It began with a rumble. Howaru had just speared a fish at the lagoon when he heard it, mistaking the roar for a pleading stomach. But when it grew louder than his hunger, when it boomed from above him, he lifted his eyes in time to see the heavens peel open. Two holes wider than storm clouds were torn out of the familiar cloak of deep red. It was as if the dawn god itself had awoke over his tiny island.
“Aue!” He lamented to a sky now able to stare back at him. Howaru's catch flapped at the end of Kālāpa his favoured spear. Without looking away from the eyes above he slid the fish along Kālāpa until its tail was firmly gripped. “Is that you Haronga, red god of dawn?”
Stood in warm, waist-high waters, Howaru waited for an answer. He was curious but cautious. Haronga was worshipped in the western islands but not where he was from. All was quiet except for the leaking of blood from the dying fish falling into the lagoon. Wary of causing offence to an unfamiliar god he continued to wait in silence for the god to speak. His first catch in over a month coloured the lagoon waters red around him. After more time with nothing spoken Howaru decided to move. Wanting to get a closer look he started towards the lagoon shore holding his fish in one hand and Kālāpa in the other. By the time the water was at his knees, he knew the eyes were false.
He lamented a second time. "Aue! Haronga is missing pupils." From where he now stood, Howaru saw the space inside the two giant holes was made up of stars. Only he could not place or recognise any of them. Confused, he blinked and asked, “What is this I am seeing?”
BOOM! A fiery egg-shaped rock shot through the nearest hole shaking his world. BOOM! And again another blast from the second tear. Two long threads of cloud bled out the wounded sky down towards the northern end of his island. Beneath his feet, he felt the two impacts as earth erupted above the jungle to the north. His slow wade quickened to a run while a wave of heated air blew past him leaving behind the taste of sand and the scent of… rotten eggs. Recognising the smell and fearing the worst, he turned east searching the horizon in line with Kafiki Island. His homeland was far beyond sight, but maybe he could see a single plume or wisp of smoke, to indicate the mighty Takali Foto had finally blown.
There is nothing, he observed, the clouds are spread out too far over the island. Then thinking, if not Takali Foto perhaps some other vengeful god wanting my spirit?
Howaru regarded himself, holding up arms stripped of muscle before observing his sunken chest. Ribs protruded proudly like the prow of a waka, and below that emptied cage, what used to be flat and full, was instead a yawning, cavernous torso. Finally, he despaired at the state of his often admired legs, now as thin and withered as a couple of dead trees.
“If what lays ahead is a fight I am the wrong shape for it.”
Kalapa, smoothed by years of use, trembled in his grip adding, ‘and poorly armed.’
‘You should be careful Howaru,’ the voice of Takaroa the sea god now called out in waves. ‘What has erupted into your world may be the progeny of gods such as yourself. But understand, you might only represent a trophy to them and something of a hunt, not a potential ally. Stay awake boy.’
His stomach finally spoke but it only reminded him of his ancient hunger.
“Quiet, all of you!” Howaru added, “I need to think.”
Nothing immediately came to him and he became distracted by the blood of the moi pooling around his waist. It looks like my own blood, was all he could think as if I am the one wounded. His stomach interrupted again and this time Howaru listened, deciding if he was to fight he needed food inside him first. He bit into the moi still in hand, chewing through scale and skin, and when he was finished all that was left behind were tail fins and the taste of his own blood.
Kalapa stared up at him, ‘Cut your mouth up aye?’
Howaru spit. “Yep. It was good though.”
‘So now what?’
“Now we run,” said Howaru.
He splashed out of the lagoon before starting a sprint towards the northern sand dunes. His legs had forgotten their purpose, long had they been idle, and by the time he’d made it north they were burning and painful. Howaru launched up the rise but the grass was spread too thinly and his feet sank into the sand making the climbing slow and difficult. Halfway to the top he found half-buried coconut palms from years ago and shuffled over the makeshift steps easing his ascent. After what felt too long wading in the sand he was running freely again. The ache in his legs faded while he made his way towards the jungle thicket, separating the inner lagoon from the northern shore and beach.
Howaru now changed course on a straighter line to the beach, more east than north. Based on the path of the two flying eggs, he told himself, they should have crashed somewhere along the shoreline. Kalapa trembled in hand and he gripped the spear tighter trying to prevent the feeling from spreading any further. It had been a long time since he sensed fear in himself. It anchored him to the moment once more and he welcomed it after weeks of starvation and a wandering spirit. I was going to kill myself today, he reminded himself, I’m only here right now because I wanted one final meal.
