to use it in reference to Ku-Aha-Ilo or any of his victims. That’s what Hiilei was. A victim. She was no doubt born on this island. One of the very people her Princess should have protected. And Pele had instead burned half her hair off, then dragged the woman down here and threatened to melt her face. Whether Hiilei was seduced by Ku-Aha-Ilo’s power or merely seduced by him, she was innocent of any real crime save pride.

And Pele couldn’t leave her here to face the horrors Ku-Aha-Ilo would no doubt visit upon her. With a sickening surety, Pele knew he had spoken the truth. He’d have fucked the woman, tortured her, and eaten her. If not tonight, the next night, or the next.

“Get up,” Pele said. “Get up, we’re leaving.” She let one flame wink out and hefted Hiilei to her feet.

Ku-Aha-Ilo was never going to help her or anyone but himself. Nor did she have anything to threaten him with save danger to his own life. Even if she could have beaten him in a fight—and she wasn’t sure she could have, even with the extra mana from Hualali—this woman would have been a casualty. How could she not be?

Pele guided Hiilei back outside then pointed to the river. “Follow it long enough and you’ll reach a village. Don’t ever come back here.”

“You’re not going to burn me?”

“I never was.” She hoped the woman couldn’t see through her lie. Pele wanted to believe it herself. “Now run, girl.”

Even as the woman took off, Pele gathered kindling, anything she could find. She blew on her hands, sending sparks of flame onto the leaves and grass and branches, coaxing those flames higher and higher. All around her, she felt the ghost’s presence. Her breath frosted the air even on the warm night.

Pele could only pray it would stay here, intent on her, rather than pursue Hiilei. She stared into the fire for a long time, waiting.

By now, if the woman had half a brain, she was far away. The sun had long since set.

Content the woman should be gone, Pele pressed her fingers into the stone around the cave. Maybe she could not bury this entire valley nor fill in the whole cave.

But she could collapse the entrance.

Fire bubbled inside her as she called forth the heat of the Earth. She screamed in pain and ecstasy from the effort until, finally, the tunnel cracked open. Blasts of lava spewed into the cave and poured down its steep slope, shot up into the ceiling. A river of lava tumbled inward, enough to cover the mouth. Pele sucked the heat and warmth out of that, forming igneous stone over the entrance. Finally, she collapsed on the ground, spent.

Exhausted, she crawled back to the pool and lay down by her fire.

17

The truth was, Namaka stuck near the river as much for her own comfort as for the hope she would find some village that knew of the Waters of Life or this Place of Darkness. She had passed through several small settlements, but none had answers for her. The river didn’t call to her the way the sea did, but any water soothed her soul. To draw too far away from it felt like severing one of her senses, like trying to give up sight or hearing. It left her feeling weak, helpless. So she always came back to the river.

Now, it had twisted so far it actually ran close enough that she could feel the sea once again, could feel the terrible longing for it. That was her place now. Her people needed her, they were falling to the he’e and to Mu. It was just … she had to find the Waters. She had to save her human people so she could dedicate her full attention beneath the waves. Or maybe her two sides would forever tear her in half.

Ahead, a dozen or so grass huts dotted the riverbank. Not enough to even really call a village, but she was here and there was always a chance they might know something. Besides, night had already settled in. Maybe she could convince them to give her a place to sleep. Even with Nyi Rara’s spirit inside her, she needed rest from time to time, and she hadn’t paused in more than two days.

After her fight with the Flame Princess she’d woven a new grass skirt, let herself close her eyes for a few moments after. Her mind had wandered to the World of Water, the realm Nyi Rara had shown her when they became merged. Had she truly seen it once again, as a byproduct of her connection to the mermaid, or had her exhausted mind just generated dreams? Either way, it had been beautiful and sparked a longing to return in her. Maybe one day, when the disease was cured and the he’e defeated, she could do so. Now, everywhere she looked waited another crisis demanding her immediate attention. Maybe she couldn’t afford to sleep tonight either.

Or perhaps she could curl up against a rock under the river. The current should keep her from sleeping too deeply, but she might be able to rest, at least for a little while.

Rubbing her eyes, she drifted into the settlement. “Aloha,” she offered the first person she ran across, a girl carrying a large gourd filled with water. The girl returned the greeting, then scurried off toward one of the huts.

Strange. Most people were eager to welcome a traveler.

Through the doorway she spotted a large number of people in that hut. What was going on? She made her way there and peeked her head inside. The villagers had gathered around a man in his thirties covered in some kind of herbal poultice. At the edges of it, she could see massive burns covered his body, though now he shivered as if chilled.

She sucked in a sharp breath which drew the attention of several of the villagers. One of them, a young man who sat by the victim, hand on the man’s head, rose and walked over to her. He was probably a little older than her, with wiry muscles and more than a few scars. None of those scars disguised his handsome features. He motioned for her to follow him outside and Namaka did so.

“Aloha,” she said. “What happened to him?”

“There was an unexpected eruption this morning. Niheu was caught too close, burned by the fumes. Who are you?”

Damn it. Her fight with the Flame Princess. That woman had been so intent on attacking Namaka she’d harmed her own people to do so. And, much as she hated the reminder, that meant she had more in common with the Flame Princess than she’d have liked. Most likely she’d killed the other Princess. It hadn’t really been her intent, but in anger—and maybe a little fear—she’d tossed her out to sea. By the time her temper had cooled, it was far too late to do anything about the Flame Princess.

The man still stared expectantly at her.

Really, she had no reason to hide the truth. “I’m Namaka, Princess of the Valley Isle.”

The man’s mouth opened a moment, though he couldn’t seem to form words. Then he bowed. “Forgive me, Princess. I am your humble servant, Kana.”

Namaka snickered. “Thanks, but you’re not my servant and I’m not your Princess. Your Princess is the one who created that eruption in the first place.”

Kana nodded as if the news surprised him little.

“Listen,” Namaka said. “I’m looking for the Place of Darkness.” May as well be upfront about it. The local hesitated, mouth crooked oddly. “You know of it?”

“Why would you want to go there?”

So he did know of it. Finally, someone who could help her. “People have gotten sick on my island. There’s a legend that … there’s supposed to be Waters there that can cure any ailment.”

Kana glanced back at the hut they had just left. “Could they heal my brother?”

This Niheu was Kana’s older brother then? In truth, she had no idea if the Waters could save the man. From the look of him, he had only a day or two left in him. His brother was desperate for hope, any hope, however frail. Namaka knew the feeling. “They might.”

Did she give Kana false hope now? Would it be better to let him make his peace with his brother’s demise, say goodbye? Sometimes goodbye was the most important thing one could ever say to one’s family. Nyi Rara had given her that chance, let her say goodbye to her father’s ghost in a way most people could never manage.

“Then I will take you.”

“Take me? No, just tell me where to find the Waters and I’ll bring them here on my way back.”

He shook his head. “This is my brother. I am going to find the Waters. If you want to come, Princess, I welcome your company. It’s a long walk, near the heart of the island.”

Namaka sighed. The man was determined to do anything to save his family. Who was she to deny him that? She was doing the same damn thing. “Fine. But you should … Kana, say goodbye to your brother, just in case. Trust me on this.”

The man nodded and slipped back into the hut. Yes. Nyi Rara had allowed Namaka to say goodbye to her father. And it was not enough. It would never, ever be enough. In this place, I can finally tell you how much I love you, Daughter. It was everything she’d needed to hear. And it had ripped her heart out. Ten days had passed and it felt like she had seen him yesterday. Goodbye was never enough, the words so small and insignificant in the face of a lifetime separated from one’s family. Not enough, but still something, the only thing she had left to hold on to.

Tears blurred her eyes and she blinked them away. She couldn’t even afford to grieve, couldn’t give in to despair, or she would lose her mother as well. Namaka choked down a sob and walked over the river, bent to wash her face. A moment later she heard footsteps approaching and turned to see Kana there, carrying a satchel.

“Let’s go.” His face had turned ashen, probably weighed down by his own brush with loss. He stood on the tip of it, like a man surfing a wave that any moment might swallow him. Just like Namaka, trying to save her mother, trying to stay atop that wave.

Namaka rose and nodded, then followed where Kana led, traveling away from the river. With each step she passed farther from the sea and the power it granted her. Countless rivers and pools and waterfalls dotted the island, of course, and she could draw some solace from the feel of them. But her true strength came from the ocean, and if the Place of Darkness lay in the island’s heart, she would face it without that strength.

* * *

For hours they walked, often uphill, Kana talking about his days as a hunter and how much he had learned from Niheu. Despite the circumstances, he had an easy smile, and such undisguised admiration for his brother, Namaka couldn’t help but enjoy his company.

After several hours of nothing but moonlight to guide her, she began to stumble on the rocks and roots.

After her third stumble, Kana paused to help her up. “Are you all right?”

“I’m tired.” Exhausted was more like it, and hungry. Were they near a river, she’d have stopped for a fish. Instead, she’d swiped a few berries and had had little else to eat.

Kana pointed to a large banyan tree nearby. Its roots broke free from the ground to form arches and a small alcove. He dropped his satchel and climbed under the roots, then curled up, arm beneath his head. “Well, come on,” he said after a moment.

Rest. Aumakuas, did she need rest. She’d never slept beneath the roots of a banyan, but she’d spent most of her nights in a cave, so she supposed it would be fine. She crawled under the roots and lay down near Kana. “You’ve been there?” she asked after a moment.

“To the Place of Darkness? No. I’ve seen tunnels that are supposed to lead there. Niheu and I went exploring there years ago.”

“Tunnels?”

“Said to be carved by the menehune in times past. Earth spirits. The story is, they lived on Sawaiki before our people ever came here from Kahiki. When humans arrived, the menehune carved tunnels so they could travel the island unseen by our mortal eyes.”

Namaka shut her eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice telling stories. As Mo-O-Inanea had done so many times. More lost family, and one to whom she had never gotten to say goodbye. What was she doing? Thinking of such things would only bring the tears back. She needed to just hear the story. To let it lull her to sleep.

“They liked the deep forests and the underground places,” Kana was saying. “Not the bright sun. And then, finally, tired of humans, they delved so deeply into the Earth they reached another realm and never returned.”

His words blurred and faded, merging with strange memories of Namaka’s other half. Memories of half-sized men carved from stone, crafting, working, digging, digging, digging.

18

In the darkness, Kam crept back toward the chief’s hut, once again in boar form. Last night he had tried this with a far different intent. He’d wanted to help Pasikole get that stupid boat back. They’d wanted to avoid anyone getting hurt. Now, hurt was the point. Kam hurt. His heart hurt at the thought of never seeing that stupid yellow-haired foreigner again.

The Startracer had left. Probably forever.

Probably the right thing. As usual, doing the right thing stole half the fun out of life. That left him only one option. It was time to be bad.

He snuck around a small bonfire in the center of the village. A few people remained up, sitting around the fire, telling stories or sipping those spirits Pasikole had traded them. Taking advantage of the generosity of the man they’d murdered. Kam gave them a wide berth. Didn’t want to wake the whole shitting village.

The chief had stationed a guard outside his hut this time. Kam snorted. Stupid shitter was in for it.

With a wild squeal he charged the guardian. The man turned toward him languidly, as if underwater, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. Kam yanked his tusks upward as he crashed into the pitiful human. They ripped through the flesh of the man’s abdomen, spilling hot entrails over Kam’s face. The shitter fell with a wet gurgle. Kam jerked his tusks free, pulling the man’s insides out along with them, then trampled right over the dying guard.

The chief and his woman bolted upright at the sound of the attack. Kam stood in the doorway, staring them down for a moment. The temptation to charge them, do the same as he had done to the guard—it was strong. He was stronger. They deserved worse.

More fear.

Instead, he arched his shoulders and slowly resumed his human form. Then he strode into the hut. The chief rose, grabbing a club, then charged him. Kam caught the descending weapon in one fist and used the other to backhand the man. It sent the chief spinning around, tumbling back to the ground. The man lay there dazed and bloody while his woman shrieked.

With one stride Kam closed the distance to her, glaring down at the woman who had caused all this. Her cries and insistence had brought the kahuna and the warriors. The chief might have cooperated if not for this woman. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up face-to-face with him, leaving her feet dangling off the ground. The woman wailed, clutching at his wrist to take the weight off her hair.

“It’s your fault,” Kam said.

Killing a woman was wrong.

He knew that.

He was just tired of doing the right thing.

His punch shattered her nose. If she lived at all, she was unconscious. He didn’t care. He flung her into the wall of the grass hut with such force she crashed through it, tangling in the fish net designed to hold it together. Maybe she’d live, maybe not. He didn’t give a pig’s shit.

Shouts had begun to rise among the village. They knew he was here. Good. Let them all fear Mighty Kamapua’a.

He turned on the chief, who had risen and was stumbling toward his woman’s still form. Kam grabbed the bulbous man by the throat and hefted him aloft. Chief Tangaloa. Chief Tangaloa who had ordered his people to cook and devour Pasikole. A slow grin spread over Kam’s face, and he trod back outside.

A handful of warriors had surrounded him, but he halted their advance with a glare. “One squeeze and I pop off his head, you shitters.”

Tangaloa’s men brandished spears at him, but none dared move in. Instead, Kam slowly walked back toward the bonfire.

“There’s one thing I want you to know,” he said, his voice low, intended only for the chief. “All you had to do was give back the shitting boat.”

The chief looked like he might have something to say, though he could form no words with Kam’s hand clenched around his throat. Just as well. Kam no longer cared what the man wanted. He flung the chief into the bonfire. The man fell screaming.

An instant of profound, total stillness fell over the camp, as if no one could believe what went on before their own eyes. The only movement, the only sound—the flailing and moaning of their chief as he struggled out of the bonfire and collapsed near it. Like a clap of thunder the camp exploded into motion, some racing to try to extinguish their chief, others charging Kam.

By the sickly sweet scent of his burning flesh, Kam seriously doubted they could save him.

“Feast on his mana!” Kam shouted.

Then he took off running, faster than any human could match. He dropped to all fours, releasing the boar spirit within as he ran. Become the animal and run free. He barreled through the legs of a man who tried to block his way, sending the poor shitter tumbling end over end.

“The aumakuas will curse you forever!” the kahuna shouted at his back.

Even in boar form, Kam cringed. Killing the kahuna was maybe too tabu, even for him. So instead, he’d left the man alive to spew curses and send ghosts after him. Stupid Kam, stupid. For a moment, he hesitated at the edge of the jungle and considered going back after that kahuna. Finally, with a snort, he ran off into the night.

He had to find Namaka.

Day IV

19

Namaka woke to a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking her. She opened her eyes, then squinted against the sunrise. Kana had leaned over her, like he’d been trying to get her to wake for a while. Had he called out to her? It must have all blended into dream.

She sat up, hit her head on a root, and slunk back down with a groan. She needed about twelve more hours like that and she might feel back to full strength. Not really, of course. Not so far from the sea.

“You look so young when you sleep,” Kana said.

For an instant a bout of self-consciousness seized her. She shook herself, then crawled from beneath the roots.

“Well, how old are you, anyway?” she demanded.

“Twenty-two.” He crawled free after her.

So he was five years older. Whatever. “Well, Twenty-Two Man, I’ve got a mermaid inside me, so I’m going to be looking like this for the next, oh forty years or so. So don’t tell me how young I seem.”

“Forgive me, Princess. I didn’t mean anything … I … Sorry.”

She waved the comment away. Browbeating him should have been beneath her. It was just the fatigue talking.

“We need to find water,” he said. “Fill the gourd and—”

“It’s that way,” Namaka said, pointing to a pool perhaps a ten-minute walk away.

“I thought you hadn’t been here before?”

“I haven’t. And water is that way.”

The look of confusion on his face was so priceless Namaka couldn’t help but smile. They paused long enough to each relieve themselves and to eat the poi he’d brought in his satchel, then they trekked to the pool. They moment they reached it Namaka fell to her knees and dunked her head underwater, sucking in the blessed liquid.

Kana paused drinking to stare at her as she rose from the pool. “Was that true? About the mermaid spirit?”

“Yeah.”

“You have a tail?”

Namaka rolled her eyes. “Sure. When I want to. Not especially useful up in the mountains.”

“Wow. You’re not making this up?”

She laughed, then shook her head. For a moment, she just smiled at him. Making it up. She couldn’t have thought up a life like this if she’d tried. “I have two souls joined together. It can cause me to feel conflicted about a lot of things.”

“That has got to be the best justification for mood swings a woman has ever given me.”

Namaka folded her arms over her chest. “Oh, really? You want to see a mood swing, Twenty-Two Man?”

He flinched.

Namaka held her mock glare for just a moment before snickering. “Which way from here?”

Kana looked around before pointing toward another mountain in the distance.

Great. They could certainly make it there today, but it meant moving even farther away from the ocean. And more climbing. She shook herself. Hadn’t she used to like climbing? Hadn’t it seemed like a fun adventure? She could remember being that girl, but only just. Like looking at another person’s life. Her memories as Nyi Rara seemed even cloudier. She could pull out images, bits and pieces, remembered feelings. But nothing that quite added up to the sum of a life. Would her own memories—or those of the Namaka who was—would they fade away in time too? Lost in the procession of years as the mermaid spirit sustained her body? The thought soured her mood, like she would somehow lose herself in the process. She’d wanted to join with Nyi Rara to become more, not less.

