Coiled Snake (The Windstorm Series Book 2) (18 page)

“There’s a slight chance the next captain might grant you warrior status, given the circumstances,” Stephen says. “But he’s only going to do that if you can use a gun as well as a
patu
, and Paika’s told me what a bad shot you are.”

I open my mouth to fire back a retort when I realize what he’s offering. “Thanks,” I mumble.

And then I realize what else this means: if I want access to the warriors’ equipment, I have to become like the trainees, like the woman in the next lane. I have to be a warrior, and that means I have to be a killer.

It’s for the twins
, I tell myself.
I’m the only hope they have.

“All right, let’s see what I’ve got to work with,” Stephen says, gesturing for me to take aim.

I tighten my grip on the pistol and hold it in front of me with both hands. I’m a decent shot with a rifle, thanks to all the hunting trips I took with Tom, but I’ve only used a handgun a couple of times.

Squeezing the trigger, I fire a dozen rounds at the target, adjusting my stance as I get used to the feel. About half of the bullets hit the target.

“Not bad,” Stephen observes. “Try holding it like this, and keep your feet further apart.” He puts his hands on my hips and adjusts my stance.

The weight of his hands provides a momentary distraction, but I shake it off and focus on my mark. I try to channel my frustration and anger and fear into each shot, but it makes it hard to be precise.

I have to set my emotions aside or I won’t succeed
.
Like windwalking.

Gritting my teeth, I finish off the mag, my feet planted firmly, the kickback rippling down my arms.

“Better,” Stephen says. “Try again.”

We keep at it for almost two hours—Stephen makes me practice pulling the trigger with my left hand as well as with my right—and by the time we leave my shoulders are aching. But I managed to hit the center of the target. Once.

After that we go back to the dining hall for lunch. More people have arrived since this morning: it takes us forty minutes to get through the line, and there are no empty seats.
Where are they getting enough food?
I wonder. I guess I see why the
hapa
have to work solely for the benefit of the tribe; it would be impossible to feed everyone otherwise. As I pick at my salad, I wonder absently where the Yakone got enough money to not only require minimal obligations from their members but to also afford their expensive technology.

“You know what you should do if you’re serious about becoming a warrior,” Stephen says.

“What?” I look up.

“Go back to
Poro E
. Ask Mokai to let you train with his cadets.”

“I can’t,” I say, shaking my head. “Kai wouldn’t let me. I’m not tested, remember?” It was only part of the reason I couldn’t ask my brother—if he even let me speak to him again, he’d know immediately what I was up to—but it was true enough.

“He might let you practice with them. I’m just saying it’s worth a shot. Mokai knows what he’s doing.”

“So do you. I’d rather just practice with you.” I cock my head. “Unless you don’t think you’re up to the challenge.”

Stephen raises an eyebrow. “Training you
will
be a challenge. I’ve never worked with someone so ill-prepared.”

I frown. That wasn’t what I meant. But after a second, I realize he’s deadpanning me. “I never thought I’d see the day when Stephen Tuhoe made a joke,” I say, grinning.

“I wasn’t joking,” he replies, but I catch a ghost of a smile on his face. He stands up. “Come on. I’ll show you what I mean.”

We return to the place where Paika made us spar almost a week ago, and he proceeds to do exactly that. Even when we use
patu
, the weapon I’m most familiar with, Stephen manages to make me feel like it’s the first time I’ve picked one up. But after disarming me, he always shows me what he did and how I’ll be able to prevent it in the future.

“We really just need to focus on giving you some basic skills,” he says. “Enough to keep you alive. You aren’t going to be able to compete with warriors who have trained their whole lives, so there’s no need to learn anything fancy. A killing blow is a killing blow, no matter how it’s delivered.”

His words run through my mind when we work with his metal spear, or
tao
. Every time I release the heavy spear toward a tree, I see the trainees plunge their blades into the Yakone dummies, and I have to shove my abhorrence deep inside.
That killing blow is for the twins.

When I can hardly lift my arms, we go back inside the base. But we covered a lot of ground, and Stephen tells me if I continue to practice what he showed me, I might have a chance.

“Paika did a good job,” he says.

Hearing Paika’s name reminds me that he must be gone by now, on his way to the Oya. Jian too.
Come back safely
, I think.

After fighting for dinner in an increasingly crowded dining hall, Stephen takes me to the warriors’ quarters where some of his friends are sharing drinks. I’m tempted to have a few drinks myself, to quell my fears about my siblings, if only for a moment, but I remember my hangover from the other day and decline. Instead, I sit off to the side, hoping the stories the warriors are swapping will be distraction enough.

