Ch. 32 – Manawa
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The roar of the furious churning sea filled Manawa’s ears.

All around her the monstrous waves rose and fell, beating down her family's fleeing fleet of waka taua. Thunder beat its massive drums overhead as the winds howled their baleful songs.

A flash of lightning lit the stormy sky as fire stained the murky night sky. It flared momentarily before the driving rain choked it out.

Her family hustled, desperately fighting the elements as they continued on.

As far as she could see the huge ocean was occupied by the waka of her people.

With each flash of lightning their silhouettes were thrown against the dark sky.

The men rowed with all their might, back muscles slick and glistening from a mixture of sweat and sea water. Jaws set in grim determination, teeth clenched as they poured all their energy into keeping their families alive.

Each and every waka continued its journey, fighting the wrath of the gods they had forsaken. Behind them, the water foamed in their wake as the horizon continued to burn. Plumes of ash darkened the sky as it mixed with the furious rain.

The ash reached the fleeing people, melding with the rain and coating them in its sticky embrace. The angry god they had left continued its tantrum, lighting the night sky, blotting out the stars.

Desperately, Manawa reached out. She fell to her knees and let the song of her ancestors loose, calling on any gods who might be listening to aid her people in their time of need. Her voice lilted as she sang, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the ashen rain.

The voices of her family joined in, taking up the song as they continued their desperate battle for survival. They called out to the ancient fisherman who pulled up the islands and the mother whose tears made the sea. They called out to the angry god who had chased them away and the trickster who had stolen the gods fire. They called out to the island where all things met.

Their voices lifted their prayers, fighting the howling winds. Tears of adulation slowly washed away the grimy ashen rain. Streaks left behind by the tears adorning their faces as the ash piled on, makeshift masks hardening, softening, cracking, crumbling.

Manawa stood, powerful leg muscles keeping her steady, and opened her arms to the sky. She called out her challenge to the brothers who rained down lightning and thunder. She glared at the sky, tears still streaming, as she demanded that the gods deliver her people from the ire of their brothers.

As her family continued their song, the howling winds lost some fury. The driving rain softened its blows as the ashy ire of their old god abated. The waves calmed their constant assault as the brothers stopped hurling their lightning and banging their thunderous drums.

Drenched in the tears of their mother-god, Manawa led her family in the final verse of their song. She thanked the gods for their mercy. She apologized to the angry god and acknowledged his pain. She admonished the trickster and asked that he return everything that wasn’t his.

As their song came to an end the sun began to peek over the horizon, shyly bathing the weary travelers in its warm dawn rays. The furor of the sea calmed as the day broke.

Manawa looked around her and took in the faces of her family. Ash stained and tired, they held their heads high as they kept their gazes forward.

On the horizon rose a majestic mountain. Snow-capped peak beckoning to the travelers. It sat nestled between magnificent clouds, stretching as far as the eye could see.

---

In their flight, Manawa’s people had recklessly cut their way through the sea. They hadn’t stopped to take note of their heading, all they wanted was to find a new home. Away from their malignant god who had only ever taught them how to destroy. Away from the fires that dyed the daytime skies crimson.

Their desperate journey brought them to this new land. Where the clouds ran from one end to the other.

They brought their fleet of warriors and made contact with the docile natives. The language difference meant little to the nomadic conquerors. They adapted and learned. They forged relationships when needed and dominated those who stood in the way of their new lives.

Manawa stood at the head of the warriors, her fierce countenance struck fear and awe into the bellies of any who she met.

She brought their old gods and learned of the new. She taught her people how to adapt and they taught her how to live.

The lush new lands gave her and her people the opportunity to settle down. Around them a nation was born.

---

A letter arrived.

The messenger reverently knelt before her, letter still folded and sealed in his hand.

She had never seen such a thing before. Her people had never needed to write when they could just record their long history with their Le’o and their mana.

“What is it?”

The messenger kept his gaze locked to the floor, warmly rugged with the pelts of the beasts the woman had conquered.

“An invitation, mother.”

Manawa snorted as she propped herself up on an elbow. Her large, comfortable bed was adorned with various blankets, pelts, and beautiful companions. Draped over her was a luxurious silk robe one of her sons had taken from a waylaid merchant ship. It silhouetted her muscular body, each muscle rippling as she positioned herself to speak with the messenger.

“From who?”

“It says from the Motu. Says something about an Advent and that the Tu’i is waiting for you.”

She smacked her lips as she sucked on a tart fruit one of the others had brought in.

“Who is this Tu’i?”

“It doesn’t say, mother.”

She snorted again as she sat up, The silk robe fell away and revealed her taut, muscular body. Her leathery skin showed the signs of a lifelong pirate. All across her abdomen were scars, from battles and from births. She stood, naked and unashamed, and walked towards the messenger.

He couldn’t help but enjoy her flowery scent mixed with her earthy musk. The sound of her bare feet padding across the soft furs was all he could hear as he waited, eyes still locked to the ground. He felt strong hands run through his short hair before it was painfully gripped. His head was suddenly wrenched backwards by the powerful hands. His eyes met those of the fearsome leader of the island, shaking as he focused on the dark irises and nothing else.

“Should I go?”

The messenger's words caught in his throat as he tried to answer. All he could muster was a feeble shake of his head.

Manawa sneered at him before releasing his hair.

“Call my band. Looks like I’m going to meet this Tu’i.”

___________________________________

Wha let go of Talua’s hands. They had left impressions in the others palms from how tightly they had held on to one another.

She scooted closer to the new born Tu’i and threw a hand over their shoulder. With a large finger she lightly traced the inherited tatau that adorned the newborn's fragile shoulders. As she did so the tatau lit up and sizzled.

Talua inhaled sharply as the painful ceremony continued. Each and every tatau that covered their body was lightly traced by Wha. The sizzling continued as the Tu’i imparted her knowledge of the vow through the tempering.

As Wha continued the ceremony her eyes began to mist as memories of her own ceremony came flooding back.

She remembered the sacrifice she had been forced to make. The toll the mantle of the Tu’i claimed.

She could still hear the lilting songs that she and her people had sang as they journeyed to the Motu. The way their voices ebbed and flowed like the sea of their home.

She remembered laying eyes on the void-ocean. The disquiet that had rippled through her and her people. How ugly this sea was in comparison to the raging waters of their adopted home.

She remembered the smell of decay that she had awoken to after her Lau-mahina. The smell of anguish and pain, of betrayal and loss.

Blood dripped down Talua’s lip as they bit into it. The sizzling continued as Wha traced down along their lower back. Her leathery fingers felt course as they rubbed against the nubile skin of their newest member.

Wha gruffly pushed Talua onto their back and began tracing the tatau along their legs. She recognized some of the markings and fought tears as the memories of her kin bubbled up. Lightly, she continued to trace the tatau.

Talua’s eyelids fluttered as they rode the waves of pain. Pain turned to pleasure as the synapses fired recklessly. The sizzling of the tempering became white noise as their mind floated off into a blissful state of impermanence.

As it continued Talua felt the memories of the siblings. The small island home that they had called home. The little farm that they had spent their whole lives on. The faces of the villagers, smiling and warm. A throbbing ache began to resonate from deep within Talua’s chest as the memories flooded.

They remembered how the boy had spent so many long nights developing his shield mana.

They remembered the ache of the girls muscles after long days of working the farm.

They remembered the smells of a warm home cooked meal.

They remembered the soft caress of their grandparents.

A tear slid down the side of Talua’s face as the memories slowly faded. As they opened their eyes the tempering came to an end.

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