The Mariner

“Oi, you’ve checked those jars already,” Nacco said.

“He’s just doing what the captain ordered,” Umman replied, gripping the halyard tight. “So good at following orders, our Kama. You’d wipe your ass with seaweed if the captain ordered it, wouldn’t you? Ever had a callous on those soft hands of yours?”

Kama smirked, pulling on the fastenings holding the ceramic vessels in place to make sure they were secure. “Why don’t you two sorry gits worry about your jobs, and I’ll worry about mine, hmm?”

“Good idea,” old captain Bikk chimed in from the tiller, staring past his men at the approaching dock. “And how about shutting your traps while you’re at it? Fog and fright, the way you dunderheads babble…” he stared around the mast as he adjusted their trajectory. “Alll-right, now…lower sail. We’ll coast in from here.”

Kama sank to a crouch as his crewmates sprang to action, Nacco bracing himself and slackening the halyard, Umman holding the boom tight as the heavy yard came down. Within moments, the men had furled the linen sail up and tied it in place, and then the small vessel was drifting peacefully towards the dock.

“Ready with the mooring ropes, Kama?” Bikk asked.

“Ready.”

“Umman, you’re on the dock, then. ’Atta fella. Tie us off firm, you two.”

As the boat bumped gently against the salt-weathered stonework, Kama fed rope to his crew-mate in a kind of choreographed sequence which ended with the vessel tightly secured.

“There we have it,” Bikk told them, stepping onto the pier and turning to survey the goods stacked on the deck — crates and jars of all sizes bearing clay seals or paper tags inscribed with the contents, from grain and wine, to resins and dyes, oils and tinctures.“What a trip. Best we’ve made in two years, if you ask me. I’ve no doubt all this will fetch a fine price at market.” He held out a hand. “Pass me the inventory, would you Kama?”

Reaching into a satchel at his waist, the young sailor handed over a small parchment, which Bikk proceeded to read, his thick white eyebrows wiggling at each line.

“Looks good…alright, a quick chat to the harbourmaster and I’ll fetch your pay. Don’t go wandering off.”

With that, he limped off down the pier.

Disembarking behind him, Kama stretched and inhaled a deep breath, savouring the smell of his home island before spying a number of crustaceans on the hull. That was no good. He’d have to tell Bikk about them. In his older years, Bikk was getting sloppy with maintenance and the boat would have to be careened before they next sailed.

At least there were no signs of worms.

“Hey, you moved!” Umman said, wiping his hands on his dirty trousers with that dumb smirk again as he helped Nacco up onto the dock. “I’m pretty sure Bikk said to stay where you were, Kama.” He gave a look of mock astonishment. “Not like you to disobey an order. I’ll be sure to let him know of your disobedi-”

Giving a powerful shove, Kama sent Umman flying off the dock with a satisfying splash, Nacco howling with laughter from where he stood, watching.

• • •

The distant sound of revelry echoed through the streets as Kama made his way uphill, sweat tickling his forehead in the warm dusk air while flight after flight of old steps met his sandals. A comforting weight knocked against his hip where his pay-sack was secured, one hand lingering protectively over it.

Laal was a pretty safe enough town and Magoku, a safe enough island, but one could never be too careful. Thefts happened, especially in secluded back alleys on festival nights. Sometimes a drunken thug or two wanted back the glass-coin they’d gambled away. Sometimes someone just wanted some more grog.

It seemed the evening was still too young for that kind of thing, however, and as the alleys fell behind and the streets widened, Kama found the upper neighbourhoods doing away with broken fishing traps and stinking waste-barrels in favour of flaming lanterns, neatly-painted façades, and well-kept planter boxes.

He didn’t pause at the old stone gateway, nodding at two men who stood there sporting leather-and-bark armour and smart, shell helmets. He didn’t slow as he made his way through a paved garden, where palms formed a canopy and beds of colourful island blooms released sweetness into the approaching night. Not until he reached the large door of a stately house did he stop and, lifting one arm to sniff himself, wrinkled his nose.

“Spirits of the swell…”

Panicking, the young man turned about, peering into the dark garden for a moolaka bulb whose nectar would neutralise the odor when–

*– KTUNK! *–

The door opened and he was caught in a flood of warm light.

“Kama?”

Startled, the young man brushed his lengthy blond hair back awkwardly before admiring the woman standing there, his face plastered with a dumb smirk as was often the case when he saw his wife again after weeks at sea.

“Aji…” he began, torn between a desire to take her in a firm embrace and to stay away until he’d bathed.

Aji didn’t hesitate. Striding forwards with a smile on her lips, she drew him into a kiss as vital as their first.

In the middle of it, Kama felt the bump of her curving middle, and wondered if it had changed in the two weeks since he’d been away.

“Home by sundown. Just as your father ordered,” Aji said with a raised eyebrow, before nudging him playfully with her hip. “But I suppose there are worse things than being punctual. Boku has just finished making dinner. Come. Tell me everything.”

• • •

Kama leant back into the cushions behind him, stretching and enjoying the feeling from a well-needed proper meal. He’d just finished telling Aji about the disastrous second day of trading, when Umman had forgotten to haul a rope aboard and a whole stack of fishing crates had been dragged off the pier behind them into the sea.

“He’s as dangerous as a tempest,” Aji commented, wiping a tear from her eye. “But at least he didn’t pick any fights with foreign chiefs, this time.”

Kama snorted, then cleared his throat and a small silence fell. “Speaking of which…how is he?”

Aji’s smile faded a little.

“He wants to see you tomorrow morning,” she said. “Sunrise. At the temple. He’s asked the two Ayuku elders to join, which I suppose means he wants to make the usual checks.”

“Sure. Well, they’re going to find out I’m still up to the task. I kept up my training on-board. I’m ready-”

“You don’t have to convince me, Kama. I know how hard you work to keep yourself prepared. You will not displease him.”

“Displease him?”

Aji shifted against her cushions, placing a hand gently on her belly. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know it’s not the prime motive but it clearly plays a big role. And as it happens, I think it’s admirable. We could all stand to learn from your example. Respect is being forgotten, nowadays. When people disregard the customs in the streets or make jokes about the old ways, it angers him. I see that. And is hand has guided us well for many years…”

She trailed off, and Kama raised an eyebrow.

“But?” he prompted.

Aji looked slightly abashed. “Well…it would be nice if he could keep a little distance. If he didn’t keep such a close eye on everything we do-…everything you do. If he trusted you a little more.”

“He trusts me.”

“Kama…you’re a grown man and he wouldn’t even let you decorate your own house.”

“I like the furniture…”

“So do I. Mostly. I mean, the sculptures are a bit much, and that bark-shield thing over there…? Whatever. You understand. It simply feels more like his taste and opinion than ours.”

Kama rubbed his forehead. “He’s just looking out for us.”

“And I appreciate that.” She rested a hand on his knee. “But I would also appreciate going to the marketplace alone sometimes. Without being followed and watched. Is that unreasonable?”

“No. It’s not.”

“Alright. So then maybe tomorrow…you can tell him I don’t need protection-”

“Tell him…? Aji, nobody tells Okkamoro-”

“Oh, come on, Kama. You’re his son, not a sea-slug! Push back a little.”

A harsh silence fell.

In the flicker of the torches around the room, the two eyed each other.

“Kama the Sea-Slug,” Kama uttered, eyeing the roof thoughtfully. “That’s no good. They aren’t soft enough.”

Aji gave an amused snort and just then, Boku entered the room to clear the dishes.

Helping his wife to her feet, Kama now led her to the patio and stood behind her at the balustrade, looking down on Laal’s glittering township and bay, a few ship-lanterns reflecting off the water as the vessels rocked on the calm sea.

“Perhaps I went too far,” Aji said, bringing her husband’s hands around and laying them on her stomach. “I think it’s because he’s making me feisty. We might have another future Ayuku on our hands here.”

“Oh? You think it’s a he?”

Aji shrugged. “It feels like a he. Stubborn, heavy, and constantly kicking…”

“I was kind of hoping for another future balladeer…perhaps one with your eyes.”

Aji shrugged. “Who really knows with these things? You might get your wish. I have written two new songs since you left.”

“You have? Really? Can I hear them?”

“Well, they’re not ready yet.” She turned to him, her face falling a little. “And…admittedly, one is a little dark.”

“Nothing to do with me, I hope?”

She looked uncertain. “Honestly, I think it’s because of all the chatter, lately.” Taking her hands off his, Aji placed them on the balustrade. “It’s not just jokes about the old ways. It’s-…well, the cycle is coming to an end, soon, isn’t it? Ninety years since the last emergence. It’s all anyone seems to be talking about, and usually it’s fine. But the fear right now is palpable and I think it’s finally getting to me.”

“We’ll be fine, Aji.”

Her brow crinkled. “Can you really say that? You, of all people?”

“I-…” he took a deep breath. “Listen, every island has champions. There’s three of us here on Magoku alone. The chances that I’ll get picked are about as high as hauling in a golden fish, and that’s supposing anything even happens. You know lots of people think these stories are just myths. That the Sea-Bane is just a figment of the elders’ imaginations to scare us all. To keep us together. A common-threat to unite all the tribes.”

“That’s foolish, Kama. You know it’s real.”

“How could I? I wasn’t here ninety years ago. Nobody on this island was. Who knows what really happened back then? So, they say a champion died and another, ninety years before that. Why does that mean a monster exists? And how long has it been since it supposedly destroyed an island, anyway?”

“Four hundred and fifty years,” Aji replied flatly.

“Aji…”

“That’s when the last tribe was destroyed. Four hundred and fifty years ago. That’s when Iriel sank beneath the waves. The shamans keep their secrets and they may not let us read the ancient records, but I don’t think they would lie to us. I believe it happened. I think they train citizens to be Ayuku because the Sea-Bane really is out there and if we don’t send a champion to fight, it will come for us, too. Don’t wave this off, Kama.”

“Alright.” Gently, Kama turned his wife around and met her eyes seriously. “I won’t. And you’re right. Of all people, a champion should take this seriously. So…if something happens this year. If the sun really does turn green one day. If that happens and I happen to be chosen…well, I’ve trained for that my whole life. As have all the other Ayuku. We’re ready. That’s why we exist. And no matter what happens, I will protect this island. I promise.”

For a moment, the pair stood there.

“I sound like my aunt Juna, don’t I?” Aji then said, “Always finding things to worry about.”

“No. You sound reasonable. I was being foolish.”

Aji gave a soft chuckle. “I’ve always admired that in you.”

“What?”

“You listen. And you can let what you hear change your mind. To see past our own beliefs and desires is not easy, but to allow someone else’s into your mind…that is true courage.” She took a breath, as if allowing those worries to fall away. “Never change, alright? Just keep listening and you will never be foolish.”

Kama didn’t reply, and the pair remained in the evening air until the revelry in the town ended and all fell quiet.

It was not a peaceful quiet.

Even after they left the patio, a strange tension soured the night, even the usual sound of crickets absent. And when Kama eventually lay down to sleep, he was troubled by strange dreams.

• • •

The town bell was ringing.

It was a piercing sound so early in the morning, made worse by the fact that through the window a strange, sickly light met Kama’s sleep-filled eyes as they fluttered open.

