Tides of Mana Page 7

  By welcoming one of the snow akua inside herself, even for a short time, Poli‘ahu could increase her power by an order of magnitude. The spirits could carry her will, her curses and blessings, far and wide.

  No, Poli‘ahu had no fear of ghosts nor of Kaupeepee’s men.

  “There are new powers in these islands.” Lilinoe’s voice was a whisper carried on the winds of Pō, sibilant and caressing. Hearing such a voice might have broken the minds of men, but fortunately, her warriors could not hear the akua. Garbed in white, her skin pale, Lilinoe almost looked like a cloud.

  “New kupua have arrived from Kahiki.” Poli‘ahu had felt their presence on the currents of Pō, creating psychic waves with their power. After all, any such power came from Pō, or at least through Pō. Poli‘ahu had known these foreigners were coming long before their arrival. She had felt their power, almost overwhelming.

  Nalani looked at her—the woman now seemed a shadow on the far side of the Veil—as if curious what Poli‘ahu was talking about. “That’s why we came, right? You said we needed to secure allies before these new arrivals joined the Kahikians.”

  Indeed. But Nalani’s voice sounded muffled now, as if heard from behind a wall. Poli‘ahu held up a hand to forestall further questions. Besides, Nalani knew better than to ask how Poli‘ahu knew the things she knew.

  Lilinoe paid little attention to Nalani, and Poli‘ahu was never sure whether the akua could even hear conversations in the Mortal Realm, especially in daylight. “One of them pulls hateful flames from the burning world.”

  Poli‘ahu frowned. These new kupua would ruin everything if she let them. Already, the native Sawaikians struggled to maintain any sense of identity. Bloodlines became hopelessly polluted through constant intermarriage with the invaders. Those who wouldn’t blend blood often found waiting spears instead. The Kahikians were stealing the entire archipelago, one island at a time.

  Poli‘ahu would not surrender Vai‘i. Never.

  KAUPEEPEE’S grand wall had no gate. Rather, the only entrance was a tunnel running through the mountain, so deep Poli‘ahu had to wonder if the menehune themselves had dug it. At the moment it stood open, but Poli‘ahu could see a boulder on rollers that Kaupeepee’s men could use to block the tunnel and render it completely inaccessible.

  The warrior himself soon emerged from the tunnel, at the head of his warriors. He wore nothing but a malo around his waist and a headband, showing off his muscular torso and arms thick as tree branches, covered in tribal tattoos.

  Not just a warrior. A prince, in fact, though he’d forsaken his claim to the throne in order to isolate his family from repercussions from his actions. Thus far, it had a worked. His brother Keoloewa remained the King of Moloka‘i, and none of the invader chiefs had visited reprisals on this island for any of Kaupeepee’s raids.

  “Do you know who I am?” Poli‘ahu asked.

  “Queen Poli‘ahu of Hilo. So-called Snow Queen of Mauna Kea and would-be ruler of all Vai‘i.” Kaupeepee shrugged. “Would-be, if your forces didn’t keep losing to the invaders.”

  Poli‘ahu stiffened at the warrior’s slights. Yes, she might fight him now, might even defeat him and claim Haupu for herself. But she could not remain here when her kupua powers came from snows on taller mountains. “I’ve no wish for us to become enemies.”

  Kaupeepee grinned. “If I thought you did, you’d never have made it through the channels with those canoes. No, I just want to be clear where we stand.”

  “On the brink of annihilation.”

  “What?”

  “Our way of life is ending. The kāhuna of Kahiki impose new tabus all across Sawaiki. The Kahikians blend their blood with our own. You and I are descendants of Nu‘u and heirs of Maui the Firebringer. These islands are his legacy, found in the deep Worldsea, and left to us. And the Kahikians think they can come here after centuries of separation and claim lordship over the archipelago?”

  Kaupeepee folded his arms over his chest. “Why do you think I’ve built this place?”

  Poli‘ahu craned her neck up to take in Haupu. Yes, it could probably accommodate three thousand warriors, though she doubted Kaupeepee had half that many under his command. That was part of his problem. He could annoy the invaders and they could not touch him. He could not, however, achieve any real victory against them.

  After looking around a bit more, Poli‘ahu turned back to the warrior. “You’ve been undertaking this self-appointed mission for what, five years now?”

  “Six.”

  “Fine, six. I imagine you’ve lost a few men along the way.”

  A sour grumble ran through the warriors gathered behind Kaupeepee. She’d heard he accepted the services of only the most daring fighters, and only those with pure Sawaikian blood.

  “What if I could offer you another thousand warriors and a war barge that could ferry more than a hundred men across great distances?”

  Kaupeepee’s mouth slowly fell open and he glanced over his shoulder at his men. “Let’s go inside, shall we? Yourself and a reasonable number of guards.”

  “All my men deserve food and rest.”

  The warrior peered over her shoulder at the gathered throng of her people, then nodded roughly. His men, bearing torches, proceeded back through the tunnel, and Kaupeepee himself escorted Poli‘ahu.

  The tunnel was, in places, uncomfortably narrow, with a feeling of pressing in over her head. The work was rough—definitely not menehune—and the soil looked wet enough she imagined the ground filled with mud in the rains. Considering the precipitous slope, making this trek probably posed a major risk at such times.

