Lei and the Fire Goddess, page 18
Taking a break from practice, she headed over to her backpack for some water. She sat down gracelessly, her body exhausted from the constant moving and bending. As she drank, a glimmer caught her eye. Her backpack’s zipper had opened slightly, and the scale from the moʻo was visible. Anna quickly looked around the clearing to make sure no one was watching, then she pulled it out.
It was just as beautiful as she remembered. How do I use this thing? Turning it over, she was completely baffled. It was still solid, similar to a thin piece of glass and slightly transparent, like looking through water and seeing the seafloor wavering below. The ferns and trees behind the scale appeared distorted, bending and shimmering. Anna stood and moved this way and that, both hands holding either side of the small, plate-size scale like a steering wheel, enjoying how it twisted reality, until she looked up toward the sun. The glowing orb was making an appearance through a rare break in the clouds, offering a surprising amount of warmth in the clearing. When Anna held the scale up toward the sun, it softened and expanded.
“What the . . .” She felt her fingertips press indentations into the scale, like pressing into cake frosting. It became almost impossible to continue holding the scale, as it began to melt down around her fingertips like it had when ʻUla touched it.
“No, no, no, no, no!” She quickly brought her hands down to reverse the effects of gravity.
As soon as her hands lowered away from the sun, the scale began to resolidify. The goopy drips moved back toward the tips of her fingers to rejoin the scale and become a static dinner-plate shape once more. Anna heaved a sigh of relief.
She continued to stare at the scale, half expecting it to melt like one of the clocks in that bizarre Salvador Dalí painting she’d seen in art class. When it stayed solid, she started moving it around—slowly this time—trying to find the exact point where it started to transform. As she raised it higher, she noticed it start to stretch and bend, from the uppermost section that was closest to where the sun was in the sky. She lowered it instantly, and it hardened back into its original shape. Lifted up, it began to stretch. Lowered, it solidified again.
Okay, so the moʻo was a water spirit, and it seems like the sun is affecting it. Could the sun hurt it and water help it? Or maybe sun gets it to react and protect itself . . . Time to experiment.
Anna lifted the scale up toward the sun again. When it began to stretch, she used one hand to gently clasp and pull at the softened edge, using the same light force that she’d use to spread frosting on a cake. Slowly, the scale feathered out wider, and Anna turned it, giving the entire circumference a moment in the sun to soften and grow. After a complete revolution, the scale had nearly tripled in size, going from the size of a plate to the size of a bicycle wheel. Anna lowered it, and it began to shrink back to the size of a plate.
“No, you don’t,” Anna said. She gripped both sides and held firm, trying to get it to stay big, just to see if it was possible to keep it deformed. She felt it quiver, trying to pull in on itself, and then it stopped. Almost like it surrendered. It stayed the size of a bike tire.
“Ha, ha!” Anna exclaimed, smiling proudly. Then her smile faltered and fell. Great. Now what do I do with this? And how is this supposed to help me beat a fire goddess?
Maybe, thought Anna, what I need to do is try it out against an actual fire.
Closer . . . Closer . . .
Anna sat back down next to her backpack, put the enlarged scale on the ground next to her, and rifled through the pack till she found her first aid and safety kit. She opened the Ziploc bag and pulled out the old medicine container with the childproof lid where she stored her matches and dryer lint for starting fires. Let’s re-create a bit of what Pele’s gonna bring to the competition, she thought. She looked around for wood and realized she was going to have a problem. Here in the rainforest, she was surrounded by nothing but deep greens and browns. Everything she touched was damp. She needed dry kindling and wood to start a fire. Anna put down her fire-starter kit and picked up the scale. It’d be great if I could get this back down to plate size, she thought as she tried pushing opposing edges toward each other. The scale quivered, then began to compress. That’s it! Whoa! It’s responding. When it was down to dinner-plate size, Anna stood and looked around the clearing.
Along the edge of the tree line, there were small branches and twigs that had fallen. Some had been there a while and were covered with moss, some were newly fallen and still brown, and some were in an in-between phase and slightly slimy to the touch. Anna picked up a couple of twigs and put them on the scale. She was eying another stick when a dim glow caught her attention.