“Did you hear what Gene did on the last deployment?” a female voice says.

I look for the speaker and feel my face tighten when I find the gray eyes of the
Riki
’s niece, Talia.

“We were hiding in the trees, waiting for Squad 6 to drive the hostiles our way,” Talia continues with the confidence of a person used to telling stories and having them listened to. “And, of course, Gene
had
to go. I told him to keep it in, but he swore he was holding enough water to put out the gas fire himself.”

At the mention of a gas fire, a sickening pressure grows in my gut.

“So off he went to take care of business behind one of those bloody pine trees, and of course at that exact moment the first wave of hostiles comes crashing toward us.”

The other warriors start elbowing each other in anticipation of what’s coming, but my stomach has turned to lead.

“So there’s Gene with his trousers unzipped, surrounded by a dozen Yakone initiates. One of them charges for him, and Gene is this close”—Talia holds up her thumb and index finger—“to losing his goods, but he grabs his F88 and takes them all out with his fly still down.”

As expected, her story earns loud, approving laughter.

“How exactly was Gene in danger?” I ask. Everyone turns to look at me, and I’m as surprised as they are at the words that spilled out of my mouth.

Talia narrows her eyes. “Come again?”

“Were any of the initiates armed?”

“Does it matter?”

I feel the heat building in my cheeks. “Seems like it’d be a better story if the dozen people were actually a threat.”

“They’re Yakone. Of course, they were a threat. Where did you come from, Tāwauwau?” This prompts a few chuckles.

“I don’t know what that means,” I admit. “But I do know that of the hundreds of people at the Yakone camp, only a few were armed. Which means that Gene can congratulate himself on doing target practice with his pants down.”

The room goes dead silent.

“Sorry,” I murmur to Stephen. “I’m going to go now. No—you don’t have to come. I’ll be fine. Stay here and talk with your friends.” I hurry out of the common area down a tunnel that leads to my dorm.

What were you thinking, Kit? You can’t defend the Yakone to their enemies, especially when you’re trying to become one of them!
I sigh and rub my temples. I don’t know what came over me, but I couldn’t just sit there while stupid-face Talia made jokes about what happened at the camp. I couldn’t let her defile their memories.

“Kit.”

I turn around to see Stephen a few paces behind. Relief unexpectedly courses through my chest. Until now, I hadn’t realized I was disappointed he let me leave alone.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” I say.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone speak to Talia that way,” he replies. “I figured I better take my guard duties seriously—at least until they’ve all sobered up.”

“You think one of them would try to hurt me?”

“You offended their honor. I don’t think they would kill you though. Not intentionally.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Sorry if this means Talia will be mad at you.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

We return to my room. After I brush my teeth, I scoot under my blankets, and Stephen lies down on the floor on top of a stack of sheepskins.

As my exhausted eyelids close, my last thought is of Jack and Maisy.
Hang on
, I tell them.

When we leave my room in the morning, I nearly trip over a person lying in front of my doorway. At first I think one of the warriors from last night was waiting to attack me and fell asleep on the job, but then I see that the entire common area is full of sleeping bodies.

“What on earth … ?” I ask Stephen.

“Told you it was going to get crowded,” he says.

Fortunately, we get to the dining hall early and are able to find a free table. We’ve just started to eat, when a female warrior walks over to where we’re sitting.

“
Kia ora
, Stephen,” she says.

“
Kia ora
,” he says back.

“Here’s your assignment.” She hands him a cream-colored envelope with a seal shaped like his
hirimoko
—a Manaia.

“Thanks,” Stephen says, taking it. She nods and moves to another table, handing out other envelopes.

“What does it say?” I ask as he opens it and pulls out a piece of paper.

He scans the contents quickly, and his stone face cracks a little. “My
raiti
will be stationed here.”

“Here? At the
Wakemaunga
?”

He shakes his head. “On the North Island.”

“Why?”

“To secure our borders.”

“Oh. Are you disappointed?”

“Where we serve isn’t important.”

I nod my agreement, but inside I’m relieved he won’t be sent to fight the Yakone directly. If he stays in New Zealand, it’s more likely he’ll live through this.

“I wonder where Mokai is going,” I muse, feeling another pinch of guilt for the way I spoke to him.

Stephen downs his glass of juice. “All of the
kapa
have to report for a briefing this morning.”

“Does that mean you won’t be guarding me anymore?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they send a replacement.”

“I’m not worried.” And it’s true. I’m not worried about being attacked, though I’ll have to be on my guard, especially after what I said to Talia. But I am worried about not getting more time to train with him, that I won’t be approved as a warrior. If I’m not given access to the equipment and a way off this island, I’ll never see the twins again.

