Six Years Later

  Year 612 of the Divine Empire

  “Alright. That’s enough.”

  Surendra placed his staff on the ground, sitting down beside it with a sharp exhale. He remained there for a while, breathing deeply as he attempted to regain energy from that training session. There was some small amount of resentment as he sat watching his apprentice stretch out in a far more energetic manner than his exhausted recovery.

  Kanoa had grown quite a bit in the half decade he had known her, which had been enhanced even further by her dedication to refining her own body. It helped that kālai seemed to experience puberty far more dramatically than any other species Surendra had encountered before. Each molting allowed for drastic changes to her body, to the point that Nohea had to forbid her from doing any harsh exercise for a month after each one. They took the term “growth spurt” to a whole new extreme, making radical growth over the course of a couple of weeks or months, while remaining unchanged for the rest of the year. This also involved the growth of entirely new muscles and organs that benefited a more independent person. The end result that stood before him was a young woman who, while lacking the physical awkwardness of a teenager, was currently an internal mess of organs in various levels of development. It wouldn’t cause any issues in most scenarios, but Surendra had some difficulty designing a training regiment for a species that was created with very different rules from his own. Funnily enough, he had been forced to ask Kanoa’s old mentor for advice, as the alaka’i had a much better understanding of what a young kālai could handle.

  Surendra had to admit that this whole experience had been valuable. It was strangely satisfying to guide someone along a path, not simply instructing them but coming to understand their goals and helping them find the steps needed to achieve them. He wondered how different things could have been if his own teachers had used the same methods. What kind of person he would have become with someone who knew how to encourage him. Not that it mattered now, over a century and a half after the fact, but it was worth considering. For the first time in decades, Surendra wondered what would happen if he tried to return home. It was a foolish thought, as there likely wasn’t anything left there for him. Even if any of his family or old mentors were still there, it was doubtful that they would welcome him back with how he left. Besides, he had more important things to do here. Yes, the child had helped him nearly as much as he had helped her. Not that he would ever admit that. One’s pride was important after all, couldn’t let some fool think he was some bleeding heart. He chuckled to himself, unreasonably proud with his development of a soul, only to be distracted by Kanoa speaking to him once completing her stretches.

  “I’m heading back home. Do you want to come with me? Nohea was talking about trying a new squid recipe.”

  Surendra slumped onto his back, laying on the sand of their beach-side training spot. “No, I’d rather not. Can’t stand eating tentacles, the texture makes me nauseous.”

  “Hmph. Well, your loss, I suppose.”

  Kanoa turned on her heel and walked away. She knew better than to push her teacher too far. As much of a grouch as he pretended to be, it was obvious to anyone with eyes how soft hearted Surendra could be. However, it was kind of fun to watch him play the role of a stoic master, so there wasn’t any real need to press the issue. He was always there when you needed him.

  She walked down the sandy beach with confidence, having tread this path countless times through the years. Her frame was now easily identifiable by anyone living on Moku Waena, not only from the reputation her blessings had provided but also in her choice in presentation. This was mostly due to Nohea’s influence, as her appearance had taken on certain. . . eccentric facets. She had done away with the traditional decorations across her torso, repurposing them into bindings that braided her cords into several long ropes. While these braids limited her senses in the water even more than the usual cord bindings, they were designed to be removed in one swift, dramatic motion. Her clothing was even more scandalous after she had found some silken garments in the supply of a merchant who had claimed to have traded them from and Ufezela, a foreign species that Kanoa had never seen but apparently showed some relation to the kālai. She wore a pair of voluminous pants, covered by what would have been a revealing slitted skirt. They were far more comfortable than the normal grass skirts or even the human’s imported wool, both of which made her feel itchy in the worst places at the worst times. The odd looks had been annoying for a while, and learning to repair silken clothes on her own was a real pain, but they hit a perfect balance between form and function. Her look would only be completed once her shell had thickened enough for Nohea to give her some kaha. There wasn’t a true plan yet, they had taught her how to sketch up some concepts. The designs would certainly be. . . memorable.

  It took her some time to get back to Kālepa, given how far away the training grounds were. The distance was probably a bit excessive, but Surendra thought it best to stay out of the way of any prying eyes. The humans were becoming more and more involved in island politics, and would probably be a problem if they found the village prodigy training with a magus of unknown species. It annoyed Kanoa that they had to care so much about the beliefs of these foreigners, but they did at least avoid impacting the jungles more than necessary. Still, there were an awful lot of them now. This was made abundantly clear as Kanoa rounded the curve of the island enough to see what Kālepa had become.