A green sun was rising.

From the hallway outside, hurried footsteps were approached the bedchamber door and then with a knock, Boku entered, head bowed.

“Meeting. At the town centre,” the older man said, eyes lowered deferentially. “Chief Okkamoro requests your presence immediately, prince Kama, as well as the other Ayuku. In full regalia.”

Sharing a look with Aji, Kama did not let his expression falter, not willing to let her down or betray the fear that bristled deep inside him.

There was no time for chatter or hesitation though. Duty waited.

Soon enough, Kama and Aji were pressing through the dense crowd, hand-in-hand, using the bronze heads of Kia and Koa, the Loyal Duo atop the grand fountain to guide them towards the town centre. And all the while, that greenish cast filled the air, the sun looming like some ghastly face lifting into the morning sky.

It looked as if the world had been poisoned.

The crowd began to notice Kama and parted like tidewaters around a rock, and when he finally emerged onto the white stone of the plaza, it was to find a tense scene.

Atop the fountain dais stood Okkamoro, chief of Magoku, a meat-hock of a man clad in red feather pauldrons and a resplendant green chestplate, whose plant-frond plumed headpiece only added to his imposing height.

The chief’s wrinkled and deeply tanned face had always reminded Kama of gummu tree bark and had long ago settled into a perpetual scowl, it seemed. He looked so different to his son, whose angular, sleek features more closely resembled his mother’s — or so Kama had heard.

Despite not having seen Kama in weeks, Okkamoro did not greet his son with more than a grim nod, beckoning simply for the prince to stand at his side where two others already waited.

Like Kama, these two wore the distinctive garb of island champions; a simple, pleated shirt and vibrant yellow cape. Like Kama, they bore leather bracers, sandals, and leg holsters which housed their ceremonial Kemi-Dagger.

Unlike Kama, they looked…well, pitiful was the word for it.

It had been a long time since Kama had seen his fellow Ayuku, and he had long known that they did not take their training as seriously as he. But their current state was shocking.

Roula, with her long red curly hair, looked positively ill and it had nothing to do with the green sunlight. More like she’d had a big night out. Or a big year…

Keppa, with his shining bald pate, had barely squeezed into his garments, his formerly lean and graceful physique having given way to plumpness while his eyes were puffy and tired-looking.

He seemed to be wheezing just standing there.

It did not dawn on Kama that beside such specimens he appeared a vision of dedication, but when the town bells finally stopped pealing, a nervous silence filled the square as gazes shifted from the three champions to Okkamoro.

The chieftain’s face betrayed nothing but stern calm as he peered back, apparently confirming that everyone’s attention was sufficiently engaged. He then lifted fingers to chin in the customary gesture of respect.

Amidst the flurry of movement as the crowd reciprocated, a new figure emerged and mounted the dais, his wrinkled form draped in beads and lengths of coloured string and who looked reassuringly unchanged, Kama thought.

This was Orellan, the town shaman, and by the look in his eyes a serious talk was ahead.

“You are no doubt aware,” the old man began, “that the great cycle has once again elapsed. That, once more, the islands of Paeri face a threat as ancient as the tribes, themselves. It has been ninety years since the last green sun rose over our island. Ninety years since our last Ayuku sailed forth, and today we must send our champions forth again. For as the green-sun warns, the Sea-Bane has awakened.”

Nobody made a sound as Orellan turned to gesture at the three champions lined up behind him, his eyes widening slightly as he sighted Roula and Keppa.

“These-…erm, courageous souls have unselfishly dedicated their lives to Magoku’s preservation, forging themselves into instruments of strength and-…and resilience, that they might defend us in this hour of need. Their unwavering devotion to Paeri’s cause is…admirable…”

Trailing off, he rubbed his face in exhasperation.

“Listen, I’ve never really liked theatrics. So, let me be perfectly honest here. I know many of you believe the stories to be myths.”

Kama was not alone in raising an eyebrow, there.

“There was a time when I doubted them, too,” the Shaman went on. “A time before I was granted access to the fonts of memory and saw with my own eyes the calamities of the past, left by those who witnessed them first-hand.

“But if the colour of the sun is not enough, I ask you to talk to our fisherman, who will tell you that the creatures of the water are suddenly fleeing westward. Or our beekeepers, who will tell you that all the flowers on the east side of the island have shrivelled overnight, just as all the ancient records speak of them doing when the beast stirs.”

Some of the crowd shifted uncomfortably on their feet.

“At this moment, the other islands are preparing their champions to sail to Tempest Rock. And we must do the same. As has always been the case, no matter our disagreements or quarrels, every island in Paeri stands together on this day. For if one fails to send a champion, the beast will come for that island. So say the voices of ancient times.

“Finally, to the non-believers, I would simply ask you to consider what is preferable…caution, or finding out you were wrong?”

Eying the crowd, Orellan knew he was holding their attention, and glanced again to the three Ayuku behind him.

“It is unfortunate that these rumours and gossip have lulled more than just the public into a sense of idle repose…but we cannot tarry. We must proceed. Custom dictates that we now hold a vote to select the champion Magoku wishes to send forth. And the reason I have spoken so long and in such detail is that I believe the choice rather obvious…”

• • •

“You’re going to bring honour to us,” Okkamoro said, straightening his son’s shirt. “My son will make Magoku the island of heroes once more.”

Kama swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest as if it wished to burst out and run off up the pier. As with Aji however, he tried not to let his nerves show. Especially not now.

In front of his father, there must be only strength and resilience…

Kama had prepared and trained for this moment his entire life, after all. For twenty-two years, mornings and nights had been filled with training designed to hone his body and mind.

How was it possible, then, that reality felt nothing like he’d expected? Now that the moment was here, why did he feel such…greyness and detachment to it all, as if he were witnessing it from afar?

“My son…” Okkamoro repeated quietly, breaking his reverie. “Chosen Ayuku of our island. Tell me, are you excited to slake your thirst after so long and slay the beast? What is your method? Your plan for doing so? How will you make me proud, this day?”

Kama shifted as his father tightened the belt around his waist.

“Well…that depends on how big it is,” he replied.

At that, his father stopped adjusting things. Straightening, he looked his son in the eyes and Kama knew he was going to receive a lecture.

But Okkamoro simply laughed. “Yes! Of course. That is something I had not considered. Some legends say it is the size of a man. Others, that it is the size of a ship! Your strategy must vary accordingly. This mind for detail is why I put my trust in you, Kama. Why I believe you will triumph.”

Kama did not relax.

His father then turned and walked to a small stool where a large bronze helmet sat. Decorated with swirling, ocean-like motifs and a fan of metal spines, it was an hierloom dating back before memory began, and Kama had only seen it once before when he’d visited Orellan’s private quarters in the Shaman’s temple.

As Okkamoro lowered it onto his son’s head, a brief twinkle appeared in his eyes. “If your mother could see you now. She always knew of your potential for greatness-”

“Father…”

Kama wanted to say that the pressure was making him feel sick. That, with a bewildering suddenness, he understood that he’d never really thought this Ayuku business through to its conclusion. Nor that this day would really arrive. That he’d always pictured his champion training as…well, sport. A pastime which granted him focus, and a goal to work towards.

And what of the moment, itself? The thought of actually coming face-to-face with the Sea-Bane? It was hard to visualise — as if it stood behind some great wall.

Okkamoro was looking at him expectently.

“I-…will do what I can,” Kama finished clunkily.

“What you can?” Okkamoro’s smile faltered. “I take that to mean that once you arrive at Tempest Rock, you will be first to volunteer when the call comes for an island champion to step forward, just as you were this morning. That my flesh and blood will go into the fray with all the courage of our forebears. That is what you will do. What you must do.”

“Courage…” Kama uttered.

“Yes,” the chief of Magoku replied, setting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Look at that frown…I imagine I had the same furrows on the day of my first battle. A battle which could have been my last, too, for there we stood, bruised and battered, having emerged from the sea after surviving a rain of spears. Our boats were sunk, most of our men dead, and weapons? All gone. I was surrounded, facing my enemy as the surf washed blood onto the sand, the thrill of battle coursing through my veins, the prospect of loss too much to bear. That is when I learned what true courage is, and where it can be found.”

Kama looked up.

“Before me lay the body of a dead foe, his weapon sticking out of the sand and waiting for me. And it is that moment, my son, where you will choose. You will choose to charge firmly ahead. To throw thoughts of cowardice to the wind. You will choose glory over safety. That is courage. And it can be found, gleaming like gold in that narrow moment between holding a blade and thrusting it forwards. Remember that.”

Perking up, Okkamoro slapped his son jovially on the back.

“You need no more advice from me! That time is passed. You are an Ayuku! And speaking of weapons, your Kemi-dagger is missing-”

“It’s here, father. In my leg holster. I don’t wear it around my waist.”

“Ah! Excellent.” Taking a deep breath, Okkamoro stepped back, at last to survey his son. “Then, you are ready. And everyone is waiting. Let us go to the boat.”

• • •

The music was supposed to inspire heroic sentiment, and Kama knew that.

Even so, as he walked down the old stone dock under a rain of white shells cast by the surrounding crowd, inundated by the sound of cheers, and skin prickling under that green sunlight, it all seemed to grate on his nerves.

Any feeling of grand purpose seemed to be lost in the ocean swell beyond the reef, leaving just dread behind.

This made the inevitable farewell to Aji one of the hardest moments in his life, for despite the pomp and pluck and promises of success shining in everyone’s eyes, all Kama could think about was that this would be the last time he’d ever feel her lips against his. Standing at the gangplank, he wished they could be alone without a thousand people looking on as he gripped her hands, smelled the fragrance on her neck, and held her tight for too short a time.

Then the docks were behind him, and she was gone, and he was on deck. The boat carved through the waves and wind filled their sails as Magoku’s squat form diminished on the horizon.

At last, things felt more real. With the fresh, salty air whipping his hair about and the spray on his skin, Kama’s eyes were wide open and it felt as if he could breathe for the first time since the previous night. Now and then when that wind died down, he also smelled Aji’s perfume on his clothes.

But it wouldn’t do to dwell on that. Better to be helpful.

The Grand Paliya was a bigger vessel than he was used to, a ship whose usual business was ferrying officials and courtly gifts about. Kama had sailed on this very ship as a boy during one of Magoku’s diplomatic voyages and had no doubt that it been chosen for its appearance. The fine red sails, gold trim, and sweeping prow would certainly make an impression once they arrived at Tempest Rock.

The crew were already busy tending to the necessaries, tightening lashings, inspecting the mast and bulwarks, sharpening tools, and cleaning the deck — duties they apparently performed frequently, for the ship was in impeccable condition — and he joined in, checking the rigging.

Taking the flaxen ropes in hand, he searched for fraying around the mast-base and was just about to inspect the yard attachments when a call came across the deck.

“That ain’t your duty, champion! Sit down and save your strength. My boys have everything under control.”

Hearing a chuckle from those same boys, Kama sheepishly obeyed, leaving the ropes and sitting on the supply crates and feeling generally useless.

