Islands of Fire Read online

  Several warriors shoot glances at one another. She watches one of them duck out of the building.

  “An earthquake?” the trainer asks. “Where are the others? Did it take them?”

  Kina finds her voice. “The cliff crumbled and flooded the valley. I think they’re all dead.”

  Someone in the knot of onlookers says, “That river runs right through `Akinokai.” A few others grumble in grave agreement. Kina is about to ask about it, but the healer touches something on Kina’s leg that sings with pain. She recoils and nearly passes out.

  “How did you survive?” she hears the trainer say, but to Kina’s relief, the healer demands he hold his questions for another time. As the trainer leaves, she finally slips into a deep sleep.

  She wakes many hours later to a bright morning sky. When he hears her stirring, the healer ducks back into the room.

  “I didn’t think you would wake for some time. You’re quite a fighter.”

  “I suppose I am. What’s going on?”

  “Lie down. There you go. Toko-Mua is in mourning because the village of `Akinokai was nearly destroyed. Most everyone was killed when the Melemo river swelled its banks and swept away the village. A handful of survivors made it to Toko-Mua. This corroborates with your report of the destruction of the Ka`atahako valley, though nobody down here felt any tremor.”

  “No,” Kina says, “I think it was a localized earthquake.”

  “The kupuna has sent a few warriors up to the valley to seek any survivors and to bring back an account of the damage.”

  “He could have saved the time. The whole place was destroyed. I barely survived, as you can see.”

  “Yes,” the healer says, taking a look at how her injuries have responded to the healing salve. “How did you manage?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly.” She sucks in a breath as the healer’s fingers touch a huge bruised welt. “I swam against the surge, and when I could, I grabbed hold of something.”

  “It’s miraculous that you survived. You can thank Tiamuta for her mercy.”

  Kina wants to laugh bitterly at the thought, but she holds her tongue and lets the healer finish his examination.

  “I see improvement, but you need rest. Lots of it. Don’t try to get up. I’ll be nearby to check on you from time to time.”

  “I hope so.”

  The healer rises and looks down at her. “Congratulations, by the way. I’m happy you made it through the ritual before tragedy struck. Welcome to the Burning Warriors.”

  “Thanks,” Kina manages to say. After the healer ducks back out of the building, she lets sleep overtake her once again.

  Days later, Kina has healed enough that she can stand from time to time and stretch her legs, getting a little bit of exercise by walking around the yard. She eats ravenously, finishing the bowls of poi or rice and fish while the pleased healer watches. Huge bruises cover much of her body, and her left leg still sends a stab of pain with every move, but her head seems to be clearing.

  One afternoon as she hungrily takes to a bowl of fruit, she hears a long, urgent blast from a conch. She sets the bowl down, listening. In moments, it comes again.

  Despite herself, Kina rises from the bedroll and steps out of the healing hut. Across the yard, she can see warriors excitedly racing from their training grounds. A cacophony of voices begins to rise from the village itself.

  “What’s happening?” Kina calls to one of the other warriors as he rushes by.

  He looks at her, face lit up with cheerfulness. “Nakali has returned!”

  The village is choked with people making their way down the muddy, packed streets toward the shore. Kina joins them, limping as fast as she can. In one hand she holds a spear, using it as a walking stick to help alleviate her hobbling walk. A simple cane would have done the job, but with the news of Nakali’s arrival, Kina couldn’t resist arming herself. Thankfully, no one would be suspicious of a Burning Warrior carrying a spear through town.

  A lookout continues to blow the conch, though now it is more for the benefit of Nakali’s canoe than for the people of Toko-Mua. As Kina emerges onto the well-trod beach, moving around the ranks of cheering villagers packing the sand, she can see a huge war canoe cutting through the bay, pennants flying triumphantly. It is still too far away to see anyone on deck with much clarity, but she recognizes the vessel. A shiver runs through her at the sight.

  As the crowd howls in delight, some of the more hale men and women surge into the water, wading or swimming out into the warm waves to usher in the canoe. They bob alongside the great sleek hulls of the war canoe, touching it as though the mere passing could confer immortality.

  Kina has to find a place to sit, so she rests on a storm-tossed palm bole, swept here from the sea some time ago. She watches as the war canoe draws as close to the shore as it can before disgorging its warriors. Having spent so many weeks at sea away from their home, they are visibly eager to feel Keli`anu’s sand. They leap from the canoe and wade to shore among a knot of cheering villagers.

  Nakali stands proudly at the helm. Her kupuna and master navigator stand just behind her, as is appropriate, and the three of them wave to the crowd of villagers. With dark satisfaction, Kina notices that Nakali waves with her undamaged arm, keeping the severed hand behind her back.

  At last a smaller canoe is sent out to pick up the high priestess and the rest of the canoe’s crew. When Nakali finally sinks her feet into the wet sand, the entire mass of villagers drop to the ground, prostrating themselves and chanting. Kina sets down the spear and lowers herself down, begrudgingly, to do the same. Thought it pains her to display such gross reverence, she knows to do otherwise is not only kapu, it would also draw unwanted attention.

