Gargoyles: TimeDancer – Hawaiki – Episode XIII: Kanaloa
Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Gargoyles. All Gargoyles-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Disney, Greg Weisman, and Frank Paur.
[-]
Hawaiki, 1782 A.D.
Must be getting lonely out there, brother. How do you stand it?
Kanaloa gritted his teeth, but did not respond. Silence was the only shield the Sea God had available in his arsenal, and he held to it without yield.
Not that I don't admire your dedication, of course! None can impugn your sense of duty…or sacrifice. It'd take no less to bury yourself alongside your greatest enemy, alone.
While all the rest frolic in the sun.
But the taunts, the whisperings, had been feeding into his ears for nigh-on fifteen centuries.
Sometimes it was so, so hard to hold firm.
How long has it been, since either of us sampled Avalon's paradise? I suppose one could argue we're already enjoying the next-best thing.
But I think you'll agree that Hawaiki doesn't really count, in this state.
About that, at least, Kanaloa couldn't deny the truth in the wicked god's words. The greatest craftwork of Polynesia's Four Great Gods – the last one they'd ever made together – had been twisted irrevocably by its many years in the darkness.
Darkness, naturally, was his domain, and in it he felt no fear. In it, he could perceive infinite beauty.
But the very essence of the world was balance, and here there was none. Without light, there could be no darkness. Without land, what was the sea? Without life, death held no purpose.
Without Kāne, he…
Oh, let's not pretend I didn't notice that! You thought of our big, strong, oh-so-perfect brother…and your first instinct was resentment.
"That's not true," said Kanaloa, before he could stop himself. They were the first words he'd spoken aloud in fifteen-hundred years.
Ah, so the wheke can speak after all!
Of course, what use are words when they're laced with lies? I see into your heart, Tangaroa. You may be the only being in existence who hates Tāne more than I.
After all, the Four of you carved out your path together. Yourself, Tāne, Tū, and Rongo. Together, you challenged me upon these shores, and sealed me beneath the waves. Together, you joined the whelp's rebellion against Our Mother. Together, you paved the way for the Age of Mortals.
But Tāne, alone, escaped punishment for these crimes. Mother crushed Tū and Rongo into the dust whence they came, for rising against I, Her favored son. And you, of course…
"I am certain he grieves our loss," Kanaloa declared, sounding surer than he actually felt. "I may no longer be able to converse with my brother, but we…that is, while we fought often, we never…"
But his words sounded pathetically weak, and the voice quickly pounced on them, the whispers growing louder and more insistent.
If you cannot even convince yourself of these lies, brother, what hope do you have of convincing me?
The fact of the matter is that while you slave and toil upon my prison, Tāne basks in the glory of being among the whelp's favored. Of receiving the worship and tribute of the descendants of Hawaiki.
Of being the atua's one, and only, Chief.
Without him, you will always feel as if you are…missing, a piece of yourself.
But do you truly believe he even misses you, at all?
Kanaloa found that he was speechless once more – and no longer by intent.
That silence is all the answer I need.
[-]
Hawaiki, 1790 A.D.
"It has been so long since I've set eyes upon the land of my birth. And I was quite young at the time, by immortal standards," said Hina. "But I do not remember it appearing so…so…"
She didn't seem quite able to find the words, but Brooklyn thought he could understand what she meant. The deeper Kanaloa led them into Hawaiki's cavernous depths, the less he found anything that could possibly be termed "paradise."
These caves were lined with stones as black as pitch, their growth jagged and uneven. No plants or animals, not even the merest weed or insect, poked out between the crevices, and the only sound apart from their footsteps was the distant echo of dripping water.
They were a strange procession, the nine of them: Kanaloa leading the way, with Brooklyn, Zafira, Makani, and the beasts right behind. Benuthet brought up the rear, carefully dragging the bound Hina and Uoke beside him.
"Only thing this place needs to finish off the atmosphere is Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees," Brooklyn remarked dryly. "I'd say it's too quiet, but I know I'd just jinx things."
"Hawaiki has been a place of death for fifteen centuries," Kanaloa told them, choosing to ignore the TimeDancer's quiet aside. "It is not going to suddenly spring back to life, the moment it rejoins the surface world. And here, beneath the island itself…we are at our closest to the underworld from whence we just emerged."
He grazed a bronzed hand along the cold stones, before adding staidly, "Besides…there would be little point in cultivating life down here. Whiro would consume it in an instant."
"Yes, I imagine it would be quite difficult to properly contain a god who feasts so wantonly," said Benuthet. "But then, the Third Race aren't actually capable of starvation, correct?"
"Not in so many words. But taking on a physical form necessarily requires taking on the limitations of that form. That includes the need to eat," Hina explained. "Cut off from his usual food sources, Whiro has likely been subsisting in a non-corporeal state."
"My niece speaks the truth," declared Kanaloa, coming to a sudden stop. "We have arrived."
Brooklyn looked up at the stone wall before them, and felt his next breath hitch in his throat.
The entire cavern face was taken up by an enormous mosaic, constructed of brilliant black, red, and violet stones.
It depicted a crouching figure, bestial in visage and form, with bulging, scale-covered muscles and claws tipped to points. Its face was like that of a frilled lizard, with three great, looping extensions protruding from its jagged skull, like a horrific mockery of a crown. Two stones of deep white, the only ones in the entire piece, represented its eyes, which seemed to stare straight back at the gathered gargoyles.
But that wasn't the most frightening part of the mosaic. No, that honor indisputably went to its midsection.