“Let’s get going then,” she mumbled, motioning for Kana to lead the way.

* * *

Hours they walked, until she could hear Kana’s stomach growling. Her nature meant she didn’t have to eat as often as a human, though she certainly wouldn’t turn down regular meals when she could get them. Her legs ached from walking uphill so much.

Kana suddenly paused as he crested a boulder, staring at something she couldn’t see. Namaka edged around him to spot a statue of a man, perhaps as tall as her chest. The man—or menehune, she supposed—had a large belly protruding over his carved skirt, and stood hands-on-hips like some guardian barring the way. Albeit one with an over-wide smile.

Now that she paused to look around, she spotted other such statues scattered around the mountain slope. She wanted to ask him what they meant, but something forced her to silence, as if to utter human speech in this secluded place would violate some tabu more ancient than she could imagine.

The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end. The only noise came from the occasional bird cry, and even those sounded far off, scattered.

Kana must have felt it too, for he pointed without speaking, indicating a gap between two boulders. He trod so softly she couldn’t even make out his footfalls. Trying to do the same, Namaka followed. Beyond the boulders, in the mountainside, gaped a tunnel entrance like the maw of a shark. Vines hung over it and heavy underbrush blocked the way. Kana had been right. She might have searched for days without him and simply overlooked such an entrance.

He led her to it, then hesitated on the threshold. Not that she blamed him. The black igneous rocks forming the tunnel only added to its rather intimidating mystique, and it sloped steeply downward, descending beneath the mountain.

Kana glanced back at her as if to ask if she was certain. He needn’t have bothered. They both had families they could not afford to fail. At the look on her face, he pulled a candlenut torch from his satchel and began to scrape flint rocks together trying to light it. Namaka cringed at the sound. It went on for a long time before the man got it lit.

Finally he rose, torch in hand, and stared into the darkness of the cave. Instinctively Namaka took him by the hand, his warm touch a comfort, however small, as she led him into the tunnel.

* * *

The path descended so deep beneath the mountain Namaka’s ears popped as though she were swimming on the seafloor. Every few hundred paces stood another menehune statue, silent guardians of a forgotten time. She could only hope they truly marked the way to the Place of Darkness and the Waters. Kana neither spoke nor let go of her hand. The only sound came from the light pad of their feet on cold stone.

It was, perhaps, unbecoming of a veritable sea goddess to be afraid, but here, so far from the source of her powers, her every hair stood on end. They walked for so long that Kana’s candlenut torch began to dwindle.

“Do you have another?” she whispered. Breaking the silence felt like violating a tabu, no matter how much she told herself it was merely her own fear.

“One more.”

They glanced at each other, apparently sharing a fear of spending even a moment in total darkness, then he knelt and rummaged through his satchel before pulling out his second torch. Kana held the dimming torch to the new one, sparking a welcome radiance throughout the tunnel.

Focused on the torch, Namaka caught the sound of a faint drumbeat vibrating through the mountainside. She couldn’t say when it had begun. Rather, it seemed to have been building in intensity until it finally caught her attention. A moment later Kana froze, clearly hearing it as well.

He stood, spinning from one side to another with the torch, as if looking for the source of the rhythm now reverberating all around them. As he turned, the light fell upon one of the menehune statues and Namaka could have sworn it now stood closer to them than it had been.

Fragments of Nyi Rara’s knowledge of the Spirit Realm tugged at her mind, but she couldn’t quite piece them together. Either Nyi Rara had not been much for studies, or Namaka’s human mind was simply not adapted to understanding realities beyond the Mortal Realm. Either way, she grabbed Kana’s wrist and yanked him forward. Some base instinct told her they could not remain here and worse, that it was far too late to turn back. It must have been the same instinct that had tried to warn her human speech here would violate a tabu. She should have listened to that instinct.

Kana hurried beside her and Namaka pushed on, deeper and deeper, as the drumbeats grew ever louder, until her heart beat in time with them. The rhythm could have filled a festive luau. Could have, in another place and time. Here, an alien anger filled it, an indignation at the presumption of mortals to tread upon forbidden grounds.

“What is that?” Kana said.

“Don’t speak,” she whispered through clenched teeth, glancing at the man beside her. His hand had become clammy.

Aumakuas preserve them. Guide them from the darkness and back into the sunlight. Let her gaze again upon the majestic sea.

As she turned back to the tunnel ahead of her the torchlight fell upon another of the menehune statues. Only this one moved before her eyes, rolling forward like it was made of the very stuff of the mountain. Its gentle, abstract features slowly sharpened into those of a man, albeit a man much shorter than her. A beard and braided hair slithered out of his rocky face and his skin, while retaining a slate-like color, grew fleshy.

Namaka jerked to a stop and Kana gasped. The menehune held a hand before him, and into it a spear grew out of the cavern floor. In the space of a rapid breath, its tip gleamed like polished obsidian. In fact, his eyes too looked like volcanic glass, reflecting the torchlight in unearthly patterns.

Throat too dry to swallow, Namaka turned, looked over her shoulder. More of the creatures had gathered behind them, each pointing spears. Others lurked down the tunnel. Though she could not see them, she could feel their presence, looming over them.

At once, the drumming ceased.

The menehune before her glared—or she thought it was a glare, though his eyes were impossible to read—then jerked his head over his shoulder. Beckoning them onward. Yes, far too late to turn back. Namaka tried to follow, but Kana stood still as a statue himself, his trembling grip on her hand holding her back. They couldn’t afford to further agitate these beings. Namaka squeezed Kana’s hand, then pulled him forward until at last he followed.

The lead menehune guided them down a long way until Namaka began to feel the soothing presence of water ahead. Eventually she heard it, too, the flow and crash of a small waterfall. Or many.

The menehune led them into a wide open cavern with a ceiling so high she wouldn’t have made it out save for the faint luminosity of fungus growing there. Around them rose and fell a procession of rock outcroppings that seemed at once natural and carefully constructed. They jutted at odd angles and heights that greatly varied, but upon each rested a wide stone brazier lit with great flame. Many of those outcroppings featured huts that seemed grow right out of the rock. Clear paths—stairs even—cut through some of the platforms, leading onward. More welcome, however, were the half dozen small waterfalls pouring down into a lake beneath the outcroppings.

Though it was not the sea, the presence of so much water let Namaka finally breathe easily. Perhaps she remained out of her element and surrounded by other powerful spirits, but at least she was no longer defenseless. Did they know she held a Water spirit inside her? Had they brought her here in ignorance, or as a deliberate show that they had nothing to fear from her? Since there had to be a hundred or more of these Earth spirits, she suspected the latter.

Their guide led them past pillars carved to look like great trees, then beyond into a hollowed boulder the size of a chief’s hut, the walls of which were engraved with a panoramic view of jungle-covered mountains. In the center of the hut sat another menehune staring into the blade of an obsidian knife as if it might reveal the answers of the universe to him. This being was older, his flesh withered and his hair stark white against his near-black skin. With a flick of his wrist, the knife disappeared somewhere into the vest he wore over his bare chest, and finally he looked up them, taking each in with a long gaze.

“Well,” he said, his voice deep as a rumbling mountain, “do be seated. Let it not be said I am a poor host.”

At that their guide stepped away, just beyond the threshold of the dwelling but certainly in easy reach should she try anything. No one overtly threatened her, but then, why would they need to? Namaka nodded and sat down in front of the menehune chief, pulling Kana down beside her.

When she did, the creature nodded and cleared his throat, a sound that reminded her of the land’s anger before an eruption. “You,” he said, indicating Namaka, “are not human.”

“No. I am Nyi Rara, a princess of Hiyoya.”

The menehune groaned, then shook his head. “Complicated. He is human. We can use him.”

That did not sound good. Not at all. “You are the chief here?”

“Forgive me, yes. I am Molowa, chief of this enclave. And you, Water spirit, are trespassing. Perhaps you did not see the innumerable warnings on the way here?”

His tone made her seem a fool and she didn’t appreciate it. “We thought those were invitations.”

“Do not test me, girl. Were you human I would plant my seed in your belly and watch as a new menehune grew from within. Since that might well produce some abomination, I will forgo. It does not mean I forgive your presence here. We do not want visitors, human or otherwise.”

Namaka kept her eyes locked on Molowa’s, unwilling to let him see the tinge of fear his words had opened in her gut. The horrid casualness with which he spoke of using humans merely to breed his kind made it seem very likely. But though the menehune’s eyes remained unreadable, something in his voice betrayed a clear hesitance. A nervousness under his bravado and threats. “I’m sure you don’t. But I don’t think you want trouble with Hiyoya either. You want to be left alone? Abducting the queen’s niece is not the best way to do that.”

Molowa held up a hand, acknowledging—or at least forestalling—her point. “Him,” he said, pointing at Kana, “we can use. He is human.”

“Wh-what?” Kana asked. “I don’t think you can plant your seed in my belly. He can’t do that, can he?”

Namaka shook her head, reasonably certain that would be impossible. And even more certain that wasn’t what Molowa had meant.

“You know how it is, Water spirit. Human hosts break down as the years roll by. We always need more. And every so often, some fool boy or girl ignores the warnings and wanders the deep places. Where do you think we got all these bodies?” He thumped his chest. “This one, for example, has lasted me past four centuries. I am due for another, and as if by fate, one presents himself on my doorstep.”

“No. You can’t have him.”

The menehune chuckled. “Can’t have him? How are you going to stop me? His soul might be strong now, but enough abuse and I can slide right inside.”

“What is he talking about?” Kana demanded. “Is this still about … rape?” He sounded sick.

“If that’s how we have to break your spirit, why not?” Molowa said.

“No!” Namaka shouted.

The guard outside strode back in at her outburst, but Molowa stalled him with a single glance. “Human, I need a new body. This—” he indicated his decaying flesh “—is a shell. A host for my true essence. And you are going to be my next host. And again, I ask you, Water spirit, how are you going to stop me?”

“This man is under my protection.”

Molowa groaned and shook his head. “Would you risk war between our kinds over a human?”

Namaka leaned forward now. “Would you? I am my human now. We are merged in symbiosis.”

Molowa’s face scrunched up like he’d eaten spoiled poi. “You jest.”

Since he clearly knew better, she didn’t bother to answer that. “We’re looking for the Place of Darkness. And you are going to help us find it.”

Molowa laughed, a dry chuckle that spread even to the guard watching over them. “Now I believe you must have a human brain clogging your thoughts. Why would you want to go to anywhere called the Place of Darkness? Does that sound like a nice spot? Do you know why we call it that?”

“It’s dark?”

“Well, yes, certainly. But we call it that so imbeciles like you two won’t go looking for it and get eaten by its guardians. Believe me when I tell you there are more frightening things than us in that valley.”

Eaten? What in Lua-O-Milu lived there? The truth was, it didn’t really matter. Yes, the name was forbidding—maybe another reason was why no one had retrieved the Waters of Life in many years. She still had to get them. “Take us.”

“Why would I do that? Even if I grant you your lives, release you in the name of peace with Hiyoya, I have no reason to help you. None.”

Namaka opened her mouth, half-tempted to threaten him with the wrath of Hiyoya again. Still, she was far from their domain and she wasn’t certain how far she could push that line.

Before she could think of another plan, Kana spoke. “What if I let you have me, willingly, once we get what we came for?”

“Kana, no,” Namaka said. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“If it means I can save Niheu … he’s my family.”

Molowa steepled his thick fingers, clearly intrigued.

Namaka glanced back and forth between the man and the menehune. “Listen to me. Most spirits are not like the one inside me. You would be giving away your life, spending centuries as a prisoner in your own body.”

“He is my brother.”

“You seek the Waters of Life,” Molowa said. “Yes. I could show you where to look, though you would more than likely perish in the attempt.” He sighed and spread his hands. “You would have to swear a blood oath. An oath that you belong to me on the moonrise after your brother is saved.”

“Do not do this,” Namaka warned.

“I-I swear it.”

Molowa laughed again. “It’s not that easy, boy.” From nowhere that knife appeared in his hand again and Molowa slit open his palm. He advanced on Kana, drew open the man’s shirt, and traced a symbol on his chest. Marking him in blood with the Glyph of his own soul.

Namaka cringed, feeling sick. She ought to stop this. To tell him that buying Niheu a few decades of life was not worth centuries of his own pain. But this was the only way to save her mother, her village, her entire island. And they were her duty.

She fought down bile as Molowa handed Kana the knife and the man drew it along his own palm. Then they clasped hands.

“Swear you are mine.”

Kana panted, his fear so real, so raw it pained even her. “I swear, if my brother is healed by the Waters of Life, I am yours the next night.” Namaka could see Molowa squeezing the man’s hand. Then Kana cried out as if burned and Namaka had to look away.

Even if the Waters saved everyone, the price had just become higher than she had ever imagined.

20

The evening sun lit the sea, reflecting off the floating lanterns. Little boxes illuminated by candlenut flames, disappearing slowly over the horizon. There had to be a dozen drifting out to sea now, one for each of the souls who had perished in this village. Out there, setting them adrift, friends and family of the fallen sat on surfboards.

Pele had returned to Puako Village to find funerals. Already the sickness claimed lives. Each lost soul a tiny flame drifting out to sea.

Ku-Aha-Ilo might have helped save the need for some of those candles. By refusing he had, in his way, almost lit the candles himself. They weren’t her family—her mother and brother still survived—but they were her people, and she was powerless to help them. As she stood upon the shore watching the lanterns drift away, so too she watched the flames of those who counted on her slip from the Earth and return to the Worldsea.

She had to clench her fists just to bottle her rage, her growing fury at her own impotence. If she let that anger out she could annihilate the village with volcanic fires and earthquakes. She could crush an army, but had no way to save the life of a single child ravaged by fever.

And some of those lanterns were the souls of children, their ghosts pulled from the Earth before they had seen ten years. Each was like a little sun, burning her eyes, blinding her. Damning her for failing them. All she could ever come back to was the question—could Ku-Aha-Ilo have stopped this with his secret knowledge? The Art, as far as she understood the concept, drew power from the Ghost World. Ku-Aha-Ilo knew of that, more deeply than any kahuna ever would.

But still, the kahuna knew something. The local one—a rotund old man who was now half blind—danced about, casting off the ghosts, sending away the souls of the lost so they would not linger to haunt the living. No matter how much the living might deserve it.

This ceremony might have happened later at night, if not for the fear pervading the village. By now the people spoke of a ghost, and Pele had even heard whispers of a Nightmarcher. They knew something haunted the dark, and they were afraid. That fear most likely fed the hatred of this spirit. It might not have been sent here by Ku-Aha-Ilo, but it had still found its way into Puako at the same time as him.

Though it took a significant effort of will, Pele tore her gaze from the damning lanterns and watched the kahuna. His rhythmic chants seemed to invoke spirits and ghosts both, beseeching them to guide away those who had newly passed. The useless old fool had done nothing to even slow the spread of this disease, claimed it lay beyond his Art. Meager arts, then. Nor had he managed to banish the Nightmarcher. And still, she dared not interrupt his ritual. The last thing anyone needed now was more angry ghosts menacing the living.

Instead she circled the man, making her way to his temple atop the hill. It must have taken weeks to gather all the waterworn stones that composed the open-air platform there. In its center stood a brazier burning sacred smoke, lit with a flame that must never be allowed to flicker out. Ki’i masks ringed the temple. A grass roof covered the brazier itself, shielding it from the heaviest rains and winds, but it was the kahuna’s duty to keep the flame ever lit. None but a kahuna could approach the fire. Not even she, the Princess of Flame, was to tend it.

Within those flames lurked a hypnotic message she could never quite make out. Like falling into herself. Perhaps that was the meditative trance Fire-Keeper had so often urged her to try for. If she truly achieved it, maybe she would find more answers, knowledge beyond human ken. As a Princess, she was far more than human in power, and yet still bound by the limitations of human wisdom—what little there was of that. The kahuna, on the other hand, were by and large weak old men, but they had at least glimpsed knowledge from the Ghost World.

The old man’s shuffling gait and panting alerted her to his approach long before he crested the hill. She turned to see him, squinting at her while leaning heavily on his walking stick. No doubtexhausted from his dancing and invocations, but she had neither time nor patience to concern herself with tact. Not while the lives of so many, of perhaps her entire island, hung so precariously over the volcano.

“Princess?” he asked, his voice raspy.

“What do you see in the flame?”

“I … There are many sacred mysteries, of course, my Princess.” Sacred mysteries—or the kahuna’s desire to protect their own importance as the keepers of secret lore.

She closed the distance between them in two strides so she could glare into his eyes from a breath away. “I am the Princess of this island, trained by a kahuna. Do not prevaricate with me, old man. A ghost haunts this village. That means you have failed in your duty, one way or another.”

The kahuna fell back, clearly unused to being spoken to this way. After a moment he composed himself and motioned for her to follow. He led her around the far side of the hill where his own grass hut stood watching over the village. Pele folded her arms, not certain what the old man was up to and having no patience for games. She was about to say so when he ducked into the house. The kahuna returned a moment later with a gourd filled with water and offered it to her.

Pele took a sip, then passed it back. The old man drank deeply, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Finally, he held the gourd out to her again. Pele frowned, glancing down at it then back at the man.

“I’m not thirsty.” She was a bit, perhaps, but that wasn’t the point.