  Nakali strides up the shore, her smile brimming with grace and magnificence. Kina has seen this self-gratified side to Nakali before — the arrogant demeanor of a person sure of her unshakeable dominance — but here, surrounded by her people, it seems even more haughty.

  As Nakali approaches, Kina turns her face to the ground. Proper respect demands it, but she is also terrified of being recognized. She keeps having to remind herself that she wears another woman’s appearance now, a woman Nakali has never met and cannot know, but it is hard to convince her body of this strange fact.

  At last the procession is over, and the people rise to follow Nakali. The entire mass of people flood into the village, ending at the village square. Kina sees Nakali look over the bodies still hanging there. Lots of questions.

  Nakali steps up onto a platform so she can be seen by as many people as possible. Villagers seethe forward, packing the square.

  Kina reaches the edge, still leaning uncomfortably on the spear. Though the people around her are lit up with energy and excitement, a solid stone of dread is forming in Kina’s gut. Something is telling her to flee.

  A warrior steps up behind Nakali and hands her something. From her location, Kina can’t at first see what it is. Then Nakali turns to the crowd and holds a great black disk aloft. Kina recognizes it instantly as the shield, one of the three pieces of the Kota`ianapahu.

  “My people, we have returned triumphant! Behold one of the ancient Kota`ianapahu, the sacred shield crafted by Puahiki herself. It is her solemn promise that she shall rise once more, and we shall be the instruments of her vengeance!”

  The crowd erupts in howls of pleasure. They stomp their feet and dance at the news. When at last they have quieted once more, Nakali says, “The second piece is being held on Howe`a for us by Puahiki, who shall grant it to the first Burning Warrior to journey into her caldera to retrieve it.”

  At this news, the Burning Warriors standing along the edges of the square lift their chins, each one already planning a voyage. Kina glances down at the tattoos on her body.

  “The third and final piece of the Kota`ianapahu is held captive by an enemy of Keli`anu, an escaped slave who seeks to war with us. Already she has insulted our honor and impugned Tiamuta by stealing what is precious to
us. But Tiamuta has delivered her to us. She is our captive, and justice will finally be served.”

  Kina looks up in horror. Though she tries to control her reaction, she gasps so loudly that several people around her glance in her direction. She can only hope they read this as an expression of the same surprise they, too, must be feeling.

  While Nakali’s gaze sweeps across the square, Kina considers her options. Fleeing is too obvious, fighting too futile. She is frozen in surprise and uncertainty. As Nakali looks her direction, Kina wonders if the high priestess will be able to see right through the magical disguise provided by Hekalo. She is relieved when Nakali’s expression doesn’t change, and the woman’s gaze continues to move around the audience.

  Though turning and running will clearly betray her, Kina knows she needs to leave. Now. She looks over her shoulder, already picking a path. There’s a lane close by that is nearly empty. She would only need to pass through about thirty onlookers to reach it, and from there it would be a clear shot to… Where, exactly? Would she head into the forest to hide out? What could she hope to do then? How would she make it off Keli`anu, and what could she do about her captured allies? Plans pop up in her mind, only to be dismissed instantly as impractical, unsatisfactory, or unrealistic.

  When she turns back to look once more at the platform, half-formed and fear-induced plans still bubbling up in her head, she sees several figures being led through the crowd on the far side. They are bound and have had cloth shrouds draped over their heads, but she knows them instantly. It is Hekalo, Pupo, and Mai — though, with renewed shock, she sees her own body in Mai’s place.

  Now Kina knows that running would be prudent. Yet even though she sends the command to her legs, she remains rooted to the spot. Dread has her pinned down. She is about to watch herself die, and the horror of it has shut down her mind.

  Mai is led first up to the platform. Nakali rips the cloth from her head. Mai gazes around at the crowd, blinking in confusion and terror, her hair tousled and matted with mud.

  “You thought you could escape the Ebon Flame?” Nakali asks, slowly walking around Mai. “Our great and just goddess has delivered you right into our hands. You got off that island while we stopped to make war with the pathetic wastrels in Kilakila and flay their skins for drums. Did you come here to exact your revenge on us?”

  Through this, Mai is babbling. Kina can’t make out what she is saying at first, but then she hears Mai say, “I’m not who you think I am.”

  Nakali stops and peers at her. “No?” she asks. “And just who are you?”

  “Hekalo cast a spell. My name is Mai.”

  “A trick?” Nakali asks. “And such an obvious one? Surely you know I’m smarter than that.”

  “It’s no trick!” Mai shrieks. “My name is Mai Pu`i. Kina is disguised through a spell Hekalo cast.”

  Nakali laughs, but then stops and seems to consider her words. “Bring forth the one named Hekalo,” she says.

  A warrior leads another of the masked captives forward. The cloth is pulled off, and Kina sees Hekalo there, wild-eyed with fear. He looks weak and sick, his skin so pale he looks hours dead already.