We leave the dining hall together, but soon we come to a fork in the corridor and Stephen tells me he has to go. “Here,” he says, pressing his Beretta into my palm. “Just in case. But don’t tell anyone I gave it to you. And don’t shoot someone if they’re just messing around.”

“I won’t,” I say, not sure how I’ll be able to know the difference. “Will I see you before you leave?”

“I expect so. At the funeral at least.”

“If I don’t, will you come say goodbye?”

“I’ll try.”

I force a smile. “Well, thanks. For everything.”

He nods. “Remember Rangiātea.”

“I will not be lost.” It’s the first time I’ve said it, and as I bite my lip and turn down the other passage, I wonder if it’s too late. If I’m already lost. Caught between the Yakone and Rangi, on the verge of losing Jack and Maisy …
Where do I go? What do I do?

Unable to answer, I find myself wandering aimlessly through the mountain. I don’t want to return to my room where my thoughts will only torture me toward ever-threatening insanity. I wish I could train, take my mind off things, but I can’t, not without a partner or a way to access the shooting range. I can’t rescue the twins until I’m a warrior, but I won’t be made a warrior if I can’t train.

“Kava,” I spit as I kick a rock down the passageway.

Once, when I was ten, the twins caught a bad cold from one of the neighbors. Jack recovered after a few days, but Maisy’s cold grew steadily worse until it developed into pneumonia. For an entire week, I sat with her at the hospital in Baudette, reading aloud her favorite books, hearing every painful cough and labored breath, knowing I was unable to do anything to save her. I could only sit and wait. Utterly helpless.

That’s how I feel now, only exponentially, staggeringly worse.

I let the tunnels take me down deeper and deeper, skirting the men, women, and even children who are walking around with luggage, locating their rooms, talking in the common areas to old friends. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a holiday. But maybe for the Rangi it is a holiday. The chance to get revenge on their enemies would surely be cause for celebration.

Before long, the path slopes steeply, and I have to lean back slightly as I walk. A rumble in the distance reverberates off the walls. Soon the noise grows louder, and the tunnel opens up to reveal a large waterfall gushing from beneath the rocky ledge on which I’m standing. I gape at the water churning below my feet. At the base of the waterfall are several pools and dozens of people splashing and diving into the dark water.

I spot a flight of stairs to my left and move down the steps, gripping the chain railing tightly to avoid slipping on the wet rock. The stairs take me away from the waterfall toward the river. And then I find myself at the dock where we first entered the
Wakemaunga
, on the day of my trial. The powerboat we rented is gone, but there are lots of other boats tied to the pier. And there are kayaks.

I look around, but no one is in sight. Moving quickly, I walk over to the closest kayak. The paddle is resting inside the shell. I grab a lifejacket from a pile at the end of the dock and lower myself into the kayak. Then I untie the rope and, pushing off with my paddle, move away from the pier.

As I dip the paddle into the river, I’m reminded of how sore my arms are, but I don’t care. This is exactly what I need.

The only sound is the paddle lapping up the water as I travel beneath the rocky stalactites and dancing glowworms. And then I’m pushing through the vines and zooming into the fiord. It looks like it may have just rained—the plants are shimmering—though the skies have since cleared and the sun is bright. Flocks of birds call loudly to each other, and I spot a few species I recognize from Jim’s bird watching guide. I paddle strongly for a few strokes then let the kayak glide across its reflection in the crystal water. Closing my eyes and breathing in deeply, I feel the sun warm my face and the wind whisper in my ears.

Don’t think about what I can’t do. Focus on what I can
do.

But what can I do? The only thing within my control is to train hard enough so that the new captain will let me go with the departing warriors, but how am I going to train without Stephen? I can’t ask Mokai for help. Maybe Miri would do it.

Thinking about Miri reminds me of our conversation from two days ago—with everything that’s happened since then, I had almost forgotten about it. About windtalking.

Looking around to make sure no one’s nearby, I focus on the wind that’s tickling the right side of my neck and sending ripples bobbing against my kayak. I concentrate on seeing the airy tendrils weave through the sky. Can I really control them?

Deciding to experiment, I focus intently and reach out to the wind. Then I ask it to change directions.

At first nothing happens. But as I concentrate harder, the breeze on my neck subsides, and soon I feel it nudge my left side. Startled, I lose my concentration, and instantly the breeze returns to my right.

I try again, closing my eyes this time, feeling the currents the way Miri taught me. It’s hard to focus on them, so I begin to sing softly. “
Tātu e tātu e
,” I chant, visualizing the wind, seeing it change directions in my mind.

