Lei and the fire goddess, p.22
Lei and the Fire Goddess, page 22
She wanted to get the snow goddess’s attention so they could race.
Clearly Pele wasn’t one to ask nicely. Asking would leave her open to being refused. To being vulnerable. To being shut down. Anna could see that now. Why would anyone who’d been kicked out and abandoned at various times risk that? Nope, Pele just came in strong and terrorized the mountain in a way that Poliʻahu had no choice but to respond. Hennley would have totally been on board with that logic, and Anna could see a certain sense in it. Don’t ask for approval. Demand it.
But at the same time, it sure wouldn’t make her any friends, only followers or foes. The newly arrived goddess’s expression made it obvious she wasn’t in the “friend” camp.
Poliʻahu was ageless, her face appearing to be that of a young woman but showing glimpses of a glowing timelessness as the veneer of her human disguise was paper-thin. Her gossamer white dress, which appeared fragile enough to be made of snowflakes, trailed along the ground behind her, leaving a fresh blanket of snow in her wake so it wasn’t clear where the dress ended and snow began. She kept her white hair pulled back into a tight bun behind her head. Her startling ice-blue eyes stood out against her dark face as she swept over the scene, quickly dismissing Anna and settling on Pele, who pulled her hands out of the earth and stood to face her.
“To what do we owe this honor? I haven’t seen you on my mauna in ages,” Poliʻahu said.
Her words seemed to say one thing, but her tone—whoa. She could give Anna’s dad master lessons on passive-aggressiveness. If Anna asked how she was doing, she bet the goddess would say, “I’m fine,” just like her dad did when he was hungry and something upset him, leaving Anna and her mom to interpret all the layers of not-so-fine-ness simmering below the surface. The lava coming out of the crevasse had cooled and hardened now that Poliʻahu was there. Anna didn’t want to be anywhere near these two when their words became more heated.
Anna backed away a bit. “Makani?” she whispered. The breeze whispered up her arm, then went back to cooling her hand. “If these two start really battling it out, we’re gonna need to get out of here. I’ll have to think of another way to get Kaipo. We can hide in an observatory and figure out a plan C.” Makani swirled around her waist, but Anna slumped. Who am I kidding? If these two goddesses start fighting, the observatories are toast, too. She’d give anything to be back on Tūtū’s lānai, watching rain fall instead of standing on a mountain while ancient goddesses had a battle of words and elements, but she needed to stay strong for Kaipo. It was her fault they were all in this mess. One thing was for certain: Anna would never doubt any of Tūtū’s stories again. With a great deal of luck, she would be going home with a few new ones of her own.
“Poliʻahu, how wonderful to see you. Thank you for your kind welcome,” Pele replied. “Let me fix this little scratch.” She kneeled, pushed her fingertips back into the earth, and pulled the crack back together, sealing it around the new slice of solidified lava. Pele rose again, the goddess in her subdued, glowing eyes banked to black coals once more.
“This little visitor has challenged me to a sled race,” she said, nodding in Anna’s direction, “and I thought that would be the most fun I’ve had in a while. She asked that we race on Maunakea for her first and likely last race. We will be off of your hill in but a moment.”
The snow had stopped falling and was already melting off the sun-warmed stones. “We’d love for you to join us. Sled races are always more fun with worthy competition, and you’d at least be able to keep up with me for a little while.”
“I’m not interested in your games, Pele. My snow maidens are resting till winter. Have your little race and then leave my mountain.” Poliʻahu turned to Anna. “Kaikamahine, do you have a sled?”
“Me?” Anna asked, unsure of the term.
“Yes, kaikamahine. Girl.”
“No, Madam Poliʻahu,” Anna replied with her eyes lowered.
“You certainly can’t race Pele without your own sled. Don’t trust anything she tells you. Here, you can use mine.” Poliʻahu handed Anna a sled that materialized out of the cloud behind her. “And, Leilani,” she said before turning away, “good luck and stay to the left.”
