Islands of Fire Read online

  “Relax, initiate. You will soon know the secret of the Flame.”

  Kina reaches out with her mind to Mother Ocean, begging for help. She wills a massive tsunami to sweep over the entire island, drowning all who live on it and sweeping their corpses into the black depths. But nothing happens, and she knows she is too far inland, too far away from Mother Ocean’s reach.

  The cultists begin to tap away at her body with their sharp tools, tiny splinters of whale or boar bone piercing her flesh and leaving behind their occult ink. Daubs of blood well up from her skin with each prick. Kina thrashes her head back and forth, not from the pain, for she feels nothing under the effects of the numbing oil, but from sheer horror of watching her flesh so defiled.

  And it goes on. Kina loses all sense of time, her vision seeming to collide with her hearing, mixing together into a strange cascade of light and noise. For a while she is sure the people standing around her are not people at all but skeletons, jeering down at her with bleached bones. Then the great skull hanging over the door seems to become ripe with putrid flesh as though coming back to life. It turns on creaking ropes to face her, terrible eyes burning deep in its sockets, flame licking from the corners of its mouth.

  “She is not one of us,” it says with a voice like stone grating on stone. “She is a traitor. She seeks to destroy Puahiki.”

  She faints from terror and blood loss more than once. At one point, swimming up into consciousness from a deep swoon, she rolls her head to the side so she can look out the door and sees the valley flooding with dawn light. As she contemplates this, the sunlight is replaced with black night.

  Ahia is there, and then she is not, and then she is there again. The cultists are replaced with more, and they work in shifts until their identities merge into one, and then they become facets of Meke`u himself. He still wears his mask, now looming over Kina’s head, now standing near her feet. When he peels off the strange mask, he looks just like her father and Kina imagines she rolls off the slab to embrace him, and then he is Motua and she is horrified at his betrayal of her, and then he is Tokau, a boy from the dirty streets of Huka`i who once claimed he loved Kina and would take her away and make her his wife, until he was butchered by thugs who claimed he had stolen from her.

  Then all is dark.

  Mark of the Warrior

  Kina comes awake, her skin afire with agony. There is very little light, just the pale white glow of the moons. She is on a soft mat of tapa. Her skin is slick with a healing balm.

  She rolls onto her side and sees Ahia there, sitting near a doorway, gazing out at the night sky with a spear in her lap. Apparently they are in a hut, one with close walls and a low roof. Of the temple there is no sign.

  Aware that Kina has come awake, Ahia turns to her. “How do you feel?”

  “Like the dead,” Kina says. She peels back the tapa that has been draped over her and sits up. In the light filtering into the hut, she can see that most of her skin now bears an elaborate pattern of swirling black lines and whorls. She brushes dried blood off her skin and gazes at them in disgust.

  “Congratulations. It’s not everyone who gets to wear those marks. I was rejected.”

  “Rejected? Why?”

  Ahia turns away. “They said I was too rash. That I was too eager to leap into conflict.”

  “The Burning Warriors said you wanted to fight too often?” Kina asks, incredulous.

  “There’s more to being a Burning Warrior than just prowess in battle. You have to know how to harness the inner fire. Tamp the flames, or stoke them, depending on the situation. You’ll learn all this. I have a feeling you have a knack for it. I can see it in you.”

  Kina eases back down. Her skin feels like it has been flayed from her bones. “So what now?”

  “Now, you rest. Tomorrow we will continue your training here. You have given yourself to the Flame. Now you need to learn to control it. Go back to sleep. When the sun rises I will come get you.”

  True to her word, Ahia wakes Kina with a slap just as the valley has filled with light. Kina rolls out of her mat, leaving bloody marks where her tattooed skin rested on the tapa. Tiny insects had come in the night, drawn by her blood. Kina savagely brushes them off and drops back down onto the mat, eyes heavy with sleep.

  Ahia has brought Kina a small breakfast of poi and papaya in a clay bowl. Kina holds it in her lap and greedily shoves fingerfuls of the thick paste into her mouth, and when she’s done with it all, Ahia hands her a gourd filled with the most delicious, cold water she’s ever tasted.

  “I hope that gets your strength back,” Ahia says, “because you’re going to need it.”

  Kina follows Ahia out of the hut. Though the sun has surely risen elsewhere, the steep walls of the valley keep it in a perpetual twilight.

  They head back to the temple. Meke`u is there once more, and so are the others who performed the tattoo ceremony. The temple’s flaming moat is still burning, though Kina swears the flames are even higher. The stone slab now hosts an unlit torch, a dagger, and a bowl of oil.

  “Are you ready to receive the gifts given to you by the Flame?”

  Kina nods, so she is led forward. One of the attendants dips a torch in the bowl of oil, and holds it in the fire.

  “First, approach the altar.”

  Kina starts to circle the trench, but then Meke`u stops her. “You must find another way in.”

  There is no other way in except through the fire. Kina takes a few steps toward it, and as she begins to feel the heat coming off the roaring flames, she also starts to notice another sensation, like a cool breeze off the sea at night.