“Permission to have our official guest help organise inventory, captain?” a voice then called out. “My calloused hands might damage those fine fabrics. I could use some soft ones…”

It was a voice Kama recognised and turning about, he realised that he’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t bothered to actually look at the crew. But the young man who had spoken had a shaved head and an impish grin as the captain gave a reluctant nod and turned back to steering.

“Umman!” Kama cried, standing to embrace his friend. “How is this possible-…you’re here!”

“Finally. You self-absorbed little shit…I was starting to think we’d get all the way to Tempest Rock without you noticing.” Umman gave a low whistle. “Just look at you. All dressed up like you’re king of the seas or something. You look ridiculous…”

Giving an embarrassed grin, Kama took his helmet off and followed Umman across the deck to a stack of crates lashed against the opposite bulwark, where his friend pried the lid off the one with a metal bar. The containers were brimming with fabrics, earthenware, jewellery, and foodstuffs.

“It all needs repacking,” Umman explained. “Just sort it all and we’ll figure out how to repack it from there.”

The pair set to it.

“So…why are you here?” Kama then asked.

“What was I supposed to do? Everyone was spooked by all this Sea-Bane business and nobody wanted to sail, ‘cept old Bikk and myself. So when the other lads didn’t show this morning, there was nothing he could do. Can’t make way or trade with a crew of two. Then came the call for hands on the Paliya, and I took it up-…oh, here, you can store those fabrics in this one. I’ll make room.”

“Thanks. What is all this stuff, anyhow?”

“All this stuff?” Umman chuckled. “Captain thought he’d make the trip worthwhile for himself. Seeing as he gave up his boat for two whole days, he figured he might as well make something out of it.”

“That’s-…but this is a ceremonial voyage!”

“It is?!” Umman feigned shock and Kama punched him in the arm.

“Honestly, I’ll bet the other captains are doing the same,” Umman went on, rubbing the spot. “But even if he’s the only one, I think it’s admirable.”

“Admirable?”

“Sure. Why not? Here’s a guy who feels the wind blowing the wrong direction, and what does he do? He takes advantage of it. Changes course. No care for what others think or say. No care for formalities or expectation. And tell me, does that look like a man weighed down?”

Kama glanced over to the helm where the captain was taking a deep breath of salty air, his long white hair whipping in the wind and a smile on his face as he gripped the wheel.

“I respect that,” Umman said. “Enjoying for enjoyment’s sake. Sailing through life by your own compass. He’s free, and finding that kind of freedom takes guts. To ignore everyone else and what they want from you…I think that’s true courage.”

Kama looked back to the crate before him, filled with random goods the captain was hoping to hawk at Tempest Rock while he, Kama, faced darkness and doom.

And for some reason, that thought made him smile.

“Oop. Wind is changing,” Umman said. “Let’s see if the captain will let you brace the yard with me…”

The captain didn’t make a peep as the two young men helped with the ship’s running from then on. He was too busy navigating a new wind, avoiding a cluster of sandbanks which dotted this part of the archipelago and steering them safely through a strong cross-current to reach clear water again.

And this was just the start of the voyage. It would take the rest of the day to sail to the edge of Paeri’s hundred isles with their various perils, and they would have to overnight somewhere before continuing tomorrow, for the moon was not strong enough to sail by at this time of month.

In any case, Kama was thankful to have a friend alongside him.

When the sun finally sank and the starry blanket unfurled above, the captain gave orders to cast anchor and it didn’t take long for the smell of cooking to fill the evening air. The crew gossiped and shared news from other islands. They told the old stories and sang songs, and ate and drank and made merry. And when they at last unfurled their sleeping mats on the deck to turn in, all thought of the coming trial had faded from Kama’s mind.

• • •

There were twenty-two boats already anchored in the shallows when the Paliya arrived at Tempest Rock, the next morning.

The rock itself was a sinister-looking black spine which lanced out of the ocean like a giant tooth, and Kama had watched it with a feeling of dread as they approached, knowing that he must steel himself for whatever lay there and frustrated that nobody could tell him what, exactly, that might be.

Of course, everyone knew the name. He’d heard it since childhood. And yet nobody seemed to have the faintest idea what the Sea-Bane actually was, what it looked like, if it lived in the rock, or under the water. Or if it breathed water or air.

Perhaps the Sea-Bane wasn’t a creature, at all? Perhaps it was a ship manned by a savage pirate crew? Perhaps it was the rock-spine itself, a natural danger? Perhaps it was nothing but a strong wind?

Kama kneaded one knuckle as he stood there, wishing both that he knew, and somehow that he wouldn’t have to find out.

And perhaps he wouldn’t, for glancing at the small fleet around the rock he could see the other champions — twenty-two of them in all — waiting on deck and dressed in their unique and traditional finery.

The boats were so closely packed that Kama could have talked to the Ayuku on the deck alongside, had he wished. But he did not. And neither did she, it seemed. Muttering to herself, her long braid of auburn hair tied up with golden clasps and swaying like the tail of some caged beast as she paced back and forth, deep in preparatory thought.

On the ship beyond hers stood another champion, a youth of no more than fifteen, Kama thought, who gripped the bulwark and stared at the spire so intently that Kama thought he might be trying to destroy it with his gaze alone.

Beyond them, a hulking brute of a man in his middling-years was stretching, his shoulders bristling with dark hair as he bent and twisted to limber up, then another woman, also older, with bushy grey hair and a sinewy physique.

On it went, boat after boat, champion after champion. All watching and waiting for…something.

And with all of these champions present, what were the chances Kama would be picked? Probably slim, he reasoned, taking brief comfort in that thought before a flush of shame overcame him.

What was he doing?

The selection was coming and no matter what form it took, he could not allow another champion to step up first. The idea of returning and explaining that to his father was unthinkable…

As the sun crested the rocky spire before them all and Kama’s feet had just begun aching from standing for hours, a sound caught everyone’s ears. A low hum which seemed to be coming from the water itself…

Searching for the source, Kama pressed up to the Paliya’s prow and the crew crowded up behind him, everyone watching as an intense, blue light bloomed under the waves.

And when it breached the water, there were collective gasps.

It was a woman. At least, it appeared to be a woman. Tall and slim, her body was made entirely of that cool-hued light which rose up without a ripple from the depths and hovered above the surface, her hair blowing in some wind nobody else could feel.

Kama’s mouth fell open. All sound seemed to melt away. The lapping of waves on the hull, the whistling of wind through the rigging, even the roar of crashing surf on the spire of rock seemed to become muffled and dull, as if nature were preparing for her to speak.

And speak she did.

“Greetings, Ayuku.”

Soft and hushed, her voice was like the lapping of foam upon the seashore and though she did not yell, they met every ear.

“To this place you boldly came,” she said. “Full of faith and hope of fame. Yet swiftly comes the crush of shame, for only one the crown can claim…”

Kama straightened, realising that the moment had come. The moment his entire life had been leading to. Here and now, the culmination of so much sweat and effort…

Glancing along the line of ships, he saw the champions reacting in their own ways to the ghostly woman’s words. Some of them stood tensely, others looked rife with suspicion. A few backed away across their decks as their crewmen gazed on in astonishment.

But gripping the wooden bulwark tightly, Kama felt it at last. A surge of purpose. It flooded over him as if needing this moment to appear, and he realised it was foolish to have doubted himself, for now he would not flinch, would not back away nor hesitate.

“To turn away would be unwise, and tempt the mighty sea to rise,” the woman went on as if having heard those thoughts, “and fierce destruction then would rain, upon your ancient island chain…”

Here, she was clearly vocalising the warning Kama had heard so much about. The promise of doom for any champion who turned away.

“So to you upon the prow, whom ocean swell hath brought me now, come, cast your lot into my reach, I call you down into the breach.”

That was it. Gaze unchanging, the woman then began to sink once more into the water, that flowing hair still caught in some invisible wind.

The departure was so sudden that everyone seemed momentarily stunned. Then – SPLAGUSH! – Kama found that the hulking man had dived from his prow into the sea. Not a second later, the grey-haired, sinewy woman followed suit.

The prince of Magoku reacted at once, in two swift movements having torn off his helmet and armour before he gripped the bulwark and leapt, heart pounding as the sounds of his crewmates’ cheering followed him down.

– KAPLOOSH! –

The warmth of the surface-water flashed by in a second and the cold swell below swept over his body.

Opening his eyes, Kama found a rocky submerged shelf confronting him, its dark mass covered in rocky spines vanishing into the gloom. But closer still and floating in place was a blue, glowing orb, the same he’d seen underwater before the woman had appeared.

Glancing about revealed that the other champions were already swimming for it. The race had begun and it was clear that whomever seized it would prove themselves the worthiest contender.

It had to be him!

Surging forwards, Kama took up a steady rhythm, reaching and drawing himself through the swell with powerful, regular strokes, trying to conserve the precious breath he’d sucked in before diving.

Good thing an Ayuku’s training involved holding one’s breath underwater, and better still, that it was a skill he’d improved upon while diving for pearls on his trading expeditions. Now, Kama knew he would have a good four or five minutes. Perhaps a little less, for there had been no time for adequate preparation this time.

A few meters away, the young lad drew up and then overtook him, large hands and feet propelling him further than the competition with each stroke, yet Kama ignored the ensuing stab of desperation.

Glancing over one shoulder, he saw the other champions all keeping pace with him, all converging inevitably on that orb. Only six, Kama was surprised to find. But he lost sight of them as he entered the tall stone spines, navigating between them as that light drew ever back, leading them all through the water.

As two minutes passed, an unwelcome surge of adrenaline flooded his limbs and to Kama’s surprise, a small cloud of bubbles trailed upwards from the lad ahead. Again, Kama focused only on that light, tried to maintain his pace, regular and calm. It would not do to panic. Each moment he held air in his own lungs was crucial.

Using an old trick he transferred a breath, pushing the air he’d stored in his mouth down to his lungs and back before holding again, which often seemed to prolong his dives. It would only work twice, he knew, but that should be enough…

The lad’s solid lead was widening with each passing moment, and edging into view at his side Kama now found the grey-haired woman about to pass him, too.

Not far beyond her, a champion he couldn’t see properly was moving with fluid grace through the gloom while further still, a dark shape which must have been the thickset, hulking champion was roughly grabbing the water and hauling himself along.

That couldn’t last, of course, and as the three minute mark approached Kama watched the large, blurry figure let out a burst of bubbles and kick towards the surface.

Now there were just five, Kama knew, puzzled at what had happened to the other dozen or so who had dived. But that wasn’t his concern.

Long shadows stretched from the spines across the rocky shelf as the orb drew them onwards, and Kama felt a cross-current starting to build as a rocky wall loomed into view ahead, with a dark, thin opening in its centre like some great scar.

The youth was closing in on that opening but to Kama’s surprise, the lad’s strokes had changed. They looked more erratic and desperate. Clearly, he’d expended too much energy trying to assure his lead and as the young man neared that hole in the rock, desperation finally won out. Pivoting, he began swimming for the surface.

Kama coasted on, unperturbed, and this left only the grey-haired woman just ahead whose pace had not changed, and the sleek form beyond her to one side.

Or…perhaps not. Turning, Kama found no other figures in sight.