The scale! It was glowing the way it had when ʻIo had attacked. She held it with both hands and watched as the wood in the pile dried, its dark bark turning pale while the outer husks cracked and broke. The scale’s glow faded. Anna bent one of the twigs. Snap. Completely dry! A huge grin broke out on Anna’s face, and she did a celebratory shoulder shimmy as she hurried around the clearing, piling more leaves and twigs on the scale. She watched in amazement as the glow started up again and the foliage transformed. She piled them all in a little mound in the center of the clearing. As soon as the wood was removed, the scale grew as heavy as a full pail of water, and Anna dropped it in surprise.
“Oh shoot! Don’t break!” she said, dropping to her knees to lift it again. But she paused. The heavy scale had landed at a sideways tilt, one edge wedged into the ground. Water seeped off the top of the scale back into the earth. Anna watched the flow of water gradually slow to a trickle before stopping altogether. She pulled the scale out of the earth, amazed to feel it back to its original, light weight. There were no visible chips or cracks in the edge, and Anna briefly closed her eyes, thanking the moʻo for having strong, magical scales, as she rocked back on her heels. Now to start the fire.
Anna thought back to all her camping trips with Dad as she collected some small stones. He was patient as she ran around, mostly distracted, bringing stones along with fun leaves and sticks. Anna’s nose stung and eyes watered at the memory of her dad’s arms around her, showing her how to strike a match for the first time. Mom was off to the side, telling her to watch what she was doing when Anna had looked up to show her the flame.
Anna blinked back the memory and made a circle of stones Dad would be proud of, put the dried twigs in the middle, and opened her fire-starter kit. It was definitely drier in Colorado. Way more at risk of wildfires. Pretty sure Pele was starting more fires here than Anna ever would. Still, she had to be careful. She put some lint under the stacked kindling and struck a match. She carefully guarded the flame, touching it to the lint before it extinguished. Blowing gently, she coaxed it to grow, licking and consuming first the lint and then the tinder. When the blaze seemed stable, Anna added some larger pieces of dried wood to maintain the flames.
She picked the scale back up and moved away from the fire. Let’s see what this baby can do, she thought, starting from a good distance away. She couldn’t even feel the heat from the small fire from where she stood. She brought the scale in between her body and the flame like a shield. Nothing happened. Maybe I’m too far. One step closer. Nothing. One step closer. Nothing. Another step. The scale dimly glowed blue, as if sensing the fire and reacting with opposing water elements inherent to every moʻo.
The edges began to soften, and Anna’s fingertips that were exposed to the heat burned. Anna quickly stepped back and shook out her hands. So about three feet away is a limit for a flame this size. Anna paused, thinking about the next step as the fire crackled and smoke rose toward the sky. I need to figure out a way to keep my fingers behind the scale, too. Hmm, Captain America wears his shield on his arm. I wonder if I could figure out a way to make this scale into a shield so that my entire body is behind it . . .
Anna plucked at her extra hair band on her wrist. She took a step toward the fire and saw the glow of the burn through the scale as it began to soften. Pushing her wrist into the back of the scale, she focused all of her attention on exactly what she wanted to have happen, believing that it would. Protect me, she thought as she took a step closer to the fire. Keep me safe. Anna felt her hair band get absorbed by the scale, fixing it to her wrist. I believe. She was able to drop her opposite hand from the front of the scale, so she was completely behind it. I believe. The scale stretched to her full body height, wide enough to block her completely from the flame. Anna took another step closer, and then another, completely stunned by the transformation in the scale. Just wait till I tell Tūtū about this.
Anna stepped closer, then looked down to gauge her distance to the flame.
Wait—she was standing IN the fire! Anna jumped back, slipped, and fell on her butt. She rolled to her hands and knees, her concentration broken. She watched as the scale shrank back down to its original size and fell off of her wrist band. Her bare foot had been in the fire! Well, not quite. She had noticed the scale had extended under her foot, providing a thin barrier so effective she hadn’t even felt the heat. She pulled her foot closer to her face. There were no burn marks at all.