“This water is what most people understand of our world and the world beyond it.” He set the gourd down, then shambled over to the side of the hut so he could look down on a pool of water near the village. It was filled by a series of low waterfalls pouring from the mountains and eventually drained into the ocean. He pointed at the pool. “That is what the kahuna know.” Then he turned his gaze out to the ocean. “And that … the endless Worldsea, is what we don’t know. How far does it reach, Princess? Fifty thousand leagues from here? Five hundred thousand? More? How deep is the sea? We don’t even know that.”

Perhaps it was the chill of the evening wind, sweeping over the mountains, accompanied by a light drizzle of rain, but the metaphor made her shiver. Never before had she heard a kahuna admit to ignorance on so vast a scale. To not even being able to imagine how pale and insignificant their knowledge stood in the face of eternity. And if it was all true then the common people, the people she wanted to protect, were able to live their lives precisely because they remained ignorant of the depth of their own ignorance.

“People want to think we have all the answers. It helps them to feel safe, secure. And we do have a few more answers than them, for certain. Mostly, though, we just have a better idea that nothing is quite what it seems. That beyond the human realm lies something ancient, ineffable, and unknowable.”

“But you can look into that flame and find some answers,” she said. The kahuna could plead ignorance all he wanted. It remained his duty, his kapu to protect humanity from the supernatural. Some Princess years ago had slept with this man and ever since he had lived with power and the reverence of the masses. It was time he earned that. “Find answers to this plague and this spirit. Are your eyes so weak? Do you need me to give you a closer look into the flames?”

The kahuna recoiled from her threat and spread his hands, his face that of a helpless child caught in a lie. At last he pointed to the ocean again. “You want me to dive in and find you a fish. Not just any fish. You want me to search the Worldsea for a specific fish. Had I a thousand lifetimes and the ability to breathe water, still I could not guarantee success in such an attempt.”

The ground rumbled with her growing irritation. What was he saying? That there was no hope? She refused to believe that. Not now, not ever. “You will try! You do not get to give up.”

At that she shoved the kahuna—violating several tabus, of course—and stormed back down the hill.

* * *

The waves lapped upon the shore in a ceaseless rhythm that ought to have comforted Pele. It did not. All she could think, over and over, was that she was failing her island. Just like the kahuna. The villagers spoke of the troubles on the Valley Isle, how too few kahuna remained alive to send the souls of all the dead. And so, left to linger, the dead would become restless, haunting the living. The worst of them, the Nightmarchers, would prey on those caught out alone, kill such victims to feed their own ranks. Rumors claimed they stalked the Valley Isle. And now, she was all but certain the defiled ghost she’d seen in the volcano was among their numbers.

She rubbed her eyes. The night should have been beautiful. A nearly full moon reflected off the waves, casting them in a light so blue it could have made her weep. Beyond the beach and the rocky shore, emerald-green mountains rose in all directions, those too faintly lit by the moon. It was a night for luaus and lovers. A night for joy. Instead she sat in the surf, brooding over those who had died and the fate that awaited them in the Ghost World. While the villagers hid in their houses, fearing the presence that stalked the darkness.

There were not enough kahuna on the Valley Isle. In truth, there were too few here on the Big Isle as well. She had not taken a lover in years, not for fear of burning the man. It meant she had not given rise to new kahuna. Every so often, one was born naturally with the potential. Mostly, though, kahuna were created by drawing mana from a Princess.

Instead of storming around this island doing whatever she was doing, Namaka should have been home, spreading her legs in every village she came to. Most people had their first sexual encounter before they even hit puberty, but it was different for a Princess. Harder, perhaps, because of the pressure, because kapu demanded it of them.

Pele grunted. Namaka’s sexual activities were not her problem. Besides, what on Lua-O-Milu was the Sea Princess doing on the Big Isle? That foreign captain had said something, hadn’t he? Pele had been so enraged she’d not bothered to think about his words. Her stomach lurched. The man had claimed Namaka came here looking for a cure to the plague. The same plague that now spread across the Big Isle. Did that mean there was a cure here? Or had the Sea Princess merely turned so desperate she had traveled here and trespassed in Pele’s domain in some vain hope?

Either way, Pele needed to find hope. She needed to help her people find it. And at the moment, all she could think of was helping to give rise to more kahuna. The old kahunas of the last generation would perish, if not from this plague then merely from the ravages of age. Before that happened, they needed apprentices, men they could train to carry on their work. And maybe who could be assigned to send the dead so the master kahunas might focus their efforts on curing the plague.

It was not a good plan. It was simply her only plan. There remained, however, the difficulty of the actual act of sharing her mana. A man could share it through sex, through bringing her to fulfillment. But when aroused she couldn’t control her fires. Heat built in her cheeks and her hair lit aflame even thinking of it. Her passions might be an asset, but they could easily prove her weakness as well. Nor could she enter into such an engagement dispassionately. Even if she were capable of it, if she felt nothing, the potential kahuna would gain nothing.

In any event, she had denied her own desires and pleasures for too long, always afraid of hurting someone. It was time to indulge, and with luck, give rise to a new generation of kahuna. She trod back into the village, its eerie silence. Everyone hidden away now, no doubt praying the kahuna’s prayers would save them.

The kahuna had an apprentice already, one she knew added his prayers in one of the common houses. Pele sneered. Of course she knew people were apt to fuck wherever they wanted, and others were expected to simply find somewhere else to look. Despite that, she couldn’t quite see herself marching into the house and claiming her first lover in years in front of half the village.

Instead she pushed aside the kapa cloth and stepped in. The villagers had a small fire burning inside, its light and warmth no doubt a comfort against their fears. Even she, in part, wished to hunker down beside the flames and wait out the darkness. But the villagers needed to see their Princess—and their kahuna—unafraid, ready to protect them.

Every eye turned toward her when she breached the imagined safety of the house. Pele looked over the villagers before settling upon the kahuna’s apprentice. The young man—she didn’t know his name—was handsome enough, she supposed. He had stringy hair of medium length, muscles with just enough tone to be pleasing. She beckoned him.

His face blanched when he realized she intended him to come out into the night. She didn’t bother to wait and see if he followed. If he was too cowardly to face the night by her side, he wouldn’t do much good as a kahuna.

Instead, she returned to the shore. The man’s footfalls fell hesitantly behind her, but he soon raced to catch up.

“Princess?”

Pele cast a glance back at him and smiled.

By the surf she cast aside her skirt, then settled herself provocatively upon a rock shelf, legs crossed. Thinking about her impending liaison immediately set her hair ablaze, and she made no effort to extinguish it. Let the man see her for who and what she was and decide then if he wanted to go forward.

The apprentice drew to a stop as he the flames sparked around her head. By now, her eyes were no doubt glowing like white hot embers. Pele leaned back against the rock behind her and watched the man. If he fled then he clearly was not the one.

He did not flee. Though, to be fair, his approach was slower than she might have preferred. His fear dampened her excitement and with it, lowered the flames sparking from her hair. Pele fought the urge to frown at the man for spoiling her arousal. He was right to be afraid, both of her and of the night. But damn it …

“You wish to be a kahuna?”

He nodded.

Pele opened her mouth to ask him his name, but stopped. What did she care who he was? She might have sparked his lust, but he didn’t even know her. They weren’t going to remain lovers. If her plan was to succeed, she’d have to leave and find more such men in each village. The best, the very best she could hope for was a night of passion with a stranger. And why not? Other women had such nights often enough.

Rather than speak, she uncrossed her legs and spread her arms. The man hesitantly took the invitation. He leaned in to kiss her, then jerked away, perhaps frightened by the heat radiating from her hair. Now Pele did scowl. If he couldn’t bring her joy then this whole endeavor was a waste, both for her sake and for his.

The apprentice leaned forward again, this time planting kisses over her abdomen, her breasts, and her nipples. He gasped then, perhaps shocked that those too radiated heat. Idly, she wondered if he had burned his lips. Rather than let the mood be lost, she rose, pushing the man down into the surf and mounted him.

They quickly fell into a rhythm. It was going to work. She was going to be able to share her mana with him and … and she … Her passion rose as she neared her climax. It rose so quickly, at first she didn’t realize the man was screaming. A curtain of steam rose from the surf where the apprentice now wailed.

Pele jerked away from him, a pang of regret at coming so close to her joy and having to stop. That pang vanished when she saw the man, weeping, pull himself toward the ocean. His wrists were charred black where she’d held him. The steam from the surf had covered the scent of burnt flesh before, but now she caught a whiff.

He screamed again as saltwater touched his burns, clutching his wrists to his chest and failing upon the shore.

No, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d thought she could control … “I-I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

In pain and frustration she choked down a sob of her own, the land beneath her rumbling in time with it. Damn it! Kāne, she’d only wanted to help people. Now, instead, she had ruined a man. If he lived from those burns at all he might never again have full use of his hands. And he still wasn’t going to become a new kahuna.

Pele didn’t bother to stop for her skirt as she ran back up the hill. The old kahuna might be able to work out a poultice to save his apprentice. Maybe he could do something, anything, to begin to clean up the mess she had made. She had been so quick to chide the man earlier, and now here she was, running back to him for help.

Not for the first time, she regretted sending Fire-Keeper off to track Namaka.

She paused atop the hill. The kahuna was on his knees, staring into the flame of the sacred brazier. Trying to achieve the impossible task she’d set before him? And now she had to draw him away from that task by admitting she had maimed his apprentice. Before she had even reached the temple threshold, the kahuna pitched forward, falling face-first upon the stone floor.

Pele froze. What on Lua-O-Milu? Had the old man fainted?

“Kahuna!” she shouted.

The man didn’t stir at all. In the darkness, the ki’i masks seemed to be glaring at her. The gods above and below judging her for failures and ineptitudes. Daring her to violate kapu and trespass near the brazier? If the sacred smoke of the brazier fell upon her, she the people would put her to death. But the old man …

A deafening silence had settled over the temple, such that the only sound she could hear was the crackle of the flame. Even the wind and rain had stopped, ushering in a stillness that stole away her breath as she trod, one halting step at a time, onto the stone floor. Drawing near, she fell to her knees, hoping to avoid the smoke touching her skin, then crawled to the kahuna.

Barely able to breathe, she turned him over. His eyes had opened too wide, face a mask of fear. No breath ushered from his mouth. Pele sputtered. Kāne, no. She had demanded he look deeply into the Ghost World. And something there had ended him, something that had terrified him beyond words. And who was here, now, to send the old kahuna’s soul away? No one. Pele didn’t even know his name, and now he was likely damned to wander the earth a restless ghost, perhaps joining the Nightmarchers.

With trembling fingers she shut his eyes, then slowly pulled him away from the brazier. He was heavy—exceptionally heavy—so she certainly couldn’t lift him. Her breath came in ragged pants by the time she’d managed to move the kahuna even a few paces. This wasn’t going to work.

She had no way to help the kahuna and—oh, damn. She’d come up here looking for help for the man’s apprentice. He still waited down there on the beach, maybe dying from his wounds. These were not things she could fix, useless as it made her feel.

Pele crawled free from the temple, but as she rose, she felt a fuming presence behind her. Chest tight, she spun. A silhouette passed in and out of a fog bank, flanking the temple. Perhaps it could not enter here. And where had that fog come from? Moments ago the night had been clear.

Then, all at once, the fog congealed and began to flow toward the shore.

The apprentice.

Her stomach falling, Pele lit torches in both hands and ran toward the beach as fast as her legs could carry her. But she was racing the wind. Already, the fog had settled around the spot she had left her fallen lover. All at once, his wailing reached a fever pitch, a single, sustained scream of tortuous agony that sent Pele stumbling to her knees.

If only she hadn’t sent Fire-Keeper away. She’d thought herself ready to handle this on her own. She was not. She needed her teacher.

She wanted to weep, but tears would not come. Instead, a profound sense of desolation seized her. What had she done? Thanks to her, the kahuna and his apprentice had both fallen, lost to the world. No one remained here to send their souls. The ghost haunting this place would soon have companions.

There was a story Fire-Keeper had told her a long time ago, about some forgotten village. It had been overtaken by Nightmarchers, the entire population slain and transformed into more ghosts. An army of kahuna had stood against them, many losing their lives in a final attempt to turn the tide. They failed. According to the story, that was why no one lived on the Lost Island. It was barren, barely fit for plant life, and certainly not for mankind.

The fog had not dissipated, instead settling upon the beach. And a silhouette moved through it, stalking toward her.

“Damn you.”

Was this the ghost who had brought them to such a pass? She would not allow the Big Isle to fall. Would do whatever it took to stop that from happening. The figure continued to edge ever closer toward her, and Pele, despite her clenching stomach, stood her ground. As it emerged from the fog, though, she realized it was not the same man she had seen. It was the apprentice.

“You’re alive?”

He no longer seemed pained by the burns on his wrist. Indeed, he moved with a strength that should have been impossible in his condition. And his eyes seemed wrong, hollow, like they didn’t quite recognize her. A primal, soul-rending fear seized her, and she fell back despite her determination to face this.

The apprentice was not alive at all. That ghost had lodged inside his corpse. Defiling it, denying it rest, and sending it on for further violence. It must had grown stronger.

She flared her flames in her hands, and the apprentice—or his body—drew up short, finally given pause.

She shook her head. None of this should have happened. She’d wanted to help people. “I’m sorry … I’m so, so sorry.”

It might have been her imagination, but the corpse almost seemed to sneer at her. If she could do nothing for the man’s soul, at least she could deny the ghost use of his body. Pele flung both flames forward so their arcs intersected over the corpse. As they did so, she poured mana into them, igniting a detonation like a tiny volcano. The wave engulfed the corpse and hurled Pele from her feet, sending her tumbling several paces away.

Sand scraped her skin, flew up her nose, and stung her eyes. Spitting and panting, she pushed herself up. Through tearstained vision she saw the corpse—still aflame—shambling toward her. Pele grunted. She pulled herself to her knees and emptied more and more power into the flames.

The sickeningly sweet, acrid smell of burnt human flesh greeted her as skin and muscle turned to ash. Still the corpse advanced until, a pace away, its charred bones collapsed onto the sand.

Pele gasped, not certain whether in relief, exhaustion, or remorse.

* * *

There was no reprieve, of course. No one could kill a ghost, for it was not alive. Destroying the body it occupied would inconvenience it, at best. Soon, it would return. Maybe coming for the kahuna’s body back at the temple. Though her breath now came in pants, Pele forced herself up and made her way back there as quickly as she was able. The kahuna lay where she had left him, mercifully still.

No words of apology might suffice. She had pushed him beyond the limits of human knowledge, drove him, in her own desperation, to seeking answers not meant for mankind. And it had killed him. All she could do now was burn his body and save him the indignity of being used by that Nightmarcher.

Puako needed a kahuna, and they needed one now. She had no way to send a message to Fire-Keeper. But if he saw she was in danger, in trouble … A very controlled eruption, but a tall one. It would shake the land and be visible for leagues. Damage to the temple was unavoidable, but at least it lay far enough removed from the village she might spare them. She hoped.

She knelt by the body and dug her hands into the dirt, calling to the magma coursing far below. She needed help and she needed it now. Desperation fueled her anger, and her anger summoned the magma, sending the hilltop trembling. A crack rent it, split the land like a breaking wave. The rupture ran toward the temple, tore open its pebble floor, and began to swallow bits of the sacred rocks. Too late to stop the process, aumakuas forgive her.

Pele screamed as a jet of lava shot upward. She focused all her will, all her mana, into directing it straight up in a single column. Even as it fell, she forced its flow away from the village, creating a stream of molten rock running out to sea.

Finally, spent, she fell forward. The lava jet was brief. But he would have seen it. Must have seen it.

* * *

Her legs threatened to give out beneath her as she made her way to her mother’s house. Her family would have been terrified. They must have heard the screams and no one would have missed the eruption. Dimly, she sensed the spirit watching her. She had no further strength to chastise it or attempt to chase it away. The best she could do was hope the prayers the kahuna had already spoken would ward the village for the rest of the night. A fragile hope—she didn’t truly know how such things worked.

She slipped inside her mother’s house. The woman had risen now, had a poultice tied around her face, but at least had some strength back. She turned to see Pele and for the briefest of instants, she smiled.

“Mama.” Pele embraced her mother, no longer caring about tabus.

Her mother returned her hug, stiffly, then pulled away, obvious concern on her face. Only then did Pele realize a new form slept on the mat now, shivering.

Her mother followed her gaze. “Your brother has a fever. Several people in the village have—”

Pele held up a trembling hand to stop her mother from saying what she knew would come next. Kāne-Milohai, her newly found half-brother. Brought down by the curse Namaka’s foreign friend had sent among them all. How long before Milohai became one more flame, one more lantern floating on the sea?

This could not happening. She had only just found her mother again. Had only met her brother for the first time a few days ago. And now he lay dying too. He was young, strong. Maybe he had a chance.

Pele knelt by his side. “Milohai?”

He grunted, turning toward her, but his eyes seemed vacant.

“Fever dreams have him,” Mama said. “He keeps trying to talk to his father.” She offered Pele a gourd of water.

Pele drank deeply, finally sating her thirst. In fact, the water sent her stomach rumbling.

Mama must have heard it, for she next brought a bushel of bananas from one corner of the house. “We’ve all started storing extra food to get through the long nights.”