For where a belly should've been was instead another mouth, open wide and tipped at both chest and groin with rows of razor-sharp teeth. And within the gaping maw floated a vast expanse – of light, and stars, and the infinite void of space.
All of which, it seemed in the process of devouring whole.
"Here rests my dishonored brother, Whiro-te-tipua, for now until the end of time," said Kanaloa, who alone was not recoiling in dread from the frightening figure. Even Uoke, who was on Whiro's side, wore an uneasy expression. "And so you see, it doesn't actually matter that Hawaiki has returned to the surface world. He can no more escape this cave in the living world than the dead."
"You have bound him to these stones?" asked Benuthet, now peering at the mosaic with scholarly interest. "For a being of Whiro's power, that is certainly an…impressive accomplishment."
Kanaloa shrugged his broad shoulders. "Well I am, after all, the God of Magic," he replied curtly. "And it wasn't as if I had many better things to do, over these countless centuries. After enough practice tangling with my brother…eventually, I managed to prevail."
"Hold on. I'm not certain that makes sense," Zafira cut in, crossing her arms across her chest and frowning. "We heard Whiro speak. Both on the shores of Hawai'i, and then but a few short hours ago."
The Sea God looked over them appraisingly, as if gauging their reactions to the question. Eventually, when he spoke again, it was in much graver tones.
"You may have heard what you believed to be Whiro. And yet, have any of you ever actually heard his voice prior to this fortnight?" he pointed out. "Even you, my niece, knew him little before Hawaiki arrived at its end. No, I believe it more likely a certain someone has been impersonating my dear, wretched brother. And the most probable culprit…is right here."
He strode forward, with footsteps that all but shook the cavern, and came to a halt directly before the iron-bound gods.
"Rūaumoko. My youngest and most foolish brother," he said to the stone-faced Child. "There is no longer any point in pretending. Admit to your crimes. Admit that you acted alone."
"Lies! You may have deafened yourself to the wisdom of our Master, our Chief, the greatest and most powerful of our brothers, but I shall never…!" he started to protest.
But he was cut off by a single glare from the Sea God, which seemed to burn into him like a scorching fire.
Abruptly, Uoke fell silent, gazing at Kanaloa with an expression like he'd never seen him properly before.
Then, in a significantly different tone than the one he'd just been using, he stated, "Very well, Tangaroa. It is as you say."
[-]
Hawaiki, 1782 A.D.
Though he knew, intellectually, that his wicked brother had no power here, Kanaloa nevertheless found himself stumbling from the weight of his words. Mostly because…
Because he was speaking all the same thoughts the Sea God himself had been stubbornly burying for more than a millennium.
"Why…are you saying these things? And why now?" he demanded.
Simple, dear brother. Because at long last, I have gathered enough power to change this sad state of affairs.
For the first time in centuries, his physical body emerged from the shadows, showing himself to Kanaloa in his full resplendency. The Sea God all but retched.
Taking the form of an enormous lizard, the prisoner patted his expanding belly with two claws, and displayed a full-fanged grin. A great quantity of crimson blood dripped from his maw.
You know that the peoples of the Angles, of Scotia, of Éire…and so many others, have been finding their way to our blessed isles as of late? Hawai'i, Rapa Nui, and Aotearoa are no longer the bastions of isolation they once were.
The children of Hawaiki have been raised to know and fear me. To preclude my return, both the First and Second Races use rituals to render any of their fallen comrades distinctly…unpalatable, to my tastes.
But these humans from across the sea? They have never heard my name. Never been taught to dread the God of Thieves.
As the years pass by, more of them come. More of them die.
And more of them become a part of me.
"Wretched vermin. As if I haven't noticed you skulking about, pilfering those poor souls unfortunate enough to enter my domain with their bodies intact," said Kanaloa, frowning in disgust. "But though their numbers have increased, they are still only mortals. You burn away more power than they can provide, simply to maintain a corporeal form."
The other god's next words were in mocking lament.
Sad, but true. Of course…you could easily change that, brother.
Kanaloa stopped in his tracks. "…What do you mean?" he asked quietly, against his better judgment.
Oh, I'm not asking for much! The merest trifle of a request.
All you would need to do is weaken the barrier between your realm and the living one. Just by the slightest amount!
Enough for my whisperings to leak out, and touch the minds of mortals who might be…amenable.
[-]
Hawaiki, 1790 A.D.
"I pretended to be serving Whiro to advance my own agenda," Uoke explained in neutral, measured tones. "Te Tunaroa and Tāwhirimātea could be swayed to follow my orders a great deal more easily, if they thought they came from him. When you are as gifted an orator as I, carrying two parts of the same conversation is no concern."
He looked away from them, staring resolutely at one of the cave's shadowy corners, before adding, "All this was my doing. When you were enjoying Hawaiki's fruits, in the prime of its life, I was still nursing from Mother's teat. I just…wanted to see it again. And I was willing to do anything for that sake."
It was a stunning admission, and one to which none of the gargoyles could think of an immediate response. That was…except one.
"That's a lie!" shouted Makani, surprising everyone around her; not only did she so rarely raise her voice to begin with, but those were also the first words she'd spoken since descending into this place.
Still, she held her ground. "All of us saw what happened to my mother. She was made Whiro's Avatar, not yours. The proof is right here," she said, holding up her crystalline claw. "And what of the Mo'o she summoned? That is Whiro's kinolau."
"I brought forth the Mo'o. In life, it was a great lizard, true. But in death, it became as stone – and stone and earth are my domain," replied the Earthquake God. "As for Honua and Keōua…that, too, was my doing. They didn't truly care which god they were bartering with. Only the power I offered."
