Flames of Mana: Heirs of Mana, #2

PROLOGUE

Days Gone

On the slopes of Haleakalā the early morning sun stung Maui’s eyes. Up here, above the clouds, it was brightest. Brilliant and beautiful enough he could have almost forgotten his purpose and the reality behind it.

Save for the gasping of La lying before him, legs broken and lassoed with an orichalcum chain—probably the only one of its kind on these isles—that stripped the spirit’s powers and prevented him from Sun Striding away. Once, in another Era, the so-called sun god had called himself Ra and ruled a land as a god-king. And here, on this island Maui’s people had named after him, he had tried to repeat his temerity.

Maybe Maui should have let him. He’d had no desire to climb this mountain nor fight this spirit, but Hina had begged him, claimed already La’s demands grew oppressive, made their new home intolerable.

And so now, he and La were on this mountain slope, flesh burnt, exhausted, and come face to face once more after so many years. Unlike most Etheric beings, Sun spirits had adapted to daylight, even learned to harness it. They could, were they so inclined, prove a force of beneficence toward Mankind.

Unfortunately, Maui had rarely seen them thus disposed. All self-proclaimed gods seemed forever given to megalomania, perhaps even solipsism, and La had proved no exception.

With a sigh, Maui wiped blood from his split lip. His injuries would heal soon enough. Minor inconveniences. He crawled over to lean in near La’s face. Far to the east, in the vestiges of Hy-Brasil, Quetzalcoatl has established himself as lord among the people, a sun dragon, in a land where you might find welcome. If I release you, I will have your word you will go there and leave the Sawaikians be.

The would-be god scoffed. "Release me now, bow down, and I won’t tell your precious humans just who and what you really are, titan."

Maui sighed again and shut his eyes a moment. The morning sun cut through his eyelids, painting them red and hot. It really had been the wrong answer, even if La didn’t understand half so much as he thought he did. When he opened his eyes once more, Maui moved to kneel upon La’s chest, to wrap his hands around the Sun spirit’s throat.

La’s host’s throat, really, and killing this body would not solve the problem. Sooner or later, this being with a taste for worship would find its way back across the Veil and try to claim another body.

Not here, though, Maui hoped.

He squeezed until his fingers dug through flesh, met vertebrae. La’s eyes stared defiance, even as his neck collapsed beneath Maui’s fingers. Even as his blood poured out in great cataracts, streaming down the mountainside. In those eyes lurked a warning he would return.

With a sniff, Maui at last rose and flung the blood from his hands.

He withdrew the orichalcum chain and wrapped it into a loop to hang from his malo. Still somber, he descended down through the cloud level, walking and walking until he could at last make out the lush green valleys below and the endless Worldsea beyond.

Who would have ever imagined the World could become thus?

Even now, millennia after the cataclysm others called the Deluge, Maui could not help but find himself caught aghast at it all. Despite the cycle of Eschatons, if anything should have remained inviolable, he would have thought it the landscape. And yet now, the four great continents themselves had vanished as surely as the four great cities of Faerie.

Did such devastation fall upon his shoulders?

The rise of the Leviathan, even temporarily, had nearly destroyed the Earth itself.

All that remained were these archipelagos here, and hints of continents to the far east. For the people of Savai‘i, he’d wanted to believe these new islands, heretofore untouched by man, might offer succor. A place to live out this Era in relative peace, secure from the expanding influence of Hiyoya and the wars among Manua’s brethren across the sea.

But there was no peace.

Manua had established his kingdom on Vai‘i, yes, and along with the pyromancers Maui had given him, he hoped the man would rule well. Except the new king found himself constantly beset by spirits from beyond Pō. The menehune raided Manua’s villages for slaves and hosts, and now, without the Sun god checking their power, that problem might well grow yet more dire. Mist spirits lurked in the fringes, no doubt eager to draw hapless mortals in with their whispers.

And Kanaloa remained ever a threat, a remnant of the Leviathan’s passage.

Not for the first time, Maui caught himself wondering if the whole cycle might come undone. If the destruction last time was so great that Mankind might never recover, that no Destroyer would rise again and cleanse the World. If everything Maui had ever done would prove for naught, in the end.

Or maybe finding himself forced to murder La had left him maudlin. There was always the temptation to give in to despair. Repugnant as the cycle sometimes seemed, the alternative was too harrowing to even consider.

It was afternoon by the time he made his way to the base of Haleakalā, where his family’s house lay. A simple hut, really, sitting beside a river that ran down to the sea if one followed it far enough. The burble of waterfalls feeding the river relaxed him and—more importantly—Hina and their son.