  The kālai village itself hadn’t changed, but the portion constructed by the humans had tripled in size since she had first arrived. This settlement, now named St. Caster, had exploded outside of its original walls and was now a sprawling port town. A set of proper docks had been constructed, with it being normal for a few massive merchant ships to be docked at any given time. There had apparently been a lot of growth on the other islands as well, much to Count Walker’s chagrin. From what she could understand, these settlements were formed by followers of various gods, which was seen as an affront to the Divine Empire’s Church of Myriad Saints. This church saw gods as dangerous, manipulative beings that were to be avoided at all cost. While Kanoa’s experiences with Kinohi allowed her to sympathize, she couldn’t exactly blame these people for wanting somewhere to follow their beliefs. From what she could understand from her admittedly limited vocabulary in the imperial language, the situation with these “pagan” groups was starting to get a bit tense. Not that it mattered much for the kālai, since Walker seemed disinclined to include them in most discussions. She wondered if it was the same for the pagans, since the only habitable islands in āina Hānau were already inhabited by her people. Maybe Nohea would let her swim to one of the closer islands. . . she would have to get a good understanding of her homeland before seeking adventure elsewhere, after all.

  As Kanoa stepped onto the corridors of her village, she could see that the afternoon market was bustling. All across town, merchants of all shapes and sizes traded the various goods of the archipelago. Given the amount of looks she was getting, there must have been a group of new arrivals. It was certainly odd to see a kālai wearing clothes from the southern continent and carrying a weapon that could only be afforded by the exceptionally wealthy. She ignored them while waving to any familiar faces she passed by. While not a particularly social person, it was difficult to live in a small town and not have a fair selection of friendly acquaintances. This walk through the market had become just another part of Kanoa’s daily routine, a system which she rarely felt any need to alter. Today was one of those rare days, however, as in the middle of her path seemed to be some kind of disagreement. While not an unusual event by any metric, it was made interesting by the new faces involved in it.

  She had heard of the Ikati before through rumors and depictions, but this was the first time a group of them had ever made it to Moku Waena. It was said they didn’t have a strong naval culture, rarely leaving their homeland in the southern continent even to trade. The identity of this group of six was unmistakable despite this obscurity, mostly because of their diminutive forms. The tallest of the Ikati merchants stood a bit over three feet tall, short even by human standards. They were covered with short, sand colored fur speckled with black spots. Their tails and black-tipped pointed ears were almost distracting in the way they twitched at any stimulus, a nervous attentiveness that Kanoa couldn’t help but find adorable. Humans always compared them to a domesticated breed of animal called a “cat.” It was an apt comparison, though she had to wonder about the consequences of associating an entire race with subservient rat catchers.

  It took a few moments for Kanoa to shake herself out of the reverie of a new species to interrogate appearing before her. Once she had regained her composure, it became pretty obvious what all the commotion was. To call this exchange an argument felt improper, as that implied that either party had any idea what the other was saying. The Ikati were being confronted by Ikua, one of the more obstinate kālai that worked in the market. He was part of a small yet vocal portion of the population who rejected any kind of cooperation with foreigners, even those willing to respect the native culture. As a result, he had staunchly refused to learn even a word of mercantile common, which was the language the Ikati were trying to communicate with. He seemed to be under the impression that any dialect could be understood so long as it was spoken with enough volume, a misunderstanding that was now echoing through the entire market corridor. The targets of his ire were slowly giving up on trying to calm him down, and were now looking around anxiously for an excuse to exit this situation. Ikua was unaware of this fact, and likely had reached a point of rage in which he could no longer process external stimuli. At the very least this allowed Kanoa to remain unnoticed as she walked over to the Ikati and spoke to them in mercantile common.

  “He’s telling you to find your own spot.”

  Startled, the leader of the group turned to face her. “What? I- We didn’t see any reservation system.”

  She sighed, knowing this to be a frequent problem here. “That’s because there isn’t one. You’re expected to ask around for a spot that’s not been claimed by regulars.”

  “Well, no one told us that!”

  “Of course they didn’t. No one wants more competition.” She thought for a few seconds before continuing. “I know a corridor with some empty spots. It’s a bit out of the way, but enough locals pass through for you to get some trade.”

  The merchants all glanced at each other, muttering in a strange chirping language. The leader nodded and turned back to her. “That should be fine. We didn’t have much interest in human wares anyway.”

  Kanoa began leading the Ikati towards the location she had mentioned. This was finally able to get Ikua’s attention, who attempted to follow them before being held back by a few of his neighbors. Ignoring the irate man as best she could, they were all able to leave without any further trouble. The new area of town they arrived in was admittedly far less populated than the previous one, but it would suffice for everyone’s purposes.