"No, she's right," spoke Hina, before any of the others could. As they were chained together back-to-back, she couldn't actually see her uncle as she addressed him, but soldiered on all the same. "This story of yours is ludicrous, and explains nothing. What of the other beasts, which my brother battled? Or the menehune who were driven mad? They certainly weren't rocks. Remember that when I am looking down from within the moon, I see all. And right now, what I see is a load of nēnē droppings."
"That's Hawaiian for 'bullshit,' right?" asked Brooklyn in a whisper, though naturally no one answered him.
"And then there's what happened to Makani," Hina went on. "If you are speaking truth, then it was your power she absorbed through the Orichalcum. But we saw it afflict Tāwhiri with a virulent disease. Hardly within your purview."
Uoke let out a low, rumbling chuckle, like pebbles rubbing against each other.
"Perhaps I'm simply more…versatile, than you give me credit for?" he said. "Really, what use is there in my explaining things further? The fact of the matter is that I've won. Hawaiki has returned to the world, as glorious now as it was in days of old. Bring me to Tāne or the usurper for judgment, if you must. It won't change what I've accomplished."
"Accomplished?!" repeated Zafira, incensed. "If you truly aren't lying, then what you've 'accomplished' is fomenting war between all three races! Countless innocents have been injured or killed!"
Another laugh, this one more scornful. "And? What should that matter? Besides that idiot of an eel, all of the casualties have been mortals," Uoke answered her. "And mortals dying is hardly a cause for alarm. They do it every day."
"Like I said on Rapa Nui…for some folks, clearly the whole 'banished from Avalon so you can learn humility' thing really didn't take," commented Brooklyn with a sigh. "We're not gonna get anywhere with this guy."
"There's still something we're missing, I am certain of it," Benuthet mused, stroking his false beard in thought. "Lord Kanaloa, do you have any further counsel on the matter?"
"Only that I agree with your beaked friend. Attempting to wrestle a straight answer out of my youngest brother is an exercise in futility," said the Sea God. "Perhaps there is more to his story than first appears…but we won't discover any answers here. Rest assured that I will get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, however…"
Kanaloa extended one immaculately sculpted hand toward the Egyptian gargoyle, who still held the other end of Uoke's and Hina's chains.
"You may proceed with releasing him from these iron bonds," he continued, his voice booming authoritatively. "I will take him into my custody, and deliver him personally to Tāne. We have a great deal to catch up on, after all."
Before Benuthet could even begin to consider the request, however, Hina cut in with a sharp, "Now let's not be too hasty. We're in an underground cave right now. Not the best place to unleash the God of Earthquakes, I should think."
But something about the way she spoke the words made Brooklyn think that wasn't the whole reason.
Any trace of geniality disappeared from Kanaloa's face in an instant. "Rūaumoko may exhibit poor judgment in choosing sides, but even his foolishness has limits," he responded. "What do you think surrounds this cavern on all sides? The crushing power of the oceans, raw and unyielding. My domain. A single stone-crusted toe out of line, and his punishment will be swift and without mercy."
He continued to hold out his hand, expectantly.
"So…let me get this straight," said Brooklyn, after a few seconds. "You're saying we've basically…won. We hand Rocky Balboa over to you, and then just…skip off on our merry way? All our problems solved?"
Kanaloa's brow furrowed. "And is there an issue with that…?" he asked coolly.
"Well, I mean, it's just…never that easy. No matter how much I wish it was," Brooklyn told the Sea God. "And after tangling with gods and kaiju lizards and giant eels – oh my! – it's…kinda a letdown, to be honest."
"Not exactly how I'd put it…but I agree with my friend. I try to trust my instincts, and they're telling me that something is very wrong here," added Zafira. "Perhaps we should all see this 'Tāne' together?"
"I think some of you are forgetting to whom you are addressing," rumbled Kanaloa irritably. "I may have been away from my post for quite some time, but I am co-vassal of the Polynesian Pantheon. It is no business of yours how I choose to conduct business with my brother. Now…"
And within the blink of an eye, he was towering over the assembled gargoyles, the seaweed tendrils of his crown seeming to twitch dangerously – as if they might fly out at any moment, and strangle them where they stood.
"Give. Him. To. Me," he commanded, in a voice like crashing wave. "This is the last time I will ask politely."
But before anyone else could reply, Makani said, "Hold a moment. I just thought of one last thing. Lady Hina, when you told us your side of the story on the way to Lapa Nui…whom did you say kidnapped Māui in the first place?"
"It was an entire regiment of Huaka'i Pō. One composed of both humans and Nawao," Hina recalled. "And I did find that rather strange, now that you mention it. Uoke shouldn't have had the power to force them to march…but neither should Whiro. The only gods who could conceivably dominate the souls of such honorable warriors would be Kū, who is long-deceased himself, or else…"
Hina's gentle voice cut itself off abruptly, and slowly – agonizingly so – she turned to face her uncle.
With a look on her face that made it seem as if she was seeing him properly for the very first time.
For several silent, stifling moments, Kanaloa remained in place, his face utterly impassive.
Then, slowly, it spread into a rictus grin, which looked so unbelievably foreign on his staid, chiseled features.
"Well now. It seems I've been found out," he said, before turning his focus to one of the cave's apparently bare walls. "Seize them."
And with that, an army of Night-Marchers a hundred strong emerged from the blackened stone, and descended upon the heroes.
[-]
Hawaiki, 1782 A.D.