Pele accepted the food and ate, not taking her eyes from her brother. Aumakuas, was this her fault somehow? Or Namaka’s? She longed for someone to blame. Maybe Ku-Aha-Ilo. She could blame him for the ghost haunting them, though he claimed not to have summoned it.

“Papa …” Milohai.

Pele tossed aside a banana peel. “I’m sorry I never met your new husband.”

“So am I. I told him so much about you over the years. He always said he wanted to meet you, even encouraged me to try to find you. I should have, I know it. But trekking to every volcano on the island, it seemed impossible. But you’re here now. I hope you know, all three of us, we were so proud of you being a Princess.”

For all the good it had done. Pele clutched her brother’s hand, but he was looking at something far beyond her, mumbling nonsense. The fever had hit him hard, already apparently brought him to the threshold of the Ghost World. She would not lose her brother. There had to be some way to save him. But everything she had tried had turned to ash.

Milohai’s fevered breaths sent up clouds of frost in the air. The poor boy was fighting for his life and all she could think to do was hold his hand. She couldn’t break a fever. He shivered. Maybe she could have warmed him, but her extra heat might only make things worse.

She shook her head. Namaka had come here looking for a cure. Well, now Pele understood that desperation. Oh, she understood it all too well. She just wished she could know what the Sea Princess knew, if anything.

“You should rest, you look exhausted,” her mother said.

Yes. She was exhausted, and she should rest. But she’d find no sleep this night, not with her brother like this. Not knowing that because of her, the kahuna was gone. The houses now stood defenseless against the spirit. And if they reached morning at all, tomorrow night the spirit would surely return.

And what should she tell her mother? The truth would frighten people, but they could not hide from it. Perhaps all of Puako could flee to the nearest neighboring village, find shelter there. Pele glanced over her shoulder.

“What happened out there?” her mother asked, her breath, too, icy. She was rubbing her arms as if cold.

The cold didn’t really bother Pele much, but now that she considered it, it should have been warmer in here.

When the ghost had been near before it had chilled the air, as if its darkness sucked out light and warmth. The kahuna’s prayers no longer protected the houses. There was a presence inside, wasn’t there? Something more than just her mother watching them.

Pele leapt to her feet, flames immediately springing into her hands. She spun. “Where are you? Show yourself!”

No answer was forthcoming.

“Papa …” Milohai moaned.

The hairs on the back of Pele’s neck rose.

Day V

21

A soul visited with sufficient pain could lose itself. Become a Nightmarcher whose purpose was to share its torment.

And Milohai, his brain baked in fever dreams, already lay on the edge of the Ghost World. Was it possible he saw into the realm? Seeing the ghost who had haunted them all along? His own father, her mother’s new husband.

Pele had seen the ghost, his throat exploded, burned. Ku-Aha-Ilo might have done that, might have tortured the man. She had never seen her stepfather, and he didn’t know her.

Kāne-Hoalani. That was the name her brother had given.

The kahuna had not been here when Ku-Aha-Ilo attacked Pele’s mother and Hoalani. Maybe he hadn’t come back quickly enough, had failed when he tried to send Hoalani’s soul away.

“When you were attacked, the kahuna first tended to your wounds, didn’t he?”

Her mother nodded. “Of course. I might have died, otherwise.”

And that left no one to perform an immediate sending. Maybe an entire night had passed, one in which Hoalani’s lost soul wandered, its torment unrelieved.

“Kāne-Hoalani?” Pele asked. “Are you here?”

Her mother blanched. “What are you …?”

Pele’s gaze silenced the woman. Maybe she began to understand. Certainly it was possible Milohai was merely delirious. The spirit could have been anyone. But it had appeared right after Ku-Aha-Ilo’s attack on the village. She had thought he had brought the ghost with him intentionally, turned it loose on Puako out of pure malevolence. But no, he knew nothing of that. Because he hadn’t summoned the ghost—he had unintentionally created one.

“Hoalani?” she asked again.

A fell whisper seeped in through the walls, permeating the house with otherworldly anger.

Pele’s mother gripped her hand. “Are you … are you certain that …?”

“There’s never any certainty with the Ghost World.” The old kahuna had tried to teach her that with his inane analogy between the pool and the Worldsea. She hadn’t wanted to listen, had demanded he push his limits. Oh, and he had done so.

“What do we do?”

She had no idea. Even if the ghost was Hoalani, as he gave in, became a Nightmarcher, he would lose more and more of his human self. Maybe he didn’t remember his family at all. He knew them as if in a dream, had been drawn here. And worse … as her brother weakened, he became a perfect vessel for the ghost to possess.

And what was she to do about such a thing? She would not allow her brother to be taken.

Pele swallowed. She was powerless to stop it. She pulled her mother down to the ground, the both of them kneeling. “Pray to the aumakuas.”

That was all she could think of. A desperate plea to their ancestors. And fire. Fire kept away the spirits of the Dark.

Pele released her mother’s hand and lit both of her own aflame. She would have to keep those torches burning all night long.

* * *

Dawn was still several hours off when someone pushed the kapa aside. Fire-Keeper slipped inside, obvious concern on his face. Pele’s legs ached from sitting so long, keeping vigil with torches to ward against the ghost of Hoalani. And she could feel it, lingering on the edges of the light, clinging to the shadows. Waiting for the chance to possess his own son.

The swell of frustration, grief, and regret finally broke on seeing her teacher and she rose. For a moment she hesitated, then extinguished one of her flames and threw that arm around Fire-Keeper. The other flame she kept lit to ward off the ghost. “Thank the aumakuas you got my signal.”

“It was hard to miss.” The kahuna turned his gaze to Milohai and mumbled some prayer or invocation under his breath. He knelt by the boy’s side, put a hand on her brother’s head.

“Can you do anything for him?”

The kahuna frowned. “I don’t know.”

Pele scowled. As the kahuna tended to her brother, she recounted her suspicions about the ghost. Fire-Keeper nodded as she spoke, but didn’t take his eyes off Milohai. The tension in his shoulders told her he couldn’t do much. Of course he couldn’t. Why would he be able to do what every other kahuna had failed to? She had not forgotten her lesson yesterday. Even kahuna didn’t know everything and if they tried too hard to learn the unknowable, they paid for it.

“Damn it,” she mumbled. Heat coursed through her face as her hair lit with flame. She didn’t bother to extinguish it, though her mother and Fire-Keeper both turned to stare, her mother with fear and Fire-Keeper with an unreadable expression. “Damn it!” Why couldn’t things ever work out properly? Why were so many people suffering and she, their Princess, helpless to aid them?

The fires from her hair caught in the grass roof, sparking it aflame in an instant. Pele extinguished those fires with a wave of her hand and stormed outside. She wanted to unleash the great volcano. Wanted to bury her problems in immeasurable tons of molten rock. The mental image set her chest trembling, a rumble that surged through her legs and into the Earth, bringing up another quake.

The village would be terrified, just as her mother was. Let them fear. She, daughter of a demon kupua, was not their savior. Oh, she had tried. But she had nothing to give these people. Nothing but fire and destruction.

A firm grip on her arm stilled her. She turned to see Fire-Keeper shaking his head. “Are you giving up so easily?”

“Easily? I tried to force Ku-Aha-Ilo to help us. I tried to force the kahuna to help. I even tried to make new kahuna. Every time ended in disaster.”

A faraway look came over the kahuna then, a distress so profound it snuffed the fires in her hair and left her feeling a pang of guilt for her outburst. She couldn’t say exactly what it was she had done to so disappoint the man, but she’d have given almost anything to take it back. He was right—Puako Village had suffered enough without her further terrifying its people. At last he shook his head. “No matter how bad things get, you cannot give up, Pele.”

She shut her eyes and blew out a long breath. There was no giving up. Not while she lived. There was no surrender, no submitting to inevitability or defeat. Once, years and years ago, when she was small, she had tried to climb to the top of an ancient banyan tree. She had fallen, twisted her ankle so she could barely walk for a week.

After that, even after she healed, she’d avoided that tree. Looked on it with anger and fear and, though she wouldn’t have admitted it, shame. Until finally Fire-Keeper caught her watching it one day. “Are you going to let it beat you? Are you going to spend the rest of your life afraid of it?” He’d asked her that. Asked her, and watched her climb it again. Fall again, too. But she kept trying until she finally scaled it.

Ku-Aha-Ilo, Namaka, even this sickness was that tree. Taunting her, frightening her into inaction and undirected anger at the world and herself. She opened her eyes to see Fire-Keeper watching her. It was like he knew what she’d decided. Kahuna saw things even a Princess could not, she supposed.

Fire-Keeper released her arm, but put his hand on her shoulder. “I believe you are correct. This ghost suffered so much he forgot himself. He is drawn to your family, but he doesn’t know why, so consumed with his torment.”

“Can you banish him?” Pele asked, causing her mother to moan from the house’s threshold. How hard this must be for her, finding out the horror haunting them was the man she loved.

“Maybe. There are no guarantees with such things. But there might be another way—if you could find a way to make him remember himself, his life, to let go of the pain inflicted on him.”

Her mother stepped forward now. “How?”

“Only you can really answer that. You need some memory of special importance to shock him out of his agony.”

“I would think his wife and son would be enough,” Pele said.

“I can only assume that failed because it was too familiar to be a shock. Memory is a funny thing. The resurgence of a forgotten moment can bring a strong man to tears, if it is the right moment.”

So Hoalani needed something meaningful, but removed from his everyday life. Some reminder of joys sufficient to overcome the agony Ku-Aha-Ilo had visited upon him. She didn’t know her stepfather, could only guess at what he had valued. But the pain Milohai and her mother had felt at his loss shone through in their every word, every glance. They had loved the man dearly, so she had to assume he had felt the same, that that was why the ghost remained drawn to them even in death. So if the people themselves were not enough to remind him of that … Then what? An object? Something meaningful to the couple? Or a place.

“Mama? You said before you married him you and he came to Mount Hualali.”

“To find you, yes. We watched the sunrise and I cried and cried because I didn’t know where you were. And he told me we’d make a new life together.”

Pele glanced at Fire-Keeper, and he nodded.

“If we hurry, we can make it there by sunrise. But you’ll have to move fast, Mama. I know it’ll be hard on you.”

Hope and fear warred over her mother’s face, and finally she nodded.

Pele turned to Fire-Keeper. “You’ll watch over Milohai.”

He nodded. “You haven’t asked me what I found.”

“Huh?” Pele shook herself. Her mind was so overcome with the task at hand, she’d forgotten why he’d left in the first place. “What, uh, what did you find?”

“The Sea Princess descended into deep tunnels running beneath the island. I think I know what she seek in the darkness. A legend tells of magic Waters hidden in those deep places, Waters that can cure any ailment.”

That froze her in place. Namaka had come to the Big Isle in search of a cure. The foreigner had told her that, though she hadn’t really cared at the time. And this Sea Princess really thought the legend true. She clucked her tongue. Did that change things for her? With the chaos here, punishing Namaka for bringing it had become almost an afterthought. But what if she could follow the other Princess to a cure?

“You told me the menehune guarded the hidden places. That people who venture into the deep jungles or the tunnels rarely return.”

Fire-Keeper nodded. “Yes.”

Then she supposed Namaka might not even be her problem anymore. Unless. If those legends were true, and Namaka returned with a cure …

“How much Water would there be?”

“Not much, most likely. If a source of immortality were plentiful, there would probably be immortals running around all over the archipelago.”

Then Pele would have to take it from Namaka. She owed her own people her allegiance, not those on the Valley Isle. The Sea Princess had beaten her once, but that was on the seashore. Pele had been brash to attack the woman at the site of her own power. This time, she’d face her on a battleground of her own choosing.

She could do nothing until she had dealt with Hoalani’s ghost. But after that … after that Milohai would still be in danger, still dying of this plague.

“Where, exactly, did the Sea Princess’s trail lead?”

* * *

Her mother’s breath had grown wheezy, her steps faltering as she climbed the volcano’s slope. But the woman never complained, never stopped. Not once. Pele held her hand, keeping a flame lit with the other.

The chill in the predawn air led her to suspect the ghost had followed. She prayed it had. This was her last, best chance to save her family. Ku-Aha-Ilo, Pele’s own father, had caused this. But neither her mother nor her brother had blamed her. That was a blessing, a love beyond words. And she would do anything to repay it.

Her mother stumbled, falling to her knees. The sudden drop caused her to skid down the slope, pulling Pele with her. They slid perhaps two paces before coming to a stop. Pele grunted, then pulled her mother back to her feet. The jagged rocks had torn open the poor woman’s knees. This trek was too hard for a woman her age, too far, taken too quickly. But they had no time and no options.

“It’s just a little farther.” Pele slipped her mother’s arm around her shoulder and half-carried the woman upward. They had to reach the summit.

On and on she pushed them, every so often sparing a glance at her mother, fearing the woman’s heart would give out. She couldn’t lose her mother. Not like this. But if they didn’t finish the climb before sunrise, this was all for nothing.

And then she glanced down. A shallow fog had surrounded their ankles, was flowing up the mountain, ahead of them.

“Aumakuas preserve us,” she whispered. Not long ago she’d cursed the ghost, challenged it, threatened it.

Now she only wanted to save him. And he had come to stop her from doing so.

The fog moved faster than she could have, even without the burden of her mother. It surged forward, chilling her shins and feet, welling above her in a semblance of a wall. But she would not let the ghost bar her path. Not this time.

“Hoalani!” she shouted. “Please, see us. See us!”

No response came, and Pele kept pushing forward. Right into the wall. The chill crept in, the vapors thick, threatening to suffocate her. Her mother gasped. And then the whispers started.

A voice, or many, distorted as if echoing across a great valley.

There were no words she could make out—only pain. Wailing. Anger. So much she gagged on it and fell to the ground. Her mother toppled over, then curled into a ball, hands over her head. Her form jerked, convulsed. Was the ghost trying to take her now?

“Kāne-Hoalani!” Pele shouted again.

She pulled herself to her feet, then ignited torches in both hands. The fog recoiled from the flames, bits of it burning away in wisps that she could have sworn hissed displeasure at her.

“Show yourself, spirit! Enough games! I know who you are.” Even if he no longer did.

All at once, the whispers began to fall silent.

Her mother had pushed herself up to her knees, panting, tears staining her face. “Please, my love …”

In the fog, the silhouette appeared. A shadow of a man, drifting ever closer.

Pele glanced up at the sky. Sunrise was moments away.

The ghost stepped from the fog, revealing itself as the man she’d seen in the volcano. His ruined throat, boiled and burst apart from the inside out. If Ku-Aha-Ilo lived, Pele would see him punished for this torture. No. Thoughts of revenge would only feed the ghost’s anger. This morning, they needed something else.

Before Pele could think of any words, her mother stepped forward, shaking her head. “Oh, my sweet husband. You’re really here.”

The ghost’s form flickered, appearing a pace closer to her mother, hand outstretched toward her throat.

Pele jerked her arm up, every instinct demanding she summon flame and scare off the ghost. But if she did so now their effort would mean nothing.

Her mother held out a hand to forestall Pele and stepped forward to face her dead husband. It reached closer. Fingertips brushed her throat.

Her mother convulsed.

And still, still she held out that hand begging Pele not to interfere.

“I’ve … missed … you.” Her mother’s voice had become a rasp. “Do … know … where we …”

For an instant confusion crossed his face, masked the rage in his eyes. He looked around, first at Pele, then at the volcano. And finally, at his wife. The hand relaxed, trembled, and moved from her throat to her cheek.

The first rays of dawn broke over Pele’s shoulder. The ghost flickered, but didn’t vanish. He turned toward the light, closing his eyes, as if basking in the sun.

Pele’s heart was pounding, but she dropped her hands to her side.

The boiled flaps of Hoalani’s throat began to fold back into place, sealing themselves with coruscating light as bright as the sun. So bright Pele had to blink. And when she looked again, the ghost had become whole. The man he had been in life.

Her mother sobbed and tried to throw her arms around him. She passed right through Hoalani and fell into the dirt.

He smiled sadly and ran a hand through her hair. It didn’t catch the strands, but passed through them completely.

“I’m sorry I never got to know you,” Pele said.

The ghost nodded at her.

As the sun continued to rise, his form grew more and more translucent.

Her mother wept, staring up at him. He pressed a finger to his lips, then touched it to hers.

And then he was gone.

* * *

Pele helped her mother down the volcano. She kept mumbling under her breath almost the whole time.

“It’s him,” she said at last, as they stood beneath the mountain. “I can feel him.”

Pele nodded and embraced her mother. “You saved him.” And now … now she had to save her brother. Namaka held the key to that. Fire-Keeper had explained where she could find the tunnels, but it meant a long walk and another day without sleep.

She’d manage. Being atop Mount Hualali had energized her, at least temporarily.

“You can make it back to the village from here?”

Her mother nodded and pressed a palm against Pele’s cheek. “Mahalo.”

Pele flushed. Gratitude was rarely an emotion anyone greeted her with. “I have to go. I have to try to find the Waters of Life and save Milohai.”

“I know you will.”

Her mother turned and began to trek back to Puako. Pele watched her a moment. But only a moment. She had places to be.

22

“Follow this tunnel straight for maybe half a league,” Molowa said. “You’ll find the Place of Darkness.”

Kana snorted. “What? This is as far as you go? Don’t you want to protect your investment?”

The menehune chuckled. “Not even I could protect you from what lies in the Place.” With that, the spirit turned away and slunk back the way they had come.

