Tides of Mana Page 8

  “I want to know about Kapo,” she said after a moment. “Send someone to investigate around in Hana, trade with the town, but, by all means, don’t reveal our real identities.”

  “Let your sister do it, and I’ll send a guard with her. A young girl, even an escorted one, will arouse less suspicion. Besides which, she has a clear nose for digging up information, does she not?”

  Hi‘iaka snickered behind them, and Pele frowned. Sending her little sister into a village controlled by a potential enemy did not much appeal, but Aukele did make a kind of sense. His presence, or Pele’s, might more easily get back to Namaka. She doubted her elder sister had anyone watching for Hi‘iaka.

  “What about us?” Pele asked.

  Aukele pointed into the jungle. “Haleakalā lies inland. We’ll have to follow the coast a while, past the Sacred Pools, then we can turn into the mountains and begin the climb. Maybe two days?”

  “Fine. Leave the rest of the men here in the camp, send Hi‘iaka with a guard to Hana, and you and I leave immediately for the volcano.” The sooner she absorbed the mana, the sooner she could go back and save Lonomakua from Namaka. And finally kill her accursed sister.

  “IT WAS in those days that Maui bound and wrestled the manifested sun god La, who had dominated this island.” Aukele pointed toward the mountain ahead. “The volcano, Haleakalā, means house of the sun, and it was on that peak that Maui fought La.”

  Pele huffed along upon the rapidly rising slope. Aukele had always loved to talk, to tell his tales and spin mo‘olelo for any who would listen. Perhaps he loved the sound of his own voice, but she had to admit, when he spoke, a person wanted to listen. She would want the story to go on and on, long into the night.

  When Aukele had first visited her palace, the whole court had gathered as he recounted better-known tales of Maui from before the Firebringer left for Sawaiki. Tales like the one he told today were known only in passing, from those few who had returned to Kahiki in the generations since.

  “Maui fashioned a lasso—some say from the hair of his beloved Hina—and used it to snare the legs out from under the sun god. The two of them, burning brightly, fought at the summit for a night and day, and when it was done, Maui cast the sun god down and warned him to cause no more strife for the Sawaikians.

  “Now, as I said, back then, menehune still roamed freely, and they blessed the Firebringer for driving back the sun which so harmed them.” Aukele had this habit of emphasizing his lines with wild gesticulations, as if caught even by his own vocal magic. A thought that brought a faint smile to Pele’s lips. Could the kupua entrance himself with his tales?

  “Tell me about the menehune,” she said.

  “Ah, the elder people. Some say they came here from Pō, after the Deluge, and they ruled Sawaiki alone for centuries. Milu, perhaps even for thousands of years! But the Kahikians who followed Maui found them and soon came into conflict with them. Maybe defeating La was Maui’s attempt to appease the menehune, but either way, the new Sawaikians eventually drove the menehune into the wild places—the dark forests, the caves beneath the islands, the places where neither sunlight nor the encroachment of mankind could reach them.”

  “You’ve never seen them.”

  “Ah, no, few have and lived to speak of it. They say the menehune are shrunken, twisted, people of the Earth. Their misshapen bodies are forever wracked with pain and it makes them cruel. I have heard it told that the first Nightmarchers arose from the menehune’s wars with the Sawaikians.”

  Now, Pele had to extend her hands for balance as they climbed the volcano. Its power pulsed beneath the ground and thrummed up through her shins, offering delicious warmth. Even this close, already she felt mana flowing into her faster than before. At the summit, she would become a goddess once more.

  “You are convinced these spirit people still exist?”

  “So the stories go, and, having seen for myself mo‘o, why should I doubt other spirit races exist as well? I have a theory that some of the spirits dwelling on Lāna‘i are, in fact, menehune, as well. Who knows, perhaps one day we will see these people.”

  Pele frowned at that. Mo‘o were an example of the problem, actually. Such beings possessed enough mana to prove a threat, even to a kupua like her. It sounded as if the menehune had vanished from the land centuries ago, though, so perhaps they would pose no obstacle to her attempt to establish her own dynasty on Vai‘i. Still, any kind of spirit people offered a potential worry.

  Aukele cleared his throat. “You seem deep in thought.”

  Pele paused, finding a stable rock to rest on. “Why did you come with me? When we left Kaua‘i, why did you accompany me, Aukele? I harbor no illusions of love between us, and lust would only carry us so far.”

  The man threw up his hands and sighed. “My wife is trying to kill us.”

  “Right now, I think Namaka cares more about me than you.”

  “Nevertheless, her rage has run all out of control. We wronged her, you and I, but now, I cannot trust that she will not take out her frustrations onto entire villages. Why then would I wish to live in a village where people I cared for dwelt? I’m … I’m at loss, Pele. If I could go back and …”

  “Not think with your banana?”

  He groaned. “Yes, that. But more than that. For my part, I wish Mo‘oinanea had never sent me to Uluka‘a.”

  Pele sneered at him. “And for my part you think I should have cowered before her. Bowed down and asked her forgiveness.” The very thought of that sent the mountain beneath them rumbling.