"And why would I help you in this manner?" snapped the Sea God. "After all that has passed between us?"
Well, you see, that's the best part. You know how effective I can be in the arts of subtlety. None would have to know you were even involved!
Give me that opening, and I'll take care of the rest. I'll influence the world, ever so slightly, to ensure I have a steady stream of corpses to feast upon. Subjects for you, and morsels for me.
And when I finally grow powerful enough to break free?
Well, that won't reflect well on Tāne at all. You may fancy yourself my jailkeeper, but it is our brother's responsibility to maintain the world above. If they fall into chaos, and as a result I am freed, it will be his head that rolls.
And then, who knows? Perhaps the whelp will relieve him of his position. Leaving vacant, for the first time in millennia…
The position of Chief.
"A position you have schemed and slaughtered since time immemorial to snatch for yourself," said Kanaloa. "Even if I did consider going along with this insane plan, what guarantee do I have that you wouldn't just stab me in the back when all is said and done?"
Oh, I absolutely would. I won't try to deny my nature, Tangaroa.
But in a direct confrontation, you and I both know I'd be no match for your might and your magic. Trust not in my words, for after all, I practically invented duplicity.
Instead, trust that in this particular situation, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by speaking the truth.
Despite everything, Kanaloa found himself hesitating before he could respond. He couldn't actually be entertaining this nonsense!
…Could he?
It pained him to admit, but there was no point in denying it now: yes, there was a not-inconsiderable part of his heart that stewed in bitterness over the events of the past. But despite everything, he loved Kāne – his brother, his twin, his equal in all things.
To even consider usurping him was the height of ridiculousness. Even…Even if…it would mean seeing the sun and the moon and the stars again…
Before his eyes, the Sea God watched as his hand twitched toward the sky overlooking Hawaiki. Which was truly no sky at all, but instead, a woven fishing net, preventing the darkness below from ever infecting the world above.
All he'd need to do was snap a few fibers. Just one or two. It would be so easy…
What was it his elder brother had said?
No one…would ever have to know…
[-]
Hawaiki, 1790 A.D.
"Keep your heads down at all times while you fight!" exclaimed Hina, as the ghostly soldiers moved to surround them on all sides. "If you make eye contact with the Huaka'i Pō, you'll be forced to join their number! For eternity!"
"If it ain't one thing, it's always another," said Brooklyn, as all of them hastily inclined their chins forward. "Thankfully, I've got experience fighting blind. Tangle with gorgons enough times and it becomes second-nature."
And in proof of his point, he drew his broadsword and slashed through the nearest Night-Marcher with perfect precision.
Unfortunately, given that his enemy was a spirit, this attack barely slowed it down. The blade passed straight through its ethereal body, which was immediately followed by a counterstrike from the Marcher's own ghostly weapon.
Brooklyn was forced to swiftly and blindly parry the blow, and to his dismay, felt his sword nearly give way under a suddenly very physical force.
"Oh come on! They can control when they are and aren't solid?" he complained. "That's not even close to fair!"
"My Sak Chakmool, do you have a solution?" asked Zafira, spinning about wildly to keep a contingent of half a dozen Marchers at bay with her obsidian blade. "This is clearly an enemy we cannot defeat without sorcery."
"Would that I could, my Meryt Nefer," Benuthet called out, from across the cave; he'd been forced back against a wall by three particularly burly ghosts, and though he fought valiantly, he was clearly having more trouble than the others in adapting his fighting style to exclude sight. "But Egyptian magic is predicated upon the sacredness and inviolability of death. We would not have a spell to banish fallen spirits."
"Among the human kahuna are those known as po'i 'uhane. They are able to use magic to capture, even control, wayward spirits," said Makani. "But I wouldn't know the first thing about it. The last Nawao to practice sorcery…was one of my fathers."
As the lone unarmed gargoyle, she in turn was dispatching every Marcher that approached with full-bodied grapples and throws. Her crystal claw remained tucked firmly under her wing, meaning she was limited to tossing her foes one-handed – which, given her physique, turned out not to be all that much of a handicap.
Still, it was hardly a sustainable strategy. There were simply too many of them.
Brooklyn grimaced as he whipped his tail at two ghostly gargoyles coming from behind. Predictably, it passed right through. "I hate to be such a negative nelly," he remarked, with a weary groan. "But this really isn't going well."
"It isn't going anywhere, come to think of it," responded Benuthet. "Though these warriors attack us, they seem to have no greater objective."
"Unless distracting us is their objective," added Zafira with a snarl. "Where are the Children?"
It took the rest of them a few seconds to realize that, with their heads pointed downward and their peripheral vision focused on watching for attacks, they'd all managed to lose track of Hina's and Uoke's position.
Not until it was too late.
Sharp barks alerted them to the right part of the cave. Fu-Dog and Kebechet were doing their best to hold the Huaka'i Pō at bay, but to little avail; nearly two dozen had surrounded the restrained gods, and one was reaching for the end of the iron chains that lay slack on the ground.
With one last, furious roar, Fu-Dog leapt for the Marcher's outstretched arm. But the spirit simply made himself incorporeal, allowing the beast to pass straight through, and then followed it up with a swift blow from his again-solid club.
And as he did, another of the spirits – a female gargoyle with heavy facial markings – managed to finish the job. Though now ethereal, she'd been born a mortal, and so she had no trouble grasping the cold iron between her powerful claws…
And pulling it apart.
"Ah…freedom," said Uoke, chuckling darkly as the chains fell away. Though they remained frozen in stone, he flexed his muscles like he was just exiting a gym. "Who knew being bound for such a short span of time could feel so…stifling?"
