Islands of Fire Page 23

  “Yes.”

  “You’re lying,” he says. “I don’t know how, but I know you’re lying.”

  “It isn’t a lie,” she says, but Kuana`i doesn’t say anything more.

  She is led to a yard surrounded by four long huts. Half a dozen young men practice thrusting daggers in the yard, using standing logs as targets.

  “You’ll stay in here,” Kuana`i says. “This is the recruits’ barracks. Later, you can stay with the others in another hall. You’ll take your meals here, sleep here, and participate in daily practice.”

  “I see,” Kina says.

  They enter the building. It is entirely open inside, hot and dark. The floor is tamped dirt, and in the half-light Kina can see a couple dozen bedrolls spread out on the floor. Flies buzz in the stifling air.

  “You’ll take this one,” the sergeant says. He kicks open a rolled-up mat. “Where are possessions?”

  “They sunk when the canoe went down.”

  “Ah, yes, the canoe,” he says. “The canoe you claim brought you here. And where is this canoe, exactly?”

  “I don’t know,” Kina says. “I foundered on the reef. The waves broke apart the canoe and swept it out from under me. I barely escaped and swam to shore. It was near a forested peak, that’s all I remember.”

  The sergeant steps close to her, so close Kina can feel his breath. “You might have fooled the others, but I know Apahana, and I can tell when someone is of kaua stock. You see, I lead raiding parties there all the time. You don’t have the accent, and you don’t have the look.”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  “You’re also a bad liar,” he says. “When someone’s lying, it shows in their eyes. In fact, even when you told the Council your name, I could see the lie written on your face.”

  “It’s the truth!”

  Kuana`i reaches out and touches her arm. “I’m not an unreasonable man. I don’t want your secret to get out any more than you do. All I want is something in exchange. You understand me? A simple deal. You give me what I want, and I give you what you want. How does that sound?”

  Kina is about to say something, when the sounds of several people approaching can be heard outside the hut.

  Kuana`i lets go and steps back, kicking at a bedroll. “If you need anything, you’ll let me or one of the other trainers know. Personal possessions will be kept with me and only released upon request. You will be fitted with clothing for training.”

  Several other trainees enter, spreading out to their individual bedrolls, chattering despite being exhausted from such exertion in the yard. They glance at Kina, the men letting their eyes linger a little longer. To Kina’s relief, not all of the recruits are male.

  Kuana`i addresses them. “This is your newest trainee: Mai. You are to show her how we welcome new warriors here. She will be working with you starting tomorrow.”

  The others offer mumbled welcomes. Kina can see each of them sports the intricate tattoos of Burning Warriors, the marks so new they appear to still be dripping with ink.

  As he makes to leave, Kauana`i steps close to her for a second. “Think about it. I’ll come looking for my answer tomorrow night.” With that, he leaves.

  Kina finds her bedroll and sits down in it, brushing aside insects that have taken up residence in the woven grass. She looks around at the others, who are hungrily devouring fruits or small finger bowls of taro and merrily ribbing one another. How long she’ll be able to keep this up she doesn’t know.

  Come home, Nakali, she thinks. I’m waiting for you.

  The next day is a blur of activity. Kina is fitted with clothing befitting a warrior, taken on a tour of the facilities, drilled in proper etiquette and in the kapu laws of Keli`anu, asked to demonstrate her knowledge of a variety of weapons, and fed horrible food. In the afternoon she is led into the temple where she is asked to pledge her life to Toko, the goddess of Keli`anu, whose nude form dominates the inner vault of the temple.

  It is strange stepping once more into that place. Kina sees once more the shallow trench that circles a raised dais. The trench is kept burning at all ours by dedicated priests who feed it with kukui nut oil and dry kindling. It circles around the central dais, allowing but one approach to the altar in the middle. There, on a stone slab, still rests the intricate cradle of human bones that once held the pahi. Now the bowl-like shield, still burning incessantly, rests on top of the cradle like a cookpot.

  Kina glances up into the high, vaulted ceiling that rises like a hollow spear tip above her. Bats hang from the beams.

  She pledges her fealty, secretly sending a message to Mother Ocean that her true commitment remains to the sea.

  They return to the yard for further instruction. There, Kina can see some of the more advanced warriors in training. Like her fellow recruits, these ones have an intricate tattoo inscribed into their flesh that covers much of their torso and arms. They are practicing with fire, and Kina and her fellow recruits watch for a while as the advanced trainees spin flaming brands, walk through walls of fire, and spit flames from their mouths.

  Kina had heard the Burning Warriors were capable of amazing feats of fire control, but she had seen very little evidence of this. When she and Motua had been escaping from here, one of the Burning Warriors chasing them had breathed fire. It had seemed so beyond belief that she had come to doubt her own memory, but seeing it in action now, she grows horrified. What kind of warriors can shoot fire from their mouths, and stride through it as though walking in water?