  The merchant leader, who had identified himself as Sipho, turned to address his guide as his companions set up their stand. “We appreciate your assistance, Miss Kanoa, though I am worried that man may come for revenge later. . .”

  Kanoa gave out a dry chuckle. “I wouldn’t worry about him if I were you. Ikua is a coward who only picks fights with people he thinks he can beat. Now that he knows I have your back, he’ll probably just pretend this didn’t happen.”

  “The way you say that implies you are someone of great significance.” Sipho scratched his chin in faux contemplation. “It seems that our meeting was more fortunate than I had initially assumed!”

  “. . . Allow me to clarify. I am known as a rather good fighter in these parts, as well as someone who isn’t afraid to punch the people that annoy me.” Her expression shifted into a slight glare. “I’m not fond of people trying to leverage me, either.”

  The Ikati took a step back, both literally and figuratively. “Ah, yes, and quite the discerning one as well! My apologies for the offense, especially after you aided me and my companions. . . Might there be something we could do for you as gratitude? I’m not fond of owing debts, you see.”

  Kanoa’s eyes lit up, finally seeing a chance to get what she wanted out of these foreigners. “Well, if you’re offering. . .”

  Sipho cocked an eyebrow as she pulled a leather bound tome out of a satchel she kept at her waist. It had taken her a good while to afford this human item, as the kālai did not typically trade in coin. It was clearly well worn at this point, with the stitching and cover having been repaired and replaced various times. Still, the title was still quite legible after being embossed with melted metal. It read in mercantile common: Terrestrial Knowledge: A Worldly Almanac by Kanoa of āina Hānau. Disappointed by the lack of information about the wider world available to her, Kanoa had decided to simply write it all down herself. She was planning on seeing the world, after all. Might as well make some sort of mark on the world while she was at it. Pulling out some loose pages and a charcoal pencil, she fixed the merchant with an intense stare.

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  “I’ve heard some references to your people’s culture, but based on how the humans describe my own I figured it would be best to get a direct source. Could you provide me with a summary of the Ikati’s cultural norms, core beliefs, and style of living?”

  Sipho just looked baffled. “I. . . I’m sorry, what?”

  Kanoa’s interrogation lasted for more than half an hour. It was rare for an Ikati to encounter someone with a genuine interest in their culture. As a people that avoided warfare and lived in holes underground, they were often looked down upon as an underdeveloped race. They were a people who prided themselves on their engineering and craftsmanship, but that didn’t really appeal to the Divine Empire, which prided itself in its military strength. While he was a bit reluctant at first, Sipho quickly became excited to brag about the achievements of his homeland. It did take a while to get him to stop just making things up to make them seem more impressive, but there were a lot of interesting things to learn. The two of them were halfway through a conversation on Ikati masonry (supposedly their jars could keep fruit from rotting for years longer than anyone else’s) when Kanoa felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Ailu standing behind her, looking mildly annoyed.

  “Hey Kanoa.”

  “Oh, hello-”

  “How long has it been since you were done training?”

  Kanoa looked out towards the horizon, seeing that a lot more time had passed than she had thought. Ailu’s smile was beaming, a form it only took when she was especially frustrated. Kanoa would have been sweating if she was capable of doing so; she wasn’t excited to be thrown out into the ocean again.

  “Oh, um, well-”

  Ailu did not allow her to finish “It’s been almost an hour, Kanoa.”

  “I-I’m sorry. I got. . . distracted.”

  Ailu looked down to her friend’s conversation partner. Kanoa’s fascination with the world and everything in it had been well established at this point, so it wasn’t terribly surprising to see her so fascinated in a new sight like this. Looking back at her friend, she could see the girl at least seemed guilty about getting so sidetracked. She sighed, allowing herself to cool down a bit.

  “I’m sure they’ll be here for a while, alright? I’m glad to see you so interested, but I was waiting for a while.”

  “I can imagine. . . Sorry.”

  Ailu gave her a pat on the head, which was slightly awkward given that Kanoa was now about a foot and half taller than her. “It’s fine, just don’t do it again. Come on, Nohea was pretending not to be worried, but you know how they are.”

  “Yes. . . I should probably apologize to them as well, shouldn’t I?”