Maui paused on the lower slopes of Haleakalā, uncertain quite what he was seeing. The whole house had collapsed as if a great wave had slapped up against it. Netting lay strewn over the riverbank. A plank of timber was stuck in the mud, standing up at an angle. The palm leaf roof was blown into …

There.

Halfway back into the jungle, Hina lay unmoving in a puddle of mud, the two girls clutching her tight.

No.

No, this was impossible. He hadn’t seen this. No vision had revealed this, not like this.

Wailing, Maui raced to her side and dropped down, knees squelching in blood and muck beside his family. Nanamaoao’s eyes were open, staring at nothing, face a mask of pain and terror, her little hand twisted in an awkward angle. And Hina … Maui rolled his wife over to reveal ribs crunched inward as if some enormous force had punched her. She’d died in agony, her insides collapsing.

His roar of pain and defiance reverberated off the valley.

Not this.

Not again.

Maui collapsed into the mud, unable to form thought. Nothing, save that he would look into flame, see the end of his beloveds, and see who had wrought this. Someone would suffer for this.

Suffer so very desperately.

PART I

Third Age of the Worldsea

1

NAMAKA

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 the waves, trying to master their boards. Over the past two days, the villagers of Puna 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 Sea Queen.

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 Mu 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 Mu, and through Hiyoya, she knew the he‘e controlled much of the Worldsea behind the scenes. 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 Mu, and soon. But before she could spare time for such things, a more immediate crisis on Vai‘i demanded her attention.

Hi‘iaka was dead.

They had to save her.

The Waters of Life might do so, but every moment wasted reduced the chances for restoring Namaka’s youngest sister.

You’ve been staring at the ocean for an hour, Upoho said. The wererat had arrived that morning—Namaka had sent for all their allies to come here, to Vai‘i, so she and Pele could begin this search in earnest.

I’m absorbing Mana. On visiting Mau‘i she’d briefly soaked in the Sacred Pools to replenish the energies she’d lost fighting first the taniwha and then Pele. It was hardly enough. I cannot say what ordeals lay ahead of us. The first time Pele and I found a spring of the Waters of Life, it lay deep underground beneath the mountains on Uluka‘a. And it was guarded by a he‘e.

Upoho clucked his tongue. Locals have some fish roasting in the imu. Come eat. Then we can all discuss things. No use worrying on an empty stomach.

She glanced at him, wincing again to see the scarred ruin of his missing eye. Pele had done that. She had maimed Namaka’s foster brother in her desperation to rescue Lonomakua. But then, maybe Namaka should never have abducted someone so dear to Pele.

Namaka allowed Upoho to guide her back to Puna, toward the palace Pele had taken over. Namaka’s younger sister now reigned here, though Namaka had gathered the place had once belonged to the woman’s advisor, Naia. If the former queen held any bitterness over the loss of authority, she hid it well.

Slaves laid out meals in both the men’s and the women’s houses within the palace, and Namaka joined her sister in the women’s house, along with Naia. Upoho left her to head to the men’s hut where Makua and Moho—a visceral dread crept into her mind to even consider the Fire spirit—were no doubt resting.

Beyond, Lonomakua had taken over another house to hold Hi‘iaka’s body. The kahuna engaged in continuous chanting to keep her soul from fleeing into the dark of Pō, aided at times by the sorcery of Kapo. The mermaid part of Namaka could feel it—the distortion in reality their actions created, a psychic reverberation through the currents of Pō, leaving her ill-inclined to venture near to that house. Despite her desire to speak with Pele’s kahuna and push him to reveal his secrets.

We are disadvantaged this time, Pele said around a mouthful of poi. We don’t know this land nearly as well as we did Uluka‘a, nor have anywhere to start. My best suggestion at present is to consult the local kāhuna.

Namaka frowned at that. Naia—or Pele, perhaps—had sent out their head kahuna, Kamalo, all around the district trying to send the souls of the fallen lest they linger. Everyone had more than their share of work to rebuild this place.

She slunk down across from her sister, ignoring Naia, unable to suppress her glare. All of this had happened because of Pele’s betrayal of their truce. Her sister had made a habit of betrayal, hadn’t she? Indeed, she had murdered Leapua, and that Namaka could never forgive. Still, Namaka had agreed to work with Pele to save Hi‘iaka. Their youngest sister meant more than their grievances.