  As the day is ending, a knot of dread forms in her. She watches for the return of Kauana`i. All day she has pondered how to handle him, unsure how far she is willing to go in the pursuit of vengeance. To her great relief, the evening comes and goes without any sign of him. The recruits eat a large meal and spend some time around a crackling fire telling bawdy jokes and far-fetched tales of gods and devils. The others keep their distance from her, unsure what to make of the sullen trainee who braved the open ocean by herself to join the Burning Warriors; Kina knows her fellows have all been conscripted and are simply trying to make the best of their lot. They must have a hard time approaching her, and she can understand why they keep away. They fear her. Nevermind that in her first hour in Toko-Mua she killed a ranking guard captain!

  Sleep doesn’t come easily. Kina turns over and over in her hard sleeping mat, the flutter and chirp of the bats keeping her awake. For a while she contemplates rising and taking one of the training spears, then seeking out the Council members one by one. But she knows killing them is only a temporary solution at best. No, she should save her murderous impulses for Nakali. And Kauana`i.

  Long into the night, Kina awakens and looks around. The darkness in the recruit’s barracks is broken by moon glow streaking through open windows, the mats rolled up to let in the night breeze. Mosquitos hum in the still air, and several recruits snore heavily in deep sleep, occasionally stirring to slap at biting insects.

  Kina gets up as quietly as she can. One of her reasons for braving the home of the Burning Warriors — even becoming one herself — is to rescue Motua. She hasn’t allowed herself to think of him consciously, for fear that worry will distract her, and her distraction will be written in her behavior with the trainers, but concern for him has never left her subconscious. She’s sure that is what woke her, despite deep exhaustion.

  She pads across the room as silently as possible, trying to time her steps with the snores from the loudest recruit, a chunky boy from a village on the northern end of the island. Stopping at the weapon rack, she carefully removes a shark-tooth dagger hanging from a peg, then slips out the door.

  Toko-Mua is asleep, though there are patrols about. She can see a pair of guards ambling down one of the narrow, muddy lanes between clusters of huts. Here and there the guards have placed burning candlenut oil torches on poles to provide some light. It reminds Kina of the lamps in Huka`i, hanging from doorways or hooked poles, casting a flickering, feeble light on some of the city’s m
ain thoroughfares. For a moment she feels a pang of homesickness and remembers some of the other urchins, the runaways and cast-outs who lives in homes made of scrap and shared their gathered food and fought over territory. It had been a tough life. Even though she missed some of them, and mourned others, she swore she would never return to Huka`i.

  There are no guards visible, so Kina jogs through the village, first down one narrow lane and then another, always orienting herself by her distance from the towering temple peak.

  She is able to find the slave pits in just a few minutes. As she draws close, she can hear moaning and sobbing, the constant sound of human suffering that echoes up from those miserable holes. The sound gives her a chill as she recalls her own time down in there. The deprivation, the wretchedness, the terror.

  Three outposts stand watch over the pits. Set apart at opposite points, the watchtowers are as tall as the nearby rustling palms, and are not much more than a flat perch atop a rickety ladder. Before Kina even sees the pits themselves, she can see the guards in their roosts, bows at the ready.

  There’s no way to reach the pits, not with the guards watching. Kina presses herself against the support post of a thatched building and watches for a long time, before deciding she will have to find a distraction.

  Returning to a side street, she rips one of the burning torches up from the ground, carrying the pole over to some brush at the edge of the village. She tosses the pole into some vegetation and then makes her way as quickly as she can back to her hiding spot near the pits.

  Sure enough, after a few minutes she starts to hear shouts of alarm. Before long, she sees the flickering light of a blaze and a column of heavy smoke rising from the nearby street.

  Two of the guards scramble down from their posts and run off toward the fire, leaving just one guard to watch the pits. He cranes his neck to watch the commotion. Kina leaves her hiding spot and runs underneath his tower, moving quickly across the walkway adjoining the pits.

  “Motua!” she hisses, trying to direct her voice downward. Grubby, dejected faces turn up to her, their eyes almost the only thing visible in the darkness.

  In one pit, Kina is stunned to see Pupo. She stops in her tracks, staring at him.

  “Kina? Is that you?”

  “It’s me,” she whispers down to him. She sees a some more forms moving around, then Mai joins him, still wearing Kina’s appearance.

  “Help!” she says softly. “Get us out!”

  Kina shushes her. “I’m here to save you all, but you have to have patience. Where’s Hekalo?”

  Mai points to a man curled up at the edge of the pit. “He’s not doing well. I think he’s going to die. It’s this cursed enchantment! They keep calling me Kina, and a man named Meke`u tells me they’re going to make a drum out of me when Nakali gets back. You have to get us out!”

  “I’m working on it. I’ll come for you soon.” Kina leaves the side of the pit.

  “Kina!” Mai calls, then starts to sob.

  From nearby, Kina hears a man say her name. “Kina? Is Kina there?”

  She glances at the guard, but he still seems preoccupied. There might still be some time. Kina kneels at the edge of the pit where she heard the voice. Down inside, among several sick-looking captives, a dirty, bearded man looks upward.