Namaka watched him disappear into the shadows, not quite able to still the shudder building in her gut. The way he had spoken of the Place left her queasy and wanting to turn back. That was impossible, of course. No, she had come too far to give up now. Lives hung in the balance. She just had to keep telling herself that.

Besides, considering Kana’s candlenut torch only managed to illuminate a handful of paces in any direction, how much darker could the Place of Darkness really be? The shadows down here grew so thick one could almost choke on them.

“You shouldn’t have made that pact,” she whispered.

“It’s all right. I like rocks.”

Jokes. He was making jokes. Trying to comfort her. With a grin, he pressed forward, forcing her to follow or be left in total darkness. Mo-O-Inanea had told her one of the Princesses controlled the powers of darkness. What did that even mean? Controlling ocean or fire made sense, those were real things. One Princess could call up storms and lightning. Over on the Friendly Isle, the local Princess could control snow and mist. But darkness? Was that not just the absence of light? Or maybe it too represented a primal force of creation, living, writhing, watching them. Such thoughts left her mouth dry. Were not Nightmarchers spirits of the Dark? Some part of her knew that …

Whispers had begun to echo through the tunnel, somewhere far off. Far ahead, perhaps. As she continued on, the floor grew unusually slick and warm. Namaka pulled Kana to a stop and knelt to examine it. As the man knelt beside her, his torchlight gleamed off the ground. It was black—blacker than a moonless night—and polished to a reflective shine. Obsidian.

Their gazes met, though neither spoke.

Kana rose slowly, then pressed on down the tunnel. Damn it. Obsidian came from volcanoes, didn’t it? Was the whole cave growing hot? It was. Despite Kana by her side, Namaka felt alone, small. If only Mo-O were still alive, were here with her now.

The tunnel abruptly turned upward in an almost sheer slope, although the obsidian facets made a series of shelves in the wall. Kana held the torch high overhead, staring into the darkness. Namaka couldn’t see anything up there and her eyes were better than any human’s. It appeared up was the only way to go from here.

Sweat slicked her back and made her palms clammy. Not ideal for climbing. “You’d better let me go first. Keep the torch high, so I can see.”

He nodded.

She grabbed the lowest ledge and immediately jerked her hand away as the obsidian sliced her palm. The gash wasn’t deep, but it hurt like a jellyfish’s sting. Namaka stared at the line of blood dripping from her hand. This would be beyond unpleasant. And it was definitely hotter above them.

“Be very careful where you step,” she said. Instead of grabbing the lip of the ledge, she pushed her palms against the farthest part she could reach and used it to heft herself onto the shelf. The next ledge stood roughly at her eye level. A gentle prod confirmed it too was sharp enough to cut through her flesh like a knife. Gingerly she ran her fingers along the edge until she found a section where the it jutted forward in a wedge rather than a blade. That edge stuck out over the tunnel, away from her current ledge enough she’d have to hang over open air to climb it. Seeing no other way, she jumped off her platform and pulled herself onto the wedge. It gave no indication of faltering under her weight, thank the aumakuas.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Kana mumbled from beneath her.

“Mermaid.” A mermaid had to be strong enough to swim swiftly, to manage the pressures of the deep sea.

Now she stood maybe seven paces above him, leaving her only deep shadows with which to find her next climbing point.

While she debated, Kana climbed onto the first ledge, then passed the torch up to her. Namaka moved away from the wedge, giving him a place to climb, and used the light to inspect her new perch. From the look of it, this shaft opened up into a larger chamber, maybe another ten paces above her.

Unfortunately, the lowest ledge she could spot was maybe five paces across the shaft and she had no way to tell if the lip was sharp. She shook her head. Well, a fall from this height wouldn’t kill her. It would just hurt. A lot. Fine. Pain was only pain. She flung the torch across the gap. It landed on the shelf, sputtering and skidding briefly.

“Wait, you’re not going—” Kana began.

Namaka backed against the nearest wall, then shoved off it. She had only the barest space to get a running start, then she flew through the air. She caught the shelf under her arms. A scream broke from her throat as the obsidian dug into her arms and chest, and she slipped. The slide only deepened the gash until all she could do was whimper.

“Namaka!”

“Stay there.” She had to push away from the shelf just a little, and doing so sent fresh agonies running through her trembling arms. She pushed her torso straight up, then fell forward, earning herself cuts on her legs in the process. At least she was on the damn shelf. She lay on her back, panting. A gash over her breastbone trailed hot liquid into her armpits. This was too much, too hard. She prodded the cut on her chest. It stung, but it wasn’t deep. She let her arm drop and shut her eyes a moment.

“Are you all right?” Kana called.

“I’m fantastic.” Leagues away from the ocean, exhausted, traveling with a man who’d sold his soul to a Earth spirit. Oh, and she’d almost sliced her own breasts off. “Best day I’ve had all day.”

And what right did she have to complain to Kana? Not only did she have more strength and stamina than he did, he knew if he succeeded he was damned to spend the rest of his life a slave to that menehune. And if he failed, then his brother would die along with him. However hard she had it, he had it worse. Which meant she really couldn’t lie here wallowing in pain.

Namaka rolled over and climbed to her feet once again, grabbing the torch in the process. There was another shelf here, and more handholds, beyond which she could see the upper lip of this shaft.

“We’re almost there,” she called back to Kana. “Do you think you can make the jump, or should I—”

A shadow swooped down on her from above, cutting off her words. Before she could even turn and see it, the thing landed atop her, digging knives into her shoulders. The torch fell from her hand and she screamed in agony, her vision fading in a haze of red. A sudden rush of wind hit her face and her stomach lurched as it hefted her airborne by whatever had pierced her shoulders. For a few heartbeats it carried her upward in total darkness.

Then her attacker released her and she plummeted. Heart in her throat. Couldn’t see to even brace for—

She landed on a hard, hot rock, the impact knocking all breath from her lungs.

Dimly, perhaps a few heartbeats later, perhaps longer, she realized she wasn’t in total darkness. Incandescent light radiated off a waterfall of lava deep in the cavern, becoming a river complete with splashing rapids.

The moment she managed to get a breath, the first sound she uttered was a moan. Everything hurt. Her crash into the rocks had dulled even the agony in her shoulders. She turned, trying to sit up, but only managed to roll onto her side.

As she did so, a fire sprung up in a line before her, turning in complex, unnatural spirals that must have formed a spirit circle. The fires granted her a bare view of the cavern. The ceiling remained out of sight, but rocky cliffs ringed her on all sides. From high above something screeched like a bird. A very large bird.

She groaned, finally able to roll onto her stomach and push herself up. She immediately slipped back down. She’d been wrong before. The pain in her shoulders was definitely still there. Again she lifted her head only to spot a shadowy figure moving between the lines of fire. She could make out nothing of his face as he drew ever nearer.

“You are in my place.” His voice hissed like steam, barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

The bird screeched again and this time swooped down to land beside the shadowed figure. Only it wasn’t just a bird. It had talons—the knives that had pierced her—and wings, but a human torso and arms like a man. It tilted its head sideways, glaring at her with a decidedly inhuman eye. Its face was some blasphemous mix between man and bird, its nose ending in a beak. A long white stripe of feathers crested the back of its head. What monster was this thing?

And if the man here was served by some monster or spirit, then he must be a god, or at least a kupua.

The figure extended a palm toward her, fingers splayed. Something pulled at the wounds in her shoulders, yanking her to her knees. Blood—her blood!—streamed through the air, drifting toward the dark being before her. It ran like a river over the ten paces between them. This fiend intended to drain her dry.

“There is power in your blood,” the man said. “Succulent, spiritual. A little Princess, and possessed.”

Namaka’s breath grew shallow. She was really going to die here. To die, and with her, her mother and her people would fall. All because she was too far from water. No ocean. No lake, no river, save the river of her own blood. Her precious blood. Blood was … leaving. Blood was … water. Partly water.

Through bleary eyes she fed mana into the blood. Controlling it was infinitely harder than exercising her Gift over pure water. But she didn’t need finesse or great quantity, just a chance to catch the creature off-guard. She sent one stream jetting forward like a spear. The figure ahead cried out, tumbling to the ground from her unexpected assault. Namaka pulled the other stream of blood back into her body. The effort—and pain of it—was extreme. It took almost all her concentration to stop her bleeding.

“Halulu, kill her!” the figure called.

A flap of its wings sent the avian monster soaring into darkness again.

Namaka glanced around, trying to spot it. She couldn’t see the damn thing. But she did see the opening in the shaft where Kana was now climbing up. Climbing up to his death. She gave over trying to stop her bleeding and forced herself to her feet, made a mad dash for Kana.

A shadow and rush of wind alerted her to the diving bird-thing. Namaka hit the ground in a roll that carried her almost to the edge of the shaft. The bird’s talons swept through the air where she had stood, and it rose, readying another pass. Namaka whimpered and crawled toward Kana. The man had crested the lip now and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back down.

They both fell, tumbling down to the ledge below. Dizziness sent her world spinning. Some part of her knew if she gave in, if she lost consciousness, she would bleed to death.

“Namaka!”

What little energy she had, she focused on keeping her blood in her body. Kana lifted her in his arms and jumped down from one ledge to another, grunting in pain with each drop. Most likely he tore gashes in his feet like that. A shadow passed over the cavern entrance, but the bird did not descend into the tunnel. Perhaps it did not want to face them where it couldn’t fly.

But now, the only light came from that cavern far above. Kana stumbled down the tunnel the way they had come, occasionally colliding with the wall. She wanted to help, to do something. But it took all she to keep her eyes open.

* * *

Eventually Kana stumbled one too many times, and Namaka fell from his arms. Aumakuas, she just wanted to sleep. To surrender. Some part of her knew Nyi Rara’s soul would eventually repair the damage to her body, should she live that long.

“Are you still with me?” Kana asked, his words broken by panting.

“Yes,” she mumbled.

But they had other problems. In total darkness they couldn’t find the way back. Well before they reached the menehune village, the tunnel would have branches, paths that led aumakuas knew where. If they took the wrong one they could easily find themselves lost forever. Worse, the route they had taken had carried them past gorges and pits where one wrong step could send them plummeting to their deaths.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a few moments of silence. “I lost the torch.”

He grunted. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had already considered the difficulties they faced. Maybe that was why he didn’t bother rising, didn’t press onward.

“We failed,” he said. “Niheu …”

They failed because, faced with such opponents, what could either of them have possibly done? Even if the Waters of Life had lain in there, she hadn’t been able to sense them. Maybe her confusion and wounds had made it more difficult. Maybe the Waters’ guardians blocked her from sensing it. Either way, she’d had no weapon save her own blood and, hardly enough of that for her to fight the man and his monster both. She should have known. The menehune had told her the Place of Darkness would cost her her life. But she’d been so intent to save everyone else she’d thought herself invincible.

And what in the whole Spirit Realm had that thing been? Nothing in Nyi Rara’s experience—at least not in the shadows of it Namaka could access—seemed to hold memory of any such power. No spirits she was familiar with could control blood in such a way.

Aumakuas, she had walked into a situation she’d had no understanding of. And in doing so, she had not only damned herself and Kana, but all those who counted on them.

“I’m sorry about your brother.”

“I’m sorry for your people.”

Namaka sighed and shut her eyes. Her people. Sometimes she missed talking to Nyi Rara. An odd sensation, because she was, in fact, Nyi Rara. She missed talking to herself. Having a fused consciousness was not the same as having another person to talk to. She had Kana, but he could never know her as deeply as Nyi Rara could. And still, she was grateful for his presence. If she was going to die here, at least she didn’t have to die alone.

A last comforting thought. Namaka patted around in the darkness until she found his hand and held it tight.

* * *

“There’s light coming from the tunnel,” Kana said.

His words jolted Namaka. She must have slept, at least for a moment. She opened her eyes to see a faint illumination drawing near, and not from the Place. Had Molowa returned for them? And what would the menehune do if he had? They had failed utterly. Maybe he would still let them go, save them, in effect. Or maybe not. He hadn’t wanted to antagonize Hiyoya, but that didn’t mean the Earth spirit was on their side.

She sat up, stretching her aching shoulders. The wounds had sealed, but even that slight stretch felt like it would reopen the gouges. A human would probably have died from the bird-monster’s attack.

She squinted into the shadows, but couldn’t make out the source of the light. It was coming toward them, though.

“Fish Girl!” Kamapua’a’s voice rang out before he had even come into view.

Namaka choked on her own laugh. How was that even possible? Kam was here. Maybe the aumakuas did love her after all.

“Kam,” she said as the wereboar trod amidst them, bearing the welcome light of a fresh torch.

He sniffed, then knelt beside her. “Pig shit, girl. What on Milu’s icy ass happened to you? Who did this shit?” He poked her shoulder, sending a fresh stab of pain through her.

“Ow.” She slapped his hand away. “It’s a long story. What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

“Once I caught your scent it wasn’t too hard. I found some menehune, too! I asked if I could keep one as a pet, but they said no. Called me a shifter. I’m not shifty at all. Kam is rocksteady like a boulder. And mighty. You already know that. So I told ‘em I was your friend, and they told me you were probably dead. I came running.”

“You saved my life. Both our lives.” She nodded at Kana, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes.

“He your lover? About time, girl. You gotta spread that mana, you know. Besides, it’s fun. Trust me.”

“Uh, no. Kana’s not …” Namaka glanced at the young man by her side. It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered it. It was just the timing. “We were trying to find the Place of Darkness together. And we did, it’s just that it was protected by something powerful.”

Kam snorted. “Should I smash it?”

“I’m not certain you could.”

“Mighty Kam is insulted, Fish Girl.”

“Why did you come after me? I thought you were with Pasikole.”

Kam’s face turned dark, and he slumped down onto his haunches. “Things didn’t go very well on this island.” He spoke of the underwater volcano damaging their ship, which she’d known. Then he went on to say they’d encountered Pele, and after that, the villagers had turned on them. Stolen a boat. “Pasikole wanted to get it back no matter what. It offended his pride, I think. And we went to force them, but they … one of them murdered him while I was disabled by the shitting sun. I tried … I tried to help, Namaka.”

A cold hollow settled over her heart and seized her stomach. “Dead?” That seemed impossible. Pasikole had come to Sawaiki less than three weeks before, but after everything that had happened, it felt so much longer. Like she’d known him for months, for years. And part of her still wanted him. He’d asked for her, to be with her, and she’d denied him. And why? Because she felt lost, because she felt she had to find herself. But deep down, she’d still thought they’d have time. When all the chaos and war was done …

“Yeah. The chief, he had his people eat Pasikole for his mana. I couldn’t do shit then. But I came back at night and I …”

“You avenged your friend,” Kana said.

“Shit, yes.”

Kana put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She rubbed her forehead. It was all too much to wrap her mind around. She’d just left Pasikole a few days ago. Had assumed they would talk when she got back to the Valley Isle. Now, they would never speak again. Had some local kahuna sent his soul on to its rest?

The pained look on Kam’s face, like a boy begging forgiveness, broke the dam in her heart and tears finally welled in her eyes. She had lost someone else, someone she could have saved had she been there. Kam wrapped her in a sudden embrace. Despite the fresh pain in her shoulders, she hugged him back, not willing to let him face it alone. They had lost a lot, the both of them, over these past few weeks. People—and a dragon—they had loved. They’d lost childhoods, for that matter.

Once, she had chided him for calling himself her brother. How wrong she had been. Raised by the same dragon, they were siblings, blood ties be damned.

“You came for me … brother.”

“Always. It’s what family’s for, right?”

She nodded, then looked to Kana, who had grown even more forlorn at the reminder of his own brother’s situation. She couldn’t give up. This attempt to save her mother, to save her people, had ultimately cost Pasikole his life. Had led to her trespassing here and thus became the reason for her fight with Pele, and therefore the final cause of Niheu’s injuries. If she walked away now, it was all for nothing.

Her mother would die. Niheu would die. And hundreds if not thousands of others would fall to this disease. She could not allow that to happen.

But nor was she in any shape to fight whatever monster controlled the Place of Darkness. There was more than physical darkness there—it was protected by some demonic force from beyond even the Ghost World. Nyi Rara’s memories hinted at the stories, the fear of those even in the Spirit Realm—of realms beyond, forces more terrible than themselves.

Namaka needed time to recover her strength, to rest. “We need to bring water with us,” she said.

Kana frowned. “We had water. We drank it.”

“Not for drinking.” Whether that guardian was man, god, demon, or something in between, she would find a way to stop it.

“Lots of water in the menehune village,” Kam said. “You could rest there, too.”

The thought of spending the night among those spirits did not appeal to her in the least. But she saw no other choice.

* * *

Molowa allowed them to rest in his village, or rather, beneath it. Below the level of the rock platforms rested the lake, beside which they found an alcove in one of the platforms. It was a small cave within the cave and it reminded Namaka of home. The home she’d had with Mo-O and never fully appreciated.

The reminder left her both glad and mournful, and unwilling to submit to the turbulent roar of her mixed emotions. Instead, she watched Kana and Kamapua’a. The pair had fallen into unlikely rapport. Kam seemed happy anyone was laughing at his foolery and Kana … perhaps he was just glad for a distraction from his fate.

Namaka could not forget though. Could not let go of what Kana had promised Molowa. No matter what happened, Kana’s life was over. And that thought pulsed like a physical pain in her chest. One more person lost forever.

