Nightworld

3 • CEREMONIES

MAUI

"It's a gift, Bati! A sign from Pele herself!"

Moki's voice was barely audible over the blast-furnace roar of the volcano. Dressed only in his malo, he stood near the ruins of the visitor center on the crater rim of the newly awakened Haleakala. Perspiration coated his skin, giving it a glossy sheen as red and orange light from the fires below flickered off the planes and curves of his taut, muscular body, making it glow against the inky night sky.

The two yellow stones in his necklace seemed to glow with internal fires of their own. And why not? The necklace had been working overtime on Moki.

Only moments ago he had emerged from the crater with second-degree burns blistering most of his body. But the blisters had shriveled and the damaged skin had peeled and sloughed away to reveal fresh, unmarred flesh beneath.

Kolabati backed away from the heat and worried about Moki. He'd changed so drastically. He was no longer the man she'd loved and lived with for the past few years. He was a stranger, a deranged interloper fashioning his own delusions out of the madness around him.

Yesterday she had been afraid for him. But now she was afraid of him. The cataclysm that had destroyed the Big Island and reawakened Haleakala seemed to have pushed him over the edge.

And tingeing Kolabati's fear, coloring it a deep, dull red, was anger. Why? Why now? Why did all of nature choose this time to go mad? Was it coincidence? Or was it fate? Was her enormous karmic burden—and she knew too well the extent to which the deeds of her 150 years had polluted her karma—finally catching up to her?

"What does it mean, Moki?" she called back, humoring him. "What kind of sign would the fire goddess be sending you?"

"She didn't want me leaving Maui to gather lava from Kileau, so she destroyed Kileau and brought her fires to my back yard."

Kolabati shook her head in silent dismay. Didn't Moki's mania admit any limits? How many countless thousands had died on the Big Island when it had exploded? How many more here on Maui in those areas not shielded from the blast by Haleakala? But Haleakala herself had gathered her share of lives. Hana was gone, as were the Seven Sacred Pools, buried under the tons of ash and dirt from Haleakala's explosive awakening and sealed over by the initial gush of lava that had filled the Kipahulu Valley and burst through into the Waihoi Valley, running down to the sea. According to the news, the whole southeast corner of the island, from the Kaupo Gap to Nanualele Point, was a seething bed of molten lava.

All so Moki wouldn't have to leave Maui on day trips?

Fortunately the lava had flowed along its old paths. If Haleakala had erupted through its northern wall instead, the heavily populated central valley would have become a graveyard. Moki even had an explanation for that: Pele wished to spare Moki and his wahine.

So Moki had changed, and with his transformation Kolabati recognized unwelcome changes within herself. The inner tranquility had been shattered, the peace broken, and she found her thoughts traveling along old familiar ways, the cold, calculating paths of the past.

Kolabati shivered in the chill wind. Shielded as she was from the heat of the crater, it was cold up here nearly two miles above the ocean. She wanted to flee, but where to? The news from the mainland was frightening. It might be safer here on the islands, but not with Moki. He was an explosive charge, ready to detonate at any moment and destroy everything and anyone nearby. Yet she could not leave him. Not while he wore the other necklace. That belonged to her, and she would not leave without it.

Yet how to retrieve the necklace? How to unbell the cat?

She had considered removing it from around his neck while he slept but had not yet dared to try. Since the madness had come upon him, Moki hardly slept at all. And if he awoke from one of his short naps to find the necklace gone, he would track her down, and then only the goddess Kali knew what he might do to her. He might even rip her own necklace from around her throat and watch as a century and a half caught up with her. He of course would not age noticeably without his necklace, for he had worn it only for a few years. But Kolabati would grew old and crumble into dying ashes before his eyes.

She could not risk that. So she kept quiet, acted supportive, and waited for her chance.

With a start, Kolabati realized that they were not alone on the crater rim. A group of perhaps sixty men of varying ages in traditional Hawaiian dress had joined them. Led by their alii, an elderly man in a chieftain's feather robe and headdress, they were approaching Moki where he stood watching the fires. The alii called to him and he turned. She caught snatches of traditional Hawaiian chattered back and forth but had difficulty grasping the gist of what was being said.

Finally, Moki turned and walked down the slope toward her. The others remained up near the rim, waiting.

"Bati!" he said in a low voice, his grin wide and wild, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Do you see them? They're the last of the traditional Hawaiians. They sailed all the way from Niihau looking for Maui."

"They found it," Kolabati said. "What's left of it."

"Not the island—Maui the god. You know the story."

"Of course."

Before dawn one day long ago, Maui the mischievous Polynesian demigod crept to the summit of Haleakala, the House of the Sun, on a mission of filial love. His mother had complained that the days were not long enough to allow her to finish her tasks of cooking, cleaning, and drying tapa cloth, so Maui decided to do something about it. When the first ray of the sun appeared over the summit, Maui snared it with his lasso, thus trapping the sun. The sun pleaded for freedom but Maui would not release it until it promised to lengthen the days by slowing its trek across the heavens.

"The Niihauans say the shorter days show that the sun has broken its promise and so they've come to aid Maui when he returns to recapture the sun. They want to know if I've seen him! Can you believe it?"

Kolabati looked past Moki at the grown men dressed in feathers and carrying spears, and pitied them.

"What did you tell them?"

"I temporized. I wasn't sure what to say. But now I do."

Kolabati didn't like the look in his eyes.

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

His grin widened. "I'm going to tell them I'm Maui."

"Oh, Moki, don't toy with them. Aren't things bad enough already?"

"Who's toying?" he said. "I feel a strange power in me, Bati. I have a feeling I just might be Maui, or at least his avatar. I tell you, Bati, I'm here in this place at this time for a reason. Perhaps this is a sign as to why."

Kolabati grabbed his hand and tried to lead him down the slope. "Moki, no. Come back to the house. Work on that new sculpture you started."

"Later," he said, pulling free. "After I've told them who I am." She watched him stride back up to the rim and face the Niihauans, saw him pound his chest and gesture to the fires below and then to the night sky above. The traditional Hawaiians stepped back from him and whispered among themselves. Then the alii gestured to one of the younger men who stepped forward and drove his spear into Moki's chest. Kolabati screamed.