  When he sees her, he looks crestfallen. “I thought you were someone else.” It hasn’t been long, and he sounds weak and tired, but she instantly knows Motua’s voice.

  “Motua!” Kina calls in a loud whisper. “You’re alive!”

  “Yes, I’m alive,” he replies, “if you can call it that. Who are you?”

  Remembering her altered appearance, and not wishing to waste any time in explanation, she says, “I’m… a friend of Kina’s. She sent me here to get you out.”

  “Kina’s alive?” he cries.

  The guard hears this, and turns her direction. “Hey!” he shouts.

  “Stay strong,” Kina says to Motua, and runs off.

  In the air is a whistling sound, followed by the thunk of an arrow striking the ground near her. Kina weaves as she runs, heading toward one of the far towers. She can hear the guard yelling, “Intruder! Intruder!” Another arrow hits the ground nearby.

  She makes it to the far side and vanishes into the alleys between the huts. From back the way she came, she hears the shouts of other guards, pulled away from fire duty to find the trespasser, no doubt.

  Taking a sight of the top of the temple, Kina runs as fast as she can through narrow, little-used alleys, falling back on the evasion skills she learned long ago in Huka`i, running from the town watch or from bands of thugs. Though she can hear them pursuing close behind, Kina is able to lose them in the unlit spaces between huts.

  Returning to the recruit’s hut, she finds them being scrambled. Through the open window she can see them filing out the door on the far side, taking weapons off the rack as they go.

  Kina waits until most of them are out and then vaults through the window. She gets in line behind the last of the recruits and comes out the doorway, rubbing at her eyes as if trying to wipe away grogginess. Kauana`i is there, barking at them to fall in.

  “What’s going on?” Kina asks, effecting a yawn.

  “An intruder was spotted at the pits.” Kauana`i looks at her. “But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, because you were sleeping so soundly in your bedroll, right?”

  “I’m sorry, sergeant Kauana`i. Yesterday’s exercises were tiring.”

  “Well, I hope you’ve saved some of your strength,” he says. Then to the rest of the recruits, he barks, “Follow me. We’re going to fan out and cover the edges of Toko-Mua. If you see something, speak up.”

  Kina follows the rest of the recruits behind Kauana`i as they run from the compound. For the next hour, they form a human chain and scour the perimeter of the village. Finally, a young man is spotted in the trees not far from the temple. One of the other commanders drags him out and he is delivered to the town square, trembling and babbling and nearly naked.

  “What were you doing? Why were you hiding in the trees?”

  “Please,” he begs. “Please, I was just going to come back!”

  The recruits stand in a clump on one side of the square. By now almost the entire village is up, and Toko-Mua is lit up with torches being carried by townsfolk. The Council arrives, roused from their beds. “What is the meaning of this?” the Council leader snaps.

  “This one was spotted trying to free the prisoners from the pits,” a guard captain says. “We finally caught up with him hiding in the forest nearby.”

  Kina is horrified, suddenly seeing where this will lead.

  “Please,” the boy babbles. “I didn’t go to the pits! I was just doing some night hunting.”

  “Then why were you hiding?” the captain asks. “And why were you so close to the town?”

  “I heard the commotion and got scared!”

  The Council elder says, “Lies will only make things worse. Tell us the truth. Why were you trying to free the slaves?”

  “I wasn’t!”

  The captain turns to the pit guard, who has been brought forward. “Is this the person you saw?”

  “No,” the pit guard says. “It was a woman, not a man.”

  “But this boy has long hair,” the captain says. “He is slender. Perhaps from a distance you thought he was a woman?”

  The pit guard looks unsure. “Perhaps…”

  “What you’ve done is a sin,” the Council elder says. “You’ve broken one of our greatest kapu. For this crime you must be punished with death.”

  The boy screams and starts thrashing. He is dragged away by several guards, and just a few moments later, Kina hears a terrible, high-pitched shriek, and the boy appears on the end of one of the sharpened pikes. Five guards hoist it into the air at the edge of the square and secure it in place.

  The townsfolk watched in stunned silence. Then a man and women break through their ranks, panting as if ha
ving rushed from their home. The woman wails, “Peheu!” and falls to her knees. The man seethes through his teeth, nearly mad with rage. He snatches the spear from a nearby guard and rushes the Council elder. Before he makes it far, he is beset by warriors who bludgeon him with their clubs until he is motionless on the ground. The woman, disconsolate, crawls on her hands and knees to the base of the pike upon which her son is dying, screaming in a pain so profound that Kina feels it in her own blood. When the woman tries to pull down her son, the guards are forced to kill her, as well.

  Kina finds she can hardly breathe. Three lives. All so she could merely let Motua know she was trying to rescue him. Was it worth it? She could have waited. She didn’t have to know he was in the pits, did she? Kina chastises herself, furious at her own impatience. She had been reckless, hasty. Her action not only put her at risk, increasing the odds of her being discovered, but it also destroyed an entire family.