A noise in the canopy caught her attention. Who’s there? Anna crawled over to the backpack and quickly stuffed the scale into it, concealing it from any prying eyes. She sat back and scanned the trees above her, holding her breath.
Ilikea broke through, fluttering back into the clearing, flopping dramatically onto the ground at her feet, one wing over her face, remaining still as death. Anna’s heart stuttered, fearing the worst as she quickly scooped her up, gently holding her soft, furry body, and unfolded her wing from her face. She released her breath when she felt the bat’s strong, steady heartbeat under her fingers.
“Ilikea! Are you okay? What happened? Is Makani with you?” A cool breeze blew against her forehead, and she had her answer. Anna smiled. “How’d it go? Did you find Pele?”
“ ʻAe,” Ilikea confirmed. “She’s in her hidden grove of ʻōhiʻa lehua trees farther up the mountain. Kaipo is with her. He’s in a cage over a fire!”
Someone’s Always Watching
The blood drained from Anna’s face, and she focused on not gripping Ilikea too tightly as she absorbed this horrifying news.
Ilikea continued, “The cage must be magic because it hasn’t burned yet, and he is still alive. It can’t feel good to be held there, though. Pele told us to tell you that you don’t have much time.”
“I don’t have much time? Why? What’s she going to do?”
The little bat shuddered while considering her answer. “You sure you wanna know?”
Anna wasn’t sure at all. In fact, she was pretty sure she absolutely didn’t want to know. But for some reason that didn’t seem fair to Kaipo. She tightened her hands into fists and absorbed the pain of her nails biting into her palms. “What’ll happen? I need to know.”
Ilikea sighed, and Makani settled like a comforting blanket on Anna’s shoulders. “Pele will give Kaipo to ʻIo.”
Anna waited to see if the bat would clarify. When she stayed silent, Anna asked, “I don’t get it. Like, as an ʻaumakua? As a bird friend?”
Ilikea wouldn’t meet her eyes. “No. Like, as a meal.”
The world stopped.
It was like falling off a ski lift.
It had happened to her once. She thought for sure she was going to die. But then the fall ended, and she was stuck headfirst in a snow drift. Wind knocked out of her, cold all over, blinking but not seeing anything. People had rushed to pull her out, and she was miraculously fine and even snowboarded with the rest of the team that day.
No one was here to pull her out this time.
“I don’t know if you’re ready or not with your hula, but we really need to get going if we want to save Kaipo.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I’ll grab my things.”
Anna slipped her jeans on under her pāʻū, then tugged the skirt off, carefully bundling it and putting it into her backpack before deciding to put her sneakers in the backpack’s smaller pocket. Her feet had toughened up considerably, and now she was able to walk barefoot with ease. She looked around her practice clearing one last time, hoping to see Kamapuaʻa’s familiar form break through the shadows. Fighting with him probably wasn’t the best idea. What if he thought she had a fiery temper just like a certain other female in his past that he wasn’t super fond of at the moment? Would he still be willing to help, or would he decide she wasn’t worth the trouble? Realizing she might be doing this without her teacher, she shuddered, dread settling cold in her stomach. Anna turned and followed Ilikea as she started into the jungle, feeling more connected to her surroundings than she ever had.
“Did Kaipo see you? Did he say anything?” Anna asked.
“He looked pretty out of it when we saw him. Not sure if he was sleeping or unconscious, but he didn’t move.”
“Was he . . . um . . .” Anna wasn’t quite sure how to ask, or if it would be rude or not, but she wanted to know. “Was he a human or an owl?”
Ilikea looked back at Anna from her flight up ahead. “You really ready for this?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’ll find out soon enough, right? And this will help us plan better for his rescue. Doesn’t matter to me what he is, we just need to make sure he’s safe and I can get him home,” Anna said, the truth of the words spreading warmth through her chest.