"You've made a grievous error, uncle. The latest of many, it seems," Hina growled. Power, held internally by the iron over the past fortnight, was now coursing off her in waves, her lustrous hair floating aloft. "Lord Oberon will hardly punish me for using the full force of my magic to bring you traitors to justice."
"Oh, I wouldn't go there, if I were you," declared Kanaloa, who'd been watching the entire battle from a safe distance. "This far underground, we both know your lunar abilities simply won't be up to par. And besides…"
A bemused smirk appeared over his thick lips, before adding coolly, "You wouldn't want any harm to befall my dear…hostages."
The anger across the Moon Goddess' features deepened noticeably. "What have you done with my brother?" she demanded. "My dear husband?"
"Oh, not just him," said Kanaloa. "Bring them in, won't you?"
Several of the Huaka'i Pō obeyed, disappearing down one of the cavern's many pitch-black tunnels. Despite herself, it seemed Hina couldn't help but stay her hand, waiting for whatever it was Kanaloa was about to unveil.
A few moments later, the Night-Marchers returned, grasping in their ghostly hands another set of iron restraints – though ones far more ornate than the simple chains Benuthet had transfigured.
And behind them, dragged like prisoners on a chain gang…
"Brother…" Hina whispered. "Father…"
Putting two and two together, Brooklyn realized the unfamiliar figure had to be the fabled Kāne.
To be sure, he wasn't exactly living up to the legend right now. Both he and Māui, who was being dragged immediately behind, were bruised and bloodied, as if they'd been beaten thoroughly and repeatedly. The iron bindings, it seemed, prevented them from using their natural magic to heal themselves.
"I'm not a big fan of mortals, living or otherwise," Kanaloa told the gargoyles, crossing his broad arms. "But there's no denying they make for useful pawns. At last, I stand tall above my brother. At last, I claim the mantle of Chief…and he is but a miserable wretch at my feet."
"How could you have changed so, uncle?" asked Hina, her voice thick with despair. "Even when you and my father quarreled…you always had a soft spot for the mortals. Is that not why you gifted them magic? So they'd always have a way to fight back?"
But before the Sea God could say anything, one of the prisoners interrupted with a hacking cough. Though it was clearly a struggle simply to speak, Māui pushed through nonetheless.
"Simple…reason for that…sis…" he said, flecks of blood dripping from his mouth with every other word. "Didn't put…the pieces together…until…we were being…dragged up here…"
He looked up at their captor with eyes of pure disdain – before finally choking out the rest.
"But…that's not…Kanaloa."
[-]
Hawaiki, 1782 A.D.
Suddenly, Kanaloa pulled his hand back, ripping his gaze away from the temptations of the starless sky. "No!" he shouted.
…Excuse me, brother? What was that?
"I told you no!" the Sea God railed against his prisoner, clenching his muscular fists tight. "I'm disgusted with myself for considering the option, even for a moment! No matter how much you endeavor to rant, and rave, and chip away at my resolve…nothing will change what I am!"
And that is?
"A god," said Kanaloa firmly. "For a god is more than just a Child of great power. It is…an ideal. For me, even if to no one else, it confers a sense of responsibility. To embody more than the petty squabbles and jealousies that have oft brought the mortal world to ruin."
He took a heavy step forward, his ocean-weathered face set in determination.
"I've held you as my prisoner for over fifteen hundred years, as the mortals count time. And I'll do it for another ten thousand if I have to," he went on. "Never, in all the vast pathways of eternity, will you taste even one more instant of freedom. Even if my own destiny is to languish here for that same eternity, forgotten and unappreciated – that destiny, I accept. Fully, and without reservation."
I'm sure you find this self-sacrifice…noble, in its own way. But what is the point, brother? Who would even know?
"I would," declared Kanaloa. "And that's enough for me."
There was a lengthy period of silence that followed these words, as the unseen voice seemed to consider them. Then…
Hmm…a pity. I do so wish we could've done this the easy way.
"What in our mother's name are you getting on ab…" began the Sea God, but his voice fell away at the sight before him.
For the formless darkness which surrounded every inch of this fallen paradise had begun to coalesce, surrounding and enveloping Whiro's lizard-like form. Eventually, the mass settled on a bipedal shape, taking on substance and color a little bit at a time, until another figure was staring him unblinkingly in the eyes.
A very familiar figure.
"Kū…" he murmured his lost brother's name aloud. "But…this isn't possible…"
The War God took on a bemused smirk, which looked utterly alien across his battle-worn features.
"Why? Because I, the supposed master of war, elected to stand on the wrong side of the greatest one of all time?" he said. The voice was unmistakably Kū's, but the words…
"Don't you dare wear his face! Speak with his voice!" Kanaloa roared, once he'd managed to recover from the initial shock. "As if such a petty trick would be enough to fool me! Do you forget that we are all shapeshifters?"
"Naturally. To take each other's forms is as effortless for us as breathing is for the mortals," replied the other god. "But of course, those forms are superficial at best. We are still limited to the use of our own powers, whatever our shape. So if I wasn't truly Kū, I wouldn't be capable of doing…this."
And with that, he waved a broad hand as if beckoning to some unseen audience.
Dozens of weapons – spears and clubs and shark-tooth blades – appeared throughout the air, arrayed in formation behind the War God. They bore down on Kanaloa, looking like a swarm of enormous, angry hornets.
Then, with another wave, they rained down all their fury upon the Sea God at once.