  The two of them gave Sipho a quick farewell before heading off towards Kanoa’s house. Ailu took the lead this time, which was a rare occurrence given her usual reluctance to let herself stand out. It had gotten a little easier to do so since she had figured out how to completely hide her sea serpent features. It was supposedly quite the feat to achieve a mere five years after learning to transform, a fact that she had not let anyone forget. This had made it far easier for her to move around the village, since the humans just assumed she was the daughter of some merchant or another. It was a somewhat shaky excuse, but it was hard to imagine any other possibility for where this black haired woman had come from. That said, Ailu was starting to draw a lot more attention these days, especially from the young men that had grown up in St. Caster. Kanoa couldn’t exactly blame them. Even with her tastes only being in reference to her own species, she knew her friend was quite beautiful. Still, the wandering eyes had been getting on her nerves recently for some reason. Nothing untoward had happened yet, so she felt no need to actually do anything about it. Well, no matter. It was only natural to be protective of one’s close friends, after all.

  More importantly, Kanoa was a bit worried about Ailu herself. She had seemed a bit anxious lately, not that she ever let it show when she knew someone was watching her. Kanoa couldn’t help but remember the story she had been told six years ago. They hadn’t discussed it since, mostly because it was clear that anything more specific than what was said could be a problem to reveal. There hadn’t been anything else happening, so there likely couldn’t be any other cause for Ailu’s distress. There had been a few times when Kanoa had thought to bring it up, but she had stopped herself before saying anything. It was because of another feeling that she hadn’t quite been able to define. It’s not as if the two were drifting apart, if anything they had been even closer than ever, but there was still this strange. . . shift. As the two of them matured, growing to understand themselves as that ambiguous deadline steadily approached, Kanoa was beginning to feel as if something was being left unsaid. Whatever secrets there may still be between them, that something felt far more important. If she could only understand it herself maybe it would be possible to do something about it, but it seemed one’s own emotions were far more difficult to parse through than foreign cultures. What could it-

  “Are you alright?”

  Kanoa blinked, coming out of her internal dialogue. She saw Ailu looking at her questioningly.

  “Oh, um. . . Were you saying something?”

  “No, but, umm. . . we’re here?”

  Looking up, she saw that they were indeed in front of her house. It seemed that she had somehow gotten so lost in thought that the entire walk back had completely slipped away. She didn’t want Ailu to worry, so she just gave her best attempt at a relaxed smile.

  “Right. Sorry, I was somewhere else for a moment.”

  “Oh, really?” Ailu pulled the entry curtain aside as she started to head in. “About what?”

  “Just some new forms that Surendra taught me. . . So, what have you been doing today?”

  Heading inside herself, Kanoa decided that now wasn’t really the best time to think about such things. If they really were running out of time, then that just meant they had to make the most of what was left. She allowed herself to relax as the two of them joined Nohea and Ikaika as dinner was being prepared. As difficult as it was to ignore everything in her own head, there was still plenty to enjoy right in front of her. For just a little while, it was nice to live somewhere comfortable and unchanging.

  —

  Later, After Evening

  This was bad. This was very, very bad.

  Kehlani stormed out of the central office of St. Caster, her head spiraling with what she had just learned. Everything she had done all these years, every attempt to make peace with the humans and coexist, it had all been for nothing. No, that was unfair. She could not blame the citizens of St. Caster for this farce. They weren’t bad people, not really. There had been some tensions at first, but most of them were at least cordial once they had gotten used to their new neighbors.

  No, the problem was that thrice damned Count Walker. Kehlani had tried her best to get along with that fool, but it was clear from the start that they were never going to see eye to eye. She had hoped that he would at least respect her people’s claim to the islands they had lived on for centuries, a hope that had led her to do too little too late.

  Walker had called for the aid of the imperial military. He had done his best to claim this land himself, but the kālai were far too strong and adapted to its ecosystem. His own meager forces were never going to be enough. So, as he had informed Kehlani, there were now four imperial warships on direct route to Moku Waena. They would be arriving in two weeks, in addition to some “special forces” that he refused to elaborate on. She had no idea how many exemplars were on those ships. The Divine Empire seemed to regard their exemplars as inherently sacred beings, which had led them to both contain a number of remarkably powerful ones and also use them with a baffling degree of cautiousness.

  There was no telling how many would be spared for the conquest of an isolated archipelago, though the value of the natural resources here would certainly be taken into account. Including herself, Kehlani only had a dozen combat-focused exemplars of her own to deploy. This was a remarkable achievement, and one she was very proud of, but it was hard to say if it was going to be enough.

  One thing was certain, though. If the Divine Empire was even half as large as the humans claimed it was, then there was no way in any world this would be a winnable fight.

