The ice trees near the summit sang, not with an infused spirit, but from the howling wind rushing past their branches, like the mountain itself called out a mourning chant. Mauna Kea mourning the loss of pieces of itself, pieces Poli‘ahu had pitched down from the summit to defeat the Flame Queen. And still the intruder who had dared bring forbidden flame onto these slopes lived, helped by some male kupua. Both should have perished.
This place, Mauna Kea, was really Mauna a Wākea, the sky god’s mountain. He had welcomed Poli‘ahu into his bosom, while these kupua were invaders here, as surely as the Kahikians had invaded Sawaiki.
It should have been Poli‘ahu’s night to research new depths of the Art. Instead, she found herself staring at the forest, unable to cast from her mind the niggling sensation of a man walking on her mountain, tending to a woman that ought to have been sent to Milu.
Not even the haunting, wondrous melody of the trees could force the sensation down, away from her consciousness. She blew out a breath of frustration and made her way back into the sanctuary. She simply needed to try harder to focus. That should have been easy for her. She, unlike the Flame Queen, had discipline, had trained her mind and body every day since she was a child. It had made her an absolute master of her domain. The other kupua was powerful, but her power exploded all around her in conflagrations of chaos.
Standing outside her sanctuary, Poli‘ahu cupped her hands to her mouth and blew out a whisper on icy breath. “Lilinoe.”
At first, no response came to her. Poli‘ahu sat, idly tracing patterns in the snow. She need not actually touch the ground—snow, ice, mist, all she could reshape with her smallest whim. Over her years on the mountain she had grown skilled enough to form any pattern she desired.
A howl of wind swept over the mountain, the snows growing colder than cold, announcing the presence of the snow goddess she had summoned. Snow maidens some called them, though Poli‘ahu had heard other names for this kind of akua. Lilinoe had said they came from Lua-o-Milu, the icy underworld beyond Pō, where the damned were drawn.
Poli‘ahu believed it. She had seen their inhuman cruelty, even when the akua had aided her over the years.
She embraced the Sight, allowing her vision to slip into Pō and thus bleed out all warm colors. Already, the two sisters had gathered around her. Both snow akua wore the same—white shawls that blended into the mountainside. Their hair, too, was white, and whipping in the breeze as though they had corporeal form. Like any spirit, Lilinoe had no substance on Earth. In order to truly interact with the Mortal Realm, she’d need a mortal vessel, and, in lieu of taking one, she existed much like a ghost in this Realm.
Lilinoe frowned, a sight that would have sent an ordinary person screaming about Nightmarchers and running to the nearest kahuna for protection. The two snow akua then drifted inside Poli‘ahu’s refuge.
Once, they had been joined by their sister, Waiau. But circumstances had forced Poli‘ahu to bind the youngest of the snow akua to herself. They existed now in uneasy equilibrium, Poli‘ahu able to call on Waiau’s power, but always at the risk of having the akua take control of her body.
Poli‘ahu followed the other two sisters into her ice cave, a hollow dug through the peak had become her sanctuary. It smelled of the cleanness of ice, a scent one found only on mountaintops. Rather than a mere tunnel through ice, prior Snow Queens had formed the ceiling into ring after ring of arches, all engraved with designs more intricate than the finest woodcarver could have managed. Floral patterns that stretched a hundred paces wide, constantly intersecting and blending seamlessly with designs of ki‘i faces. Triangles and geometric shapes that reminded her of the waves over the sea. A carving of a sea turtle the size of a communal hut—she’d been so proud of that particular one she’d rendered an ice sculpture of the creature as a centerpiece of the great hall the tunnel led to.
Poli‘ahu paused to smile at her creation. The sea turtle sculpture stretched forty feet around, a massive work of art. With her power, she had infused the ice walls with light, letting her appreciate every detail. At night, she dimmed those lights and then, in half darkness, the sisters would gather and regale her with tales of prior generations and times now lost.
A fog permeated the sanctuary, gathering in the corners. No wind should have made it into the ice cave, and still, whispers were carried on a breeze that ruffled her hair. The sisters speaking to each other.
They did not speak exactly the way a person might, not quite in sentences. More like thoughts congealing into shared impressions, concepts unburdened from the limitations of human syntax and grammar. It was how she imagined the wind would speak, were it given mind and purpose. The thought brought a smile to her face. Why would the wind not speak? She conversed with spirits of ice, mist, and snow.