Moving lightly on his feet, through a trail of palm and fern, all was silent except for dry and stiff grass resisting every step. Ahead the path widened as vesiwai and vutu trees spread out between patches of sand. Silently he moved from tree to tree merging with shadows. Pressed against the palm trunks he imagined himself like the vokai lizard, who could blend with all colours of bark. His body responded to his spirit’s demands, to the mana of a champion warrior, and he felt better than he had in many weeks.
Blue strips of the ocean were now visible again between the jungle breaks and Howaru began to search for the place where the flying eggs fell. Soon he was at the edge of the jungle line when he heard a pair of voices quarrelling down on the beach.
“Hurry up! Help me!”
Howaru knelt first then crept to the edge of the dune before finally laying onto his stomach, shuffling ahead until he could peek over and down onto the beach. Below him he could see two wide blast holes in the sand, filling with the tide.
“You filthy eel! Why should I help you out?!”
“Because you are my cousin and you should care that I am stuck! And hurt!”
Both voices belonged to women. One stood above the wounded ground while the other remained trapped in one of the holes.
“You lie! You only say you’re hurt because I won. You are such a sore loser!”
“But you are my family!”
Their bodies, equal in measure to himself, were writ head to toe in tattoos of brilliant coral blue. Hair, adorned with feathers he couldn’t name, was braided down to the ankle. The pair wore similar bands on the wrist and ankle to match earrings and necklaces of pearl. Both were splendid demigods. Throughout Kafiki Island and beyond it was tapu to observe the gods in human form. To see two quarrelling was especially forbidden. Howaru slid away from the dune lip out of sight, listening instead for the right moment to respectfully introduce himself.
“Loha, I didn’t lose. I broke my wrist when I landed. It hurts!”
“Arahuta! Don’t you understand? That means you lost! Being a weakling and breaking your arm means you lost! Being stuck in that pit means I win! Having such an ugly face like an eel all your life makes you second to me!”
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From what he could hear Loha was the one standing above the other, named Arahuta. Neither name was of a god he recognised.
Arahuta now screamed, “Just help me!”
“You are such a loser!” He heard a cackle silence and then some grunting of effort. “I can’t wait to tell aunty.”
“I’ll bash you if you say anything.”
Howaru was shocked by what he heard and the common way the foreign gods spoke. He edged up to observe, apologising silently to his favourite god, please pardon this violation Takaroa. From the dunes above he watched while Arahuta wiped away sand stuck to heavy-looking forearms and thighs. “Don’t tell mum! We’ll both get in trouble.” Arahuta said.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Loha walked a few steps towards his hiding spot before turning back, “she deserves to know how loudly you wailed.”
Arahuta searched up and down the beach. “Do you think he is aware of us?”
“Of course! He is already watching I’m sure!”
Arahuta cradled her broken wrist. “In that case, you should heal me so I can fight.”
Howaru winced at the sight of bone-skewered skin. While she complains about the pain she doesn’t seem that bothered, he thought. I’d be crying for sure.
The winds picked up, scattering driftwood and seaweed and sands, lifted by the circled pacing of Loha. “No! I’m not wasting mana. If he is as strong as they say I will need to keep some in reserve. I can’t rely on you now.”
“But he’s not that strong anymore. They starved him for so long. If you heal me I can use both arms again,” pleaded Arahuta.
“For what?” Loha flashed a nasty smile. “He’d still prob snap each one off like the twigs they are!”
Loha laughed stepping past her cousin. Arahuta's face darkened as she followed a few paces behind Loha, both heading his way. They are looking for someone to attack but is that someone me? Howaru considered revealing himself. His heart was still racing from the run, he felt sick in his stomach, and he silently despaired at his terrible state. What will these gods make of me? I am a wreck. For the first time in a long time, he was fearful of a scrap but equally of looking weak and ugly.
Arahuta now stepped in line beside Loha staring sideways at her, as if measuring the space. Loha ignored the glare walking faster, both now a few steps from the start of the dunes. Howaru gripped Kalapa and readied to rise but before he could move Arahuta side-kicked the knee of her cousin. Her leg snapped inwards as easily as dried driftwood. Loha screamed out in agony, falling to the sand while pulling her cousin down with her. She then scrambled overtop reaching for a stranglehold on Arahuta’s throat, who did the same in return with her only good hand.
Loha screamed. “You dare to even try!”
Arahuta spat in her face. “You have insulted me too much today Loha!”
“Good! You need to know how useless you are to me!”
Howaru watched confused. Do they really mean to kill each other? Cousins? Children of the gods?
‘They are mad,’ whispered Kalapa. ‘Beautiful but insane.’
Howaru silenced his spear and continued his thought, either way, they are both injured and less of a threat. He stood atop the dunes exposing himself, Kalapa in hand.
“Hear me o children of gods! I am Howaru, servant of Takaroa, son of Feke!”