Poliʻahu knew her name! Kamapuaʻa must have had time to talk to her about the plan. Hopefully they were able to ready the course. Anna held the sled, tracing her fingers along the ancient wooden planks and wondering at the stories the koa wood could tell. The sled was as narrow as a skateboard. The crosspieces she’d be lying or standing on were raised only four inches off the ground by two parallel runners—twelve-foot-long, thin pieces of wood that acted like ice-skate blades over the course. They were made slick by rubbing them with kukui nut oil. The front of each runner curved upward so it wouldn’t dig into the ground. The runners were fastened to the crosspieces and handrails with cord made of coconut fibers—no nails or screws were used. This was actually happening. She was going to race a fire goddess down a mountain on a snow goddess’s sled.
The clouds cleared, and the summer sun shone brightly. She knew this was it. Her hula was just the beginning. This was the true test.
Pele spoke, as if reading her mind. “Are you ready?” Pele looked about to burst, trying to hold up the I’m-a-respectable-serious-goddess façade. She’d probably be as giddy as a kid in Colorado at the top of a snow hill with a sled if she thought it wouldn’t have Anna thinking less of her.
Anna looked down the face of the mountain, gripping the sled that held her fate.
“Let’s race.”
Hōlua
Pele re-formed the cloud of steam and stepped onto it. Anna followed suit, awkwardly holding the long sled next to her with her good hand, careful not to touch the sled with her injured palm. They floated down the mountain to the start of the sledding course, the kahua hōlua. The course was a smooth swath of dark trail about the width of her street back home, falling down the mountainside, bordered on both sides by upland forest. Anna looked closely at the surface and saw the larger chunks of ʻaʻā lava rock buried beneath smaller stones that filled the cracks. Tiny pebbles and dirt had been packed down on top of the smaller stones, giving the course a smooth appearance. Kamapuaʻa had indeed come through and put a layer of long pili grass over the dirt to finish the kahua hōlua. Anna glanced upward. The sun was shining clearly now, bringing out the oils in the pili grass that would cause the sleds to fly even faster. Anna was hot in her stained shirt and hula skirt.
The thin layer of snow that had fallen at the top of the mountain didn’t reach this lower elevation. Anna kept her eyes focused down on the hard course. She waited for Pele’s instructions, careful not to say or do anything to inspire the goddess’s ire or cause her to end the bargain. In Colorado when Anna had snowboarded, she was bundled in snow pants, jacket, mittens, and a helmet. Barely an inch of skin would be exposed to the cold. Falling hurt but wasn’t too damaging with all those layers.
Here, with so much exposed skin and the rough, unforgiving stone lying right beneath the thin layer of compacted dirt, Anna knew she wouldn’t be walking away from this race if something went wrong. Especially not if she reached the speeds that would probably be needed to beat the goddess. As awful as it sounded, Anna couldn’t help but be a little glad that she likely wouldn’t be alive to watch Pele take Tūtū’s home or see what would become of Kaipo if she messed this up.
Pele had one foot on her hōlua, prepared to stand on it as she surfed down the mountain. All right! Anna felt a spark of hope build to a glow. She could do this. Snowboarding Colorado’s snowy slopes as Anna would come in handy for Leilani on this Hawaiian mountain.
“We will start on my count of ʻekolu. Whoever goes the farthest without falling or whoever reaches the ocean first is the winner. Any questions?”
“No, Pele,” Anna said, staring down the solid slope.
“Mākaukau?” Pele asked.
“ ʻAe,” Anna answered, ready as she’d ever be.
“ ʻEkahi.” Pele’s countdown began. Anna put her sled on the ground, matching Pele’s stance with her left foot on the slender board, near the back. Anna tested the board’s responsiveness by flexing her foot forward and back to see how it rocked with her weight.
“ ʻElua.” Pele’s second count rang out, and Anna copied the goddess’s crouch, preparing to push off with her right foot the instant Pele hit number three. Okay, Anna. Breathe. Focus on the win.
“ ʻEKOLU!” Pele cried, and both racers pushed off with all their might, taking their stances on their hōlua. Anna’s right foot was forward, the way she was comfortable on her snowboard back home, too. The hōlua was narrower than the snowboard, and the slightest amount of leaning off-center influenced the direction of the sled. Definitely no carving here. Anna wobbled a bit and almost fell as she learned how sensitive the sled was, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pele take the lead.
