Island's End (14 page)

Only once before has Lah-ame failed to heal—eight seasons ago, when one of Kara’s sister’s babies fell ill. Now, Tawai’s eyes remain closed, like my little cousin’s did before she died. After her death, Mimi said babies’ spirits were the hardest to keep alive because they were like tiny plants just climbing out of the earth. But the older a spirit grows, the sturdier its roots, and the firmer its grasp on this world.

I tell myself Tawai’s body is halfway grown. It will struggle hard to hold on to his spirit. ‟Biliku-waye, Pulug-ame, spirits of the Otherworld and of my ancestors, let my brother become well,” I plead softly.

Lah-ame leads us outside, where I see the purple bruise of dusk spreading across the sky. “I cannot sense Tawai’s spirit,” he says. “It has wandered too far away to hear my call.”

“How can that be?” Mimi asks.

“His spirit wants to be cured by the strangers’ medicine,” Lah-ame replies. “They carried this lau to him. Tawai will not be healed by me.”

“Why?” Mimi says. ‟Why can you not cure him?”

Lah-ame runs a hand across his wrinkled forehead. “I have already told you. The lau has taken over Tawai’s body. His own spirit has wandered far away.”

“He is only a boy,” Kara says. “A child. His spirit is trusting.”

“Not in me.” Lah-ame’s voice is tired but firm. “His spirit wants to travel across the sea, not return to the heart of the jungle.”

Kara looks hollow, like a dead tree trunk with its insides scraped out. Mimi clings to him like a withered vine. “You can save him, Uido,” she whispers. “I have faith in you.” Then my parents return to our hut.

Lah-ame hugs me for a moment and lets go. “I have tried everything we know again and again, Uido. There is nothing more I can do for Tawai. I am sorry.”

Leaving me alone in the clearing, he walks away into the jungle. But as long as Tawai is still alive, I cannot walk away as Lah-ame has done.

In the life of the jungle, the death of one small boy means little. Every day the spirits watch the deaths of countless beings. But Tawai has a special place in my life. A place I want to hold on to.

Surely there is a chance that Tawai will respond to my call. My healing touch may not be as powerful as Lah-ame’s, but I am Tawai’s sister. His spirit has been close to mine all our lives.

As I return to Lah-ame’s hut, his warning echoes in my mind again about trying to heal before meeting my spirit animal. Ignoring it, I close my eyes and move my hands over my little brother’s body, searching for the lau. But Lah-ame is right—I cannot feel where the illness is lodged inside. All I sense is a pale cloud spreading across his body.

My hands tremble as I place them on Tawai’s chest. Using the beat of his heart as my guiding rhythm, I send my spirit out to search for Tawai’s. My spirit leaves Lah-ame’s hut and floats across the clearing.

For a moment, I think I see a faint shape swinging on the vine hanging behind the bachelor hut, where Tawai loved to play when he was younger. But it disappears as I come closer.

I drift to the beach where Tawai fished so often and gaze out across the ocean in the direction the strangers come from. There, in the distance, I see the glow of a spirit moving away over the waves, farther and farther from our island’s shores.

“Tawai!” I call. “Come back. Come to me.” But he has slipped beyond my reach.

My spirit returns alone to Lah-ame’s hut.

I slump against the curved wall. As Lah-ame said, Tawai’s spirit has left us and gone in search of the strangers’ island, because it wants to be cured by them.

In the loneliness of the hut, I try to think of how an oko-jumu should heal a boy whose spirit has more faith in strangers’ medicines than in our own.

Perhaps I should follow Tawai’s spirit across the water and take his body to the strangers’ world. There must be at least a chance that the strangers and I could work together on their island to coax Tawai’s spirit back into his body. But if I cross over to the strangers’ world, my tribe may think Ragavan’s medicines are better than ours and lose faith in me and in the En-ge ways.

A soft groan escapes Tawai’s lips. The sound cuts into me like a knife. Maybe I have walked the spirit paths for nothing. But I am not yet oko-jumu.

Tonight I am only a girl who cannot watch her little brother die.

T
awai’s body is hot to my touch. He moans as I struggle to hoist him onto my shoulders, no longer the baby brother I once carried with ease.

I make my way to the beach and head straight for our canoes. I set Tawai’s body inside the smallest one and drag the canoe toward the ocean. Praying for Biliku-waye’s understanding and protection, I shove the canoe into the surf and jump in.

Branches of coral reach out like sharp fingernails, threatening to scratch holes into the boat. I give all my attention to getting past the reef. Soon the waves toss us into deeper water. Although I have never canoed on an open sea full of crashing waves, this skill feels surprisingly natural to me. My spirit seems to guide the movement of my arms and help me stay afloat.

I try to remember all Lah-ame taught me about the wind and the current and how to set a course by the stars. Praying to my ancestors to guide me across the ocean they traveled long ago, I row forward. Chants from the early days of our tribe enter my mind. I hear the words Lah-ame sang about the time when all the islands belonged to people like us. The memory of this watery path ahead has been tattooed into my spirit. Glancing over my shoulder, I see that we are already farther from my island than I imagined.