The two gods continued to thrash about on the sand. A settled afternoon breeze washed away the lingering sand from his legs and forearms. Loha had Arahuta pinned and was chewing through fingers attempting to claw out eyes. He stepped down from the dunes and onto the beach and tried again to catch their attention. “Please! Do not fight each other. You are family. You will displease your parents. You might anger them who in turn may cast their displeasure onto me.”
This time the cousins heard and stopped wrestling. Both were shocked by his presence and recoiled in disgust before rushing to their feet. Howaru now looked confused, they have changed colour, he thought. On the sand moments ago they were golden brown but now with the ocean behind them they are the same blue.
“Aue!” Howaru could not hold back his surprise. “Your skin is almost as see-through as a jellyfish. Truly not of this world!”
Loha, hopping, leaned on Arahuta for support while Arahuta shrugged her arm away before letting it settle on a third attempt. Loha spat blood before asking, “Who are you human?”
Arahuta then demanded. “You aren’t supposed to observe the actions of gods!”
Howaru explained, “I am a servant of Takaroa, a son of Feke.”
Loha frowned while Arahuta smiled and they both asked, “son of Feke?”
“Yes, my tribe live on Feke Island off the coast of Kafiki,” then trying to be clearer added, “I am one of their tribe but I am also the Champion of Kafiki Island as well. Champion of both islands, to say. But in exile here for ten years. Self-exile, really.”
Loha snorted out a laugh.
Arahuta’s smile adjusted to a mocking grin, “Tell us more champion of Feke and Kafiki Island?”
Howaru continued wearily, “I was a famous hero in my homeland but lost something a while back. I sailed to this place to be alone. Um, and to find it.”
“Oh my god,” said Arahuta, rolling her eyes. “Who cares human.”
“Tell us more about your ancestry.” Loha cut in, “you say you are son of Feke, that disgusting dead sea monster, but who are your actual parents? Do you know the grandfather of your grandfather?”
“Yes.” Arahuta added, “and who is the most famous woman in your family?”
Howaru shied away, eyes searching for the ground. Even after ten years, the question is beyond me, he thought. Some say I am born of gods while others say I was born captive.
Howaru raised his face again and answered, “I am an adopted son of Feke. I know nothing of my lineage so am nothing to you except as someone who might be able to help you now.”
Loha laughed before narrowing her eyes, addressing her cousin, “What he thinks and what he says are two different things.”
“Are you the only one who lives on this little rock?” Arahuta asked.
“Yes,” answered Howaru.
“And what was your name again?”
“Howaru.”
“Then you are the one!” Arahuta charged toward him leaving her cousin hopping on the spot. “You are a child of God, idiot!”
She tackled him to the ground, the impact sending Kalapa flying from his grip. A child of god, was all he could think, does she mean Takaroa my sea-god? Arahuta mounted him, thighs squeezing the air from his lungs. The skin of her legs pressed against him felt of rigid scale. Down hammered blows from her good arm striking body and face. Each punch hit harder and faster than any human foe in all his fighting years. Howaru managed to block only those he could see, twisting helplessly between the grip of her thighs while pleading, “Leave me be! I do not wish to fight a god!”
“Don’t worry Howaru,” she replied. Her face was an arm's length away, eyes full black like a shark. “You won’t be able to fight through all your dying.”
Lightning cracked in the sky above then something cracked in his face. He felt a terrible pain in his nose and jaw and could see blood erupt before his eyes. Each punch hit hard as the first. Blood, he thought, I taste my blood. She is doing real damage. “Why me?”
Loha answered from above them, “Your name was called from the underworld Howaru. A gift has been received by the gods with a request, and we must reciprocate in blood.”
Another bolt of lightning struck the beach nearby sending sand into the skies before it rained down upon them. Now a third tear appeared high above swallowing up sky and cloud. Day turned to night revealing stars, again of the unknown sky, as if the blanket of his own had been pulled away to reveal the one true heaven.
A voice now thundered from the unknown sky above:
“SON OF TANGAROA!
HOWARU!
AWAKEN TAKALI FOTO!
A BLOOD SACRIFICE HAS BEEN ASKED!
THAT OF A CHILD OF GODS!
NO LONGER THE BLOOD OF SLAVES!”
Howaru answered, doing his best to protect his face from Arahuta’s attack, “but I am not a son of god! Only a child born of a woman unknown!”
“YOU ARE NO CAPTIVE CHILD AS I AM WATEA GOD OF THE COSMOS SO ARE YOU HOWARU CHILD OF THE UNKNOWN GOD!”
Child of a god unknown, peace flowed through him at the thought. The answer to a question he’d asked his entire life was now his. Tears spilled from his eyes. “Thank you o great god above.”
His burden lifted and his heart light again, Howaru let his spirit escape his battered, dying shell, secure in the knowledge he was who he always believed himself to be.