After a moment, I feel the breeze shift—and the kayak move. Careful to maintain my focus, I open my eyes. The wind is pushing the kayak sideways, against the current.
Other way
, I think. And just like that, the wind pushes me back in the opposite direction.

“This is crazy,” I say to a passing bird.

I spend the next hour or so manipulating the air currents until I get pretty good at pushing the kayak in any direction I want. But when I release my hold, the wind always returns to its former pattern.

How far can windtalking go?
I wonder.
Can I make the wind change permanently? Affect the weather? Create a storm, like in the man’s story?
I think about what I learned in my 4-H class about how storms begin. It has to do with atmospheric pressure. When there’s an area of low pressure within a greater area of high pressure, the two opposing forces create wind, which in turn creates storm clouds. So if I want to really control the wind, I have to figure out how to control the air pressure.
But how do I do that? And could I do it with small changes—like the butterfly effect we learned about—or would they have to be big?

I wish I could ask this other grandmother of mine. Maybe she’ll come to Tane’s funeral and I can ask her then; but if Miri is right, that she never leaves her village, then the chances are slim.

Deciding it’s time to return to the base, I call on the wind to propel me back to the mountain, letting the paddle sit idly in my lap, enjoying the sun on my brow. But once I reach the underground river, the burdens that were momentarily lightened come crashing back onto my shoulders. I don’t have time to play around with the wind. I need to focus on rescuing Maisy and Jack.

I tie the kayak to the dock and climb the stairs into the base. When I reach the heart of the
Wakemaunga
, my progress slows to a crawl as I attempt to move around the clumps of people that have somehow taken over every
poro
. Finally, I make it to Miri’s common area.

As I approach her door, I hear her singing. Pausing on the other side of the rug, I listen to her rich, and strangely mournful, voice. When the song ends, I wait a few minutes to see if she’ll continue, but she doesn’t. Wondering what it was about, I tap on the outside wall
.

“Come in,” Miri says.

I push back the rug and step inside. “Hi, Mir.”

“Kit!
Kia ora
.” She stands up and walks toward me. “Didn’t expect to see you so soon. Where’s Stephen?”

“He got his assignment.” I glance to the side and notice a cream-colored envelope sitting on her desk. “Did you get yours too?” I ask, trying to hide my disappointment.

“Yes,” Miri says. “I’ll be in
Poro A
. Much better than the laundry duty I was expecting.”

“When do you start?”

“Our briefing is at midday.”

“Oh.”
So much for asking her for help.

“Tane’s body was just brought back,” Miri says.

“Already?”

“The funeral will be the day after tomorrow, as will the voting. And then … ”

“Then everyone leaves.”

“Not everyone, but yes, then things will be moving quickly. We will have heard back from our envoys by then, so we’ll know who’s with us.”

“What if no one joins us?”

She shrugs. “Then we’ll go it on our own.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“We Rangi are fighters. We don’t scare easily.”

“Is that why everyone’s acting like this is some kind of party?” I ask. “No one seems worried about the war. I don’t get it.”

“It is the holidays, after all,” Miri says. “And this may be our last chance to celebrate with family and friends.”

“But, with Tane’s funeral … isn’t it, I don’t know, disrespectful?”

“We’re mourning his death, yes, but we’re also celebrating his life. Besides, he’s with First Parents now, and that’s a happy thing.”

“I guess.” Neither of us says anything, and for a moment I consider telling her about the twins. But I don’t want her to do anything that would prevent me from going after them.

My worry must have shown on my face though, because Miri asks, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Has someone replaced Stephen as your guard?”

“No.”

She frowns. “I’ll talk to the
Riki
about that. We can’t have you wandering the
Wakemaunga
on your own, especially with the Tuhoe situation being what it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“None of them have shown up yet,” she sighs. “I’m afraid they might be pulling out of the coalition. And when they’re angry, they’re dangerous.”

“You think one of them will try to kill me again?”

“It’s possible.”

“Well, Stephen gave me a gun, so I’ll be fine.” I don’t want a strange warrior assigned to guard me, especially if I get desperate and am forced to steal some supplies.

“All the same, I’ll mention it to the
Riki
.”

“Maybe you could tell him I’m hoping the new captain will let me become a warrior,” I say cautiously.

“Really?” Miri studies me.

“I don’t want to sit around here while everyone else is off fighting. I want to do my part.”

“I’ll tell him,” she says, eyeing me strangely.

“Do you know—is there any way I can use the shooting range?” I ask. “To practice?”