  It felt Pele’s indignation. How dare this man suggest that she should allow Namaka to cow her? How dare he imagine the Sea Queen above the Flame Queen?

  “The two of you and your pride, it cost us all so very much.”

  She felt it, when the flames sprang up in her hair, even as she rose to glare at him.

  Aukele took a step back, arm warding against the heat Pele must now be radiating.

  For a bare instant, Pele considered grabbing hold of him, throttling him, and burning him to ash. The unworthy thought disgusted her, and yet, there it was. The desire to hurt him. To singe him. “I strongly suggest you go wait for me at the base of the mountain. I’ll be some time.”

  Aukele worked his jaw a moment, then nodded and turned, heading back down the slope alone.

  Pele watched him go, glowering at his back, imagining it bursting into flames. He did not understand.

  Maybe no one did.

  7

  “So,” Kamapua‘a said, scratching at his beard and staring down Makani. “What you’re telling me now is—if I’ve got this shitting right—you just went and did what I extrapifically told you not to go and do.”

  The bandit shrugged uncomfortably, looking about the jungle like some shitting tree would offer him the answer. They stood just outside their camp and Kama knew others were watching them. “Well, not exactly.”

  “On account of you didn’t actually kill the shitting villagers?”

  “More on account of extrapifically not being a real word.”

  Well now that was just silly pig shit. “So the villagers are shitting dead, then?”

  “Yeah, boss. I mean, not all of them, of course. But the village was loyal to Hakalanileo. And they resisted and all.”

  Kama scratched at his chin some more. Then he threw his arm around Makani’s shoulders. “See, my friend, the way I see it is this: You can poke a boar with a stick and it’ll get mad. Maybe chase you a bit.” Kama squeezed a bit until his man let out a wheeze. Wereboar strength was good for that sort of thing. “You, my friend, didn’t just go and poke the boar anywhere, though. You went and raked the stick over its shitting balls. Now, do you know what happens when you rake a boar’s balls? I’m guessing you don’t know, or you wouldn’t have done it.”

  “Boss …”

  Kama pushed the other man away to arm’s length. “No, you don’t. Why don’t you go out in the jungle and find a boar and rake its balls and see what happe
ns? That way, we’ll be able to predict Hakalanileo’s response to having a bunch of villagers eaten.”

  “We didn’t eat them!”

  Kama ignored that. Hardly the point. “Fine. You can’t find a boar? I’ll show you a shitting boar.” He stripped off his malo and waved his cock around in the breeze. “Here’s some boar balls, my friend. Go grab a stick and rake them. Go on, I’ll wait. Let’s find out how it goes for you.”

  Makani looked studiously to the side, flushing and smelling all embarrassed and shit. It was easy to forget the effect such manliness could have on mere mortals.

  Still, Kama’s ire was real enough, and deep inside, he felt the animal stirring with it. The Boar God could get out if Kama let himself get too upset.

  Instead, he stooped to grab his malo and wrap it around his waist once more. “All right, then, well, done is done. You can’t unrake a ball and you can’t unrile a boar.”

  A glance told him the rest of the bandit crew were now all staring at him with open mouths. Kama wasn’t quite sure why. Probably couldn’t have even heard a word he said from way over there.

  Kama shook himself, then cleared his throat. Silly boar, getting all caught up like that. “We’re gonna have to be ready for war, is what we’re gonna do. Maybe even lay an ambush for Haki’s men. We should try to set it before dark. I mean, I can see in the dark, but you can’t.” He cocked his head. “Mortal.”

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

  “Earnest?” Kama shrugged. “Never been there, far as I know. ButI know a pile of pig shit when I smell it, and you went and stepped us in it.”

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

  THE MEN SHUFFLED ABOUT, setting snares and booby traps through every reasonable path through the woods. Haki hadn’t known where to find them so far, and that had kept them all safe from Kama’s shithole of a brother-in-law. Haki himself was about as threatening as a broken twig, but he had a lot of men.

  Plus, that weird woman who controlled water. Definitely a threat, though Makani assured him the woman had left Kaua‘i. Shame, though, Kama would have loved to make piglets with her.

  Either way, Haki’s folk had cornered him once before. Killed so many the Boar God had just … Kama shook his head.

  Nope.

  Best not to even think it.

  Makani rubbed sweat from his face. “I don’t think those people would have acted without their chief’s knowledge.” Thus far, Haki’s men had sent little parties out into the jungle hunting Kama’s troop. Including one from the village Makani had just raided. The raid was supposed to be retaliation.

  “Nope. Probably not without his blessing, in fact. Most people are always worried about doing things proper, following tabu. 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.” Kama rubbed his beard. “That’s why we killed the hunters, right. Fair’s fair, and they came into our jungle.”

  “Hakalanileo claims rulership here, too.”

  Kama found it best to ignore Makani’s stupider comments. The man was loyal as a dog, but he had the brains of an unconscious rock. Few mortals were blessed with kupua intellectuality, after all. Not their fault.

  Shit, Kama ought to commensurate with the poor shitter. Didn’t even know real words when he shitting heard them. Instead, he just clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Well, now you’ve basically gone and declared war against him. Hopefully big sis will forgive me for killing her husband, but a boar’s got things he just has to do.”