Kanaloa couldn't even begin to count the number of times his skin was pierced, bludgeoned, or lacerated in that instant. Of course, he was incapable of dying from the wounds…but that hardly made them hurt any less.
"Oh, dear me! That doesn't seem to have been pleasant at all," taunted the false Kū. "But I think I know just who can help."
And then, with a burst of light, what stood before Kanaloa was no longer the brother who embodied war, but rather…
"Lono…God of Peace…" said Kanaloa, coughing through a mouthful of ichor. "Have you truly sunk…so low…so as to pervert…even this face…? A face…that never harmed…a single soul…"
"Doesn't mean he wasn't capable of it," the other god tossed off casually, before summoning a bamboo hano flute out of thin air and raising it to his lips.
A few melodic notes played, causing a glimmer of rainbow-hued energy to appear between them. Another set of notes, and the energy shot toward Kanaloa, blasting him off his feet.
"How…are you doing this…?" demanded the Sea God weakly.
"It's simple, really," the false Lono hissed. "Mortals aren't the only ones to have an afterlife, after all. Though it is rare for our kind to die, those that do must have their spirits depart somewhence. The only difference is that those souls can be a lot…gamier. Certainly a lot harder to get down than your average flesh-and-blood mortal."
It took a few moments for Kanaloa to properly process the other god's words. When his eyes finally widened with understanding, it was accompanied by an overwhelming urge to vomit.
"You…ate them…" he mumbled with disgust.
"Tracking down their remains in this place was the easy part. I found them centuries ago, actually," said his enemy, now slowly circling the Sea God like a shark closing in on its prey. Each time he passed through Kanaloa's field of vision, he'd switched again between his two stolen forms. "But I lacked the strength to consume them utterly. For you see, that is the true majesty of my magic. To eat, and eat, and eat…and then to imbibe the powers and abilities of all those I've devoured."
He stopped before Kanaloa, who was no longer strong enough to stand. He wore a visage now that was halfway between Kū and Lono – and displayed a cruel, vicious sneer that matched neither.
"All that has changed in the past few years, however. You remember what I told you? Foreign humans have begun to descend upon the islands above in droves, and bring with them so much death," he continued to explain. "So many corpses in the cold, heartless earth. They gave me just enough power to finish the job. To, shall we say…digest, the remains of our two poor, misbegotten brothers. Oh, their flavors were delightful…"
Kanaloa recoiled in horror, trying to summon powers he did not have to force the monster back. But though he knew, intellectually, that Hawaiki was surrounded on all sides by the deepest ocean, it was as if his connection to it was…dimmed, somehow.
He'd never felt more vulnerable, than in that moment.
"The truth is that I've been more powerful than you for some time, Tangaroa," added the other god, using his Maori name for good measure. "I stuck around here, pretending to still be helpless as a newborn…because I wanted to give you this chance. I pitied the fate you'd been dealt. No one, after all, knows how it feels to be cheated and forgotten by Tāne…better than I."
"Don't…compare us…" said Kanaloa, though it was growing increasingly difficult. His wounds from the earlier assaults were still bleeding profusely. "I am…nothing like you…"
The wicked god's smirk fell away completely, and all that was left was a solemn, callous frown.
"Yes. I've grown to realize that," he intoned coldly. "Which leaves only one path forward."
His body swelled, as he shed away the masks of Kū and Lono, and instead took on the form he'd most favored in days of old.
Kanaloa was helpless to do anything but stare as an enormous mouth appeared upon that form – not the one on his face, but instead directly across his bulging stomach.
The mouth opened wide, exposing cavernous depths that were naught but scaly flesh and ravenous teeth and so, so much darkness…
Soon enough, that darkness was all he saw.
[-]
Hawaiki, 1790 A.D.
"I'm…interested to know how you came to that conclusion, nephew," said Kanaloa, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"Oh…come on…" Māui shot back, albeit with difficulty due to his swollen jaw. "You're a real…crappy actor…lizard-face. You sound…about as much…like Kanaloa…as this does…"
And with great weight and heft to his movements, Maui stretched out his well-muscled left arm, brought it with laborious effort toward his other armpit…and made a loud farting sound.
The Sea God – or at least, the being wearing his form – did not appear amused.
"You always did have more lip than sense, half-breed," he sneered. "Still, I'm curious if there was something specific that gave me away. Indulge me before you die, if you would."
"More just…a general sense…something wasn't right…" coughed out the demigod hero. "Though…it didn't help…when you…called him Tāne earlier…"
The god's expression shifted into one of bemusement. "Did I, now? I must not have even noticed," he said glibly. "Perhaps it would've been better if I'd effected the persona of Tangaroa from the beginning. Less room for mistakes, that way. But…ah well. If there's no longer any point in pretending…"
That was the only warning they were given before the Sea God's form suddenly swelled up like a balloon. His previously handsome features were stretched to their breaking point, in a sight that was simultaneously comical and utterly horrific.
Then, when his body was full to bursting…it quite literally exploded, in a burst of magic so intense it was blinding.
What stood in its wake was a sight so dreadful, it all but defied description.
The resemblance between this figure, and the mosaic framed behind him, was immediately obvious. He had the same triple-frilled, lizard-like head; the same muscular, claw-tipped limbs; the same enormous girth. And upon that girth…
"I can't believe this is a ground rule I have to set, but here goes," Brooklyn quipped, if only because sheer horror had evaporated every other thought from his mind. "Mouths go on faces. Nowhere else!"