Pele seemed to take no notice of Namaka’s dour mood, though, swallowing before blathering on. Kapo’s been here far longer. She spent most of that time on Mau‘i, enough to believe the Waters of Life don’t lay there. There are powers, she tells me, on Lana‘i. Strange powers from Pō and beyond, things men have feared since coming to Sawaiki. On Moloka‘i as well, sorcery seems stronger. I hesitate to head to either island while things remain uncertain, so I expect to consult all the kāhuna in Vai‘i first. I’ve already sent messengers calling any who would come in friendship, even from the old dynasty.

Namaka sat in silence, watching her sister prattle on. She cared very little for the dynastic struggles between the prior immigrants to Sawaiki and those more recently come from Kahiki. The part of her that remained Nyi Rara longed to join the mer who had fled Mu and go to their aid, but she could not abandon Hi‘iaka.

Naia motioned to the plate of ahi poke set between the women. Please, eat. You need your strength.

That much was true, though Namaka was now more accustomed to eating fish raw. And alive. Still, she grabbed the fish and bit off a great chunk of it, head and all, savoring the look on Naia’s face almost as much as the overcooked flesh. Even Pele was staring at her now.

Namaka crunched fish bones in her mouth and swallowed it all. Like a shark, she no longer required her food to be so carefully masticated as a human would. Knowing it was petty but unable to help herself, she intentionally left the shark teeth descended when she spoke. "Speaking with the kāhuna may offer some insight. I’d suggest consulting all kāhuna around."

I just said that, Pele pointed out.

Including Lonomakua.

Pele shrugged. He’s from Uluka‘a, like us. He might use his pyromancy to gain some insight, but I hesitate to distract him from his efforts to kept Hi‘iaka’s soul nearby.

Maybe she should just tell Pele. Maybe it would save them all a lot of trouble. Except Namaka had to believe it would be better for Pele to hear it from Lonomakua himself. She thought of the man as a mentor, as more than that. Namaka could only imagine how she’d have felt if someone revealed to her that Milolii had not been who she claimed to be.

Namaka rubbed her brow. Based on what we saw in Uluka‘a, it’s possible the Waters will have some connection to the sea.

So you want to search the whole godsdamned ocean for secret tunnels? Pele asked. "I’ve heard the ocean is big."

A conscious effort allowed her to keep from lashing out at Pele’s obvious provocation. As if the other queen actually had more reason to hate Namaka than Namaka had to hate Pele. Considering all you’ve done, I’d learn to guard your tongue.

"All I’ve done, Fish? All I’ve done? The cook fire across from them flared, spewing embers that had slaves racing to clean them up. I seem to recall you playing your part in our conflicts."

I didn’t seduce your husband! I didn’t burn out the eye of your foster brother! I didn’t murder your kahuna! Namaka rose to her knees, hands curling into fists. There was not enough water here for this. She’d be at a severe disadvantage. I. Did not. Betray the truce after fighting a godsdamned taniwha!

Pele climbed to her feet, fingers twitching like she planned to summon the fires to herself. It strikes me this alliance may prove difficult to maintain. That, perhaps, I’m better off solving this issue on my own, without your arrogance and provocations.

Namaka glared at her sister. "I swore an oath of peace in Hi‘iaka’s name. I don’t intend to break that. But you may be right. Maybe we are better off on our own, each working toward a separate solution. You consult the kāhuna on land, and I shall seek the wisdom of elder mer."

Suit yourself.

Namaka rose, shaking her head. While you’re questioning kāhuna, maybe ask your precious mentor where he really comes from.

What in Lua-o-Milu does that mean?

Baring her teeth, Namaka threw a final glare at Pele, then stormed from the house and to the palace gate. At the threshold, though, she hesitated.

Damn it.

Damn it!

She couldn’t just go dive in the ocean if there was a chance she could save Hi‘iaka. Grumbling, she made her way to the house where her sister’s body lay. The closer she got, the worse the psychic distortion grew. It echoed inside her skull like a discordant drum, leaving her brain hurting. Whether intended to keep spirits away or not, the ritual certainly had that effect.

Kapo was dancing the hula inside, perhaps giving Lonomakua the chance to rest in his own efforts. So far as Namaka knew, neither of them had slept in two days.

Lonomakua, she snapped. Lonomakua!

A moment later, the man slipped from the house and came out to face her. She’d half expected him to hide, avoid this confrontation. Maybe that wasn’t his way.