It was just him and her, then.

The hole was a mere twenty metres away, and Kama’s lungs were starting to burn. The body’s panic mechanisms were kicking in, pressing him to surface. To breathe. But that changed nothing. He just had to keep going.

Kick. Reach. Pull. Kick. Reach. Pull.

Slowly, gradually, he began to gain on the grey-haired woman, whose feet were in line with his head, then his shoulders, then his navel…

Fifteen meters. Ten meters.

The glowing orb vanished through the hole and just as Kama felt himself coming into line with his competitor, the grey-haired woman grabbed a nearby pinnacle and surged ahead, at which point a carefully aimed kick met Kama right in the jaw.

With a muffled yelp, Kama let loose a burst of breath and saw the woman turn back with a somewhat satisfied smirk as-

– THUNK –

She collided headfirst into the rock face, the current having pushed her away from the opening.

As she crumpled and a dazed flurry of bubbles rose up around her, Kama almost stopped to check if she was alright, but now felt the current changing again…sucking him towards that hole in the rocks. And soon it was useless to fight against it.

His lungs were burning. So much precious oxygen had been released at the blow that even if he made it inside, there was little chance he’d find air…but there was no choice and gripping the rocky walls he gave himself one last surge of motion and powered into the opening.

• • •

Kama wasn’t sure what had happened.

After that last burst of effort, he’d experienced a brief surge of dizziness and his vision had clouded. Then, a lightness had taken hold. A weightlessness.

And now? Now, he was kneeling on damp, cold rock, the echo of dripping water filling his ears.

Desperately, he drew in a lungful of air, feeling his limbs hum from near exhaustion and stars prick across his vision.

He could breathe again! He was alive but…where was he? And why did he have a prickling sense that the challenge had not ended. That it had not really begun, yet?

Around him was a vast cavern whose lofty ceiling was festooned with giant pinnacles like inverted waves. It was from these that water steadily dripped, filling rockpools on the ground while small spears of sunlight gave enough light to see.

Cautiously, Kama got to his feet, feeling the sharp sea-stone under his bare soles and noticing that a strange smell filled the air. The strong scent of brine and…what was that? Seabird poop?

That’s when he saw the eyes.

They peered at him from the rockpool nearby, orange, luminous, and clustered like fireflies in the darkness. He started at the sight and stepped backwards only for the eyes to move across the surface. Reflections only, it seemed. Eyes without an owner. But they were disconcerting. Hostile. Calculating. And when Kama stepped towards them again, and the eyes continued to track him.

“Kama…”

The voice was familiar, but foreign, and though it held the same cold, misty quality as the herald’s, it now sounded male.

“I’m here,” Kama replied, reaching inward and summoning some confidence. “I have come to do battle.”

No response. The eyes watched him, still.

“Did you not hear?” Kama said more firmly. “I am here to do battle. But I cannot fight if you do not show yourself!”

At that, the eyes faded away and that familiar blue luminance rose up from the rockpool, stretching and shaping itself into human form.

But in keeping with the voice, this time it resembled a man, wiry and short.

“And how would you like me to show myself?” this luminous figure asked. “In the form of the meek and humble? Or an adversary worthy of fear?” The man’s average proportions stretched and bulged into a hulking brute who towered over Kama, the Ayuku barely stopping himself from stepping backwards at the sight. But once more, he clenched his jaw and stood fast.

“Or does danger take another form?” In a flash, the hulking man whirled into a slender, curvy body, long haired and full-bosomed, who stood gazing at the prince with an almost shy expression.

Kama’s heart thumped.

“Stop…” he said. “I’m not here to play games. Take your true form and speak to me then.”

“Ah.” The luminous woman said, her form dissolving into a ball of light again. “My true form…but this request is akin to asking the wind to dress itself.”

“What do you mean?”

The ball seemed to observe him as it circled.

“What is the true form of the wind?” it replied simply. “I am an entity held in place by the desire of the cosmos. A memory. A patchwork of past lives clinging together like magnetic dust…”

Kama stared at the glowing ball as it slowly neared him, every muscle tensed, sweat forming on his brow.

If he were attacked by light itself, how would he defend himself? How could he strike back? Would his dagger inflict any wound?

“Yet despite that, you can shape yourself into various forms at will, as you have demonstrated,” Kama thought aloud. “Surely you have a preferred shape?”

“The shape I take depends on who observes me. I reflect that which they desire to see…even if they do not recognise that desire.”

Kama realising something, then. That if this entity was the Sea-Bane…he had just discovered the reason why nobody had a clear answer about its appearance. Why there was no record or story describing as much.

“And as to your existence…” Kama began again, “you say you are a memory…a patchwork. If that is the case, then are you a ghost? Some kind of spirit? How do you survive?”

Again, there was a short silence.

“That is difficult to answer.”

“But you are alive?”

“Yes. In a fashion.”

Kama hesitated. “In that case, I must challenge you to combat. I do not know how I can win, but my duty is to fight and protect my island. To bring honour to Magoku. So let us be on with it. I ask you to be honourable and take a form appropriate for battle.”

A cold wind blew through the cavern.

“Your duty is not to battle me, Kama.”

Kama swallowed, then clenched his teeth, trying to draw himself up. “I have told you that is my purpose,” he said. “It is why I have come. Why else would you have brought me here?”

“Do you know what the word ‘Ayuku’ means in the ancient tongues of Paeri?”

“Warrior. Champion.”

Again, that wind blew, ruffling Kama’s hair.

“No. It means ‘offering’,” the voice replied. “You are not here to battle me, Kama. And if you tried, you would lose. Like a sand-figure before a crashing wave, I could destroy you with a single thought.”

Kama was panting for some reason, his heart pounding harder than it had during the swim. Apparently, the anticipation of the moment and the inability to act upon it had steadily been winding up some tight coil inside him.

But that coil was going to be released now. It had to be, no matter the outcome.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Kama summoned his resolve and reached for his dagger — but even as he unsheathed it, another, powerful gust blasted him clear off his feet.

He hit the ground two metres away with a heavy grunt, the blade spinning across the stone floor as the ball of light once more took human form, this time a young man similar in age to Kama, though shorter and squatter, with a bulbous nose and thick curly hair.

“You asked how I survive,” the luminous young man asked, walking over casually and taking up the blade to examine it. “I survive because Ayuku like yourself come to visit once every ninety years. Because they give themselves over to me. Because they sate my hunger.”

“That…that cannot be.” Kama stood, brushing his bleeding palm on his leg.

“It began many, many centuries ago. When the tribes were new,” the stranger went on. “When a foolish, selfish fisherman betrayed his people. When he lured his chief into the sea and into an unjust death, and an ancient, sacred charge was delivered into enemy hands.”

“What? Why?” Kama asked, gaze fixed upon the young man.

“Why? Because humans are cowardly. Because they are treacherous, and selfish.”

“I don’t understand. What does this have to do with you or I?”

The luminous young man paced a ways into the cavern and paused, staring at the stalactite-covered ceiling, still fingering the dagger he held. “It has everything to do with you and I. You see, I am that fisherman. Or, was. I betrayed my chief. My people. And because of this, I was cursed. Cursed to dwell in the deep like his cold, dead corpse did. To hunger like my people would when the fishing grounds I had traded away led to famine…to never know warmth again.”

The spectral man took a slow breath — though Kama didn’t know why such a being needed to breathe — before turned to eye Kama again.

“And it has to do with you, because there is only one way out of this now,” he went on. “It is simple enough. You will give yourself over. It is better for both of us if you relent of your own accord. Then, we will feel no more hunger for another ninety years, and slumber once more.” He tilted his head. “Or, you can try to flee, or resist, or kill yourself, as others have. But do this and I will have no choice but to hunt down your tribe and consume every last soul. I would enjoy this, for I know they will taste more sweet and satisfying than any tribe I have yet devoured…”

Kama’s eyes were wide. “The champions that fail…their tribes are not destroyed, but consumed?”

“Mmm. It is necessary when a champion dies. You Ayuku are different, you see. You have a spark within you that sates me. A spark which not even a dozen others can furnish. And I tell you now that if I begin feeding on them, a frenzy will ensue which I cannot contest…”

Kama turned one of his hands before himself, looking at his flesh, the joints of his fingers, the fine hairs, the veins and the warm blood within. All at once and in the face of this horrible prospect, a recognition of his own, delicate vitality coursed through him, stronger than ever before. Because now that he was being asked to give it all up — all that effort and time, even his own humanity — in order to save his people, he realised how precious it was.

Could he make this sacrifice?

With some surprise, just as it had done on the prow of the Paliya, the answer came to him at once.

Of course he would. There was no question about it. It was his purpose. And he had made a promise…

Aji.

Like a great wave, that certainty was crushed down as thoughts of his wife, partner, and friend flooded his mind. He caught her scent and felt her hands in his. Heard the soft breaths she made as she lay beside him in bed.

And what of his child? He was going to be a father…

“I-…” he felt his mouth moving, words forming against his better judgement.

“I can’t.”

The cavern rumbled, sending small stones clattering to the ground around him.

“Is that your decision?” the spectral man asked. “You choose to deny me?”

Gritting his teeth and shaking, Kama forced thoughts of Aji and his unborn baby aside.

“Don’t be a fool,” he muttered to himself, grasping for logic. “The tribe is worth more than any one person. Than any three people.” It was the truth, and he knew it. “If giving myself up saves them, then-…then what choice do I really have?”

“You still have a choice. And you should know that, either way, they will never discover the truth. And yet, if you make the right choice, they will survive. Your child will grow up fatherless, but he will grow up. Your wife will be alone, but she will live. And you will continue to exist as well. A part of something greater. Perhaps the hunger will not drive you mad, as it has others…”

Kama found himself breathing through his teeth. This was not at all what he had prepared for. Not what being an Ayuku was supposed to be about. And how could Orellan not have known about this?

Or…had he?

With discomfiting sharpness, memories flashed to mind. Of times when the Shaman had told Kama to go and be with those he loved, instead of training. When he had warned that a champion must be prepared to give everything up. When his stern gaze cracked and sadness had shone through. These were times, Kama realised, when the Shaman must have been regretting his role in all this. When he was biting back the truth of it all.

Indeed, while Orellan often said that some champions triumph, he had never done so with a smile.

Because champions who succeeded did not survive.

Kama was not resentful. Clearly, Orellan was simply doing what he had to do, to ensure the survival of their tribe.

Even so…how could anyone march boldly and knowingly ahead towards their own destruction?

“Come.” The spectral form dissolved once more into a ball, then sank into the rockpool again.

The eyes reappeared. Numerous, orange eyes, each pair beckoning him to step into the water. And now as Kama gazed at them, each seemed to tell a different story.

He met them, one after another — a brother, a widow, a priestess, a hunter — seeing faces from the past and lives, given up. Lives which now existed somehow as one. All dwelling here, in this place. Desperate and hungry and cold.

Could he endure such an existence? Would ‘young trader’ be the next story the watery eyes would tell? Would his be the next to gaze up at a champion who arrived to became another unwitting ‘offering’ to this ancient, odious curse?

“The curse…” he then muttered, and the eyes in the rockpool narrowed. “You mentioned that my people would taste more sweet and satisfying than other tribes. Why?”