Though the sisters did not so often converse with one another thusly, Poli‘ahu could still garner the gist of their intent.
Lilinoe’s voice ushered from the corners, soft and sibilant. “You leave an enemy behind you.”
“The Flame Queen is defeated. Even if she survives the trek back down the mountain, she’s not coming back. She’s seen what I can do. Her training is nothing compared to mine.”
“Because we trained you, sister.”
Sister? They always called her ‘child.’ They referred only to each other as sisters. Did that mean she had so graduated in their eyes that her accomplishments had brought her to their level? “You trained me well.”
“Already you have transcended the limitations of your mortal form. You stand on the threshold of greatness.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mysteries and mysticisms begin to unfurl,” Lilinoe said.
That cleared things right up. But they seemed to believe she was now ready for a new phase of her training. Transcendent, Lilinoe had called her. She rather liked the sound of that. “So tell me what to do.”
Neither spoke and the silence grew so thick Poli‘ahu squirmed in discomfort.
Kahoupokane finally broke the silence. “You will be left vulnerable. You cannot afford … risk.”
“What risk?”
“The return of an enemy.”
She sighed. No, they were right. She could not disappoint the snow sisters, but besides that, she needed Kaupeepee to succeed and Pele posed a significant threat to that.
Poli‘ahu could go down there, fight her foes herself. But it shouldn’t be necessary.
Already, she’d intended to attempt a binding, a chance to create spies. Maybe she could use the spirit for something else, though. Something more immediate.
Several other rooms broke off the great hall. All of them were filled with her designs, her notes scrawled along the walls. The snow goddesses had taught her ancient arts not known even to kāhuna, secrets like how to make shapes stand for words. She had used this writing to record her thoughts, etching them into ice walls with a simple motion of a finger. If she were to stretch out all she had recorded here it might reach for miles. The markings would mean nothing to anyone else, of course. Only she and the three sisters could recognize them as anything more than decorations. Even were someone to find her sanctuary, there was little threat of them uncovering the depths of her Art.
That was probably well for both her and any such person. The sorcery she delved into had a dark side, a danger to it that could swallow the uninitiated whole. Pō, and the powers one could draw from it, they were deeper and stranger than even the kāhuna imagined. And without the proper care, without extreme caution, one could become lost to it. A misdrawn glyph, a misspoken name, and the Mortal Realm might fall prey to entities older than even the snow sisters. Older, and far more hostile. The truth was, even she did not know what lurked in the fathomless depths of realities beyond her own. Did not know in detail, but knew enough to fear. A fragile Veil separated the Earth from beings as far beyond Mankind as humans were beyond insects.
But spirits had their uses to a sorceress who could learn to master them. One had to know which spirits to call and which were too powerful to ever invoke. If done properly, she could wield powers beyond the darkest nightmares of any other.
She ran her hand along the ice wall as she drifted into the chamber housing her latest work. She had formed a miniature banyan tree of ice, its branches stretching throughout this chamber, brushing the ceiling as though holding it up. As with all her work, she had spared no detail on the tree, etching every piece of bark individually, every leaf with loving care. The tree, however, was merely a place to house her true masterpieces. Four bulky hawks, perhaps as tall as her head, perched on its branches. She had spent days carving every feather, every perfection and imperfection of the ice birds into semblances of life. They had to be flawless or this would never work.
Hands to her face, she took in the entirety of the glorious room.
“You are ready?” Lilinoe asked.
She hadn’t heard the snow akua approach—of course, given the Ethereal creature made no sound. But she wasn’t surprised. They had all been waiting for this. The sisters had selected both the spirit and its—well, vessel was probably the wrong word, but she could think of no other—with extreme care. Poli‘ahu had argued against trying to divide a spirit’s consciousness among multiple birds, but Lilinoe had assured her it would work. The akua believed that long ago, before the Deluge flooded the land, sorcerers had accomplished such things. Imbued spirits into corporeal forms without a living host. It was, they said, one of the greatest achievements of the Art possible. If she could perform such a feat, then her sorcery would rival that of Old Mu and the spell songs of Kumari Kandam. Waiau had once told her another kupua, nearly eight hundred years ago, had also accomplished a similar achievement. That was why the sisters remained so convinced Poli‘ahu could repeat it.