  Kama paused to take in his men. Twenty of them, all good men. Well … no, actually, probably not a one of them was actually a good man in the way a kahuna would mean the word. Not much on tabus. And you know, there was the murdering, stealing, raping, and an excisive amount of shitting profanity. A man could be forgiven for thinking the whole band uncouth.

  Incorrigible, the lot of them.

  Kama wouldn’t have them any other way.

  AS PREDICTED, old Haki’s men had come for revenge. Shame for them, they didn’t seem to find the camp until twilight. Twilight was a good time. Almost moon time, and a moon meant the boar was almost ready to come out of its cave.

  The best was when Kama let the boar out, but not the Boar God. Just a piece of him, really.

  A rope snapped in the distance, followed by a crashing log. Followed by a scream as some shitter got smacked to a gooey pulp.

  That, Kama figured, pretty much counted as the signal. He raised his hand and his people arose, hefting their javelins and their slings, stalking through the jungle. Silent and incorrigible.

  Kama, too, pursued after them, flexing his own muscles. He carried a spear, too, though once the sun finished setting, he wouldn’t need it.

  He followed his men into a small clearing where already things had ejaculated into chaos. Which was fine. Chaos was way better than that other thing.

  Shrieking, someone flung a javelin at Kama. He twisted sideways, caught the shaft in midair and spun it around, then heaved it back. His attacker batted the projectile aside with his spear and raced in at Kama, screaming like a shitter.

  Kama whipped his own spear around like a giant club. The shaft whistled through the air before cracking down on his foe’s shoulder and snapping in half, even as the attacker dropped like a stone. Kama shrugged, tossed his broken spear aside, and took up the one the other man had dropped.

  “Wereboar,” he said by way of explanation to the man groaning on the ground with a shattered shoulder. Then he stomped on the man’s head, felt bone crunch under his heel, and ground it down, just for good measure.

  If you were gonna kill a king, best to do it all the way. And that meant making sure Haki had no men left to interfere.

  FOR HOURS he’d chased after the shitting raiders.

  He felt it, long before the moon rose. It was almost full tonight. He supposed it was better not to be full. Got the Boar God too riled up.

  When at last the hateful sun dipped behind the trees and moonlight began to spill into the jungle, Kama dropped to his knees and flung aside his malo.

  The god pushed against the inside of his chest.

  It wanted out.

  He grunted.

  Groaned.

  The boar could come out. Shit, Kama liked the boar. Boar God could go sit in a pile of pig shit, though.

  His fingers curled into claws then began to fuse together. His upper arms shrank inward, bones compressing in a crunch of agony. Kama growled, the sound rumbling through the jungle. His jaw hurt.

  Everything shitting hurt.

  Always did. It was a good pain, yeah, but still pain.

  His lower canines began stretching, like some akua had grabbed hold and was trying to yank them out. So big they didn’t fit into his mouth.

  His groans turned to snarls and feral grunts.

  His ribs shifted, broadened, making way for insides all changing about. Kama growled, banging his head against the muddy ground.

  Oh, Kāne!

  He beat his fist into a root. Only it wasn’t a fist anymore. A hoof.

  Boar God had him by the balls now. Squeezing ‘em so tight they might pop, trying to get loose. Kama almost wanted to give in to the beast. Let the shitter run rampage and pulverize Haki’s men for their treachery.

  Except … couldn’t control … the god.

  Let the beast run, and the beast ran wild.

  Bristles burst through his back as his shift finished. He threw back his head and snorted, a louder, more violent sound than any boar ought to have made.

  But then, what boars got so big?

  Growling, Kama charged off into the jungle, a massive, bristle-covered pig of glory.

  Moments later he burst into a pair of Haki’s men. One screamed to see a boar bigger than he was. Kama charged forward, tusks lowered. The man turned to run, but Kama jerked his tusks up as he
closed, gouging the shitter right in the arse. A shake of his head flung the man aside.

  He reared up and dropped a thousand pounds of boar fury on the other man, felt bones snap like twigs beneath his rampage.

  Shitters better run.

  HE’D LEFT Makani and the men he’d brought far behind. Their would-be attackers had fled in multiple directions, making it hard to keep all the scents straight. Shitters.

  “Kamapua‘a!” Makani shouted from some distance behind.

  Kama snorted. Slow humans running around on two legs. Huffing, he forced the animal inside him down, forced himself back to human form. Shifting back hurt, too. Joints all popping and bristles receding back under his skin like splinters. Plus, the tusks felt like someone smashed them down with a rock.

  Deep in Kama’s chest, the Boar God rumbled, eager to get at Makani and tear him apart for the interruption.

  Well shit on that. Makani was loyal. A friend.

  When Makani drew near, he tossed Kama the malo he’d discarded earlier.

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

  Kama looked around. He stood on a mud patch, not far from the canyon, but down where he could see the ocean ahead. 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 La‘amaomao and her calabash. Yeah. Kama 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.”

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

  Makani looked back at the men. “They’re wasting our time. Playing with us.”

  That was fine. Kama loved games. Playing was a lot more fun than working.