There was a rumble, as if another patient breath were being taken. “Because your tribe is the beneficiary of the ancient crime, young Ayuku. Your kinsmen benefit still from the grounds which I, in my treachery, gave up.”

“We are the beneficiaries,” Kama uttered.

“Yes. The people of Magoku knew of my plot. They were complicit. And now, our discussion is at an end. Make your choice. Spare them by giving yourself over, or cleave to life and doom them to destruction.”

Kama hesitated, those eyes fixating on him with a kind of barely-contained, aching need. “What if I did neither?” he said. “What if we could fix this? You say you are trapped, stuck down here, waiting to consume your former people? Well, what if I could free you? What if your curse could be broken?”

A hiss of steam erupted angrily from some of the rocky protrusions around the cavern.

“If a curse is levelled,” Kama went on, “it must by possible to undo it. Orellan will know…let me go to him! If he fails, or if there truly is no way, then I promise I will return and give myself over to you. But if there is a chance…surely, you do not wish to wait another ninety years? Possibly forever? Surely, you would rather have an end to this torment? And surely the people of these islands deserve to live in peace?”

The cavern rumbled, this time more violently, and rocks showered down around Kama.

“Then, that glowing form emerged from the rockpool once again. This time, it took the form of an older woman.

“This reeks of deception…” she said, eyes narrowed. And yet, Kama also saw a flicker of something else there.

Was it hope?

“I can do it,” the young man insisted. “I can break the curse. Give me seven days.”

The rumbling grew stronger, still, water splashing against the sides of the rockpool.

Then, slowly, the dank gallery was becalmed.

“Two…” the woman replied. “You have two days. And if you fail or do not return by sunrise on the second day, I will destroy Paeri completely. I will ravage every island between here and there, and lay a trail of destruction so vast, this archipelago will take a thousand years to recover…”

Kama’s heard was thudding.

“I understand,” he said. And as if a blanket had been tossed over him, he was at once enveloped in darkness and there was a great lurch.

Then…cold, surging water around him! And he had no air! He was drowning!

Gasping, he watched the bubbles trailing away and followed their trajectory, kicking and paddling until with a final, desperate groan, he burst free of the water and filled his lungs.

He was outside Tempest Rock again, a hundred metres from his boat. The sun was going down and it appeared that most of the foreign vessels had already sailed for home, but the Paliya and two others were still anchored.

Swimming over to it, Kama began to hear voices, and soon a rope was tossed down and he’d been hauled up onto the deck, where the crew gaped at him.

“Kama? You’re-…alive!” Umman uttered somewhat breathlessly, stepping out of the crowd. His eyes were red, and he helped Kama to his feet with visible shock.

Kama nodded, still catching his breath as someone handed him a blanket.

“Did you kill it?” another crewman asked.

Kama didn’t answer.

“When the others came back and you didn’t,” Umman began again, “we knew you’d been chosen. But hours went by and nothing happened, and we were starting to think that you…that maybe the Sea-Bane…”

The crew were all clustered into a tight group now, trying to get a look at him.

Then, everyone talked at once.

“How big was it?”

“What did it look like?”

“Was there treasure?”

“Where does it live?”

“Forget all that!” a gruff sailor called out, halting the onslaught. “Answer the most important question…did you kill it?”

Kama met their eyes as silence filled the deck, and shook his head.

“You fled…” the captain then ventured.

It was not a question.

“Not exactly,” Kama replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s…not some mindless beast. The Sea-Bane is ancient and…intelligent. And we spoke.”

“You what?”

“We spoke. And it told me that if-…that I had to-…” he shook his head, unable to make this comprehensible and trying to beat back a sense of dread which grew worse every moment they stayed there. “Listen, I know this is confusing. I’ll tell you everything on the way, but we have to return to Magoku. I need to speak to Orellan and there isn’t much time.”

“Hold on. Not so fast,” the captain said. “You’re not the one giving orders around here. What are you trying to pull? The Sea-Bane is intelligent, you say? You spoke to it? Come, lad. You can’t expect us to believe that-”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe!” Kama snapped, then winced.“Forgive me, captain. That was out of order. But you must listen, I’ve made a promise and if I don’t make good on it, Magoku-…not just Magoku, all the islands of Paeri itself are going to be destroyed.”

The captain eyed him. “Destroyed? All the islands, you say?”

“Yes. In two days, like all the stories warn. But we have a chance to stop it.”

The captain didn’t move but for a subtle clenching of his white-bearded jaw, as a wind blew over the deck.

“If you’re lying, I’ll string you up on the dock back home and let the birds peck you to pieces like a dirty pirate. You know that, right?”

“I’m speaking the truth.”

The captain’s eyes did one last pass of Kama’s face, trying to bore into the young man’s soul, it seemed.

Then, he gave a slow nod. “It’s as you said, then, I suppose we haven’t much time. And who am I to question the sea and her mysteries, after all? She reveals them only to those of her choosing…” He then took a deep breath. “Righto, lads. Let’s make ready to cast off. We need to get this Ayuku back home.”

That was all it took.

The deck became a whirl of activity as Kama helped with the preparations. And when at last the anchors were hoisted and the rigging set, he caught the captain’s eye and nodded his thanks, hoping this wouldn’t all be for nothing.

• • •

The journey was swift, but Kama spent much of it fighting down a gnawing fear which had nothing to do with the sea’s menaces nor the precious time they were losing.

It left him briefly as they lay at anchor in a small cove that night and the crew had demanded to know his story. A story into which he could have tucked select information while leaving certain other points tactfully aside.

The crew didn’t need to know that he could have given himself up for them and granted the islands another ninety years of peace, for example. They didn’t need to know that the entire mythos and culture around the Ayuku was a lie. That their champions were not actually noble warriors, but glorified hook-bait. Nor that perhaps Kama had mistaken desperation and selfishness for courage, drawn to thoughts of his wife and child instead of duty.

But he told them anyway. Everything that had happened. Everything he knew, figuring it was better for it to come from his own mouth rather than take form through rumour and gossip.

Reactions were predictable. Many nodded sympathetically or at least warily. Others looked dumbstruck, and a few eyes glowed with accusation and aggression.

Things nearly came to blows when one grizzled older crew member stated that it was unfair for Kama to decide the fate of their whole island. That he should be sent back to Tempest Rock. At this, Umman stood up and replied that the island had decided Kama’s fate — and the fate of his family — without qualms. Was it so unfair that he should use this chance to create a better outcome for the whole tribe — perhaps all the tribes — now that they knew the truth?

Kama had felt a glow of gratitude for his friend in that moment.

Yet things remained tense as they all lay to sleep, and did not improve much the whole way home the next day.

As Magoku hove into view, Kama felt that dread growing like the dry mountains ahead. And when they tied off in the harbour, his jaw actually hurt from clenching it so hard.

He couldn’t help it. He knew what was coming.

There was nobody waiting at the dock when they disembarked, for the Paliya had not announced its return. Between crates and barrels and heaps of coiled rope, merchants and fishermen and officials bustled about, an occasional citizen catching sight of the vessel and craning for a glimpse of a champion, but Kama had decided a ways from port to don simple sailor’s rags instead of his regalia and seeing nobody, the stickybeaks soon gave up.

Moving through the crowd, he wondered how often islands had celebrated the return of Ayuku only to be destroyed afterwards.

It was no wonder there was so much uncertainty around it all, when the return of a champion could mean anything from them not being chosen, to them having fled, to an Ayuku having triumphed against the beast — except of course that it wasn’t possible to believe that last one anymore-

“Kama?”

Jumping at the voice, Kama spun about, his eyes landing on the last person he wanted to see, right now. The source of the tension inside him.

“Father!”

“You are back?” Okkamoro asked, dropping a scroll he’d been reading into the hands of the harbourmaster, who spluttered as it unrolled onto the dock. “I…what does this mean? Is the challenge over? Why was I not informed of your return?”

Kama winced as he gave a small, respectful bow. “I have much to tell you, father. The voyage was…eventful. But I have an urgent errand to run before we get to that-”

Turning, Kama felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Kama. Look at me.”

The young man raised his gaze.

“Your errand will wait,” Okkamoro said. “Tell me of this eventful journey now. What happened?”

“It’s difficult. I don’t know where to begin.”

“Perhaps with why you were not chosen…”

“I was chosen. The envoy called us and I managed to complete the challenge. I saw the Sea-Bane with my own eyes.”

At that, Okkamoro’s eyes widened in amazement, a flicker of hope replacing his concern. “You did? But-…then everything is explained, and there is only one reason why you have returned. You have defeated it! My son has been victorious!”

Kama let out a small, frustrated huff, knowing he must forge ahead. “Father, you must know that the Ayuku-…the stories are wrong. We’re not supposed to kill it. In fact, there is no defeating the Sea-Bane. I spoke with it, and it told me so itself-”

“Stop.” The chief’s brow had furrowed, and he was shaking his head, as if the words were distasteful. “I am in no mood for your foolish jokes, Kama. Now, tell me plainly the nature of the battle and spare no detail.”

“That’s the difficult part.”

“Son of mine…” Okkamoro growled, before he noticed that others were pausing to listen to what appeared a tense conversation. “Come. We will go somewhere quiet. Then, you will explain.”

Kama couldn’t argue, and soon enough the pair had walked from the docks across the large lawn to Okkamoro’s audience hall, an imposing stone and wood structure reserved for official visits.

Once inside, the chief closed the large wooden doors behind them and Kama did try to explain, repeating the story and telling his father what he had seen and learned while the chief sat upon the dais, kneading his head with one hand.

“So,” he then said quietly when it was over. “I have the truth, at last.”

“Yes,” Kama said. “There it is.”

“I see why you hesitated to tell me. And I will not deny, your actions have injured me this day.”

“That was never my intent. But you see the opportunity before us, I hope? We have a chance to fix this.”

For a moment, Okkamoro stared at him. “Yes. Perhaps we do.”

Standing, the chief began to pace.

“Know that I am sorely tempted to order you to return to Tempest Rock and finish your task,” he said.

Kama straightened, but the chief continued.

“It would be the right thing to do. It would be the noble thing. But you say we have until sunrise tomorrow. That is your agreed-upon deadline?”

“Yes.”

“After which the beast will leave its den and come for us.”

“If we don’t manage to break the curse.”

Still pacing, Okkamoro lost himself in thought for a moment and Kama braced for the order to return to the boat, trying to think of a way he could convince his father that it was useless to go back.

“Very well,” Okkamoro then said. “Then there is only one option. We will end the curse.”

Kama looked up, his eyes widening.

Okkamoro nodded. “Despite your failure as an Ayuku, you have given us some critical information, Kama. And we will use it. I will call all the tribes together…something which has not been done since the days of the great wars.”

Kama’s smile faded. “What?”

“The beast has slumbered for ninety years,” the chief went on. “And it has not fed in that time. This tells me it is weak, so now is the time to strike. If we act quickly and summon a great enough force, we can do what you could not and defeat it once and for all, ending the curse.”

“But that’s not what-”

“This will be our path to redemption, Kama. Magoku will regain the glory you have lost us as we fight the greatest battle in our history. And you will stand at my side.”