One more person she had failed to save.

Day VI

23

The menehune tunnels delved deep into the Earth, bringing Pele closer and closer to the fires at its heart. Despite the ever-present gloom, it was almost comforting, like returning to the volcano. Light was not a problem. It took no effort to stoke the fires of her rage, and thus, the fires of her hair. She couldn’t see far, but she could see.

Far enough to realize something up ahead moved in the shadows, shifting around her. Nothing human had such subtlety, not down here.

“I see you,” she said. “Come out and face me, Earth spirits.”

At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, a form seemed to melt out of the rock wall ahead, advancing on her with spear leveled.

“You are trespassing.”

“So was the other woman who came this way.”

At that, the menehune chuckled. Or at least she thought it was a chuckle.

“Take me where you took her.”

The spirit moved close enough to nearly brush her face with its spear. “You do not give orders down here, human.”

Pele had not come this far to be intimidated by these diminutive freaks. Had not faced down a Nightmarcher to be driven away by menehune. She snatched the spear shaft in the same moment she rushed volcanic heat through her hand. The wooden shaft crackled and turned to ash where her hand met it, its tip clattering to the floor. The menehune stared at it in shock, giving her enough time to step forward and grab the spirit by its hair, letting flames engulf her other hand.

“Not exactly human. I am the Princess of Flame and you will obey my command, or I will fill your tunnels with a thousand tons of molten rock. I will burn your hiding holes into nothing but cinders and a whisper of a memory!”

Eyes wide, the menehune squirmed in her grasp, finally managing to wiggle free. Pele let him go. She was fairly certain she’d made her point. Now that her anger had flared, however, the ground had already begun to tremble. Lava tubes ran beneath these tunnels, and the rock beneath them cracked, letting out a hint of sulfuric vapors.

“You’d suffocate, too.” Though the spirit’s voice proved hard to read, the creature didn’t sound convinced of his own claim.

“Take me to the Sea Princess. Now.”

Grumbling, the menehune turned and trod down the tunnel. She followed it a long way until they reached a stone-carved village complete with underground lake and even waterfalls. The place had an otherworldly beauty she almost regretted threatening to destroy. These beings were entitled to their home as much as anyone, and merely wanted to defend it. But Namaka was here, and the Sea Princess had caused all this. Pele needed to deal with her once and for all, and get the magic Waters back to Milohai.

She pointed at the lake beneath the rocks. “I don’t suppose those are the magic healing waters?”

“The Waters of Life?” The menehune snorted. “Sadly, no.”

Pele looked down into the lake. No. That would have been too easy. Bubbles rose from the water, accompanied an instant later by a ripple. Was there something down there? Before she could even consider, a spout of water erupted from the lake, carrying Namaka—with a mermaid tail!—eye level with Pele. The other Princess jerked her arms outward and a wave followed them, slamming into Pele and the menehune, sending both toppling off the rocks and into the lake below.

The impact dazed her, gave her no time to hold her breath, and she sucked down a mouthful of water. Gasping, spinning underwater, she twisted to see the mermaid—or a shadow of her—swim around her at impossible speeds. Pele scrambled upward, unable to think of anything but air. Something hit her from behind, knocking her out of the water and against a rock. She caught a single breath before plunging back into the lake.

And then the mermaid was upon her, shoving her against the same rock, eyes glaring with hatred. “Everywhere you go the land shakes in agony.”

Pele ignited flames in both hands and reached for the Sea Princess. Namaka grabbed her forearms and bent Pele’s arms into the water with impossible strength, extinguishing her fires in a curtain of steam. Pele shrieked in pain at the other woman’s grip. She would not be cowed by this Princess, be she human, mermaid, or anything else. Physical strength meant nothing to women with their powers.

“The land feels my indignation at your crimes,” she spat back. “You allowed plague to spread among Sawaiki. You awakened a taniwha. You violated sacred tabus by trespassing on my island. You are a blight upon our people!”

She fed mana into the lava tubes running beneath this lake, splitting its floor and sending currents of steam and ash into the waters. The water’s temperature rose so rapidly the other Princess screamed, releasing Pele and using a wave to fling herself up on land. Pele smirked, luxuriating in the steaming waters a moment before following Namaka onto the lowest rock.

The woman had resumed her human form, though her flesh had turned red from the scalding. Pele stood, flung water from her hand, and reignited her fires. Namaka pushed herself onto hands and knees and glared at Pele. Good. Let her see it coming.

“We’re not fighting on the seashore this time, Princess.” Pele stalked over and kicked Namaka in the ribs, sending the other woman into a crumpled heap. Namaka rolled over onto her back, groaning.

“Now you’re going to give me these Waters of Life. And if you are very lucky, I’m going to let you go back to your own island. And stay there.”

“You want water?” Namaka twisted her wrist, yanking it toward herself.

The sound of rushing air offered the only warning Pele had, but it was enough to tell her to fling herself prone. A spear of water launched itself through the air where she had stood and impacted a boulder with enough force to crack it. Pele rolled over, glaring. She was going to burn this bitch.

Namaka had risen and surrounded herself with swirling waters intersecting in a lattice like a fisherman’s net—one spinning so quickly as to be a near blur. Pele hesitated. No fire she threw would cut through that kind of protection. Which meant mere flame would not be enough in this case. She needed something bigger.

She smacked her fists to the ground, calling up magma. The whole cavern shook, splitting apart as sulfuric fumes filled it, followed a heartbeat later by dozens of bursts of lava. Spurts of it fell from above, igniting countless small fires around the village. The menehune ran screaming, but she’d attend to them later. Right now, she had a more dangerous foe ahead of her.

“Stop!” someone shouted from above. One of the menehune, probably.

Pele didn’t spare the man a glance. “Surrender!”

A ripple passed through the ground like a wave, flinging shards of rock as it passed between them. Pele barely had the time to leap aside as the ripple broke through the spot where she had stood. The menehune were helping the Sea Princess. A jet of water shot out at her as she rose. Pele reached out to a volcanic geyser and yanked the lava in front of her, blocking the water. Lava turned to rock and water was vaporized. Without waiting to see Namaka’s next move, Pele summoned more lava, spinning it around her in a ring. She couldn’t quite mimic Namaka’s lattice, but she called up another ring, and another, until she had five hula-like rings encircling her, shielding her from Namaka’s spears of water.

Namaka still stood with her own net of protection. She whipped her arms forward, sending dual arcs of water from her net streaming at Pele. Pele sent a ring spiraling outward to meet those arcs, the two forces obliterating each other. Pele countered by flinging one of her lava rings at Namaka, who doused it with an arc of her own.

Another rock wave split them apart and Pele stumbled, almost toppling backward. “You can’t win down here!”

Namaka spun, her net transforming into trails of water streaming from both hands like whips that stretched for twenty paces each. She jerked her arms around in wide arcs, her water whips crashing into boulder after boulder, destroying each as Pele dashed about, seeking cover.

The sheer force of that much water would cut through Pele’s rings, so she abandoned them, running for her life. She dove to the ground, turning as she did so, and sent an arc of lava cascading toward Namaka. The arc impacted one of the water whips, severing it. As the ground continued to rumble and crack under the menehune’s desperate defense, Namaka stumbled and fell face forward.

Pele used the opportunity to dash behind another boulder, hopefully out of the Sea Princess’s awareness. She slumped down, panting. Damn. She hadn’t expected there to be so much water underground. But she could not surrender. Not now. She had to get the sacred Waters back to her brother, to her people. And if she had to kill Namaka and half this menehune village to do it, she would. She pressed her palms to the ground. A few streams of lava wasn’t enough to give her the advantage here. She needed a river of it. She’d flood this whole cavern, fill in Namaka’s lake, and crush the mermaid.

The Earth responded to her call, rumbling first, then splitting apart in a crevice a dozen paces long and half as wide. Lava pooled up from it—she lacked the strength remaining to call forth a true eruption—pitching down both sides, one of which would pour into that Milu-damned lake.

Pele rose just in time to see a boar almost as big as she was barrel into her legs. The creature sent her toppling end-over-end and she smacked her head against the ground. She lay there, dazed a moment. What was a boar doing down here? Before she could rise, the boar paused, grunting as its form shifted, becoming human. The man stalked over to stand just above her.

She’d seen this wereboar somewhere before.

“Now look here,” the kupua said. “I can’t have my sister and my lover killing each other. Not gonna work.” He held up a hand as if that alone ought to forestall any further argument. The man was an imbecile.

Of course. She’d met him with that foreign friend of Namaka’s. Hadn’t she burned her palm prints into his chest? He bore no signs of the marks …

And sister? Was this Namaka’s brother? And what did he mean, lover?

Pele groaned, struggling to stand but finding she had no strength left.

“Oh shit,” the wereboar said, and knelt over her. “Princess? My love? I didn’t hurt you too much, right? Don’t worry—I am a gentle lover.”

“Touch me and I’ll burn out your throat.”

“Shit. You don’t want to do that. My throat is one of my best features. Lets me talk, eat, burp. Sing. You should hear me sing. Like a thrush on Haleakala, singing up the sun.”

Namaka approached now, pain clear in her weary steps. Pele groaned, managed to roll onto her side. It allowed her the chance to see the rocks above. A dozen menehune stood there now, watching them. Each had hands raised, perhaps ready to bury them all in an avalanche of stone should they cause any more damage to the village.

“Is there any reason I shouldn’t just kill you?” Namaka asked.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the wereboar said, interposing himself between Pele and the other Princess. “This is my woman. Get your own, Fish Girl.”

“I am not your woman.”

“She’s not your woman,” Namaka said, with a shrug, and tried to step around him.

The wereboar pushed her back. “No. Stop it. Would you listen to me for one moment? Just one, all right? Just this one time. I mean until next time. Now look.” He held up a hand, then pointed a finger at the ground. “How about we all just sit down and talk.” With that, he plopped down beside Pele and folded his legs beneath him.

Another man followed behind Namaka, his gaze wary as it fell upon Pele, but clearly deferring to the Sea Princess’s judgment. Pele didn’t have anything to talk about with these people, but since she couldn’t win a fight against them all—not now—she was in no position to argue. Trying not to moan with the effort, she pushed herself to sit, as well.

Finally Namaka sat too, and the man beside her followed, but did not sit. He stood there, glaring down at Pele.

“Who are you?”

“The brother of a man you burned,” Namaka answered for the man. Sadly, that didn’t narrow it down nearly as much as Pele might have wished it would. “One more person hurt by your rage.”

Pele sneered. “And did you not wipe out whole villages with your wrath, girl? What of all those dead because of your fight with the taniwha? And then there are the victims of your foreign friend’s plague. Shall we tally the deaths on each of our consciences? I don’t think it would favor you, Sea Princess.”

“Well, great,” the wereboar said. “This is already an improvement from slinging elemental forces of destruction. Now if we could just get the disdain and spite out of you too, maybe we could accomplish something. Like love. And feasting. Love first. Namaka, you and Kana can use the left side of camp, Pele and I will take the right.”

“We are not lovers, wereboar,” Pele said.

“Nor are we,” Namaka added.

Kana glanced up at the menehune above. “I have no stomach to sit and talk. I’ll smooth things over with Molowa. The menehune are obviously not happy about the battle here.”

Pele arched an eyebrow. “How is he going to smooth anything over with those spirits?”

Namaka shook her head, a forlorn look on her face.

The wereboar raised a hand as Kana slipped away. “You’re both wrong.” He looked at Pele. “And you seem to have forgotten my name. I’m Kamapua’a. Sometimes called Kam. Sometimes called Kamapua’a the Mighty.”

Namaka snorted. “No one calls you that.”

“Yeah, well, I do. Sometimes.”

The Sea Princess shook her head, then turned to Pele. “In deference to my brother’s obvious obsession, I’m giving you the chance to walk away.”

“So he is your brother.”

“Not by blood, but yes.” Not by blood. What? She had simply chosen him as a brother. Family not by birth, but by circumstance. Choice … Namaka had made a choice and changed her destiny.

This girl looked so young sitting like this. When she wasn’t dropping oceans on your head, anyway. “I can’t leave. You have something I need.”

“The Waters of Life? We don’t even have them yet. The Place of Darkness is protected by some kind of demons. And when we do get it, we need it for ourselves. My people, my mother, Kana’s brother—their lives depend on it.”

Pele frowned. “As does my brother’s.” She hadn’t anticipated Namaka failing to acquire the Waters. The Sea Princess seemed so powerful Pele had assumed she could take whatever she wanted. “What demons? What does that mean?”

Namaka sighed. “The Place of Darkness is ruled by some kind of blood-wielding kupua and his bird-man monster. I was … underprepared when I first found them.”

“And there’s fire there,” Kamapua’a said. “You told me that. Fire and lava and shit.”

“Yes.”

The wereboar ran a hand through his unruly hair. “So, uh, maybe having a Princess who can control fire might be useful. Shit, Namaka, don’t make me think of everything. It’s tough having to be the smartest guy in the cave.”

Pele folded her arms. A blood-wielding demon kupua. She knew what it sounded like, though she desperately hoped she was wrong. In fact, she’d hoped she’d already killed Ku-Aha-Ilo. A vain hope, perhaps, given she’d already suspected he had other escape routes. This Place of Darkness sounded like a nightmare for a Sea Princess, but if it was some kind of volcanic wasteland, Pele would be right at home. Still, if it was Ku-Aha-Ilo, and if he had some bird monster at his command, she’d likely need all the help she could get. Another Princess and a wereboar could make powerful allies.

“You want me to work with her?” Namaka demanded.

Kamapua’a shrugged. “This is her island.”

Pele sighed. The wereboar was right—their best chance was together. “It is my island. And that’s why you’re going to follow my lead. You three deal with that bird monster. I’ll handle this blood-demon you’re so afraid of.” Probably not afraid enough. Not as afraid as she was.

Namaka balked, perhaps not liking the idea of taking orders from anyone else. Finally though, the Sea Princess nodded.

24

Kana remained in Molowa’s hut for a long time. Namaka stood outside, part of her longing to go in, to try to explain. They were lucky none of the menehune’s human hosts died in the fighting. Nevertheless, Pele had rendered the lake undrinkable for the immediate future, not to mention starting fires all across the village. If the menehune were irate with the damage Namaka had done, they’d be furious with Pele.

But Kana had promised himself to Molowa as a new host, had made a blood oath. If they succeeded, Kana’s brother would be saved and Kana would be lost forever. It was a prize to the menehune, one they would—she hoped—honor enough to keep from interfering with her goals. The price of it was too high, of course. Kana was a good man, a friend. And she had no way to save him. Nothing she could do would release him from his oath. And with a menehune riding his body, his mind would fall into subservience, even as his handsome body shrunk and warped to fit its new occupant’s twisted nature. Human hosts treated as such eventually lost themselves, driven mad by the centuries of impotent solitude. Given enough time, not even madness truly remained. The man who had been Kana would dwindle away to nothing, just … gone. Sapped away by a spirit feasting on his body and soul to sustain its immortality.

One more friend lost to her. One more person she cared about sacrificed.

When he at last emerged, Kana looked bedraggled. His eyes met hers, pled with her not to ask what had been said. She could do nothing but honor such an unspoken request.

So she took his hand when he neared and squeezed it. What could she possibly say to alleviate the burden he bore? Nothing. She, bearing the soul of Nyi Rara, understood the pain he would suffer better than he himself did.

Instead, she walked with him along the menehune village. Fusing Namaka’s and Nyi Rara’s souls had seemed a good idea, the only real option, but in times like this she couldn’t help feel her two sides tearing her apart. The human side, revolted by the alien, parasitic nature of spirits, while her own spirit side saw it as necessary and just. No different than a human hunting and eating animals.

“You seem distracted,” he said, when they paused in front of a waterfall on the far side of the village.

“You remember I told you I have two souls? They don’t always agree.”

“Why not?”

She sighed, and continued on, leading him onto the farthest outcropping. From here, she could see stalactites hanging over a cavern that seemed to stretch away forever. “Because humans are mortal, natural beings. And my mermaid side is a spirit, Kana. It’s not like people. It comes from a place that’s not even a place.” And had lived for two hundred years—which was nothing compared to some spirits. But telling him all that would only frighten him of a fate he could not hope to avoid.

He smiled sadly. Maybe he had understood enough. He looked away for a little while, staring into the darkness. When he turned back to her, he squeezed her hand. “When you told Kam we were not lovers, was that regret in your voice?”

Her heartbeat quickened as he ran his thumb gently over her knuckles. There was regret for so many things. She had held herself apart as Princess, while other children her age had learned of sex, learned to take pleasure from their bodies and from one another. A Princess had a different standard than other people, different rules, different tabus. And it was nonsense. It had been so ingrained in her that it had grown into a fear, a timidness that had caused her to hold herself back from Pasikole when she’d wanted to delight in him. And now he was dead.

She would not repeat that mistake.

She would not delude herself into thinking this love. But it was something. And they needed each other. She leaned in and kissed Kana. He threw his arms around her, kissing her mouth, then cheeks, and her neck.

Finally, she led Kana away from the village, down by the now-toxic lake. Almost afraid to speak, afraid to say the wrong thing, she tossed aside her skirt. Kana pulled his own off as well, then gently guided her down to the ground, kissing her all the way.