“He was a pueo,” said Ilikea. “Not sure if his feathers protect him from the heat, but it’s probably more comfortable size-wise to spend the time in Pele’s presence as a bird in a cage than a boy in a cage.” Anna worked on picturing this. A Hawaiian pueo is only about twelve to eighteen inches tall, like a puffy crow. She had seen pueo flying over her tūtū’s home a few times over the years and always got a thrill at spotting their silent, mottled-brown-and-white wings. Now she wondered if any of those sightings were actually of their ʻaumakua, Kaipo.
The dense undergrowth of ferns gradually cleared as they worked their way up the mountain. Expansive lengths of unbroken lava fields made it clear that Kamapuaʻa had not yet had a chance to use his tusks to churn this new hard land into rich soil. ʻŌhiʻa lehua trees were growing through the small cracks and crevices where the lava had folded into and under itself during its slow crawl toward the ocean. Anna found her hands going through the motions of the hula as she watched her step up the ropy slope. She couldn’t help but continue to look around for Kamapuaʻa, too. Once or twice, she thought she’d caught a glimpse of his tall form moving through the trees skirting the flow, but then there was nothing. Is he actually meeting with the snow goddess? And talking about me? Anna’s heart sped up at the thought. She couldn’t shake the desire to see him, though, and to have one more ally back at her side when facing Pele.
Ilikea seemed unfazed by Kamapuaʻa’s disappearance, chattering incessantly ahead of Anna. She almost seemed to be trying to take Anna’s mind off the notable absence of her hula teacher, talking about how she and Makani had tried to distract Pele and take Kaipo during their reconnaissance mission but had failed.
“I flew down to her right side, close enough to feel my wingtips singeing from her heat,” Ilikea said. “Kaipo didn’t so much as ruffle a feather, so I couldn’t tell if he knew I was there or not, but I told him your plan and that you were coming. I spent a day finding food for him. I squeezed a few smaller fruits through his cage, so if he wakes up, he’ll have some food. Then I tried to distract Madam Pele with flattery by saying how beautiful her lehua blossoms are this year, while Makani”—Anna felt them whoosh around her, proud to have played a role in the mission—“swooped in on the left and tried to blow out the fire under Kaipo’s cage.”
“What happened?” Anna asked, hoping that if anything critically awful had actually happened to Kaipo during their scouting mission that Ilikea would have told her that news first, rather than filling her in on the play-by-play.
“Pele didn’t even flinch. She simply harnessed the wind to have the fire burn brighter and hotter. Makani was not thrilled at being used and tried to resist. Pele caught on to what we were trying to do and threw sparks my way, so I called out, trying to rouse Kaipo. Makani blew the sparks out and helped me evade Pele’s burning embers by blowing me farther away. Pele must have thought we were retreating, so she yelled out her warning that our time was running out. We hurried back here as fast as we could.”
Hearing the story, Anna’s heart pounded, knowing that she’d be a part of the next rescue attempt. A huge shadow crossed the land in front of them, followed by a loud screech. Anna looked up in time to see ʻIo circling above. The giant hawk stayed high, not making any move to dive or come closer.
Anna felt a wave of power wash over her and shuddered. “Ilikea, what was that?”
“Ah, you felt it this time. You really have gotten more in touch with your roots if you can feel Pele’s power. She has sent ʻIo out to watch us. She is able to see us through ʻIo’s eyes. We are getting closer, and she is paying attention.”
Anna thought about it. Well, might as well give him something good to report. She took a deep breath and started chanting the words to her hula that Kamapuaʻa had taught her. Her voice started a bit higher than she would have liked, but she soon found the right tone and stood tall with her shoulders back, gaining confidence. ʻIo gave another high-pitched screech before cartwheeling off and heading back up the mountain.
“Well, fry me up and call me frenchie,” Ilikea said. “Glad to see your time with Kamapuaʻa really paid off. You actually sounded good!”
“Yeah?” Anna beamed. She felt more in touch with the ʻāina than ever before.
“It is all about intent,” Ilikea said. “You’re sincere in trying to help Kaipo and appease Pele. You believe that there are certain steps that must be taken to win Pele’s approval. If she sees you humbling yourself in her name, she can’t help but be pleased.”
