I'm just gonna leave this right here, and pretend it hasn't been almost four years since my last update...


"Why doesn't it work?"

An agitated Cobra whirled to glare at the witch doctor, who crouched in a corner of the hut like some repulsive, venomous spider. The warlord paced about the small room, his hands sporadically clenching and unclenching as frustration and fury boiled through his veins.

"You told me you could reverse the power of the medallion so it served only me!" he snarled. "You claim to have put your spell on it, and yet it still does not grant me what I wish!"

"It will grant only what your heart truly desires," Zarabua replied shortly. "The fact that you do not know what you really and truly want is neither my fault nor my problem." He scattered a handful of pebbles and broken shells on the dried-reed floor, examining their positions and paying little attention to his irate companion.

Cobra paused his incessant pacing and glared down at the hunched figure on the floor. "You failed to mention that little piece of information when you told me you could change its power," he said coldly. Crouching in front of the older man, he put one of his fang-like nails under the wrinkled chin and tilted his head up, forcing Zarabua to look him in the eyes. "You'd do well to think over just how useful you are to me, witch," the warlord hissed angrily, "and how likely it is that I will let you live should you cease to be so. I only needed you to change the medallion for me - your reward would be your life. Since you have failed in that task, you may want to rethink your position."

Zarabua shoved his hand away, looking unimpressed. "And you'd do well to remember just who you're dealing with, Cobra," he returned scathingly. "Your pathetic threats do not intimidate me; you seem to forget that I have power to wield, whereas you," his cracked, yellow teeth showed in an ugly smile, "apparently, do not."

Incensed, the other man opened his mouth to respond, but he was forestalled by someone beating a frantic tattoo on the door of the hut. Throwing a hate-laden glance at the chuckling witch doctor, Cobra stalked over and flung open the door, staring coldly at the soldier on the other side.

"What is it?" he growled.

The soldier, already on the verge of panic, lost his head at the sight of his dangerous master in such a bad mood, and in alarmingly close proximity, and started babbling. "My lord come quickly there's a rebellion on the beach, I think it's that girl who was causing trouble the other day, she attacked one of the guards and they- aaahhh!"

The unfortunate man overbalanced and tumbled off the boardwalk, splashing into the stream as the warlord swept by him at top speed.


"Remember the plan - head northwest for the large rocks, then we surface and paddle the rest of the way to Cobra Island, where we set up base and wait for Allie and King Huk-"

"We know!" Mohea and Prai glared at Ynaka, their tools poised above the outrigger they were constructing. The young warrior had been nervous and twitchy all day, whispering almost incessantly throughout the morning, and he was about to drive his companions to homicide. One of said companions took a deep breath and turned back to her task, but the other continued glaring at him, reminding him uncomfortably of the warlord who currently ruled their home.

"Ynaka," Prai said, his deadly calm voice coming through clenched teeth, "we know the plan. We were there last night. We heard every word King Huko said, and we know the plan! If you bring it up one more time, I am rescuing Ohtara and sacrificing you to be the decoy!"

The younger man's mouth closed with an audible snap, and he turned back to his work as well, thankfully silent. Prai breathed a silent sigh of relief and continued sanding the side of the boat, trying to ignore the dense knot that had taken up residence in his stomach. Though he was concealing it much better than Ynaka, he was just as tense and anxious, and he felt nauseous every time he thought of the fate that drew closer and closer to Ohtara with every passing minute. He clung to the slim hope that Cobra would value her youthful strength and spare her life, letting her off with... What? A month of torture and a week to recover before being put back to work? On second thought, perhaps a quick stab to the neck would be more merciful.

Right on cue, there was an eruption of shouting father down the beach, and the three slaves were spattered with wet sand as soldiers rushed past them towards the commotion. Mohea jumped to her feet with an anguished cry, but Prai yanked her back down.

"No!" he hissed. "It's too late now. We've got to get out of here - don't let her sacrifice be in vain!" He paused as a guard halted beside them, and hunched over the girl as a whip cracked down across his shoulders.

"Eyes on your work, and no talking!" the man cried harshly. "Move from this spot, and you'll be shot before you can make it two feet." He brought the whip down a couple more times, then raced off to aid his fellows in subduing the island girl who seemed to have gone mad.

"Now!" Prai whispered urgently, ignoring the stinging pain on his back. "All the guards are distracted, and no one is looking. Let's go!" The three conspirators set their shoulders to the canoe and pushed it down towards the tide line, as quickly and unobtrusively as they could, their sandal-shod feet sliding a little on the rain-slick sand. The thick, persistent drizzle masked their movements and washed out their footprints, though such tracks would matter little once they were safely in the ocean.

"Wait!" Ynaka's low voice halted them abruptly. "Someone's coming!"

They hastily dropped the vessel and snatched their tools, pretending to continue their work as Cobra rushed by them, closely followed by a very bedraggled henchman. All three of them suppressed a shudder as the warlord swept by, his very presence seeming to turn the balmy tropical air cold and dead.

They waited a few seconds before resuming their furtive advances to the ocean, glancing around anxiously to make sure they remained unobserved. Upon reaching the tide line, they threw the tools away and, glancing around once more, hoisted the boat over their heads and scurried into the sea, instinctively holding their breath as the water slapped against their chests.

"Does anybody know if this is actually going to work?" Mohea asked, her voice echoing slightly in the hollow vessel. "I don't suppose anyone's ever tried it before?"

Prai, from his position in the lead, kept walking, forcing the other two to continue the rapid pace. "No," he replied steadily, "but unless you want to abandon the plan, slog back to shore, and apologize to Cobra for thinking about defying him and escaping, I suggest we try it now."

