The Sea Peoples(23)
The Yellow Sign. The sign that was on the crocodile’s armband when we fought the great beast of the waters.
“Come to me, comrades,” he said, feeling the strings of their fates in the fingers of his mind. “Come to me in my need!”
A meadowlark circled about his head.
“Come! For the Prince!”
“Well, here I am, oath-brother,” Thora said.
She was in a simple Bearkiller jacket and trousers and boots, unsheathing her sword and looking around. The gesture had some of a grizzly’s arrogant assurance, though.
“Come!”
“Come on, you scheming yellow-headed bitch, I know you’re not timid, at least,” Thora added cheerfully. “Front and center!”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Pip said. “Let’s not be catty, shall we?”
Deor turned; for a moment he thought he saw a great tawny she-cat indeed, and then it was Pip—not in the robe she’d worn to lie on the bed, but in the odd outfit of round-topped black hat, white shirt and shorts, suspenders and boots and knee and elbow-guards, the kukri-knives and slingshot at her belt and the ebony cane with its two silver-gold heads. A circle of mascara marked one eye.
“Bloody hell,” she murmured, looking around her. “It really happened. Now this is a fair suck of the sav! Uncle Pete will love hearing about this, even if he doesn’t believe a word of it.”
“Come! Come!” Deor called, with his voice and spirit and the thunder of the drum sounding . . . somewhere.
Something rustled in the undergrowth. Something flitted through the tall alien trees. The Maori was there, leaning on his spear and panting. Then he held up a hand to silence Deor’s greeting.
“What’s that?” he said very quietly.
It came from the place that might or might not be a graveyard. A hollow sound, like a horse’s hooves on dirt, or now and then harsher on stone. Slow, though, and irregular. As if it were a horse ancient and sick and weary unto death. They all peered, trying to make out the threat.
Pip’s eyes went wide. “Don’t look!” she said. “Turn around, now!”
They all obeyed, Thora last; it was against her deepest nature to turn her back on an enemy.
“Something that John said to me . . . an old legend. Old, from Europe . . . something from a ballad he recited . . .”
Then she nodded and winced as the memory came back fully: “The beast that grazes among the graves. The Hell Horse.”
Thora touched the Hammer slung around her neck and started to turn.
“Then why in Almighty Thor’s name are we facing the other way?” she snarled.
Pip caught her arm. “If you see the Hell Horse you die!”
The hooves sounded again, slow and dragging . . . and nearer.
CHAPTER FIVE
HILO
CAPITAL CITY, AUPUNI O HAWAI?I
(KINGDOM OF HAWAI?I)
NOVEMBER 26TH
CHANGE YEAR 46/2044 AD
The Hawaiians were waiting as órlaith and Reiko approached; bright feather cloaks, crested helms, tall carved staffs and a glitter of spearpoints among the guards. A rumble of pahu-drums pulsed in the background as their players’ hands slapped in unison, long narrow instruments made of carved coconut-wood with their heads covered in sharkskin. To the fore were grave older men and a few women, probably generals and noblemen and kahuna—priest-diviners.
Their liege was much younger, only a few years older than órlaith, which gave her a stab of sympathy—he’d be surrounded by those who barely recognized him as an adult, as she was.
The tall figure of King Kalaˉkaua II in the center was made taller still by the golden crest on his golden helm—both were made of yellow feathers, and the cloak hanging from his broad shoulders was of the same, though patterned with red as well. Apart from that and sandals, his only garment was an elaborately folded loincloth that ended with a broad vertical panel before and behind, and there was a heavy battle-spear in his hand with a circle of leaves fastened just below the head, evidently a symbol of peace.
Kalaˉ kaua was an impressively muscular brown-skinned man, mostly of the blood of the canoe-navigators who’d first settled these islands, though his features were aquiline and eyes hazel, and he was about Heuradys’ age. Queen Haukea was a little younger, and judging from her milky freckled complexion the startling red of her hair was natural. Several maidens dressed like her in colorful kikepa wraps tied to leave one shoulder bare waited with leis of frangipani and sambac-jasmine flowers to bestow on the guests.
órlaith had no objection to that, but decision formed as she determined to alter the procedure a little. She took a step forward, stooped to raise a clod of earth to her lips, and spoke formally with a tone pitched to carry without shouting . . . and in the ancient language of the islands.
English was the tongue most common here for everyday use, albeit in a wildly eccentric form that Montivallans often strained to follow, but they remembered the ?Oˉ lelo Hawai?i and used it for worship and for the most solemn occasions of State.
“I come as friend, as ally, as a stranger who asks leave of the King and the Gods of the land and of the aes dana, the spirits of place, asks their permission to sail their waters and walk upon their shore. With respect I bow before the Powers who rule here! I bow before Pele of the fire, Lady of Kilauea, whose flame draws land from sea! I bow before Her father Kaˉne of the forests, Lord of supreme Hunamoku, whose might separates Earth and Sky! I bow before His brothers Kuˉof the mace who bested Apuhau, and Lono whose tears make fertile the earth! Before Laka of the red lehua flower, who brings love and beauty, I bow! Before dread Milu of the dead, I bow!”