  “I have heard of your victory over Olopana of O‘ahu.” That victory, in fact, was the first time she’d given Kaupeepee real consideration as an ally.

  “Hehe. Yeah, we raided all up and down his coasts. Kāne, those were days. We had almost a hundred war canoes hanging back until after dark, then we’d all slip in, hit two, three villages all at the same time. Olopana was fucking livid, I can bet. We grabbed one of his kahuna’s daughters that day.”

  Poli‘ahu frowned, but said nothing.

  “Oh, don’t go getting the wrong idea, anyway,” the warrior continued. “We treated her right, didn’t harm her a bit. After a year, we asked her if she wanted to go back. Eh, well, Ilima asked her, anyway.” Kaupeepee pointed to one of the torchbearers. “She said no. You believe that? In the end, she married Ilima and now they’re expecting a little one soon.”

  “You don’t consider her blood tainted, coming from invader lineage?”

  Kaupeepee grunted. “Look, I don’t want to see our way of life end, like you said. I don’t want the invaders running the archipelago, setting the tabus, and becoming the kings. Doesn’t mean we have to kill all their women.”

  They exited the tunnel and began to climb up to the fortress proper, which was also past another wall. Inside, Kaupeepee’s people had built numerous dwellings for warriors and a heiau for prayer to the ‘aumākua.

  Poli‘ahu also spotted several canoes sitting on the ground up here. “How do you get your canoes out of the gulches to escape pursuit?”

  Kaupeepee led her up a staircase and onto the walls. He pointed down to a small, treacherous footpath, then indicated a series of rope pulleys. “We lift them on ropes, then our people follow on foot. Anyone fool enough to venture into the mouth of the gulch after our people …” He chuckled and waved his hands at great piles of stones and stacks of javelins in easy reach of the wall’s defenders.

  A hail of death would rain on any who attacked the fortress, especially if they tried to climb the declivities out of the gulches.

  He nodded as if realizing she could see it in her mind. “That’s what happened to Olopana, you know. The walking cock came after his kahuna’s daughter and went to my brother asking for me. My brother told him it wasn’t his responsibility to find criminals, but if Olopana wanted me, he’d tell them just where to look, and sent them here. Oh, I didn’t much mind my brother calli
ng me a criminal. He has to, you know, if he doesn’t want his town sacked by those ghostfuckers.

  “Anyway, Olopana came at us with sixty war canoes. Hundreds of warriors. Maybe he thought we’d break to see such numbers, I don’t know. But we …” He broke, chuckling. “We just started hurling down an avalanche of these fucking rocks.” He kept on snickering. “I mean we dashed those boats all into pieces, sending them down to the bottom of the gulch to feed the sharks. Olopana, he turned his canoe right around and paddled all the way back to O‘ahu. Haven’t heard from him since. Couldn’t see it, of course, but I like to imagine the cock just pissed his malo and thought the akua themselves had turned on him!” Kaupeepee slapped Poli‘ahu’s shoulder in mirth.

  A massive breach of tabu.

  Frost formed in her hand. Poli‘ahu had to clench her fist to keep from reaching out and freezing his windpipe into a block of ice. How dare he touch her without her permission?

  Deep inside, she felt Waiau’s desire to see him freeze. To die in torment.

  Below, off the walls, both her people and his own had to have seen that. They’d be watching for her response.

  War or peace.

  Allies or enemies.

  He should die for such a transgression. But she needed him. He was uncouth, rugged, and savage. But he was the man who might halt the invader advance, and considering the arrival of two powerful new kupua, Poli‘ahu would need every ally she could gather. She would push the Kahikians back into the ocean.

  Let them cross the Worldsea and go back where they’d come from.

  Or else bow down to her power and submit to her as queen of Vai‘i. Either would do.

  Slowly, she extended her arm to Kaupeepee. “You did well with Olopana, but he’s hardly the greatest of the kings we contend with. So you shall have your war barge and your army. And then, we shall discuss breaking the invaders in half like coconuts.”

  Kaupeepee took her arm, grinning like a child. “Then let’s crack some coconuts.”

  6

  P ele had awoken on a canoe, sailing away from Kaua‘i, with Aukele beside her. Her head felt like a drum, with musicians playing both the inside and the out. With a groan, she rolled over onto her side.

  “Easy,” Aukele said. “You’ve been out a long time.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Almost to Mau‘i, though sometimes the locals call it after Maui himself. Kana stayed behind with his brother to help Hina deal with rising tensions. The situation there is a mess.”

  Pele groaned again, forced herself to sit, and swayed a little. “Where’s Lonomakua?”

  “Namaka took him.”

  “What? No! We have to go back for him.”

  “Later, when you’ve regained your strength. There’s a volcano on Mau‘i, Haleakalā. You can soak up its mana and grow strong enough to save him, maybe.”

  Pele growled. “And if Namaka decides to sacrifice him to the ‘aumākua before that?”

  Aukele spread his hands in obvious sorrow. “Then neither of us are poised to stop her, are we?”