“Not like where you’re from, is it, girl?” Pele called out as she flew past.
“I’m just getting warmed up,” Anna shot back. “And I’m from here, too!” she shouted at Pele’s back before clamping her mouth shut.
Now was not the time to aggravate the goddess with her own competitive spark. Anna’s heart pounded in her throat as she dropped to a knee to get her sled under control. She grabbed both handrails without thinking, cursing loudly as a blister on her right hand popped and agony ripped through it. Warm liquid oozed through her closed fist, but she held firm to the raised handrail, forcing herself to concentrate and ignore the fresh waves of pain as they washed over her. When the sled was steady, she slowly rose to standing, maintaining her balance.
Then she saw the divot. Kamapuaʻa had done a great job making it look like a natural trench had formed the full width of the course. Loosening her joints, she prepared to ride out the bump the way she handled all the imperfections of snow and terrain of the slopes. She just needed to make it through and hope it’d throw the goddess off her game. But wait. What the . . . ?
Anna watched out of the corner of her eye as fresh molten lava oozed up to fill the trench on Pele’s side. By the time they reached the trench, Pele sailed smoothly across, and Anna felt the bumps from going over her own rough side in her joints. It barely slowed her, but it was enough to give Pele the lead.
Come on, I didn’t come all this way to lose. Anna bent her knees, crouching to lower her center of gravity. She felt the increased stabilization and became more aerodynamic. Hula lessons are totally paying off, she thought as she welcomed the dull burn in her thighs.
An unexpected bump rattled her focus and threw Anna off balance. She strained her core and her legs to stay centered, but it was too much to recover from. Oh no, this is it! She raised her arms up around her head to brace herself for a sudden and brutal impact with the ground when suddenly a strong wind surrounded her, forcing her upright again. Makani!
“That was way too close. Thanks for the save!” Anna quietly said as she attempted to calm her mind. Anna felt a reassuring bracing breeze at her back, helping her speed down the slide.
Poliʻahu’s board slid effortlessly down the mountain as though the rails were coated in ice. Maybe they were. Anna wouldn’t put anything past these goddesses at this point. She absorbed the bumps and moved her body to account for the holes in the slide. Inch by inch, she grew closer to Pele’s tattered hem, flying wildly behind her. She was doing this! She kept her eyes on the course. Anna just had to manage to stay upright long enough to reach the ocean first or for Pele to fall off.
Moment by moment, millimeter by millimeter, Anna caught her. And then it happened. The nose of Anna’s sled passed the nose of Pele’s. And then Anna’s right foot was ahead of the goddess’s. Then her body. She’d done it; she was officially in the lead, fair and square. Now this race needed to end before Pele ended it herself. Anna forced herself to remain chill and focused. Her steel gaze fixed ahead.
What Anna needed was a well-timed distraction. Where is Kamapuaʻa?
Don’t Let Go
Anna and Pele flew down the mountain on their hōlua. Anna was maintaining her lead, and it grew with every passing moment. The earth trembled, and Anna knew Pele’s control was about to snap. She gritted her teeth and looked between the course ahead of her and the ocean, a gleaming promise of blue too far away to offer any real sanctuary.
Anna’s sled pulled a full length in front of the goddess, then another and another. The ground shifted, and rocks began to jump. Anna balanced on her hōlua, feeling nearly weightless with speed. She put on her race face and got in the zone, using the muscle memory that came almost naturally over the years of balancing on her snowboard. Ridley would never believe that this was what her training on the slopes back home had led to.
With one final shudder, ground lost its battle to remain solid in the face of the angry goddess. Anna watched in horror as the course began to steam. Hair-thin cracks of lava seeped to the surface. Sweat ran in rivulets down her back. She whipped her head around and saw Pele coming after her, still on her own sled, her eyes a fiery red. Anna looked ahead again. Her hōlua was slowing as she attempted to avoid the danger zones.
Suddenly, up ahead where the ground was still untouched by Pele’s anger, a massive wild boar popped out of the trees and ran onto the course. It paused in the middle of the lane and faced Anna and Pele. Puffs of dirt billowed from the ground as it snorted and snuffed. Anna’s breath left her in a whoosh.
Kamapuaʻa had arrived.