  What could they even do? The Count had only told her to give her a chance to submit before being suppressed through force. He knew as well as she did that an early warning would make little impact in their chances of victory. Maybe she could contact the other villages? No, they wouldn’t accept any kind of cooperation without an Alaka’i Nui, and Kinohi had refused all requests for one to be established for years. It was almost as if the goddess allowed this to happen. Perhaps now that things were truly dire that sociopath of a deity would do something, but that was hardly a guarantee.

  Kehlani ran her fingers through her cords as she muttered a futile prayer. “Oh Kinohi, what do you expect me to do?”

  “So all you can do is pray, then? I suppose that was to be expected, but I’m a bit let down. . .”

  She snapped her head up, looking around frantically. Where had that voice come from? It was male, certainly. It was said in kino, though with a distinct north imperial accent. Kehlani was certain she knew every human who could speak her native tongue on this island, which was not many, and this was not one of them. As she strained both her eyes and her ears, she noticed something else. Or perhaps a lack of anything else. The surrounding tropics had lost the typical thrum of wind and crashing waves, and the air felt unnaturally still. This silence lasted for a good few seconds before ending, the old sounds returning as if the entire world had been paused. Confused, Kehlani turned back to the empty road ahead of her, only to see that she was no longer alone.

  A human man stood before her, wearing some sort of uniform. While it was styled similarly to the military uniforms she had seen humans wearing before, this one lacked any stylings or embellishments. The only decoration on his slate grey outfit was a golden badge placed over his heart, bearing some abstract design she couldn’t recognize. The most startling part of him was his hair, which seemed to be entirely white and thinning like an old man’s, even though his other features looked like those of someone in their early twenties. He had an uncomfortable smile plastered over his face, so soulless and well practiced it resembled a mask. When he spoke, his voice was filled with a jovial charm that did not reach his eyes.

  “Ah, sorry about that. I think I’ve spent too much time with my subordinates. . . I’d forgotten how alarming that trick is to most people.”

  Kehlani reached for her spear, stopping when she remembered that she had left it at home. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed a small dagger from her belt. She couldn’t tell whether this man was a threat or not, but something about him felt alarming.

  He chuckled slightly. “So it’s a fight then? My, you really are a woman after my own heart. Unfortunately. . .”

  He drew a thin sword from his belt, raising it in an aggressive stance. Kehlani allowed a slight grin to form on her face. Finally, a problem she knew how to solve. She raised. . . her. . . Huh? She tried to raise her weapon, but couldn’t. Because she no longer had a right arm. Her severed limb fell to the ground beside her, sliced off her body with a single slash. The man stood behind her now, his smile having changed into a more pitying form.

  “. . . I think you may be a bit outclassed.”

  Kehlani gritted her teeth, forcing herself to think despite the overwhelming pain. She reached for the dagger with her left arm, but couldn’t find it on the. . . wooden ground? Wasn’t she on a dirt path? Looking around, she found herself standing on the small walkway on the wooden walls around the center of the human settlement. Somehow, she had been brought here without even realizing it. Her eyes focused on that man, who was now sitting on the rail of this walkway, his feet dangling in the open air.

  He fixed her with another grin. “Ready to give up yet?”

  “Who are you?” The pain was so great that Kehlani could barely talk. “What do you want?”

  “. . . It’s simple, really. You’ve been blessed by a greater deity, haven’t you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I have. What of it?”

  He let out an exaggerated sigh, playing the role of an overworked laborer. “Honestly, I can’t believe that Count Walker was able to keep that from us for so long. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s punished as well. I imagine that will be a small grace for you, though. It does wound me a little to pass judgement on someone whose crimes were inflicted at birth, but we cannot allow double standards. You understand, yes?”

  “. . .What are you talking about?”

  “You can’t even guess?” He looked surprised, the first genuine emotion so far. “I guess the rumors haven’t made it this far yet. . . Well, whatever. I suppose it’s only right that someone blinded by faith would die in ignorance.”

  “Now wait just a-”

  Kehlani said nothing more. Her head had already left her body before she could finish the sentence. Inquisitor Balor caught her head with one hand, holding it by the cords. He thought for a few seconds, his face now blank and devoid of emotion. Coming to a conclusion, he mounted her head on one of the spiked posts lining the village walls. It was probably a bit against the code to bait an outcome like this, but his majesty always focused more on the spirit of the law anyways. Gazing out across the settlement, a slight grin began to form. If he could recall correctly, it was fire, night, and earthquakes. It was so rare for him to encounter any kind of new domain, much less three of them. He was glad that this world could still surprise him, even after all these years. This was going to be a hunt to remember, he just knew it.