“This cannot be your decision.”

As Kama uttered those words, his father turned with such fury in his eyes that the young man gasped, Yet Okkamoro did not upbraid Kama this time. Taking a breath through his twitching nose, he turned and marched down the stairs, calling for one of the guards from outside.

“Sentry!’

A man appeared at once.

“I need to send messengers to the tribes of Kinla, Samat, Binim, Bisara, Kimranda, and Toro tonight,” Okkamoro told him. “Fetch the postmaster and tell him to meet me at the villa.”

“Yes, chieftain.”

The guard nodded and Okkamoro watched him leave. Watched until he was out of sight.

Kama was still stunned, unable to speak. And might have been for the best because saying that his father had lost his mind would not have been helpful at that moment. But it was possible to turn this around. There had to be a way.

Then, almost at the door, the chief did suddenly turn around, holding up an arm to still his son mid-stride.

“You are staying here,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because you are a coward, Kama. A knave, who has brought dishonour upon my house. And I will not have you fleeing in the night and abandoning your date with destiny, tomorrow.”

“You cannot truly believe that I abandoned my task. Especially not after all I have been through.”

“After what you say you went through,” Okkamoro corrected. “I do not know what to believe, anymore. But do not dismay, nothing is impossible. You might restore some faith in me after tomorrow’s victory.”

Kama was about to reply when Okkamoro swung the door shut in his face, a deep reverberating boom echoing through the audience hall.

Grabbing the handle, Kama tried to open it but heard a bolt being drawn into place on the other side while Okkamoro’s muffled voice ordered the remaining guard to stand watch, and that the doors must remain closed until he ordered them open again.

Gritting his teeth, Kama kicked and pounded as the discussion went on. With a feral cry he even grabbed a nearby chair and cast it at the door. But the wood was too solid and soon, all was quiet again.

For a good while longer Kama searched for a way out, but the walls were solid stone and the windows, no more than vertical slits, through which the faint metallic pealing of a bell in the harbour floated. Laughter could be heard from a tavern beyond the garden. And as Kama listened, he knew he was not going anywhere until morning, just as his father had said.

• • •

Kama was roused from an uneasy sleep on the floor sometime later, where he lay on cushions he’d seized from his father’s chair up on the dais.

Outside, all was quiet except the chirping crickets and the occasional, dulcet bell from one of the boats rocking in the harbour. The sky was still dark but now and then, a call broke the silence. A bird, which had clearly become trapped somewhere in the building. Groggily, Kama roused himself to go and check it, stumbling towards one of the narrow, slotted windows near the back of the hall until-

“Psst!”

A harsh noise replaced the chirping, and kneeling down beside the slits in the stonework, Kama heard muttering from outside.

“Who’s there?” he whispered.

The answer came with no delay.

“Umman, you twit. Who else?”

“And Aji!” came another voice.

Kama’s face brightened and his heart leapt. “You two! You came to get me out!”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry friend, but no can do,” Umman replied. “These walls are too thick for me to blow down with even my strongest fart. Plus, your father has the place guarded up to wazoo.”

“Charming, Umman…” said Aji.

“We thought we’d come and keep you company for a while, though,” his friend went on.

Kama slouched down next to the wall, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. “I appreciate it. How did you know I was here?”

“We didn’t,” Umman said. “When you marched off with your father and I didn’t see you again, I thought something must have gone wrong. I asked around but nobody knew where you were, so I went to see Aji, and when she hadn’t seen you either I figured Okkamoro had taken you somewhere. You should see the bay, Kama. Ships have been arriving from other tribes all through the night. Apparently there’s a thousand warriors here already, all docked out there. And more are turning up all the time.”

Kama’s head fell into his hands. “*Ugh…*I guess I really am a sea-slug after all.”

“A what?” Umman said, and there was a hurried whisper before he added. “Oh. Hey now, this is not your fault. There’s no point arguing with Okkamoro once he gets an idea in his head. And you were trying to do the right thing.”

“Was I? Maybe I should have tried to fight the Sea-Bane back in that cave-”

“Don’t be stupid, Kama, you’d have died.” Aji protested. “Listen to me. Umman is right. What you did was all you could have done. You followed your heart, and nobody has any right to ask more of you than that. And by the way, we’re going to make good on your promise to the Sea-Bane.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Umman said. “Look, it’s not that we want to go against our chief’s orders, but seeing as he didn’t give us any, we brought someone else along…”

“Good evening, young Ayuku.”

An older, gravelled voice joined the conversation.

“Orellan?” Kama asked.

“Indeed. Your friend has related the tale to me and though it came as quite a shock, I see your dilemma and have come to speak this matter over with you directly.”

Kama felt a surge of warmth inside him. A flicker of hope.

“Wonderful! Then…here’s the thing. I didn’t tell the crew all the details, but from what I understood when the Sea-Bane spoke to me, this curse was levelled upon him because of an ancient agreement between two tribes. His…and ours.”

There was a short pause while Orellan muttered to himself, and Kama caught the words, “The Kabaka Waterfields Pact?”

“What was that? Is there a pact? Do you know of what I speak?”

“Well…” The shaman sounded unsure. “The sizeable fishing grounds Magoku exploits have been the breadbasket of our island for as long as we’ve existed. And the stories mention that it was bequeathed to us by an enemy tribe, long ago.” He gave a thoughtful hum. “It does fit. But Kama, you must understand that if this agreement really did physically exist, it was likely lost during the intervening years. It has been over a thousand years and any document that old is likely to have degraded…”

Kama took a moment to digest that. “Are you sure? Can you check the archives? Aren’t there record-halls in the mountain temple?”

“There are. But in all my years I have never seen anything pertaining to fishing grounds or any such agreement.” The sound of a nightbird flying overhead punctuated the following silence.

“You’re saying there’s no way to break the curse…” Kama said.

“If the agreement existed and if we had access to it, then perhaps I could be of some help. As it is, however…”

Kama’s heart had been beating strongly until then. Suddenly, it felt as if a cold hand had wrapped around it. As if his last hope had been snatched away.

“I see,” he said. “Well, then there really is no choice. It’s going to come for us.”

Kama heard Orellan’s grunt of resignation. “I am truly sorry, young Ayuku. I fear I will be of no more use to you, now, except for offering my spiritual support for the road ahead, as ever.”

“I appreciate that, Shaman. I’ll need it,” Kama replied.

The rustling of bushes then told Kama Orellan was leaving.

“And I’m no Ayuku…” he added.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Umman said. A familiar, quiet – PLUP! – then drifted through the window slots before the young sailor’s hand appeared holding a small cup. “I brought this in case of bad news. Now, come on shit-head. If this is our last night together, let’s enjoy it.”

“Great tempest…” Kama uttered, the sting of sailor’s grog hitting his nose like a mallet. But feeling there was no point in turning down such a noble and valiant request, he took the cup and the pair of them drank together through the window far into the night, Aji stoking the conversation and supplying the occasional quiet song until eventually, they all fell asleep.

• • •

It was a few hours later on the cusp of sunrise, when the doors of the audience hall swung open with a cavernous boom, but Kama had been waiting for them.

He was alone, having sent Aji and Umman off hours ago to get some sleep and prepare themselves for whatever lay ahead, and now that he heard the commotion outside he felt vindicated.

A clamour filled the harbour. Drums, horns, and yells punctuating the deep murmur of an army preparing for action.

“Prince Kama,” a guard said, leading a small group of servants into the audience hall. “Our chief has requested that you dress and equip yourself and meet him on the beach in twenty minutes.”

Kama wandered over to the piles of clothing and armour the servants had set down.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “He’s sent the wrong wear.”

The guard took an awkward breath before his partner replied, “Our chief said that as you are…no longer an Ayuku, you will clad yourself accordingly. In standard warrior uniform.”

Kama eyed the pair for a moment, and the men shifted slightly where they stood.

Ignoring the sting to his pride, Kama then fitted himself with the simple tunic, light armour, and weapons. He did so under the guards’ watchful gaze, the men lingering patiently before escorting him out of the hall, across the gardens to the docks and the beach beyond.

The whole way, Kama tried not to allow his cheeks to redden as people glanced at him with surprise or raised their eyebrows in confusion. Since proving himself as a child, he had worn the trappings of a champion his entire life. Such was the way with Ayuku and though stifling at times, he’d grown used to the bark pauldrons and leg guards, the chest plate and on formal occasions, his plumed helmet — the regalia people were used to seeing him in.

Now, he felt awkward. Off-balance. Stupid.

But there was no use in allowing vanity to erode his confidence any further, and he reminded himself that there were far worse things to worry about than his pride, today.

Laal harbour looked unrecognisable as the escort led him through a bustle of newly arrived warriors, their foreign outfits marking them as belonging to one tribe or another.

Some had painted faces and tattoos — both practises which Magoku had never taken up — as well as extravagantly coloured fabrics and armour. Another tribe was clad entirely in shell-plate — the efficacy of which Kama could not determine. But all were being ordered about with a sense of urgency by their unit leaders, tromping steadily towards the rise at the end of the harbour which led to the beach beyond.

Cresting that rise, Kama now stopped in place, his eyes widening.

As a youth, he would come to the beach twice a year at dawn to watch the crab-hatchlings emerge from the sand and scuttle into the water, and this memory was forced to the surface at the sight of the army filling the long, wide, white-stretch now. Perhaps eight thousand strong, all slowly assuming formation.

The visual was made even more impressive by the flotilla in the shallow sea, where hundreds of boats of different sizes and shapes flew patterned sails and bobbed in the aqua water. On the hills above the beach — now appearing to glow in the pink light of the rising sun — ballistas and catapults had been set on every advantageous outcrop and plane.

At no other time in Kama’s life had the tribes come together like this. Not during the greatest celebrations, nor during the ancestral memorial days, and it struck him then how terrible this would all be if he’d been wrong. If he’d misunderstood and somehow all of this was for nothing. What if the Sea-Bane never arrived? What if it waited a week?

Down into the mass they walked, through rank and file, passing tribe after tribe until at last they reached the centre of the assembled forces where Okkarmoro stood, dictating orders to a small group of legates. The escort waited until his business was concluded before ushering Kama forwards.

“Ah, you’re here,” the chief growled, not bothering to look up from a piece of parchment he held. “Form rank at once. I am placing you in the spearhead where I can keep an eye on you.”

Kama took a stiff breath. “Understood.”

“It brings me no pleasure to do this. But I can no longer trust you, and it would be unfortunate if you missed the battle because some pressing matter drew you elsewhere…”

“I am not going anywhere.” Kama replied. “It is my duty to protect this island.”

“Was,” Okkamoro corrected. “It was your duty. Now, it is mine. Go. I have men watching you.”

Kama nodded as the sun broke above the ocean to bathe them all in warm light, and he was just about to turn and leave when a powerful sensation seized him. A sensation like falling that caused him to stumble and collide with a warrior nearby.

In his mind, Kama could *feel it…*a presence, looming like some dark shadow over his thoughts, pushing forth, driving the ocean apart as it sped through the depths, ravening and furious.

Clutching his head, he doubled over.