  It is the tattoos, she realizes. The hotter it gets, the more they deflect the heat. Or are they absorbing it? She can’t tell, though when she runs her hand over her skin she feels an energy there.

  The others are still waiting for her, so Kina holds her chin bravely forward and steps into the fire. Flames all around lick up into the air, dancing across her skin, but Kina doesn’t feel them. The strangeness of the sensation brings up a terror that she hopes doesn’t show on her face. It reminds her of how she felt being pulled down into Mother Ocean’s depths, that deep-seated alarm as water flowed into her lungs. Just as breathing water isn’t natural, so too is the experience of standing in fire.

  “The first gift of the Flame,” Meke`u intones.

  Now that Kina has made it through the trench, she steps up to the altar. Her tapa skirt is singed, small fires licking along the hem. Again, her instinct tells her to put it out, but when she sees the other attendant lifting the flaming torch, she stays her hand.

  “Stand, and receive the second gift of the Flame.”

  The attendant moves forward and points the torch directly at Kina’s heart. She sucks in a breath, wanting to bat it away. The moment the torch touches her chest, right at the center of the web of markings covering her, the fire seems to leap off the torch and rush all across her skin, spilling across her like a surging tide. With a snarl, it whips over her torso, down her legs and arms, meeting itself on her back.

  Kina is engulfed in flame, and as the attendant backs away, the fire remains on her. Though her hair is untouched, the remnants of the tapa skirt burn immediately away and she is naked.

  “Will it, and the fire shall subside,” Meke`u says.

  Kina wonders how to will something like that, but the moment she focuses her thoughts, the fire winks out as though sucked into her very flesh.

  “You are doing well, Mai. Now, it is time to receive the third gift of the Flame. Step up to the altar and hold out your tongue.”

  She does as instructed. A new attendant takes up the small stone dagger and dips it in the same substance. Now that she’s closer, Kina can see it isn’t oil, after all. It looks thick and dark, though it seems to be lit from within as though a coal had dropped in and sunk to the bottom of the bowl. The attendant pulls the dagger from the substance. It is shaped just like the pahi, the black blade now lost to the sea, and it even bears t
he same inscriptions along the side, though this dagger has clearly been cut from wood, not obsidian.

  Kina holds her mouth open, tongue out, while the attendant comes forward with the dagger. With one quick flick of the wrist, the attendant slides the sharp blade of the dagger along Kina’s tongue. Kina gasps in pain and shock, clapping her hands to her mouth. Blood pours out between her lips.

  “Resist the weakness of the flesh, Mai of Toko-Mua, and envision the Flame emerging from you.”

  Kina opens her jaw, tongue lolling in salty blood, and out of her mouth shoots a stream of fire that extends across the altar.

  This is so unexpected that Kina falls back, stumbling off the raised platform and falling to the stone floor. She holds her hand to her mouth and when she takes it away it is covered in burning blood.

  All she can think is, What have I done? She repeats this over and over, and as she raises her vision up into the air, she sees that terrible skull hanging over the chamber and feels a presence emanating from it, powerful and cruel. It looms over her, filling the air like an invisible cloud. It feels as though the presence can peer directly through her, peel away her outer layers, expose her for who she truly is. Something about this presence feels familiar, like kin one has not seen in many years, and yet still alien and grotesque.

  Meke`u is shouting something, and Kina gets back to her feet. The flame is no longer rushing from her mouth, but she feels it there, deep down inside, waiting for another chance to roar up and out, filling her chest with a black heat.

  The cultists are looking at Kina in shock. Meke`u is still shouting, and they seem to recover, jumping through the fire and taking up spears from the weapon rack against the wall.

  Kina pants, the world spinning. Inside, the fire crackles and pushes at her skin. It is both hot and cold, comforting and agonizing.

  She is finally able to hear what Meke`u is saying. “Kill her!” he shouts, over and over. The cultists are separating, coming around from different sides. Meke`u himself has taken up the torch and the dagger.

  What's going on? Kina looks around, perplexed. Ahia has backed away to the door, eyes wide and jaw slack, as though Kina had just transformed into a beast before her eyes.

  This thought makes Kina look down at her body, wondering if perhaps she had turned into a beast, but she sees only her arms and legs, the same old familiar limbs and skin, now covered with the raised lesions over her extensive tattoos.

  That’s when she notices that she can see her own skin underneath the illusion. There are two arms there, one inside the other. Her slender arms are there under Mai’s stouter, more curvy limbs. In growing dread, she realizes something has happened to the illusion, and just as quickly as this reality hits her, she knows exactly what has happened.

  She is being exposed by Tiamuta.

  The cultists form a ring around her, spears forward. Kina spins around, looking for an opening. As the first one rushes her, she ducks and pivots, taking hold of his spear. The others crowd in. Kina twirls and drives the spear tip through one of her opponents. She fends off attacks, stabbing and slashing, and at last the cultists back off, no fighters themselves.