* * *

Namaka lay with her head on Kana’s chest, feeling the steady beating of his heart. He slept now, no doubt exhausted.

She had known it would hurt, though not how much. Her insides felt sore, but a welcome warmth had spread throughout her whole body. Maybe her fear had been for nothing. She wanted to tell herself she’d been waiting for Kana all this time, but that would have been a lie.

“I wish I could save you,” she whispered.

There were a lot of people she wanted to save. Despite all her power, many, like Kana, lay beyond her help.

* * *

“So,” Kamapua’a said as they walked through the obsidian tunnel. “You look different. Wonder what it is. Hmm.”

Namaka flushed, but said nothing. How did the wereboar even know?

As if he knew what she was thinking, he tapped his nose then winked suggestively. He could smell it? She didn’t think she smelled different. Aumakuas, if Kam could smell it every time someone had sex, no wonder he was so obsessed with it.

“We should focus on the task at hand,” she said, trying not to smile. It was a moment she would treasure, but she wasn’t ready to talk to Kam about that.

“We’re getting close,” Kana said. The man had managed to acquire a pair of candlenut torches from the menehune, but he hadn’t lit them yet. The fires hovering in Pele’s hands gave off enough light. He paused now, though, lighting one of the torches off those same fires. The Flame Princess looked at him curiously. “You get knocked down and we’re left in darkness. Lesson learned.”

A subtle jibe at Namaka. Even if he had meant it as a tease, it was a reminder that she’d dropped their last torch and left them in total darkness. If Kam hadn’t come along, they’d have died. Considering the moment they had shared together a few hours ago, Namaka didn’t much feel like being teased by Kana. If he was even teasing her. He didn’t look her way, almost as if he meant no more by his words than a practical lesson. She scowled. She was letting her emotions run wild again.

“Just remember the plan,” Pele said. “Keep the bird monster away from me. I’ll deal with Ku-Aha-Ilo.”

“Wait, what?” Namaka asked. “You know the demon’s name?”

“I suspect who it is. He’s not a demon, though as kupua I suppose he might be half-demon. I don’t know, really. But it’s personal between us. He hurt my family. Now I’m going to kill him.” With that, she pushed on ahead until they came to the vertical shaft.

Namaka was not looking forward to climbing this place again. Especially not with the heavy water-filled gourd strapped to her back.

Kamapua’a stretched a bit, looked at her, then winked. Then he ran and jumped onto the lowest shelf. She might have been stronger than a human, but he was stronger still. That much power in his legs allowed him to easily clear leaps near-impossible for a normal person.

With a clearly disgusted sigh Pele accepted his offered hand, and he pulled her up onto the ledge. Then the wereboar lifted the Flame Princess in his arms and made the next jump. Leap after leap.

“Kana …” Namaka said.

He shook his head. “Go. I’ll follow as I can. Not much I could do to fight a bird monster anyway.”

She sighed, then kissed him once for luck and began the ascent. Kam probably had the right of it. Rather than cut herself up climbing, she jumped the first few ledges. Then there was that gap, but Kam stood waiting for her there, hand extended. She ran and jumped, grabbing his arm. With a single fluid motion he yanked her onto the ledge. The movement reminded her of the soreness in her shoulder. Nyi Rara’s nature had allowed her injuries to heal—at least on the outside—but it would take days more before she returned to full strength. And now they hunted the very beast that had done this to her.

Kam hefted Pele into the cavern, making no effort to hide his looking up her skirt in the process. What did the wereboar even see in that petulant bitch? Whatever. Next, Kam lifted Namaka up.

Darkness filled the cavern, but as soon as Pele lit her hand torch, fires began to spread around it once again. The complex circle was definitely some kind of eldritch design, its purpose and scope beyond even Nyi Rara’s imparted knowledge.

High above, a bird screeched, sending a shiver down her spine and a fresh spike of agony through both shoulders. She and Pele shared a glance just as Kam scurried between them.

“That sounded like supper,” he said.

Namaka rolled her eyes. The wereboar could do with a little understanding of fear.

In the shadows, the same figure wended its way amongst the flames, striding between them with practiced ease. “I don’t know whether I’m more surprised to see you return … or to see you brought my daughter with you.”

Wait—daughter? Pele was this thing’s child? Hadn’t she just said he’d hurt her family?

The man advanced on them without a hint of fear, until he stood perhaps ten paces away. Close enough for her to see tattoos covered half his face, chest, and one arm. Most of his head was shaved, save for a single long braid that hung down his back. He spread his hands wide in some grandiose gesture she didn’t understand, his eyes darting about as if taking in an unseen audience.

“I know why you’ve come, Pele. You want the Waters of Life. But they are mine. For almost two thousand years I have protected this place, the legacy of my grandfather. Oh, you two are the reincarnated souls of his daughters, born over and over. But did you know the first Dark Princess had a son? A kupua with power unlike any the world had ever known. Nothing quite so unsubtle as the gifts of a Princess. The whispers in darkness led my mother to this place, and it has sustained me, as it can now sustain you, Daughter. Kill the Sea Princess and her swine, and I will show you how to take the power hidden in their blood.”

Namaka reeled, uncertain how to react to this. Her eyes went to Pele, who glanced at her with barely concealed contempt. Was this all a trap? Had Pele and Ku-Aha-Ilo planned this? Or, even if they had not, how could she expect Pele to turn down her father’s offer? Worse still, he claimed to be the direct blood of Kū. If that was true, if he used the Waters of Life to live for two thousand years, they faced a foe ten times older than even Nyi Rara.

Pele turned back to her, a flicker of a dark smile on her lips, made all the more sinister by her flaming hair. “Stick to the plan.” The Flame Princess strode toward her father then, shaking her head. “I gave you the chance to aid me, aid our people. Even back then you had the Waters and you did nothing. Now we will find out how much power is in your blood.”

Ku-Aha-Ilo waved a hand and the bird screeched again. Namaka struggled with the straps on her gourd then slammed it on the ground, breaking it and freeing her water. A shadow dove for her. Namaka twisted, intending to send a jet of water into its face and knowing she’d be too late. And then Kamapua’a was flying through the air, his fist connecting with the bird-man’s jaw with a bone-crunching smack. The creature flipped end over end, pitching through flame and catching alight, before flopping around on the ground and wailing in agony.

Kamapua’a struck a pose, flexing his biceps. “And that’s how you catch a bird for dinner.”

A dozen more screeches rang through the cavern.

From the look on his face, she’d been wrong—Kam did understand fear.

Namaka spared a glance at Pele, who now advanced on her father, both fists engulfed in flame. Kāne, she hoped she could count on the Flame Princess. Namaka summoned the water into spiraling arcs around her as more and more of the bird-men and bird-women swooped down on her and Kam. She had only a gourd-full to work with, which meant her arcs were thin as finger bones, her power stretched to work with so little.

The wereboar trembled, panting, and arched his back like he intended to assume boar form. And, indeed, his muscles bulged and tusks rose from his jaw. But he became not a boar, nor a man. Rather, some nightmarish hybrid the likes of which she had never seen.

He looked to her, almost as if asking if she judged him a monster. But Kam was no monster. He was the one who had walked by her side, seen her weaknesses, and picked her up again.

“Are you ready, Brother?”

The wereboar spread his arms and bellowed defiance at the swooping birds.

One of their attackers swooped down toward Pele. Namaka jerked her arm forward, flinging a thin lance of water at the bird. The blast tore through the bird’s wing and it crashed down a few paces behind the Flame Princess. She didn’t slow, was totally intent on her father. And Pele probably did have the best chance to face that blood-wielding demon in a place like this. It took too much out of Namaka to counter his blood powers, if she even could now that she had lost the element of surprise. That meant it fell to Namaka and Kam to keep the birds away from them.

She spun back to find the wereboar had caught another bird-man, a hand on each wing. Roaring, Kam ripped the wings right off the monster’s back, then ducked his head and opened the thing’s gut with his tusks.

Staggering at such brutality, Namaka fell back. But she had no time to dwell on it. Instead, she ran toward the cliff where the bird things seemed to dwell, trailing streams of water behind her. She would run out of it before she ran out of targets, but she had no choice.

A trio of those creatures circled her now. As one dove for her, Namaka dropped to one knee, then arced the water around to knock the bird out of the air. Every time she struck home, she wound up losing a bit of her water. Even as she turned toward the other two, Kam had bounded over—covering great swathes of the tunnels in each leap—and landed atop the bird-man, goring it.

At once, the other two swooped down on her. She rolled to the side, but still talons grazed her back, drawing a scream out of her. She whipped her last remaining water around. It struck a bird-woman under the chin with such force she heard its neck break backwards. The thing’s corpse flopped over like a doll.

Panting, she touched her back. Long bloody streaks marred it now. Drops of water remained scattered around the cavern, but she would need time to gather it again.

“Kam! We have to keep these things away from Pele!”

Were these creatures Moon spirits like Kam himself? Some half-demon spawn of Ku-Aha-Ilo? Namaka shook her head. It didn’t really matter. They served this blood monster, and she intended to destroy them for it.

Kam charged another pair of the creatures while Namaka rose.

A bird-man dropped several paces in front of her. A streak of white feathers ran along the top of its head, separating the browns. This was the one that had hurt her before. Her shoulders ached at the reminder of it.

“Halulu …” she mumbled. That was what Ku-Aha-Ilo had called it.

The monster cocked its head to the side before taking a step forward. Its legs had backward-bending knees like a bird’s, and they ended in massive talons. Heart hammering in her chest, Namaka advanced to meet this creature. From around the cavern she began to summon water to her. Rivulets, drops, puddles, all began to coalesce in streams flying toward her.

A single beat of its wings carried Halulu across the gap between them. Before Namaka could even react, it had hefted her up by her throat. She grabbed its arm, but even her mermaid strength couldn’t pry free the bird’s grip. All at once, the sensation of being strangled by the he’e overcame her, and with it, a surge of mind-blanking panic. In that instant, she lost her grip on the waters she had been summoning.

She was going to die.

Somewhere far away Kam roared, the sound barely registering over the cries of more and more of the bird monsters.

Cold sweat dripped down her arms and back, stinging the gouges the other birds had torn open.

Halulu leaned its half-human face closer to her own, sneering at her.

She was the master of water.

And water was life, it was everywhere. In her blood, in her sweat.

With a single focused thought she wiped all sweat and blood from her body, forming it up to hover between her face and that of the monster. If it had any idea what she intended, it didn’t have time to react. Namaka jerked her hands down and the water followed the motion, dropping like a falling blade. It sliced the bird-man’s arms clean off.

Eyes bulging, it fell backward, staring at its severed limbs and whimpering.

Without his might holding her aloft, Namaka fell to her knees, gasping for air. Her vision remained blurred at the edges, but she forced herself to rise, to advance on the now frightened bird. Other bird-men now watched their leader, aghast at what she had done. Well, let them see.

“You think your blood demon is someone to fear?” Her voice came out a rasp.

Blood poured from the bird’s stump despite his feeble attempts to staunch the flow. Blood—water. Yes, manipulating it would exhaust her. It would also make a point to the remaining bird monsters. One they might never forget.

Namaka fed her mana into the blood, yanked it out of the creature’s body in a hundred different streams, then bent it back around the bird-man. It screeched in horror, pain. She had to make a point. Namaka turned its blood into lashes, slicing hundreds upon hundreds of cuts upon the bird-man’s wings, chest, and face. From those cuts she pulled more and more blood, turning those into spears that blasted dozens of punctures through the creature.

Screaming—in rage and in effort—she sent all that blood crashing back into its owner. And then, not releasing her grip on it, she fell to her knees, driving a fist to the ground. Calling every drop of the blood out of the bird. It ripped through the creature’s body, his flesh exploding in a shower of gore.

Utterly spent, barely able to raise her head, she glared at the remaining bird-creatures. All of which watched her. Kam, covered head to toe in blood and viscera and still sporting tusks, stalked closer then hovered protectively above her. The monsters glanced at one another, and then, one by one, took flight and retreated to the safety of their cliff.

Someone helped her to her feet. Not Kam, Kana. He had made the climb, had refused to let them face the demons on their own. The man nodded at her, and Namaka squeezed his hand.

25

Ku-Aha-Ilo shook his head sadly as Pele approached. “You disappoint me, Daughter.”

“Now you know what it feels like.” She leapt forward, flinging the torches on her hands at him. The dual orbs of fire rushed at him in intersecting spirals that would immolate the fiend.

His body ripped apart, transforming into blood and allowing the fire to pass harmlessly through an opening where his torso should have been. Immediately it resumed its solid form.

The sight halted her in her tracks. What the fuck was that?

Instead of advancing he stalked around her, like a falcon circling prey. “Do you have any idea how many offspring I’ve spawned in two millennia? How many Princesses? By my count, oh, a third of you have been of my line, of Kū’s line. You carry within you the soul of one of his children and the blood of another. That power … I had hopes for you, Pele. Flame Princesses are always potent, angry. And that rage is useful. But you are the first to find this place. The first to whom I offered the gift of eternal youth.”

“Why not give it to all the people?”

“There’s not enough. Even if there were, a blessing so widely spread loses its value. Perhaps you’re not half as clever as I’d hoped. But you will learn your place.”

Pele sneered, then fed mana into the fires around her, whipping them toward him in a wide arc. With impossible speed his form broke apart again, rushing past her and reforming beside her. As she tried to turn, his fist connected with her kidney with such force it flung her off her feet. She flew a pace through the air, struck the ground hard, rolling through flames that did her no further harm. The blow, however, left her unable to catch a breath, coughing up droplets of blood.

Before she could rise or think or even breathe, Ku-Aha-Ilo stood beside her. He knelt at her side, wiping blood from her lip with his index finger and staring at it. Eyes gleaming, he stuck his finger in his mouth then licked his lips, emitting a groan of sickening pleasure.

Pele glared up at him, finally catching a breath. “What are you?”

“I told you—a child of the Dark.”

She spit out another gob of blood and forced herself to stand, letting the agony fuel her rage. “Fire banishes darkness.” She pressed her palms together then drew the flames of her hands and hair out to engulf her entire body. Her skirt turned to ash as flames wreathed her form. Let him try to punch her now. Though walking hurt, she took one step toward Ku-Aha-Ilo. And then another.

He snorted. “Very good. Find your limits and break through them, Daughter. Show me how powerful you can become.”

“I’ll send you to meet your grandfather.”

“We’ve met.”

Arms outstretched, she drew in flames from all around her, encircling herself in half a dozen rings, much as she had done against Namaka. This time, though, she fired ring after ring at Ku-Aha-Ilo, forming sideswiping arcs, always drawing another ring to replace it. This place was glorious. She always had more flame to call upon, sparing her from drawing it from her own body.

As the arcs converged on Ku-Aha-Ilo his body scattered in a rain of blood, reforming into two identical copies the next moment. Both began circling her, each dripping trails of blood in their wake. Pele felt herself falter. Was there no limit to his trickery? His powers were like something out of a nightmare.

Well, she was ready to wake up. Screaming in rage, she flung bolt after bolt of fire at the bloody forms. Each dodged the blasts, circling ever closer, until one launched itself bodily at her. She tried to sidestep, but her injuries slowed her. A wave of blood crashed over her, extinguishing the flames she’d created to protect herself. The double had evaporated in the attempt, but before she could recover from her shock, Ku-Aha-Ilo’s other body had closed in on her.

Though he stood several paces away, he swung a fist at her face. His arm became a pillar of blood as he did so, extending and slamming into her head. Jarring as the hit was, that blood somehow engulfed her entire head and prevented her from falling backward. A bubble of blood enmeshed her face, stinging her eyes and seeping into her nose and mouth, choking her.

Blind and nearly deaf from the roiling blood around her ears, she flailed wildly, reaching for any flame, anywhere. Nothing answered her call. She beat at her face. A heartbeat later her feet left the ground and she felt herself flying. The blood released her then, in midair, and—through stinging, blood-spattered eyes—she caught a glimpse of the lava river an instant before she impacted the stone floor several paces from it.

Her eyes filled with fresh red and she heard her ribs crack. Thought, hope—all seemed distant. Half the blood drenching her was probably her own. This man, her own father, was going to kill her. She would die and he would live forever, killing and sowing his seed, sowing chaos and death. Because she was too weak to stand up to him. How could anyone face a foe with two thousand years of experience, of stolen powers and eldritch secrets? Her father …

No.

He was not her father. He might have spawned her, but that was all. Fire-Keeper had raised her. Just as Namaka called Kamapua’a brother, though they shared no blood. Blood was powerful, Ku-Aha-Ilo had demonstrated that beyond a doubt. But sometimes, maybe something more powerful bound people … let you choose your own family.

For a moment you teetered on the edge of eternity, ready to connect with the universe. And in fear, you pulled back.

Fire-Keeper’s words rang in her mind. The blood monster stalking ever closer was not her father. The kahuna who never stopped believing in her, never doubted her—he was her father. Blood be damned.

She raised her head, staring at the river of lava, just out of reach. There, by its edge, stood Hoalani. Pele coughed, spat up blood. She wanted to ask how her step father had come here. But she knew—she saw him the same way Milohai had once seen him. Because she teetered on the edge of death, because her soul had begun to pass into the Ghost World.

But why did stepfather remain tied to the Earth? He should have moved on, gone by now to Lua-O-Milu. He reached a hand toward her, palm up, pressing against some invisible barrier. It held him back, but he kept pushing, obvious strain on his face. The air around his hand rippled.