She made no answer to Lilinoe, instead sweeping her arms outward in a wide arc, erasing all writing from the walls of this chamber. All her notes on the tree and the birds and the ritual vanished in a shower of ice crystals that fused into the walls instants after they broke away. The cavern was left bare, save for the glyphs engraved around the chamber in a circle. Circles were the embodiment of power, whole and complete, interlocking upon themselves. The most perfect form in the World.
With a wave of her hand, Poli‘ahu sent ice growing over the chamber entrance, sealing it and ensuring the circle remained undisturbed. Over the newly formed surface she traced a finger, carving out a final glyph to ward against the spirit she intended to summon. Finally, she carved the name of the spirit itself upon the ceiling.
She fell into a chant, evoking ancient powers to come to her, invoking others to protect her from Pō. The chant built in rhythm and urgency, echoing off the ice walls. The snow sisters’ voices joined her own, beseeching, cajoling, and demanding the World and its greater denizens bend to her will. That was what it came down to in the end—a contest of wills. If she were strong enough, she could bind anything. If not … well, then the price would be that much greater.
Coldness built in her gut and spread over her muscles like a creeping tide, sapping them of strength, making her knees wobble. This was the only time she even felt the cold, as her Mana burned away to pierce the Veil between the Mortal Realm and Pō. It was not a barrier through which anything could easily pass—for which Mankind was profoundly fortunate. Pulling something through took its toll.
It was trying to take hold of her.
A glorious rush filled her even as her own strength depleted, a giddiness not unlike the moment before orgasm, stretching from an instant to a near eternity that left her panting. She collapsed onto the icy floor, her lips continuing the evocation as much from rote practice as conscious thought. Her body and soul ached for release and to give in to the alien presence seeking to fill her up.
The chamber grew darker, her infused light dimming as the air turned stale. The mountain, or at least this cavern, rumbled in the presence of this entity, trembling as it pushed itself through the barrier blocking it from the Earth. Indeed, the air rippled, like something was actually trying to push through it, the faintest outline of a giant face visible for an instant. Just long enough to realize the being she’d seen was humanoid, perhaps, but far from human.
“Come to me,” she found herself saying. It was so close now it would hear her words spoken in any language. “Come to me and serve.”
A presence settled over her mind, caressing her body and whispering things that were not true words, only intent. Begging and cajoling her into surrender, into letting it have her body. To falter for the barest instant would have granted the spirit access, let it ride her as a host.
Poli‘ahu grimaced against the akua’s will. “Serve me.”
It did not take well to the command. Invisible, intangible claws latched onto her mind, rending and tearing. The pain shot through her body and soul and some indecipherable bit of herself was yanked out. Blood pooled at the corners of her eyes, stinging them, blurring her vision.
A fresh surge of elation built in her abdomen as she felt the spirit pushed out, driven into the birds. The ceiling above cracked with a cacophonous roar, the glyph split down the middle. A piece of the roof tumbled free, crashing into the tree and smashing one of her beautiful branches.
And then the icy feeling in her body gave way to searing pain on her inner thigh. Despite knowing it would happen, she shrieked, clutching at the wound. The glyph had branded itself into her leg. It was one of several such brands. She had no time to dwell on her latest glyph, however, as the creaking of ice grinding on ice now echoed through the chamber.
One of her hawks turned its head, ever so slowly. They all had. All stared at her now, dragging talons of ice along the tree’s bark in an obvious threat. They couldn’t hurt her. It could not hurt her. She had bound the spirit and now bore its mark.
Remember that. Remember she was safe, so long as her will remained strong. If she allowed it to frighten her, to make her believe it had the power … well, then it would have the power.
Poli‘ahu shook herself and rose, not taking her eyes off her creations. The hawks’ eyes were still mere ice and yet, somehow, they now reflected something more than the faint light of the cave. Something lurked behind them. A presence, by her will divided into four bodies.
Servants, spies, messengers—they could be whatever she wished them. She had created something the World had not seen in an age.
Something glorious.
The hawks watched her with malevolence buried beneath unblinking eyes. She rubbed the spirit’s glyph on her thigh. Were it not bound to her, it would surely tear her to pieces for what she had done to it. She would not let her guard down, would not let the spirit turn on her, but she could give it a direction to vent its rage.
“Go down and find the Flame Queen on my mountain. Kill her …”
“Her man …” Lilinoe whispered, the sound barely audible and yet seeming to come from all around.
Lilinoe was right. She had no choice, really.
“Kill the man as well.” A wave of her hand reopened the chamber. “Go.”
The hawks took flight.