The girl grimaced an acknowledgement at his back, and the three fugitives continued their advance into the ocean. The water was now up to their chins, and Mohea, who was a few inches shorter than the two young men, rose up on tiptoe to keep her face above the surface. Prai issued quick orders, his voice clipped and precise.

"Submerge," he said, "and we'll start heading northwest towards the tall rocks." Again, all three took deep breaths, and then Prai bent his knees, angling the outrigger into a downwards slant, and the other two followed suit. For one heart-stopping moment, it seemed that the endeavor might not be successful, but then the turquoise water - turned a leaden grey by the reflection of the rain clouds that blanketed the sky - slipped over the keel of the vessel, and the waves lapped under their arms, the overturned canoe providing the air bubble for which they so fervently hoped.

Ynaka and Mohea simultaneously let out a strangled cheer, but Prai remained silent and grim-faced as he turned northwest, striking out at a gentle angle towards what he hoped were the stone monoliths that reared above the ocean a quarter of a mile away. Now that they had succeeded at the first part of their plan, the rest of it didn't seem quite as simple as it did the previous night. All any of them could see was the head of the person in front of them - or, in their leader's case, the wooden boat over their heads. They relied solely on the young warrior's marked sense of direction to steer them right, and all three prayed to God they wouldn't wander too far out and get lost under the ocean, and that no curious sharks would come to investigate the intrusion on their unquestioned domain.

The second problem was the air. The small pocket of oxygen contained in the inverted vessel quickly grew stale, and though the three young people tried to take as shallow of breaths as they could, the supply of breathable air began to run short far sooner than they had expected. Instinctively, they tried to pick up the pace, but they were fighting the tide, and slogging through the wet, shifting sand impeded haste. When Ynaka stumbled for the third time and Mohea began to gasp, Prai made a quick decision.

"Let go of the boat," he commanded, his voice thick. "We can't go on like this." Ynaka frowned.

"Once we surface, we won't be able to submerge again," the young man protested. "It's risky. How do we know we're where we need to be?"

"We don't," Prai answered, sounding strained. His arms shook from the exhaustion of fighting the buoyancy that threatened to rip the outrigger from their hands. "In truth, we never will know. I'd be making a guess anyway; right now, I'm guessing that we're far enough out for the rain to mask us, regardless of the rocks." He stopped talking abruptly, his breath completely spent. Black dots swam briefly in his vision, before slowly dissipating. Ynaka looked unsure.

"But what if-" he began, but Prai had had enough.

"We have no choice!" he snarled. "Yes, it's risky; but this whole thing is one big risk! We can't go on like this. Are you going to carry Mohea when she faints from lack of oxygen?"

"I'm not going to faint!" Mohea mumbled, with more spirit than credibility. Prai ignored her.

"Ohtara didn't die for us to asphyxiate on the ocean floor. So unless you want to swim back to Aumakua, apologize nicely to the soldiers for trying to escape, and hope they don't gut you, let go of the boat!"

Stunned into silence by the warrior's outburst, Ynaka merely nodded. The three young people took as deep a breath as they could muster, and Ynaka released his hold on the outrigger. The other two simply relaxed their grip, lifted their feet, and rode the buoyancy upwards. Ynaka followed, cutting through the water with smooth, powerful strokes. The three of them broke the surface, sucked in great lungfuls of fresh air, and promptly choked. The rain had picked up, and was threatening to drown them from above, even as the ocean promised the same fate all around them.

With some difficulty, the two young men managed to flip the large canoe, and the three islanders scrambled into it, bailing excess water out with their hands before collapsing, face-down, across the benches. For a moment they lay there, panting, too exhausted to continue, all of them grateful for the abundance of breathable air. Prai closed his eyes, silently giving thanks for the fresh rain that washed the sting of salt water out of the whip-wounds on his back, and allowed his muscles to go slack. Behind him, Ynaka was taking deep, noisy breaths, and gurgling slightly every time he accidentally swallowed some water.

Mohea was the first to recover. Levering herself up into a sitting position, she pushed her sodden hair off her face and peered around, squinting to keep water from running into her eyes. Though heavy, the rainfall was far from torrential, and she was able to look for some distance, although there wasn't much to see. Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. "Where are the rocks?"

Her two companions sat up, looking around them with a growing sense of dread. The giant monoliths, visible as a dark haze even in this inclement weather, were nowhere to be seen. Nor were the islands of Aumakua or Cobra.

As Prai and Ynaka desperately scanned the horizon, (as much of it as they could see), Mohea's eyes fell to the bottom of the outrigger, and this time, her stomach turned to lead. "Where are the oars?"

As one, the young men turned to look at her, then followed her line of vision to the keel of the boat, treacherously empty. A feeling of iciness, that had nothing to do with the rain, gripped the three of them. "They're still on the beach," Prai responded. His face was set and grim. "Right where we left them."

They looked at each other silently, their faces showing varying degrees of frustration, fear, and despair. Ynaka's comment, though far from helpful, went unrefuted by the other two.

"We're stranded."


Hey guys! Bet you weren't expecting to see me, huh? You thought I'd given up on this fic, didn't you? Well, psych! I didn't! :D
Seriously though, I am so sorry there hasn't been a new chapter in four years. :l Life kinda went kookydukes there for a bit; I moved three times in two years, got a job, got married, just had a kiddo... I was not prepared for anything life was throwing at me, and writing kinda fell by the wayside. But I swear I'm not going to drop this story, even if it takes me twenty years to finish it. (Which hopefully it won't.) Anyway, reviews would be appreciated, although I won't blame you if you're too miffed to leave one. XD