  Ahia has taken up a huge shark-tooth club, one heavy enough to require two hands. The surviving cultists separate and let her through.

  She might have been turned down for receiving the Flame, but Ahia is a powerful warrior. She charges Kina with a bellow, club held high, and it is all Kina can do to step swiftly back, holding her spear high to deflect the blow. Ahia’s club snaps the spear in half and still has enough force to slash Kina’s chest on the downswing.

  Kina backs away through one of the temple’s openings. Out in the sunlight she realizes there is little she can do while weaponless other than to run, so she races down the hill into the mossy ruins. Ahia is close behind the whole way. Meke`u emerges from the temple, screaming for her blood.

  Ahia has nearly caught up with her. Kina throws herself over a low wall, grunting at the shock as she lands on the hard gravel on the other side. Before she is able to get back to her feet, Ahia has sprung up onto the wall, club raised for another swing.

  Kina holds the two halves of her spear in an X, barely able to divert the attack in time to avoid having her skull crushed. But Ahia has to hoist the club back into the air after it, and Kina begins to see a weakness in her technique.

  With Ahia’s next swing, Kina is ready. She dances out of the way, then smacks Ahia on the neck with the blunt half of the spear. Ahia gasps and falls backward. This is all Kina needs. She drops the useless spear and hurls herself on top of her opponent. For a moment the two of them wrestle for the club. Kina wrenches at it, but the other woman is far stronger. Kina can’t hang on.

  This will be over soon if Kina doesn’t eliminate Ahia, and she knows it. But without a serviceable weapon, what can she do?

  She feels that alien fire still raging in her gut, and then she knows. It roars from her mouth and engulfs Ahia. In moments, the woman is reduced to writhing and screaming, trying to beat off the flames. But it is too late.

  Kina stands up, the club now hers, and starts back toward the temple. The cultists, seeing her approach, flee and leave Meke`u standing in the doorway.

  “Kneel,” Kina says.

  "I'll do no such thing!" Meke`u has the ritual dagger in his hand and lifts it high. Kina expects him to rush her with it, but with a shock she realizes he is chanting.

  “Stop!” she shouts, but it is too late. The ground begins to quake, toppling the low ruin walls nearby. Great stones break off of the waterfall cliff and plunge toward the lake below.

  “May Tiamuta swallow you and crush you in her bosom.”

  Kina bashes in Meke`u’s head with the leiomano. Once he has fallen, she drops the heavy club beside him.

  The ground is quaking more violently, and massive splinters of the cliff are shearing off. Kina watches an enormous crack zigzag across its face, accompanied by a boom like the loudest thunder, a sound that seems to fill the entire valley.

  She races into the temple, at first intending to seek refuge in the stone structure, but even its walls are quivering in the earthquake and Kina isn’t sure if they can hold. On her way out she takes up a spear. Then she is running, hopping walls and racing down flagstoned avenues. Behind her she can hear the waterfall increasing in intensity. She risks a glance back, only to see it has tripled in size and volume. Could there have been a lake above it, as well? More cracks appear and then wedge-shaped pieces start to fall. Like a broken bowl, the lip of stone can no longer hold back the water and a great cascade rumbles over the brink. It drops downward like the curling crest of the largest breaker Kina has ever seen.

  A chunk of the cliff so tall it nearly stretches to the valley floor calves off and begins to fall like a toppled tree. When it hits the lake, the water rises up in a wall that marches across the ruins and sweeps up Kina with a powerful blow. She tumbles, disoriented, swept around the walls and pillars of the ruins.

  The Vessel

  The village of Toko-Mua looks peaceful from a distance. But even from Kina’s vantage point, up the grassy slope of a nearby hill, she can hear the keening of hundreds of voices.

  She limps across the open ground, hungry and exhausted. Her back and left arm aches as though she had been crushed under a stone. The spear is long gone, as are most of Kina’s clothes. But she is still alive.

  Pausing on the slope, she looks out across the village. Most of it is hidden, nestled in trees, but she can see the thatched roofs of its tallest structures, and the replica of the old temple at Ka`atahako — now surely reduced to rubble — towers above it all. Though she is so weary she can barely stand upright, Kina holds still for a minute, puzzling at the sound. Is the village mourning? What could be happening?

  Eventually, she gives up trying to figure it out, and continues downslope. She is spotted approaching the village, and before long, several warriors have come to her side.

  “It’s the new one,” they say, and help
her limp back to the training camp. They deliver to her to healing hut, one of five small, low buildings of mud and thatch at the end of the yard.

  As they ease her into a bedroll, a couple of them rush off to find a healer. The others crowd around, asking questions she has no interest in answering.

  Before long, a healer arrives along with one of the trainers, a fellow with which Kina has had limited interaction. She searches for his name but turns up nothing.

  “What has happened?” he asks, dropping to her side. When she doesn’t answer, he cups her face to turn her gaze to him and tries again.

  As she responds, the healer pulls back the tapa cloth to look over her battered body. “An earthquake,” she manages to say.