  “Is what she says true?” Nakali asks him. “Did you craft one of your foul sorcerous tricks? Answer me!”

  Hekalo is saying nothing. He stares blankly ahead at the crowd. Either he is too weak to answer or too strong.

  For a moment his gaze finds Kina. Cold fear stabs through her as she is sure this is where her deception will end. But Hekalo’s expression remains unchanged. He lowers his eyes to the platform.

  “Kneel, slave.” Nakali says. Two warriors stride forward and shove Hekalo to his knees. He goes without a fight.

  Without pause, Nakali takes up a shark-tooth club from a nearby warrior, strides forward, and bashes Hekalo’s skull with it.

  The audience gasp in collective shock. Kina feels her knees go weak and has to lean even harder on the spear.

  Hekalo drops to the stones, oozing out what remains of his life.

  Mai screams in horror and tries to run to Hekalo’s side, but the strong warriors hold her back, locking her firmly in place despite her thrashing and kicking. Nakali stands over Hekalo with a blank expression in her eyes, watching the man die. As his last breath gurgles out, a cry of shock washes over the crowd.

  Mai’s appearance has changed.

  It takes Kina only a second to realize what has happened. When Hekalo died, the incantation died with him. The illusion that has replaced Kina and Mai with one another’s image has ended. One look at the hand clutching her spear confirms Kina’s suspicion: the hand is her own, not Mai’s slight, rounded fingers but Kina’s larger and slender ones.

  Some of the people in the crowd around her have noticed this strange circumstance and are gazing at her in wonder and shock. Kina catches their eyes, her mind reeling with this new and unexpected change.

  Before they can act, Kina lowers the spear and drives the point into the chest of the nearest villager. Shouts of alarm are beginning to sweep across the plaza. Kina turns to another and slashes at him. The untrained villagers, seeing this new threat in their midst, shrink back and form a ring as far away from her as they can get.

  Kina turns to the platform, where Nakali is still standing athwart Hekalo’s dead body, The high priestess blinks and looks back at Mai, still trying to figure out what has happened.

  Kina stretches her arm back and throws the spear as hard as she can. It arcs across the crowd, barely missing Nakali. It clatters harmlessly on the stones.

  “Get her!” Nakali screams.

  Warriors on all sides. Kina growls and charges at one of them before he can lift his weapon. The two of them wrestle and she rips his club from his hands, bashing in his chest with it.

  Other warriors are pushing in around her. Kina sweeps the club in a circle, holding them back. The expression on their faces is one of confusion and doubt, their disorientation at this sudden change adding to their slow reaction time. Kina takes full advantage of this, swinging the club wildly to cut through their ranks before they can mount a decent defense.

  The moment she gets an opening, Kina pushes through and escapes into the empty streets of the village, followed by a wall of shouting villagers. Despite her limp, she leaves them behind by cutting through the narrow gaps between huts and running low and out of sight. In moments she finds herself at the edge of the forest.

  This is no good; she wanted to head toward the sea. For a second she considers circling back around Toko-Mua, keeping to the perimeter. Maybe, if she is fast enough, she can make it to the beach before the rest of the Burning Warriors have been able to organize. She turns to the right, hoping to follow the edge of the huts, then stops cold in her tracks at a sound beginning to rise up out of the temple in the heart of the village.

  Drums!

  A Beating Heart

  Night is falling once more across Keli`anu, darkening the valleys, lengthening shadows, dimming the spaces between huts, blackening the forest. Though a feeble glow still lights up the overhead sky, it is slowly giving way to the pinprick stars. Soon, all light will be extinguished.

  Straining to see, Kina hobbles through the dense trees, tripping on fallen branches and staggering over unseen dips and rises. She wishes she had a torch, or a candlenut lamp. Though she can smell sea air, and hear the distant crumple of waves hitting stones, she has no way of knowing how much distance remains between her and the water.

  Far behind her, she hears the constant rumble of the drums. Their din has faded over the distance, but not their effect. Adrenalin hums in her veins at the sound.

  Are they coming? She hasn’t seen signs of pursuit. Perhaps the Burning Warriors are taking their time, trying to pen her in. Maybe, like her, they are having a hard time seeing their way through the forest. Or perhaps they are already at the beach, simply waiting to spring a trap.

  She glances back over her shoulder and for a second isn’t sure what she sees. A flutter of darkness, like
the shadow of a tree moving. But already the gloom over the forest is deep. There is no light here.

  Most likely she is seeing things. Doing her best to favor her uninjured foot, Kina continues pressing on toward the sound of surf. She pushes through a dense thicket of ferns, and scrambles down a short decline into a dry gully. This will surely lead to the sea, so she turns and follows it. Taking another furtive glance over her shoulder, she jumps. This time she distinctly sees several shadows moving, flitting between trees. Figures, human in shape but not in appearance, and supernaturally quick.

  So all the stories were true. This is the army of ghosts trapped in the drums, placed there by whatever occult ritual Nakali and her kupuna use to ensnare the souls of the dead, unleashed only by the wild pounding of the drums made from their former flesh.