Anna looked back at Pele. For a split second, she swore that she saw a glimmer of the young girl she’d almost befriended in the woods. The goddess’s face glowed with youthful surprise and something that looked a lot like hope.
And then she hit a bump.
Pele let loose a string of Hawaiian cuss words that caused the hair on Anna’s arms to stand up. Anna watched as Pele lost her balance and started to wobble. Her sled lifted off one rail, then the other as the goddess threw a leg out to try to balance herself. She overcompensated and started to topple. With a quick shift backward of her weight, she managed to stay upright. The fire goddess’s contortions must have looked something like Anna’s attempts at hula when she was little. Pele’s arms windmilled, then she stilled and shot a smile of success at Kamapuaʻa.
Then she hit the next bump.
And this one was big. Time slowed, and Anna’s eyes widened as Pele flipped up and off her sled. Oh no, no, no, no, no. This was not going to improve the attitude of a goddess who loathed humiliation. Anna kept her sled going as her heart attempted to claw its way out of her chest. If the retaliation for picking a flower was the kidnapping of an ʻaumakua, what would Pele do when she epically crashed in front of her ex? Anna looked to Kamapuaʻa for some sort of sign. He watched Pele as she flew through the air, concern drawing his piggy mouth in a tight line.
Absently, Anna realized that she was the only one left in the race.
She’d done the impossible and won.
But would she live to tell the tale?
Almost as soon as she’d thought it, Pele came crashing down next to Anna in a wreck that shook the earth. Time revved back up, and now it was Anna’s turn to windmill her arms as she desperately tried to ride out the earthquake.
The fire goddess’s embarrassment quickly morphed into simmering rage. Anna could feel the wound on her back from the lava fountain ache with awareness. The vengeful goddess was staring daggers at her. Every muscle in Anna’s body was strung taut, working to keep her on the hōlua. Anna awkwardly lowered to her knees on the board and chanced a look up the mountain. What she saw was terrifying enough to nearly stop her racing heart. Oh, Tūtū. What have I done?
The mountain was on fire. Pele had swapped out her traditional wooden sled for a hōlua of lava and had sent fresh fingers of fire racing ahead of her toward Anna. The goddess’s hair was waving wildly around her head, and her skin glowed crimson as she surfed her wave of lava in Anna’s direction.
“Makani! What do I do?” She kept her knees bent as the hōlua slowed further. The ground below her was starting to shimmer, the pili grass catching on fire in little bursts. The small grass layer burned through quickly, like tinder at a campfire, and the lava rock beneath was beginning to liquify. The thin racing rails of Poliʻahu’s sled that were in contact with the ground began to smolder. She was going about as fast as she would be if she were snowboarding through trees but couldn’t keep this up much longer if the hōlua burned.
Whoa.
An idea slammed into her with the force of shore break tumbling her into the sand.
Her snowboard. What if . . . ? Was it possible . . . ? Could the scale be turned into a snowboard? Well . . . a lava board?
A spark hit her hand, and Anna hissed. No time to waste.
Anna pulled her scale out from behind her skirt with her good hand. It glowed brightly as Anna held it between her knees and worked frantically to stretch and shape it into a snowboard using only one hand, not wanting to risk more pain on her blistered palm. She balanced the roughly shaped board on the burning hōlua and stepped onto it.
Anna would have to leave Poliʻahu’s burning sled stuck in its tracks since its rails burned. It had almost slowed to a stop. She had to move! She used her uninjured hand to push both her hair bands into the malleable scale, one ahead of the other. Yes! It totally worked! She held both hair bands open using both hands, causing her blistered palm to sing in pain at the tugging sensation. Anna jammed her sunburned feet into the tight bindings, and they tingled in relief as they stuck to the cool scale. She did a bunny hop off the hōlua, then a couple more to gain some momentum to begin her ride down the mountain on a course that had become a river of lava.
Anna’s mind whirred. Even though she’d technically won when Pele fell off her sled, her naʻau told her this wasn’t over yet. And she couldn’t just lava-board away. She needed to rescue Kaipo. She cut sideways, leaning back on her heels, taking it slowly to avoid splashing lava, and brought herself to a stop with some help from Makani.