And then his palm burst forward and clasped her own. Solid.

And she knew.

Nightmarchers were not the only ghosts to linger, to watch the world of the living. There were also the aumakuas, the ancestor spirits watching over their descendants. Their children. She shared no blood with Hoalani. But somehow, against all reason, he had chosen her. Had come here to protect her.

Pele screamed in pain as he pulled her forward, toward the lava.

Somewhere beyond, the blood monster laughed at her. She didn’t need to hear him. He no longer mattered. Only her real family mattered.

Instead of sending your mana out to control the flame, pull mana from it. Call it into you and direct it to the places that hurt the most. I know you can do this, Pele. Just put your hand in the fire.

Yes, Father.

She had failed then. Had drawn only the tiniest morsel of strength from the flame. Now, weeping with the effort, she stretched a single finger onto the lava river’s surface. It bubbled ever so slightly in response. She was still pouring mana in. Because anger was a force to feed a fire. Fire-Keeper said drawing energy from it was a matter of opening herself up to it. Of meditative peace.

She shut her eyes, shut her ears to the mad cackle of the demon now hovering above her. All fear and pain and loss and doubt was a burden. So she let it go.

Everything goes into the flame.

And she fell, falling through space, falling into the flame. The instinct to back away, to catch herself surged to the surface, and she beat it down. Let herself fall until her very self joined her emotions in the flame. Time ceased.

In emptiness, her ribs knitted back together. Her cuts sealed. Her swollen kidney returned to normal.

She opened her eyes to see the lava had cooled at her touch, transformed into igneous rock for ten paces in a hemisphere around her. Heat coursed through her, fresh mana, more than she had ever held, ready to burst through her very pores. Indeed, her skin now glowed like it was made of magma itself. And she stood, facing Ku-Aha-Ilo.

The blood fiend faltered, mouth agape. The expression of shock made all the more poignant for she knew his face had not borne such a look in a millennium or more.

“Wh-what did you …?”

Pele didn’t bother to answer. She did not owe this creature answers. She owed him nothing. He was not her family. Had never been. Even as her strength returned, her vision of Kāne-Hoalani faded. But he was there, smiling at her. Maybe he would always be there, watching over her and her brother. And that was a comfort.

Arms wide, she advanced on Ku-Aha-Ilo and he, ancient kupua, grandson of great Kū, fell back a step.

With one hand Pele reached out to the lava fall, directing the entire remainder of the river. She pulled it into a circle, a curtain of swirling, dripping lava enclosing her and the demon in a ring of fire. There would be no retreat.

She took another step toward him. His form broke apart, becoming flying blood. It scattered around the ring, seeking an exit before finally reforming behind her. Near the lava river.

Slowly, she began to draw her arms in toward her body, closing her fingers into a fist. As she did so, the lava curtain answered her call, constricting into smaller and smaller circles until it had closed the two of them in a dome no more than ten paces across. It took an enormous amount of mana, more than she had ever burned, to exercise such control and power at the same time. Thanks to Hoalani and Fire-Keeper, she had that mana.

“You have grown powerful, Daughter. I-I’m proud.”

“Don’t be. It had nothing to do with you.”

He tried to back away and found the lava river as his heels. “I am your father.”

“No.” Pele shook her head. “I have a father. And he is nothing like you.”

He opened his mouth. Maybe to protest. She didn’t care what else he had to say.

With a scream of wordless rage she reached into the river and fed it all her anger and pain. It erupted in a column twenty paces tall before crashing down upon Ku-Aha-Ilo. He broke apart, turning to blood to try to flee, but there was nowhere to go. Blood, flesh, or whatever else he was, a hundred tons of molten rock buried him. Pele called forward the lava curtain she had built, let it pass through her, and piled it upon the demon’s resting place.

When she at last turned away, Namaka sat on her knees, panting, surrounded by the bodies of many dead bird-men and bird-women. She, Kamapua’a, and Kana, all stared at Pele.

Pele smiled.

And then, exhaustion hit her like a tsunami, and Pele toppled to the ground.

* * *

When she managed to open her eyes, the wereboar was standing over her.

He cleared his throat. “I just want you to know that was shitting amazing. Also. I love you.”

Pele groaned. He just would not quit. Whether his affections were lust, love, or perhaps yet another joke didn’t really matter. After what had happened to the kahuna’s apprentice, she wasn’t about to take any more lovers. The risk to them was too great.

Finally she rolled to her feet. No sign of Namaka or Kana, just the damn wereboar and the corpses of too many bird creatures. Where had they come from and why had they served Ku-Aha-Ilo? Had he … spawned them as well? The thought disgusted her and, by some instinct she could not name, she directed fires to cremate each of the corpses.

“You want to say a prayer?” Kam asked.

She shook her head. “I’m not a kahuna.”

“Oh. Right. Well, you could make me a kahuna.”

She threw up her hands. “It takes more than a good fuck, wereboar. It takes years of training!”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy—”

“It’s not going to happen!” she snapped.

“Then how will I father your children?”

She wanted to slap him. Surely he knew the answer to that. “Kapu forbids a Princess to have children. Those born must be sacrificed to the gods under the first moon.”

He snorted. “Pfff. I’m a child of a Princess.”

“And a kupua.” Like Ku-Aha-Ilo had been. Maybe that was the reason for the tabu against letting a Princess keep her children. Most found herbs or other ways to avoid conception. She shook her head again, dismissing him from her mind. “Where is the Sea Princess?”

Kam frowned, but pointed to a spot near to the lava falls. Pele walked the path there, finally spotting Namaka staring at something behind the fall. A small gap separated the lava from the rocks behind it, and now that she had drawn close, she could see obsidian stairs descending behind it. Namaka, obviously, seemed reluctant to try to edge her way back there. Perhaps the monster managed to get down there by assuming blood form.

Now she’d had the chance to search the cavern. Other tunnels led here as well. One day, she’d have to come back and explore, find a way to get here without passing through the menehune village.

When she drew near she swept the lava apart, forming a doorway. Namaka glanced at her before descending the stairs, followed by Kana. Pele trailed behind them, letting the lava drop back into place before the amorous wereboar could follow her.

“Shit!” he shouted from the other side.

She smirked and lit a torch in her hand so they could see. The others waited on her light, and they descended together, none daring to speak. There had to be at least fifty stairs, and by the time they reached the bottom, fresh fatigue had set in. Her battle with the monster had drained her. The other Princess seemed equally spent.

The stairs opened into a circular chamber no more than five paces around. At its center a bowl-shaped opening was cut into the floor, a well no bigger than a gourd. A well filled with water.

“That’s all there is?” Kana asked.

“There’s strong mana in the Water,” Namaka said, then knelt beside it. Could she sense that like a kahuna? Her face was drawn tight, teeth worrying her lips. “This is … enough for five people. No more, I think.”

Pele frowned. Ku-Aha-Ilo had said there wasn’t enough to share with the rest of the island. He had not been exaggerating. It must refill itself eventually—it had sustained that monster for two thousand years. But there would never be enough to go around. “How do you know that?”

“I have a thing with water.” Namaka grit her teeth, shaking her head. The Sea Princess was actually trembling. All her hopes had died here, and watching that made Pele’s gut roil.

But Pele needed that Water too. Her responsibility was to the Big Isle. “Stop.”

Namaka and Kana both looked at her.

“You may each take one swallow’s worth in a gourd.”

Namaka glared at her. “Who do you think you are, deciding what we can and can’t do?”

“I am the Princess of this island and you are a trespasser. I am also the one who killed this place’s guardian. Take what I’m granting you and be grateful.”

Kana held up a hand. “You never would have found this place or defeated the demon if we hadn’t been here.”

Pele stared him down until he backed away. “Yes. You helped and for that help I’m granting you a portion to save your brother and Namaka a portion to save her mother. And the rest I will use to aid the people of my island.” Her mother. Her brother.

Namaka watched her a long time, some unseen battle going on behind her eyes. Pele was about to point out they couldn’t even get in or out of this chamber without her help, but at last Namaka nodded. Given they both had the reincarnated souls of Kū’s daughters, Namaka was almost like her sister. Her annoying, presumptuous, arrogant sister. But maybe still family, nevertheless.

Finally, Kana knelt and filled his gourd with enough of the Waters for him and Namaka. After they rose, Pele took her own gourd and filled the rest of the Waters in it.

The time had come for them all to flee the Place of Darkness.

Day VII

26

Though Pele had parted company with Namaka and Kana as they neared the man’s village, Kamapua’a had insisted on remaining by her side. Neither request nor threats had dissuaded the wereboar until, finally, she had relented and allowed him to walk with her on the condition he kept quiet. He managed such a feat for perhaps a quarter of an hour before he began regaling her with tales of his bravery, sexual prowess, or feasting ability.

It did, however, allow her to gather a more accurate picture of just what had happened on the Valley Isle. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for the death of Kam’s foreign friend, especially after hearing how he had helped defend the Sawaikians from the taniwha. She had not intended the villagers to attack this Pasikole, but then, she had barely given the man any thought at all. Maybe she should have. Maybe it was a lesson for the future.

“You should have gone home with your sister,” Pele said, as they neared Puako Village.

“Uh. Yeah, well, I think she plans to swim home. That’s a long way for me to swim, so, you know. I could take a canoe, but it’s not like Fish Girl even plans to stay on the Valley Isle.”

“What?” If Namaka planned to once again trespass here it could mean trouble.

“She’s fighting that war with the stupid he’e and all.”

Pele grunted, not sure what to say to that. Namaka had become part of a world so strange Pele could barely hope to fathom it. And Kamapua’a had been left behind. He’d been cast aside by his birth mother—of course she was meant to have killed him—and had lost his surrogate mother in that dragon he’d kept bemoaning. His friend Pasikole was gone and now, for all intents, he was losing his sister. Perhaps he clung to Pele out of loneliness. It was almost enough to make her pity the kupua.

“I need you to wait outside,” she said by her mother’s hut. “I have to tend to my family alone.”

Kam shrugged and wandered off, probably in search of something to eat. His stomach had been rumbling so loudly it might have summoned more Nightmarchers.

In spite of herself, she had to smile at him. She ducked into the hut where Fire-Keeper now knelt at her brother’s side. The kahuna looked up at her approach. Her brother did not. Milohai twisted and turned in a sweat that stank of rot. In fact, the whole hut smelled of sour urine. Her mother gasped at her approach, hands to her face.

“The monster is dead,” Pele whispered to her mother, who nodded, eyes lit with relief.

Pele passed Fire-Keeper the gourd holding the Waters of Life. He stared at it a brief moment, perhaps feeling the mana it held, before pouring a long swallow down Kāne-Milohai’s throat. At first, nothing happened. And then, slowly, the boy’s moaning and thrashing abated.

Fire-Keeper placed the back of his hand on the boy’s head, then nodded. “His fever broke.”

Pele released a pent-up breath. The Waters worked. Of course they worked. They’d kept that thing alive far beyond its years. But even with that knowledge, some part of her had doubted such a miracle could exist. Outside, the sun was shining, the waves were lapping upon the shore, and a thick ring of clouds encircled the mountains. Why shouldn’t there be miracles?

And her stepfather had been saved, more thoroughly than she had even imagined. Hoalani had become an aumakua. She couldn’t see him, maybe would not see him ever again in this life. But somehow she knew he’d be here, watching over his son and then, maybe, his son’s son and so on, down through the centuries. A guardian against the forces of the night.

“Mama, you also need to take a sip of this,” she said.

At her words, Fire-Keeper handed her mother the gourd. She took it, seeming almost hesitant, and then sipped. Nothing happened. Shouldn’t it have healed the burns on her mother’s face? Maybe they did look a little less red, but the scars … She frowned, but wiped the expression from her face before her mother could catch it.

“Good. You’ll be safe from the sickness now.”

“This is all there was?” Fire-Keeper asked. When she nodded, he glanced outside through the open door. “We can save maybe one more person with this.”

“Then you take it.”

“I’m not sick.”

The thought of him falling ill to this disease was like a blow to her gut. She would not allow that to happen. Nor could she stomach the thought of him falling to age. “Our people cannot afford to lose any more kahuna. If I could do so, I’d help create more, but …”

“You’ve grown so much. I’m proud of you.” The words felt like sunshine on her face. “Keep the Waters. Someone else may fall sick. I have to move on to other villages, help them.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Fire-Keeper glanced around the hut, then led her outside, away from her mother. “You no longer need me to teach you, Pele. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve learned all you need to know. You have no more need for a guardian or tutor. Any more lessons are the ones you have to teach yourself.”

She swallowed. “Maybe. But I still need my father.”

“Your …? Pele, I …”

She threw her arms around him before he could say anything else. “You’re right. I learned a lot of things. I learned some family bonds run deeper than blood, and that you have to hold on to the people who really matter.”

“I don’t know what to say.” The man’s face seemed to soften, like he wrestled with some emotion he struggled to contain.

He had lost his daughter. Maybe that was why he had been so good to her.

“You have a family, too,” she said.

After a moment he pulled away, shaking his head, but smiling wistfully. “So where does the wereboar staring at you fall in?”

She shrugged. “Family pet?”

He chuckled. “I’m still not taking the Waters, Pele. Save it for someone in need.”

Pele nodded. She supposed he was right. Others in the village were already sick, dying. Maybe she could save one of them. “Then give the Waters to whoever is the sickest, right here in this village.”

The kahuna nodded and walked off to another hut.

Pele, however, turned her gaze back to the mountains. The menehune tunnels ran throughout this island, connecting to the Place of Darkness. What other secrets might those tunnels hold? A way to save more of her people, perhaps? Maybe it was time she set about exploring all those deep places, uncovering their secrets.

She looked back to where Kam stood watching her, and to Fire-Keeper, the father she had chosen. She would explore this island. And she need not do so alone.

27

Swimming back to the Valley Isle proved a mild challenge, given that Namaka couldn’t let the gourd mix with seawater. It was a long way to swim on the surface, though it did provide a gorgeous view of the islands at sunset.

She had stayed with Kana while he healed Niheu, had seen it save the man’s life, if not erase his scars. Maybe they would heal in time, maybe he would bear them for the rest of his life. At least, thanks to his brother’s love and sacrifice, he would have a life. Namaka had planned to wait by Kana’s side until … the moon would soon rise. Molowa was going to take Kana’s body and she would never see him again.

She had wanted to ensure he didn’t face it alone. Kana, however, had insisted she hurry home to her mother before it was too late. “I have my brother to wait with me,” he’d said.

And so she’d gone, fast as she could, back to the sea, and begun her swim home.

The sun finished its descent, snuffing out the fire in the sky, as she resumed human form and stepped onto the beach. The night sea was beyond beautiful, glistening with the light of a reflecting moon. The moon that meant the end of one of her friends. Out there, across the gulf between islands, a cold spirit was coiling its way around Kana’s heart, seizing control of his limbs. Unable to break his bargain, he was damned to centuries of suffering. And he had known that, had made his choice anyway. Had made it out of love for his family, out of a determination to never give up. No matter the price.

There was, she supposed, a kind of beauty in that too.

Namaka blinked away a tear. She raised a hand to wave at the Big Isle, though she couldn’t see it from here. “Goodbye, Kana.”

Finally, she trod up the beach toward the common hut where she’d left her mother. She had tarried too long already.

She had not yet reached it when Moela began yipping, rushing for her. The dog chased about her ankles and she laughed, tucking the gourd under one arm and nuzzling her friend with the other. “I missed you too.”

Uncle Kamalo emerged from the hut a moment later. “You’re back. You have it?”

She nodded and handed him the gourd. The old kahuna rushed over to his niece, her mother who no longer seemed conscious. She lay still as death and for one breath-stealing moment Namaka feared that she … But then there came the barely perceptible movement of her throat as Kamalo poured the Waters into her mouth.

“Thank the aumakuas,” he said after a few moments. “She’d not have made it through the night.”

Namaka nodded. Kana had been right. Again.

She moved to her mother’s side and planted a kiss upon her forehead.

“Are you leaving again?” Kamalo asked.

She had a war to fight. Another people counting on her. But not yet. “I want to be here when she wakes up.”

He nodded, clearly pleased, and went back to tending to his niece.

Namaka walked back onto the beach, Moela on her heels. Staring at the ocean brought her a kind of peace. Maybe she would even sleep out here tonight.

Others in the village would be less fortunate. She had dared hope the Waters of Life would save everyone on the entire Valley Isle. But that grandiose hope proved a fantasy, a child’s dream. There were no simple solutions. A woman just had to do what she could, when she could. Right now, that meant she needed to take some lovers, give rise to a few more kahuna for Kamalo to train. That no longer seemed so frightening, nor could she truly remember why it ever had been.

A few days, a week traveling around the island, doing what she could for these people. And then … then she needed to rejoin Ake and his forces. They too waited for her, waited to reclaim their home. Hiyoya had been taken by Kanaloa. The he’e god-king was immeasurably ancient and powerful. And yet, Pele had just shown her that even such a being could be defeated.

There was a way to win.

And Namaka was going to find it.

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About the Author

Matt Larkin is an American fantasy and science fiction author. He lives in Florida with his wife Juhi and daughter Kiran. With a background in philosophy and publishing, Matt started a small press dedicated to top notch speculative fiction. He adores mythology and history, passions he conveys through his novels.

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