Pain. Pain and a profound chill that had settled so deep inside her chest no thought of warmth could halt her shivering. An unknown man sat nearby, bare-chested, rubbing his arms for warmth. Pulsing with Mana … a kupua?
“Aloha, Lava Girl. Had me worried there.”
A wave of nausea seized her when she tried to speak. Every muscle in her body felt like it had been smashed repeatedly against a mountainside. That was, she supposed, not so very different from what had happened.
“Fire.” Her throat hurt when she spoke.
She needed a flame to draw strength from, repair some of the damage Poli‘ahu had done to her.
“Uh. Got nothing to burn.”
She groaned. No trees this high up, no foliage. Not even a dry spot to build a proper fire. Anything would do, she supposed. Anything was better than nothing.
Panting with the effort, she pulled off her kihei and laid it flat before her. ‘Aumākua, she was going to be sick. Her Mana was probably the only thing keeping her going, so summoning enough of it to ignite her hands set the whole mountain spinning beneath her. She retched on the cloak even as she pressed her burning hands on it.
It did not immediately catch fire. Made from tapa, a kihei didn’t burn easy. But she had nothing else. The stench as her flames ignited her own bile was so noxious she would have been sick again, had her stomach not already been empty. At last the cloak too caught fire, smoldering. It would not last long.
Desperation made finding the meditative trance needed to do this all the harder. Pele kept her hands pressed into the flame, opening herself to it as it reached its peak. Lonomakua had taught her this, but it was always a challenge. A feat to draw energy from the fire, rather than pour it back in. Nor was this an efficient use of her power, given she’d had to light this fire in the first place. But when she emptied her mind, strength began to flow from the flame into her. It flickered and winked out, and with it, she let herself shut her eyes once again.
The flame’s energy seeped into her battered muscles, suffused the numerous tiny fractures along her bones, sealing them. She was a long, long way from full strength. For that, she’d need to soak in a volcano for a few hours at least. But maybe it would be enough that she could make it off this damn mountain. Could do so, if she didn’t still have unfinished business with Poli‘ahu.
The Snow Queen had obviously been taunting her, challenging her to a contest rigged against Pele. Damn the bitch.
So … war it was.
She would claim this island, by force or any other means necessary. If only this mountain had been a volcano she might have drawn on. Calling up the lava here had taken a lot out of her.
“Uh, Fire Tits?”
Lapu could take this man for his temerity. Had she the strength, she’d have scalded him for speaking to her that way. Pele didn’t open her eyes. “What is it?”
“There’s birds circling us.”
“Birds are everywhere. Let me rest.” Lonomakua loved birds, but Pele didn’t really share his enthusiasm.
“These look like they’re made of ice.”
Now she jolted upright. The man was right. Three, no, four hawks flew overhead, their icy forms glittering in the moonlight. As if in response to her rising, they screeched. Not a series of cries, but rather a single synchronized call coming from four voices. Birds of prey were not flocking birds, and yet they acted as one.
Their dive, when it came, was so fast she barely had time to scream.
The man threw himself over her, knocking her down. By the time she crawled out from under him, he was drenched in blood. Talon marks marred his chest and back and arms. A long red streak ran from his temple to his lip, passing within a hair’s breadth of one eye. The kupua pushed himself up, panting with a palpable fury.
Pele crawled to her feet even as the hawks circled back for another dive. She had no fire to call on save that which she could produce from her own inner heat. Her hair and hands were already aflame with that.
A hawk swept down at her while the others went for the kupua. Panting, Pele tossed the flame from one hand to another, building an arc between them. The effort left her swaying on her feet, dizzy and nauseated. The ice hawk crashed through her fire stream and slammed into her chest, bowling her over. Her flames had melted the points off its talons and the tips off its wings, leaving the thing flapping around on the ground nearby.
The kupua roared so loudly it echoed off the mountain. If anything, his form seemed to have grown larger, and tusks had risen from his lower lip.
What the …?
He held a bird with a wing in each hand. With his roar, he jerked his arms apart, rending the bird in a shower of ice shards. The other two had torn further gouges in the kupua.
Screaming wordlessly back at the birds, Pele launched a stream of fire at one. They were too fast, dipping around her attack like the throw of a clumsy child. The hawk she’d attacked dove for her. Rather than try to aim at it, she ducked into a ball and engulfed her entire body in flame, pouring Mana into it, sending the conflagration surging higher and higher. The bird was nothing but hot water when it struck her, and even that evaporated an instant later.
She rose to find the kupua screaming at the last bird, which had flown away.
“Kupua …” Pele stumbled to his side. A hundred wounds, a few deep, covered the oversized man. And she swore his rage had somehow added to his height, to his bulging muscles.
He turned to her, face framed by tusks as long as her hand, panting. His shoulders heaved, then slumped, and he fell forward to the ground. He shook himself and before her eyes his muscles did indeed shrink back into themselves.
“Who are you?” she demanded.