You still haven’t told her, Namaka said softly. She couldn’t take the chance of Upoho or any others overhearing. Tempting as it was to break Pele by revealing this man’s secrets, surely he had a reason for not telling her sister. But what reason? Why in Lua-o-Milu haven’t you told Pele the truth?

Because she’s not ready to know.

Uh, huh. While you dither about what lessons she is prepared for, our sister’s life and soul hangs in the balance.

The kahuna fixed her with his startlingly blue gaze. Blue as the ocean, almost glittering. He towered over her, too. So tall. I know the stakes. I’m not sure you realize just how high they are.

Where are the Waters of Life?

I cannot tell you that.

Namaka grabbed the sides of his face and yanked it down to her level, trusting in her mermaid strength. Maybe the man could have still overpowered her if he chose to, but he did not resist. A mermaid’s voice could entrance men, sometimes even compel them to her will … but she wasn’t sure it would work on a kupua. She pitched it hypnotically anyway. My sister needs you, kahuna. Firebringer. Whatever you are.

Lonomakua jerked away and blinked once, giving no other indication of her power resonating in him. The answers you seek are in Mu. You must uncover them yourself. I will keep Hi‘iaka’s soul from drifting off.

Namaka frowned. What the fuck happened to you? How did you become so callous?

To his credit, now he winced. It is not callousness nor any lack of empathy that stays my hand.

Then what?

Desperation. The need to align events as they must align to promote the best possible outcome, to avoid the mistakes of the past.

Namaka flashed a mirthless smile. If Hi‘iaka suffers because of your inaction, kahuna, I will come back here and I will eat you alive. And not before I tell your precious Pele all I know of you.

Surprisingly, he seemed more sad than worried at her threat. I have to attend to your littlest sister now. I suggest you hurry to Mu.

The mer of Mu now lay scattered across three camps, hidden in reefs off Sawaiki, seeking shelter in trenches, hiding in undersea caves. The largest group had retreated to Ulu-hai-malama, commonly called Uluhai, an abandoned colony site north of Vai‘i, left untended since the days before the Rogo War.

Other refugees, Nyi Rara had heard, had even fled far to the south seeking solace in Hiyoya. 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. Nyi Rara sensed something was off the moment she entered Commander Ake’s chamber in one of the trenches. The grotto had been bored out of the side of the rock wall, and the passing of ages had worn away some of what she imagined as the former grandeur.

The water around the room was disrupted, the current slightly off.

It’s good you’ve returned, princess, the commander said.

Nyi Rara 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 Nyi Rara into believing they sympathized with the plight of Mu, had tricked her into asking for assistance the he‘e had no intention of giving. And then, while Mu was already breaking itself in the war against Hiyoya, the octopuses had taken the city. The people of Mu 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. 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. Nyi Rara 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.

Nyi Rara 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. Nyi Rara could only hope the he‘e didn’t know any of the other points the Muians had retreated to. One other of those places, like this one, they had abandoned centuries ago. Such places now lay beyond the official borders of the Muian kingdom. One, in fact, now lay within the kingdom of Hiyoya, making the position of the refugees precarious in the extreme. If discovered by Hiyoyan forces, they might face capture or execution. The truth was, her kingdom had been in decline for centuries. With her powers she might change that, but only if she was able to defeat the he‘e first.

She rubbed her face. I cannot attend to the war yet.

Ake sighed. 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 Hiyoya. 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.

What of the queen?

Queen Aiaru hopes to begin gathering our forces for a mass assault on Mu. However, many of our ‘ohana have lost all confidence in the queen, following this debacle.

That didn’t sound good. Even if the he‘e army could be defeated, how did Aiaru 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 we have a chance?

We’d have a better chance with you at our side. Regardless, I’d consult with your sister. Everyone is looking for someone to blame at the moment.

Of course she had a duty to her mer kin. But she could only be at one place at a time. I have to solve an issue on Sawaiki first. I just need information here.

You give too much care to these humans. Their lives are short, mortal. Even if you save them from whatever their current crisis is, 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 beyond any other kupua. And in those centuries, she would watch her loved ones die. 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.

Nyi Rara shut her eyes. She refused to believe that. Ake had lived long, yes. 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 people’s sides.

When the time comes, believe me, I will deal with the he‘e. Delay things until then.

She didn’t care what the commander 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.

2

PELE

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 Pele might hope to protect.

These things, Lonomakua had taught Pele long years back. Now, her mentor knelt before her sister Hi‘iaka, incanting prayers, beseeching the ‘aumākua and desperately trying to hold Hi‘iaka’s soul in her body.