“Prince Kama?” one of the men asked.

“It’s coming,” he uttered, blinked to try and dispel the sensation.

“What? What are you doing?” Okkamoro snapped, grabbing Kama’s arm to pull him up. “No…stop this! I will not have you playing sick or lame. On your feet!”

“The Sea-Bane is coming,” Kama replied, still reeling and blinking as he regained balance. “The hunger has taken its sense. I can feel it…father…we should withdraw. Find high-ground…”

Okkomoro then lowered his voice to a rasping growl. “I will not have you lowering morale. Stop this at once.”

“It’s going to bring a wave. It’s going to flood the beach-”

“Men!” Okkamoro barked to the two soldiers. “Escort this warrior to the spearhead at once. Make sure he fights! GO.”

Kama felt himself being seized and dragged off through the crowd, men staring at him with mingled confusion, fascination, and disgust, but he was too busy clutching his head.

Somehow, impossibly, he could feel the Sea-Bane, and the beast was moving unnaturally fast. At this rate it would be here in a matter of minutes, and Kama had not been dissembling when he said that the hunger had taken its sense. A hysterical, aching need was indeed driving this rage…but more than that. Betrayal. Within each second it drew nearer, a wretched, morose sense of shattered hope filled Kama’s mind.

He had to block it out. He couldn’t do anything in this state. And it took all his effort to rend his focus from the sensations inside him. To turn them without and feel the sand under his feet. The wind on his skin. To hear the nearby voices in his ears.

They reached the front line and breaking away from the men’s grip, Kama stood on his own and turned about, realising that the army was not prepared for this. No island, no army could be prepared for this, and there was no time to change that.

No time, indeed, for even as he stood gazing about, a rumble began to reverberate across the beach. Two minutes and it had grown so loud that the army fell quiet, all eyes turning to the sea as the water in the bay began to recede, uncovering coral, stone, rock-pool and sand as it drew away from Magoku’s coast.

It was another minute before a shape appeared on the horizon. A bulge in the ocean itself, as if the water were forming itself into a low mountain.

From either side of Kama, chieftains and commanders began to bark orders. Yelling to form ranks. To stand firm. To ready weapons and hold the line.

Kama felt the soles of his feet sinking into the sand as the rumble grew stronger, that mound in the water growing larger still.

Then, for a horrible second, everything went still. The wind died, the rumble seemed to abate, and a lonely birdcall filled the beach.

In that stillness, every person seemed to hold their breath.

Then, the sea burst open, an enormous form larger than the settlement of Laal itself erupting from the deep water, its translucent skin dark green, its arms long and numbering in the dozens, its smattering of eyes orange, luminous.

All cries of command were lost in the rumble of the wave which thundered back across the reef as a tsunami four-men tall, wiping every ship in the bay away like leaves in the wind before it met the sand.

Kama watched it coming, realised there was no chance to stand against it, and sheathed his dagger. As the wave reached the shore, he tensed and dove headfirst into the wall of water, men to his left and right hit head-on and smashed backwards into their tribesmen or ground into the sand.

Kama tumbled. The world was a whirling mess of muffled noise and forces which ripped him this way and that. At one point, his head hit something hard and the breath was knocked out of him. Then, he was swimming, kicking, paddling, unsure where he was heading but knowing he needed air.

It seemed like minutes before his head broke the surface, his lungs burning, to hear the deafening noise of panic and battle and fear in every direction.

He was near the grassy bluff at the top of the beach, having been washed thirty metres uphill. Struggling to his feet, the waist-deep water all around then began sweeping back out to sea, bodies by the hundreds dragged with it. From the palm forest behind the beach down across the sand, they came.

Kama still hadn’t caught his breath when a wide-eyed, lifeless body in foreign armour snagged on his dagger belt and dragged him down into the cold turbulent mass again.

Rocks clipped his skull and the rough, stony sand filled his mouth, and Kama knew the reef was ahead.

Struggling, desperate, he managed to manoeuvre the body underneath him and stole a quick breath from the surface. Then, water filled his nose and mouth again, and his eyes were filled with stinging with sand and salt.

He succeeded in prying himself free just before the water swept across the forest of coral, managing to dig his hands and feet into the sand and hold fast as the surge abated.

Panting, he then drew himself slowly to his feet and wiped the blood from his forehead. Other bodies were still rolling past as water drained off, but he had to take stock of the situation.

How bad had the damage been?

Above, ballistas and catapults on the hillside had begun launching spears and boulders, the projectiles sailing over Kama’s head. In the forest above the beach, all rank and file had given way to chaos, the tribes mixed and mingled and yelling and running in a great, seething mass here and there.

Turning back to the white stretch where he stood, Kama saw that he was one of the only people left alive. Him, standing amidst a mass of death.

But this solitude didn’t last long.

From the water, a bubbling turbulence now signalled the arrival of something new and then small, translucent forms began bursting from the shallows. Creatures, the likes of which Kama had never seen, with jelly-like arms and legs that flailed as they hopped about, and heads made of undulating feelers which lashed this way and that with a decidedly menacing air.

As these creatures waded amongst the mass of floating bodies, they bent down and Kama watched in shock as the feelers latched onto the fallen warriors.

Quickly, the prey dissolved to leave only soaked clothing behind.

“They’re feeding…” he uttered, watching as the watery denizens glowed at each catch, sweeping through the shallows and cleaning up the water as they made towards the shore.

And beyond the shallows, that massive form still loomed in the deep water, its glowing eyes seeming to brighten with each body its minions consumed, its long, flailing limbs knocking boulders and spears away as they the armies on shore tried to make a dent.

The weapons were doing nothing, Kama saw. They were merely aggravating the Sea-Bane. Neither boulder nor spear made purchase.

Slowly, steadily, the beast was edging towards the shore, too, its gaze sweeping with a kind of cold yearning over the thousands of warriors running about.

A noise nearby made Kama start and he realised that a group of watery creatures with their anemone-like heads were getting dangerously close.

Leaping from the shallows to the sand like frogs, they covered a good metre or two with each bound.

“PELUPP!”

A wet call and an equally wet – PLAGAT! – and suddenly Kama was standing beside one, which bent backwards — readying to swing those feelers at him.

His dagger was not going to give him adequate reach, so Kama leapt away as the creature swung forwards, its tendrils slapping the now vacant sand.

The creature re-oriented to strike again just as Kama plucked a fallen spear from the sand and spun.

The first slash missed, and the creature leapt forwards. Kama was forced to dodge aside again but using the moment in which it tried to recover, made another attempt.

This time it was a direct hit.

The top of the creature’s head along that plume of tendrils slid from its body and as it all hit the sand, it dissolved in a splash. A second later the body collapsed in the same way and soaked into the sand.

Almost as if they were made of water, Kama thought. As if they had been conjured from the sea-itself.

Two more creatures leapt towards him from the shallows.

Knowing they could be destroyed, Kama fought with more confidence now but knew that the fight couldn’t go on for long. Dozens of creatures were emerging from the water every moment and though the young man slashed and struck and dodged and creatures dissolved around him, he would soon be overwhelmed. And of course, if even one of these creatures succeeded in hitting him with those tendrils of theirs…

“FORWARDS!”

A call rang out from behind him, the warriors having recovered and regrouped after the wave, and now they charged towards the water. By the hundreds they ran, attacking with fury and driving the hopping, leaping front of water-creatures backwards alongside Kama.

For a minute, the progress was swift, the creatures falling in the hundreds. But of course, Kama knew it could not be that easy.

With a bellow and a flash of its monstrous eyes, the Sea-Bane seemed to respond and the water bubbled again, this time creatures twice the size leaping onto the shore.

Kama stumbled at the sight of them — giant, faceless snakes, adorned once again with plumes of anemome-like tendrils but this time also with horrid, thin arms with which they were now flinging sand and rocks about.

He ducked as a shower of coral rained down and cut into his skin, and grabbed the chest-plate of a recently dissolved warrior to use as a shield just as a shower of rocks followed.

A few metres along the beach, a young warrior half Kama’s age ran into the fray, urged on by his chieftain. The youth did as commanded but looked horrified as one of the snake-creatures slid over to him and reared up.

Drawing his short spear, the boy held it with wide eyes and shaking hands, all sense seeming to have drained from him.

Clearly this was the kid’s first moment on the battlefield, and Kama did not want him fighting alone.

In a swift movement, the prince sliced a snake in two and flung his shield at the next approaching creature. The shield tore through its middle and using the momentary lull, Kama sprinted towards the boy.

But he was too late. Paralysed with fear, the young man didn’t dodge as the snake flopped forwards and those tendrils covered his head.

Kama watched as the youth dissolved away, his clothes crumpling to the ground, and the prince’s dash came to a slow halt.

“No…” A pained groan escaped his lips as he realised the futility of the situation. As all at once, the future rolled out before him, clear as daylight.

The Sea-Bane would not tire. It would gain strength as the human forces failed, and would simply continue to call forth these creatures until everyone on the island was gone.

Fighting really was futile. And Kama hated himself for doing so, anyway. This was not his task, after all. He had promised the creature he would find a way to end the curse, not do battle against it.

But as long as that ancient chief’s words remained in effect and that curse was active-

*Those ancient chief’s words…*Kama repeated to himself, eyes widening.

Was that the solution? Could he have just found the way out of this?

“FORWARDS!” a rough voice called again from behind him, and Kama spun to see his father leading a group of twenty men charging down the beach.

Perfect. It was now or never, then.

Dashing over, Kama entered friendly ranks just as they met the enemy, and suddenly everything was a whirl of spears and blades and bodies, a man dissolving beside him as Kama spun to slice another beast through.

Water splashed, sand stung, tendrils whipped. And within this storm of motion, Kama reached his father’s side and together they attacked as one, destroying a cluster of creatures one after another.

Mid-slash, Kama also noticed that other kinds of creatures had emerged from the water now. Giant, translucent sea-stars that wheeled about, ripping across the beach to collide with warriors, at which they extended those feelers to absorb their prey. There were hideous crustaceans, too, which scuttled on their tiny appendages and raced through the human ranks, devouring anyone they met.

“Father,” Kama said as calmly as he could between strikes. “We cannot go on like this. The Sea-Bane will continue summoning its minions. It will not stop.”

Okkamoro didn’t answer.

“Defeating it by force is impossible. But there is a way…”

Okkamoro pretended not to hear, leaping towards one of the sea-stars and roaring as he clove it in two with his axe.

“You can end this,” Kama tried again, stepping over in pursuit and hacking two smaller creatures apart, then spinning to strike a snake as it lunged at them. He ripped it open down the centre and water cascaded onto the beach, splashing the pair of them.

Kama knew his father was watching. He knew that Okkamoro was impressed. And though neither man would ever have said so aloud, it was obvious that Kama was the best fighter on the island. His technique had been forged over a lifetime and honed with endless practice and surpassed even Okkamoro’s.

Strangely, Okkamoro had never watched him fight before. But now, his eyes were following Kama’s every movement.

“Have someone fetch Orellan,” Kama told him, dodging another snake and taking off its head as two thick, translucent cords whipped forwards and missed him by a hair.

“And how would that help?” the chief answered.