  “I’ll stop—”

  “Face reality, Pele. Every time you’ve had a head-on confrontation with Namaka, the two of you have devastated the landscape and she’s come out ahead. Our only chance of survival at this point is to get as far away from her as possible.”

  A flush of anger lit her cheeks and, despite herself, Pele considered jabbing a burning finger into his chest. Searing him, for his impudence. How dare he speak to her thus? How dare he imply she could not stand up to her sister?

  Worse, still, was the niggling fear … what if he was right? Namaka had just soundly beaten Pele, even when Pele was on the offensive and should have had the advantage.

  With considerable effort, she forced her arms to her sides, forced herself to release the tension welling within her. Lonomakua 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 one other reason why she had lived in a volcanic crater. There, 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 Hi‘iaka had pushed her too far, Pele had screamed at Haumea for abandoning her daughters. Had cursed the akua and the ‘aumākua. The volcano 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 her anger. The lava didn’t burn Pele, of course, although Lonomakua had warned her not to let herself get buried in it. He’d known kupua like her, he said, and one had suffocated, trapped beneath tons of molten rock.

  That day, all of Uluka‘a must have seen the explosion. Lonomakua, even in Namaka’s domain at the time—would have seen the eruption, felt its effects. And still he said nothing of it on his return. Maybe the kahuna understood, perhaps better than her parents 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 kupua like her? He was, however, one of those rare kāhuna with the ability to harness his mana, to turn it into something real. Not like hers, of course. Not on that scale. But he was calm, and, more importantly, calming, endlessly patient with her. All the things Haumea and Kū-Waha-Ilo ought to have been.

  And now, Namaka had him. She’d captured the one man who had ever helped calm Pele, helped her control her powers and her emotions when so many teachers had turned their backs upon her, called her turbulent and unteachable. But Lonomakua had come and told her tales of Maui and his quest to claim the First Flame. His lessons, his endless patience, his insistence on becoming the father she had never had, it had changed her, helped her to tame the raging inferno in her breast and put it to use.

  And Lonomakua had warned her not to indulge her lust for Aukele. He’d told her, as if speaking of prophetic insight born of pyromancy, to alter her course. She had not listened, of course. Restrictions chafed, even coming from her favored kahuna.

  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. “We have to get him back, Aukele. I cannot lose Lonomakua. Not him.”

  The man sighed. “I imagine that’s how Namaka felt about her other two husbands.”

  Pele winced. He meant the bitch might sacrifice Lonomakua to spite Pele, knowing what he meant to her. But did Namaka realize what the kahuna meant to her? Surely, she knew they were close, that he had taught her pyromancy and helped her learn to control the Art of Fire. But did she understand the depth of their relationship? Probably not. Namaka never understood depth of any sort.

  “Mau‘i is near,” Aukele said. “Its coastline is dotted by countless small villages, and a few lie even farther inland. The kings here also control Lāna‘i, in theory, though in practice, that island is haunted by denizens out of Pō. I’m told Queen Poli‘ahu has traffic with the spirits.”

  “And she is based on Lāna‘i?”

  “No, on Vai‘i. There the most kings dwell, and I think the fighting remains the fiercest, torn between Poli‘ahu’s supporters and the new dynasty.”

  Then that might be where Pele eventually needed to base herself. If she was to claim control of an island, of a dynasty, she’d need to erod
e support for this Queen Poli‘ahu. Besides, Pele had sensed numerous volcanoes on Vai‘i.

  Before any of that, though, she needed to draw in mana as Aukele had suggested. She’d soak in the vapors and power of Haleakalā and then, she would find out what Namaka had done with Lonomakua. She’d not abandon her … well, whatever he was, he was part of her ‘ohana, a title Namaka had now lost for herself.

  FIRE IS LIFE.

  Lonomakua had been fond of saying thus in his days and nights tutoring Pele. The implication, she had observed, was that in stealing the sacred flame from the gods, Maui had stolen for mankind the means of controlling their own lives. An observation for which Lonomakua had favored her with a wry smile and offered no other answer.

  Now, Pele walked past the sacred flame burning inside a heiau, this temple dedicated to Lono, but with a ki‘i statue representing Maui as well. Indeed, as Pele had walked along the shore of Mau‘i, she’d noticed numerous ki‘i masks dedicated to various gods who watched over the peninsulas, cliffs, and promontories.

  “The nearby village is Hana,” Aukele said, “and Queen Hinaikamalama rules from here. She’s commonly called Hina, like my sister, also no doubt named for Maui’s wife. My nephew Niheu tells me she has thrown in her lot with Poli‘ahu, though, so we might do better not to reveal our identities here. This whole area is famed for its natural splendor, from waterfalls to the Sacred Pools in the south.”

  Pele nodded absently, though behind her, she was quite certain Hi‘iaka paid rapt attention to every detail Aukele offered about the political situation. The climate on Mau‘i mattered, yes, especially insofar as it related to that of Vai‘i, but Pele had already decided to eventually build her kingdom on that island. It was there she would delve deeper into the landscape of politics and there she would make herself known as the God-Queen. Most likely, she would need to first kill this Queen Poli‘ahu who galvanized the people against the new migration.