Then, through the darkness ahead, I hear a voice. Its tone is commanding.

Clutching my oar, I keep rowing.

Clouds hide the stars above, darkening the night. The waves around us grow taller.

Lightning tears across the sky and a sudden thunderstorm breaks. But despite the howling rain and the roaring sea, I guide the canoe onward. It is not for nothing that I walked the spirit paths.

The rain makes my eyes sting, but I force them wide open. In the next flash of lightning, I glimpse something monstrous writhing in the water. For a moment I think I have lost my mind. Then I see it again.

A pale creature is rising up out of the water. It looks like a gigantic sea snake. With all my strength I try to move away from it. But like an unseen hand, the current pulls us toward the creature.

Lightning rips overhead again and I see that what I mistook for a sea snake is just one of eight tentacles of the most terrifying animal in the ocean—a giant squid. On our beach I have seen carcasses of full-grown whales strangled to death by these squid, patches of flesh torn off their bodies.

This squid’s arms look ten times as long as our canoe. And they are slithering across the waves, coming nearer and nearer to our canoe.

No matter how hard I row, the boat swirls closer to the squid.

I see a slimy tentacle touch the side of the boat. At once, it feels as if the monstrous creature is tugging my spirit out of my body, tearing my spirit away from me so that it could never return.

L
ightning streaks overhead and I see two tentacles reach for Tawai. The nose of the canoe begins to dip.

“No,” I scream. “Leave him alone. You came for me.” Lunging sideways, I reach down into the water with my paddle and the canoe rights itself again.

“I am a healer,” I reply. “Is it not my duty to do anything possible to save all my people? Especially my little brother?”

The voice is silent. But I feel the squid’s tentacles still trying to rip my spirit out of my body. I have to concentrate with all my strength of mind while I fight to keep our boat from tipping into the ocean.

A wave throws me against the side of the canoe. My hands scrape against the wood. Blood thick as honey runs down my fingers and I taste blood in my mouth.

“I will protect every life in my care,” I cry. Holding tightly to my oar, I paddle harder.

The direction of the current shifts. I feel it pushing us along, helping me. Somehow we have broken free of the whirlpool.

The wind stops howling and the rain softens. When I feel the tentacles let go, I slap my paddle against the water in triumph. The squid’s arms curl away from the boat. But as the creature starts to sink beneath the waves, I realize that its eight-armed body is a watery reflection of Biliku-waye’s form.

Lah-ame’s words echo through my mind. “I sense yours is a water spirit.”

And I understand. This squid is my spirit animal, my guiding voice. If it disappears into the ocean depths forever, I will lose a part of myself.

“Wait,” I call out. “Do not go!”

The creature does not seem to hear me. It slips farther underwater. The waves grow calm.

“Share your wisdom with me,” I say. “Help me care for my brother and for my tribe.”

The tips of a few tentacles are all that remain above the water now. I feel the creature’s spirit moving farther away from me. I paddle forward as fast as possible, until I am close enough to touch it.

“We have both won,” I whisper. Reaching into the water, I pull our two spirits closer together.

I feel first my arms, then my forehead, plunging into the cold ocean. Salty water fills my nose and trickles into my ears.

The darkness around me feels soft, not frightening. It is as though I was never whole until just now, as though all my life I was seeking this other part of myself without knowing it.

I breathe underwater. The ocean waits to show me its secrets. Through my spirit animal’s great eyes, I can explore the wonders hidden in the great depths. But I cannot swim away with her tonight.

In the world above the water, my brother still needs me. And so I return to myself and to Tawai. “Lah-ame has a friend among the strangers,” I say. “Can you sense where this friend is? Would you help take my brother to him?”

Looking up, I see the sky is clear of storm clouds. I turn the canoe toward the strangers’ island again and paddle forward. My spirit animal’s body dips beneath the waves. The current strengthens and I feel she is helping to pull us along.

I row throughout the night. In the first pale glow of dawn, I see a stretch of beach curved like a bow and lights sparkling farther inland. For once, I am glad to see signs of the strangers’ world.

“Thank you,” I say. “From here I must go on alone.”

Her tentacles let go of the canoe.

The creature lingers near us for a short moment. Then she slips beneath the waves.

I paddle nearer to the shore. A rush of surf fills my ears as tall breakers lift the front of the canoe. The canoe tilts sharply and we slide into the water. I grab onto Tawai and barely avoid being hit by the boat as it rolls upside down above us.

Struggling to hold Tawai’s head above the water, I swim as hard as I can for the shore, hoping it is not too late to save him. Waves foam around my shoulders. I keep my eyes on the light twinkling through the coconut trees. It beckons me closer and closer, encouraging my tired limbs to pull us through the surf until at last the water is shallow enough to stand in.

I crawl out of the sea and up the beach, half dragging Tawai’s limp body. I feel my strength draining out of me.

In a desperate effort, I shout as loudly as I can, “Help! We are Lah-ame’s people! Help us!”

For one last instant, I call to Lah-ame’s friend with my spirit. Then everything swims in front of my eyes. My body drops onto the sand like the washed-up carcass of a squid.