While Pele lingered in near uselessness.

But Lonomakua could not have helped her now, regardless. He’d come from Uluka‘a, like her, and thus would not know enough of these lands. She needed a local kahuna. Pele walked through the streets of Puna, watching as villagers tried to reconstruct the damage done by the taniwha’s attack. And by her and Namaka’s own powers, both against the monster and against each other. The memory of that made a muscle in her face twitch.

Their war had now cost Hi‘iaka her life.

Naia met her outside the palace.

Kamalo is back, she said.

Thank the ‘aumākua. Many of the nearby villages had lost their kāhuna to the taniwha, so Kamalo had been traveling about, helping to send the dead. Those who lingered too long might be damned, transformed into lapu. A kahuna’s work was never done and no village could truly afford to be without one. Unfortunately, more and more settlements now found themselves bereft of much-needed spiritual guidance and protection.

While Kamalo was certainly needed abroad, he was also the best place she had to turn to for advice.

Pele looked to the former queen. Naia had never shown any outward resentment for Pele usurping her authority. She couldn’t understand how the woman could offer her anything save loathing, and yet Naia seemed almost grateful to have retained position as Pele’s advisor.

How are the people holding up? she asked the woman.

Naia glanced over her shoulder as if to check no one might overhear. They’re scared. Some claim the ‘aumākua have abandoned us. Others have said the taniwha was a sign of Kāne’s own wrath, manifesting before a second Deluge.

And what do you think?

Naia snorted. I think the mer treat humans like playthings. They are mercurial gods, but gods nonetheless. And your sister is somehow one of them.

Pele didn’t really want to contemplate that.

Most people have a small worldview, Lonomakua had told her once. Anything outside of that view is a threat to be feared. Most of all if the threat endangers their own misconceptions. The kahuna had 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 sighed. Namaka is … whatever she is now. I need you to reassure the villagers. I have to find a way to save Hi‘iaka before it’s too late. Then I’ll deal with … everything else.

Naia was right, though. Namaka had always been different, but now, it was hard to see her as anything but a monster. Still, a monster that truly wished to aid Hi‘iaka, and that made her an ally, at least for now.

You do well by the people of Puna, Naia said, guiding her through the village.

What?

No other chief, no king, no queen, could have hoped to have done better under these circumstances. We were attacked by a godsdamned taniwha of all things. Now we learn there’s a war between the mer we find ourselves caught in the midst of, all while facing our own war against Poli‘ahu and the old dynasty. But here you are, walking the village, trying to help the common folk.

Pele laughed softly, though little Naia said was truly amusing. This woman, this fallen queen, was supportive, introspective, and most of all, willing to listen and offer comfort in return. You are the sister I should have had. Pele shook her head, smiling despite the situation. And I hope you’re right. I hope I can save the people of Puna, of this whole island. A fortnight ago, I thought our biggest worry was the Snow Queen.

She still may be. People say she’s partnered with Kaupeepee.

Who?

Naia paused in their walk a moment. A chiefless warrior operating out of a fortress on Moloka‘i, a place called Haupu. He’s been raiding the Kahikian settlers for years now. Perhaps an alliance between himself and Poli‘ahu was inevitable, but it doesn’t bode well for those in the north.

Pele shook her head. "I can’t worry about the northern islands right now. Not while this island remains in jeopardy." And not while Hi‘iaka’s time remained so short. No, Pele’s first task was to aid her little sister. Then she would put an end to Poli‘ahu. With luck, that might offer some aid to the northern settlers as well.

There’s a story, Naia said. I don’t know how much truth to it, but … tales are that, a generation ago, Poli‘ahu fought Kapo. A bitter, terrible fight.

What? It seemed Pele would have to question her other sister about that. Though perhaps under more opportune circumstances.

She followed Naia 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.

Kamalo, Pele called.

He turned at her voice, nodded once to her, then whispered a final prayer over a boy.

Kamalo rose, leading her away from the rest of the villagers. Naia moved to follow them, but Pele patted her arm. Give me some time alone with him.

A slight frown turned at the corner of her mouth. Yes, Kamalo had been Naia’s kahuna once. But no longer. And Pele wasn’t sure what the old man would say or what she could safely share with others.

The former queen plodded off back into the main village. It was well she was there to help the people.

How are things at the other villages? she asked Kamalo as Naia left.

The old kahuna sighed. He 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. The man didn’t have many years left, from what Pele could guess. A twinge of regret filled her. She didn’t know him well, but still, he seemed a good man. "The situation is dire. There