"Don't be so small-minded, TimeDancer! It doesn't become you," said the rotund god. He was speaking simultaneously from his two mouths – the normal one on his head and the abominable monstrosity that stretched across his belly – and while the words were the same, the two voices weren't entirely synched up. The effect was immensely disturbing.
"Now, I expect I need no introduction at this stage, but…" he continued, snickering with both mouths. "Whiro-te-tipua, at your service."
[-]
?, 1784 A.D.
"You've risked much, showing your true face to us," rumbled Tāwhirimātea, from the heavens. "Could you not have hidden this deception any longer?"
Down in the underworld, Whiro, who was in the process of shifting back into the guise of Tangaroa, shook his now-crowned head once.
I'd hoped that consuming Tangaroa and absorbing his power would give me the strength necessary to break free from this prison. But it seems I overestimated our dear brother…in more ways than one.
I gained his ability to make small tears in the 'net' that keeps me bound. But only wide enough for my words and whisperings to slip through. Not my physical form.
"Then you will need more corpses," Rūaumoko declared at once. Standing atop a minor atoll in the Pacific, his mastery of the earth allowed him to serve as an intermediary for his brothers above and below. "I'll go and slaughter a few hundred mortals right now, if it'll help. I doubt they'll be missed."
As much as I appreciate your…enthusiasm, brother, I think not. You two will need to remain within the whelp's good graces until the very moment we're ready to strike. That means obeying his ridiculous Laws – at least overtly.
Besides, consuming mortal remains would only help me free myself. I have far grander designs in mind.
"Grander than the return of our eldest, unjustly imprisoned brother?" asked the Earthquake God. "Grander than installing a Chief who will truly put the atua first, rather than bend over backwards to placate the mortal vermin?"
I certainly appreciate the vote of confidence. But yes…far grander. For I shall not be coming alone.
I intend to bring our home with me. Every last tree and stone and river.
"Hawaiki…?" Tāwhirimātea whispered breathlessly – ironic, since in a sense the Storm God was nothing but breath. "Surely, you cannot be serious…"
I would never jest about a matter so grave, brothers.
Each of us has been wronged by Tāne, at one time or another. Each of us has chafed under the usurping whelp's petty restrictions. Each of us has found themselves listless in an age where magic has dwindled, and the technology of mortals has ascended in turn.
A return to the world of the old ways is our only option. Without Our Mother returned to Her throne, we of the Third Race will inevitably fade into the marches of time.
The return of Hawaiki – and I, her rightful Master – is but the first step in this journey. But it is a journey we must undertake.
I will need you, Tāwhirimātea, and your mastery over the heavens.
I will need you, Rūaumoko, and your dominion over the bare earth.
As I work my subtle machinations from within the underworld, I will need you, Te Tunaroa, and your ability to travel betwixt them.
The freshly resurrected Eel God, who'd been watching this all quietly at his Master's side, perked up at the mention of his name.
"Honestly, I'm just happy to be included," he said with a hiss. "Particularly if it means a chance to achieve my vengeance…"
Whiro continued on as if he hadn't been interrupted.
And, much as it disgusts me…I will need mortal pawns. To weave and maneuver into the paths required to undo Hawaiki's seals.
But I'm not especially worried. There are always mortals willing and eager to sell away their very souls, in exchange for a taste of power. I've been tempting humans and gargoyles alike with whispered promises, since the very moment I emerged from the darkness of creation.
Which only leaves one more question, my brothers.
Are you with me?
The realms of the sky, ground, and death all rang at once in a chorus of assent.
A chorus that carried with it the promise of a new dawn…
Or an old one.
[-]
Hawaiki, 1790 A.D.
"Whiro!" shouted Kāne, the sight of his old enemy apparently providing a surge of adrenaline, despite his copious injuries. "What have you done with…!"
"With your twin? Precious little baby Tangaroa?" said Whiro tauntingly, cutting him off. "Why, he's in the same place as our other dear brothers! Say hello to your so-called Chief, Tū! Rongo!"
And in case his meaning wasn't clear enough already, he patted his overlarge belly for good measure.
"You…monster!" bellowed the Forest God, now struggling mightily against his restraints as if he hadn't been beaten into utter submission just a few moments prior. "Those were our brothers! Our family! And…And you would dare to…!"
"To gobble them all up in one bite?" Whiro finished for him, speaking from his top mouth; the bottom one punctuated the point by letting out a large belch. "Well, as a matter of fact…yes, I would. It's sort of what I do, little brother. And look at this body of mine – already seeing results!"
With that, he snapped his fingers, causing his skin to briefly take on a bluish glow. A moment later, a massive torrent of water appeared as if from nowhere, rearing back like a snake ready to strike.
Another snap, and the wave crashed into Kāne with enough force to shatter bones, sending him sprawling.
"Enjoyed that taste of what I sampled from Tangaroa?" he hissed maliciously. "You know, this is almost too unfair to properly enjoy. Emphasis on almost. After all, you've never set much store in keeping things fair. Cheating me out of my birthright, for example."
"Oh, come off it," said Hina, before her father could respond. "Are you still hung up on that? Just because you were the oldest of your brothers, it hardly gives you the right to be Chief. Much less to throw a big temper tantrum about it."
"Man…" mumbled a clearly impressed Māui. "I love…this girl…"
"You can ogle once we've fought our way out of this, brother-husband," the Moon Goddess told him, though she was smiling. "My Nawao friends, aid me. If you can break the chains shackling Māui and my father, the nine of us should be more than a match for Whiro's forces. No matter how fat he's gotten."