“The ancient agreement was created by the chief of Magoku. If you agree to undo it, I believe the beast will cease to exist. Orellan can create it, and you only need to ratify it.”

There was a brief lull in the fighting, and standing there amidst the chaos in a circle of quiet, Okkamoro now eyed his son.

“Father, it might be the only way to save us. Once and for all. And what is the alternative? Look around and see. We are losing…”

The chieftain of Magoku did as his son suggested, a strange look in his eyes.

Okkamoro observed the warriors from his tribe and others hacking and slicing the invading creatures apart, only to be dissolved into nothingness in turn. It looked bad, but never in Kama’s life had he managed to sway his father through appeals or persuasion. If it happened now, it would be a miracle.

“You’re right,” Okkamoro then said, and Kama braced for the inevitable ‘but’.

“We are losing,” the chief went on. And for a moment, the two of them simply stood there, Kama not knowing what to say and unwilling to ruin this.

“Somehow, I knew you were right,” Okkamoro told him, “even as you told me your tale yesterday. There has never been an island which has survived the arrival of the Sea-Bane. And now we know why.”

“Because this creature does not truly exist…” Kama said. “It is a ghost. A memory of that ancient wrong, which feeds on life to sustain itself. It doesn’t matter if we fight, for it cannot die.”

Okkamoro nodded, and put a hand on Kama’s shoulder. “Then, there is only one path.”

Kama felt a small spark of hope.

“We are the most powerful tribe this end of Paeri. And that power is drawn from that agreement, Kama. From the fishing grounds which are the reason for Magoku’s prestige. For the life you and I live. I will press on with honour and glory to the bitter end, rather than give that up. And you will fight with me.”

The spark vanished, Kama letting out a small groan as Okkamoro gripped his shoulder harder.

“Kama…” he said. “Fight with me.”

It was the first time in his life that Kama had seen pain in his father’s expression. A desperate, pleading pain from somewhere deep within.

Reaching up, the prince of Magoku took his father's wrist and tried to lift the hand off.

But the old man was remarkably strong, and his grip didn’t budge.

“I order you to fight with me.” Okkamoro said through his teeth.

Kama said nothing.

“That was an order. You will fight on beside me. Deny your chieftain, refuse to join me and here is the result…you will no longer be my son.”

Kama gave a disbelieving huff, and pulled himself free of his father’s grip at last.

Okkamoro’s eyes twitched. Then, he spun and leapt back into the fray, hacking through the creatures which had crept up on them.

“You could have fixed this…” Kama uttered helplessly, distraught, watching as his chief ploughed through the mass ahead with a bestial rage, crying out and whirling his axe with a fury Kama had never seen before.

By now, the Sea-Bane had reached the water’s edge and looming above the tiny army fighting below, it began to flail its own enormous tendrils about.

– KABUSHH! –

A pair hit the beach with such force that the sand leapt and Kama felt himself lurch in place.

“FOR MAGOKU! FOR HONOUR!” his father cried up ahead and, reaching the nearest tendril, leapt with surprising dexterity to land on one of the green translucent extensions, where he dug his axe in deeply.

The tendril then rose again, Okkamoro rising with it, and only then Kama see his father’s plan.

Okkamoro was going to attack the beast’s core — its head and eyes…the place Kama had not dreamed anyone could reach. And that tendril would deliver him to the perfect spot.

With a triumphant cry, Okkamoro was lifted above the army on the beach, up, up towards the beast’s face and those luminous eyes, Kama watching with eyes wide.

Then, in a single, casual motion, the Sea-Bane shook the tendril and Okkamoro came loose, falling into its colossal open beak and disappearing from sight.

The great beast’s eyes flashed brightly and it released a bellow of satisfaction as Kama remained in place, heart pounding so hard it felt his ribcage would break, feeling a cold sensation wash over him.

All around, cries of fury and dismay, bloodlust and fear rang across the beach, the surf roiling and disgorging still more creatures onto the sand, the battle pressing on.

And Kama felt detached. Afloat. As if he were viewing it all from afar.

There in the distance, his father’s last words were beckoning him to fight on. To find courage and honour and battle to the end. But what good was honour or courage if nobody was around to recognise them? If nobody gained from that sacrifice?

If there was a chance that fighting on could result in saving the island and its people, Kama would gladly have given his life to do so. But from where he stood now, he could see only failure and destruction.

What was a warrior’s duty…an Ayuku’s duty, when the battle was doomed? When the fight was pointless?

“But you are not a warrior,” he found himself saying, surprised by his own voice. “Nor are you an Ayuku. Not any more.”

The truth was that, without a future to look forward to, both of those roles were meaningless, their importance drained away.

And in their place, Kama now found something unfamiliar. Something he had never had, before. A faint glimmer of choice, not telling him what he should be, but asking him what he wanted to be, here at the end.

Well, that was far easier to determine.

Kama wanted to be a partner, a friend. A father-to-be. Even if just for a few minutes.

Turning from the fight, from duty and his word to the chief of Magoku, Kama dropped his spear and walked away.

Soon, he began to jog. Then to run. Up the beach, hoping to hold his wife again before the end.

The Sea-Bane was still bellowing as watery creatures flooded the sand, men vanishing in the hundreds as the two forces met, and now the great beast was grasping huge chunks of stone and coral and hurling them at the hillside, crushing the ballistas and catapults like twigs.

Kama saw it all happen in a blur as he dashed through chaos.

In the forest behind the beach, another mass of watery minions was charging about and Kama could also see them in the town, chasing civilians who ran in panic, houses burning.

It truly was the end, then.

“Aji…” he uttered, hoping…praying she was alive, catching an imaginary scent of her perfume.

Wait…no, it wasn’t imaginary.

“Young prince!” a gravelled, older voice called and Kama turned to see Orellan hobbling through the chaos, Aji at his side.

“No-…what are you doing? You can’t be here!” Kama cried, running towards them, dodging a legged, translucent shark as it crossed his path chasing a group of youths.

“Look!” Aji said, pointing at Orellan’s hands, where Kama could see a bundle of fabric.

– KATUMMM! –

A boulder the size of a small ship landed in the town square not twenty metres away, casting up rock, grit, and dust which flooded through the space.

Coughing, spluttering, the air slowly cleared and Kama finally found himself before the Shaman and his wife again.

But before he could embrace her, Orellan raised that small bundle.

“We found it,” Aji said. “Kama. We found it.”

Whipping the fabric away, Orellan’s face flashed with desperate hope as a thick chunk of bark was revealed.

“It was right under our noses, all along. In our own house!” Aji said. “It’s not a shield, Kama. It’s the agreement! Passed from chief to chief, down through the generations until Okkamoro gave it to us.”

“It can’t be…” Kama gasped as Orellan turned the bark over to show its backside, where a series of glyphs were carved, under which lay a smear of something dark which looked like dried blood.

“Where is Okkamoro?” Aji said. “Where is he? Orellan believes it can be undone!”

“Yes,” Orellan nodded, “but only by his hand, for I sense magick is protecting it from destruction.”

Kama stared at them both, throat tight. “But…he’s dead.”

Both Aji and the Shaman reacted with stunned silence.

“What?” his wife then said, eyes searching his.

“It’s over,” Kama told them. “I wanted to find you because-…because we cannot fight it, Aji. It grows stronger the more we battle. And with my father gone…with our chief gone…”

He trailed off, surprised to see that Orellan had a wistful smile on his old, wrinkled face.

“He is not gone, Kama,” the Shaman said. “The chief of Magoku is standing right before us.”

Kama stared. Blinked.

Then, his mind caught up.

“I am sorry about your father,” Orellan went on. “But time for grieving must come later. At the present time, I believe a well overdue task now lies before you…”

Raising the shield before them, Kama took the object in hand and studied it.

Such a small, simple thing, this shield. This agreement. Yet it had done such damage. Created such chaos…

“I would be more than happy to oblige.”

Raising it high, Kama brought it down sharply upon his knee and a sharp – KATACK! – rang out as the bark shattered into pieces, a flash of white light blasting the three of them off their feet.

Kama landed five feet away, eyes blurring as a rumble — a bellow like thunder in the earth itself which swept across the island.

Then, from every direction, thick splashes seemed to fill the air.

Kama turned to see ocean creatures collapsing — falling apart and splashing to the ground in the tens…the hundreds, returning to water, whence they had come.

From behind this commotion, another ear-splitting roar then pierced the air and pivoting to face the beach, Kama saw the Sea-Bane itself, tendrils poised to strike.

But they were slowing, slowing…going still. And in the last moment, though all of its glowing, orange eyes were fixed upon him with that frenzied anger, Kama thought he saw something else inside them, too.

There was a sound like a great tree splitting in two and the beast’s translucent form turned grey.

A moment later and a thousand warriors on the beach, all collapsed and panting in exhaustion, looked up to find a gargantuan statue before them, looming in the shallows.

The Sea-Bane would not trouble Paeri again.

• • •

It was a clear, warm morning as Aji sat aboard the Gapa, a modest fishing vessel which was bobbing in the deep water off the coast of Magoku.

Perched on a small crate and tuning her cithara, she kept an eye on a girl of five with long, dark hair hooking small worm with some difficulty.

“Kihi,” Aji said, causing the girl to stop and turn, her fingers covered in worm-bits. “Take a new one, and this time press the hook into its mouth.”

“Its mouth?”

Aji nodded. “It’s easier than trying to poke through the sides. And when you’ve done that, slide it up the hook. That way it looks like a real worm when it’s in the water.”

Kihi gave a tired sigh. “It’s too slimy. I can’t hold it.”

“Of course you can. I’ve seen those fingers tie some pretty impressive braids,” Kama chimed in, stepping across the deck towards the two and wiping his hands on his tunic. “They’re nimble enough. Go on, try again.”

“Says the man who can’t even catch a fingerfish…” Umman chided from the prow.

Kihi giggled. “You can’t?”

Umman leant over conspiratorially. “Let’s put it this way, Kama is about as good at fishing as he is at drinking. In fact, unless it’s to do with having perfect hair and flashy clothing, he’s mostly useless.”

Kama shook his head with a chuckle and returned to the net he’d been cleaning.

“Umman likes to call your father useless,” Aji then explained. “But you know, everyone has something they’re good at. Kama may not be the best fisherman, or the best sailor, or the best cook-”

“Hey!” Kama interrupted.

“But,” Aji went on over Kihi’s giggle, “he has other strengths. Just like you do. You just have to find out what they are. And you won’t know what you’re good at until you try lots of things out.”

That seemed to have an effect.

With a mature nod, Kihi turned to the bucket and took another worm, starting the process again.

“But I think…” she said as her fingers worked, “a story would help me.”

“A story?”

“Yes. If they help me sleep, maybe they’ll help me hook worms?”

Aji have her daughter a loving smile, then glanced at her husband, who was busy picking crustaceans from the net.

“Alright,” she said. “But tell me this, first. Are you old enough to hear scary stories about the sea?”

“What?” Kihi looked up with scandalised eyes. “Of course I am!”

“Oh!” Aji replied. “Well, in that case, there’s a story about your ‘useless’ father, the chief of Magoku, which I think you should know…”