Chapter Eight

  Ten years had passed since Faturaki had last seen Howaru. The man most Kafiki islanders recognised as the greatest warrior in all its history. A legend with unknown ancestry whose origins were speculated upon as much as his deeds. From chief to child, Howaru's self-exile and the discord left in his absence unified tribal discourse. What was his adopted son doing in isolation? Trying to cure a sickness Howaru professed manifested as a black cloud inside his body, preventing him from acquiring mana.

  Faturaki passed his portion of the fish back to the young warriors, feeling the hunger in earnest. It was not hard to abstain from eating, preferring the mental advantage a fast provided. His mind was able to free itself from his body in such a starved state and furthered his spirit travel.

  "You're not eating again today, Tohunga?"

  Earlier that day the warriors anchored to spearfish. Left alone, without distractions, Faturaki took a moment to slip away into the spirit realm. He had sensed the presence, not of a god, but something lesser, and was hopeful it was Howaru's spirit. Perhaps the boy had finally progressed to thinking outside himself, to understand precisely this ailment and inability to generate mana.

  "An empty shell is easier to lift my boy. Pass me some water aye."

  The questions came up most during training, when the boy had first escaped Autara and wondered if he had failed Howaru somehow.

  "Why, Faturaki? I can crush most men's skulls with my bare hands."

  "Boy, it's not just about being the strongest." he would reply, trying not to sound fatherly.

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  "It makes my brain hurt. All this concentration on not concentrating at all." Howaru complained.

  Even in Howaru's adolescence, when Faturaki had first tried to calm his wayward temper, he was physically more substantial than most men. Magic didn't make sense to him, especially when he could dismember a tohunga before they could even point a god stick.

  "It's about accessing the mindset of a fight without ever needing to shed blood. Surely you can appreciate this concept Howaru?"

  "No. No, I can't Tohunga Faturaki. You make no sense to me."

  Mentoring a former captive was difficult; they lacked ancestry. Howaru's family erased for whatever reason, and the boy enslaved while still at his mother's tit. Howaru would often say he had no memory of a mother.

  And any chance of tracing his lineage was gone once Howaru escaped his Autara captors. Regrettably, he crushed any knowledge of his ancestry when he snuck back into the Autara village many years later. The revenge was swift, pressing in the skulls of men, women, and children, destroying any chance of finding out who his parents were- who he was. Perhaps this was the cause of his sickness? This lack of knowledge of his ancestry?

  The warriors had climbed back on the boat, dividing up their catch of three large snappers. Slowly his mind and his spirit returned from its wandering above the clouds. The swell was darkening as Ra fell below the horizon.

  A voice from below him asked, "Faturaki. Are you asleep?"

  One of the warriors pressed the butt an oar into his shoulder. From above, he could only watch, unable to feel his body well. If they keep physically prodding, he thought, my mind will snap and pull my spirit back in like a kite. He was hoping to raise high enough to get a view of the distant sea and Howaru's Island itself.

  "Au. Tohunga," Galiaga leaned in, kicking at his knee.

  That was it. Faturaki's mind reeled in his spirit, back to the waka and out of the trance.

  "Stupid fool," Faturaki said.

  He snatched the steering oar from Galiaga, and smacked the young warrior across his face.

  "Oww! I thought you were asleep!"

  Faturaki pointed behind him. "Look! Towards the horizon! What do you see?"

  The three warriors got on their feet immediately. As they turned, Faturaki bucked the waka sideways so that they lost their balance, tumbling into the sea. Faturaki cackled into the skies.