"Don't underestimate the value of a healthy amount of girth," stated Whiro, patting his belly again – which, given that he was speaking from said belly, made for an excessively bizarre sight. "Or the power it enables me to command. Marchers, to my side!"
The remaining Huaka'i Pō, who'd been hovering silently for some time due to lack of clear orders, were powerless to disobey; the ghostly soldiers doubly compelled by the god who held mastery over both war and death at once.
"And since I no longer have to rely on subterfuge…I might as well not hold back on bolstering my armies," he added with a dark chuckle, before waving one of his portly arms.
At once, appearing from the shadows were many of the same beasts he'd forced to fight Māui on the beaches of Waimanu Valley: lizards, insects, and carnivorous birds. These ones, however, didn't appear to be made of flesh and blood, but rather masses of black smoke in the shapes of the creatures, their violet eyes burning furiously.
"Atua whiro. Spirits he's fully corrupted with his essence, and twisted in his own image," Hina answered their unspoken question. "In other cultures, you might call them something like demons."
"And you shall also have me, Master," said Uoke, stepping toward his elder brother and summoning his hammer from thin air. "Together, we can surely…!"
"No, Rūaumoko. I have another task for you," Whiro interjected, causing the Earthquake God to deflate a bit. "Return to the surface, and reconvene with Tāwhirimātea. Once I deal with these last few interlopers, it will be time to enact the final stage of the plan."
"And…And what's that?" Makani asked timorously.
Whiro turned to her with a raised brow, as if slightly impressed by the nerve it took simply to voice the question.
"Well, my dear…since you did help me skip a step, I suppose you deserve to hear the fruits of your labor come to fruition," he replied. "You see, I was always going to need to infect sweet Tāwhiri with my pestilence at some point or another…but you let me get around the pesky 'ask for his permission' bit. Now, I have exactly what I need – a highly contagious stormcloud, ready to spread plague wheresoever he might travel."
It was Benuthet who first realized the full extent of what he was suggesting. "No…" he murmured hollowly.
"That's right. See, he gets it," said Whiro, clapping his clawed hands together. "The storm will gather, and grow, until it spreads across the entire Pacific. And brings forth a rain of death. Every plant and beast will wither and die, until there's nothing left. The sole remaining source of life across these seas…will be the isle at the eye of the storm."
"Hawaiki," Zafira finished for him, scowling fiercely. "You wish to give the survivors no choice but to fall under your rule."
"And what a glorious rule it shall be! Just you wait, little ones. I'll prove myself a thousand times the Chief my foolish brother ever was," Whiro declared triumphantly.
But the "foolish brother" in question wasn't interested in taking these words lying down. With immense difficulty, he managed to force himself to his feet, despite the half-dozen Huaka'i Pō holding the other end of his restraints.
"Even for you, Whiro…this is a sickening ploy," he growled, seemingly unaware of the accidental pun. "Not to mention an impossible one. Neither you nor Tāwhiri are strong enough to cover the entire ocean."
"Ah. Perhaps that is the case now," Whiro admitted coolly. "But I think I know just the way to fix that."
Then, without any further warning, he lunged for Kāne, hauling him up into the air with both arms – while taking care to avoid the iron chains. A thick, fleshy tongue, longer than Brooklyn was tall, slunk out of his belly-mouth, and licked the teeth that encircled it.
"All I need to do is, shall we say…complete the set," he said, now visibly salivating from both mouths. "Then I'll control all the fundamental forces, that have existed since the beginning. Forest and Sea. War and Peace. Light and Darkness. Good and Evil."
Hina and the gargoyles all instinctively moved toward the pair, but Uoke and the various spirits blocked their paths.
"Yeah, you don't really seem like the type who's very good at controlling his appetite," snarked Brooklyn, out of an inability to do anything else. "But if that's all you need to enact your big bad master plan…then what's taken you so long?"
Whiro took a long glance at the Scottish gargoyle, before letting out a (quite literally) bellyful chortle.
"You would be the one to ask me that, TimeDancer?" he asked. "When you appear out of nowhere at the very moment my plans come to fruition? With several other members of your race, of clearly foreign origin, in tow?"
Brooklyn's blood chilled. "You…called me that earlier," he muttered. "I didn't catch it at first, but…"
"This may be the first time we've met from your perspective, little hero," said Whiro cryptically. "But it's a very different case from mine. She'll be lovely, by the way."
Before he could inquire further, however, Whiro chose to dig his talons deeper into Kāne's flesh, causing the Forest God to cry out in agony. Nevertheless, he managed to force out a strained, "Don't…worry…about me. He…needs to be…stopped…"
"I hate to say it, but father is right. We can't fight them all off right now," Hina spoke to her allies in a low voice. "If he truly gains the magic of all four of the Great Gods…then our best hope is to stop Tāwhirimātea before they can unite. We need to escape from this place."
But at this, Whiro let out the loudest and cruelest laughter yet, booming and echoing throughout the cavern from each of his mouths.
"Escape?" he repeated incredulously. "There is no escape. Where do you think we are, my dear? This is no mere cave that I've led you into."
He spread out his arms, mirroring perfectly the pose of the mosaic behind him. At the same time, the stones that encompassed it glowed with a deep purple – one that was now spreading through every rock and crevasse in sight, like a growing infection.
"This…is Tai-whetuki," he went on, and though the words meant little to Brooklyn on their own, he could tell from the way Hina's expression shifted that it was very bad news. "And none of you have any hope of leaving…"
His belly-tongue ran one last stroke across his fangs, quivering lasciviously.
"Except at the bottom of my stomach."
