Justice and Utu (21 page)

Evie squeezed his shoulder. He looked at her gratefully.
She's no shrinking violet
, he thought.
She's a fighter
. He felt a surge of pride in her. His first time in Aotearoa he'd been almost helpless, making mistake after mistake, constantly afraid. But here she was, fighting her corner, taking seasoned warlocks head-on, saving everyone's butt over and again. He quickly kissed her. ‘For luck,' he said quickly.

She gave him a small smile in return. ‘Be careful.'

After that it was all eyes forward, as the first men, with cutlasses in their belts and pistols primed, lowered the longboat on the seaward side, where it was sheltered from enemy fire. Mat went to the landward rail, huddled behind the gunwale, and peered towards the
Rona
. Their sharpshooters had fallen silent, and he could see why. They were abandoning ship, struggling through waist-high breakers, guns aloft, onto the tiny strip of rocky land, beneath the almost vertical cone of the volcano. Many were already scrambling up the
rocky slopes; perhaps fifteen in all, plus the warlocks. He saw Sebastian Venn shouting orders alongside the squat figure of Bully Hayes. Asher Grieve trudged towards the summit, leaning heavily on his walking stick. Byron Kikitoa was with them, his hands wrapped in bandages. Mat gritted his teeth.
I bet it was you who captured Lena — and you tried to take Evie.
He tightened his hands about his taiaha.

‘So, you think you can take them on by yourself, boy?' Donna Kyle hissed in his ear. ‘Your arrogance is going to get us killed!'

‘If I free you, we'll never see you again.'

‘If you don't, you'll never stop them. Do you want to see your friends dead? Or your new girlfriend? Just to prove a point about how brave you think you are?' She gripped his shoulder, her fingers like talons. ‘Why should you care if I do go free after this? I deserve my chance at freedom, and I deserve the chance to kill my father! I deserve my vengeance. This is what your people would call utu. Give me my chance!'

‘Donna! Leave him be!' Wiri interposed, his face grim. Donna bared her teeth. For a second Mat thought she might lash out, but she stormed away to grip the mast, glaring down at a fallen sailor, propped up and clutching an arm wound, blood trickling down his skin. Mat could almost see the patupaiarehe blood straining through her veins as she watched every drop fall.

‘What if she …?'

‘I know,' Wiri nodded. ‘Short of tying her in chains, we can't prevent that.'

‘Do you think we should free her?'

For once, Wiri's voice held no certainty. ‘I really don't
know. Which evil is the lesser?' He hefted a musket. ‘If we can win without her, then all is well. The first boat is about to leave.' He looked about. ‘Where is Damien?'

‘He fell into the sea. Dame's a good swimmer. And Hotu is with him.'

Wiri nodded. ‘Alright. Let's go.' He jerked a hand towards the beach. ‘The little headland above is called Homestead Point. It's where the sulphur miners had their dwellings. The docks are a few hundred yards around the shore.' The island loomed over them, the slope climbing steeply behind Homestead Point towards a high ridge-line a hundred or more yards above. ‘The interior of the island is hollow and flat, barely above sea level. If they reach the ridge-line, they can escape into the crater area. We need to slow them down. Hobson'll need us, Mat. Coming?'

Evie lifted her head. ‘I'll come, too.'

Wiri shook his head. ‘Second boat, Evie. The first one is going to be all about guns and muscle. Take the second boat.' He clapped Mat on the shoulder. ‘Let's go.'

W
HAKAARI
/W
HITE
I
SLAND
, B
AY OF
P
LENTY
, S
UNDAY

T
he longboat swung from the sheltering bulk of the
Rattlesnake
. Mat scrambled to the bow, the dark mottled wood of his taiaha reassuring in his grasp. ‘Let me through,' he called, clambering over the sailors, who squirmed aside as if they realized his intentions.
I'm a wizard, to them. They believe in me
. The fear of letting them down made his hands tremble.

As they left the lee of the ship, White Island loomed above. From the bow he peered through the spray from the waves breaking over the rocks. The oars bit, and the longboat surged towards shore. There were twenty men aboard, including Mat and Wiri. Four would stay with the longboat as it went back; sixteen would engage the enemy, and hold the beach until the second boat arrived.

If they counter-charge, Hobson's helpless to help us, or try again. It's three warlocks against just me …
Mat swallowed, and focused on constructing another stasis-shield. A thin bubble
of air that stripped energy from all it encountered, ideal against small projectiles — and exhausting to maintain. He was vaguely aware of the
Rona
's remaining gunmen fanning out, seeking cover in the rocks above, on a wide front. Musket fire would be coming from every angle.
We're going to lose men, no matter what I do.

The first shots began to crack, muzzle-flashes sparking from above, puffs of smoke. Musket balls ripped at the fabric of his shield, plopping into the water before them, but at the fringes, some tore through. He heard a man at the rear cry out, but didn't dare look back. The shield drew at his energies like a whirlpool. Bullets ricocheted from rocks and splashed about them. Some struck the hull. Another man shrieked in sudden pain, shouting over and again. ‘Shut 'im up,' someone growled.

Shots volleyed from behind him, but most were wasted, also susceptible to Mat's shield. ‘Hold fire!' Wiri shouted. ‘Hold till we're ashore!' The longboat surged suddenly as a wave picked it up, and then they careered between barnacle-encrusted boulders to slew about on a tiny shingle beach. Wiri shouted again. ‘Out! Find cover!'

Behind Mat, the marines erupted from the longboat, leaping into thigh-deep waters, seeking shelter amidst the rocks, or even behind the hull. More shots cracked from above. Blood exploded from the lead man's chest, and he collapsed in the waves, face-down. Mat's stasis-shield fell apart amidst a hail of murderous fire, and balls whipped past Mat's face and slammed into the thigh of the man behind him. The man bellowed furiously, but seized an oar, shoving a rower out to fight in his stead. Mat rose, rebinding the shield, and
leapt into the surf, stumbling towards the beach. Two musket balls froze in the air before him, then fell. He dived behind a boulder alongside a bedraggled marine, red coat soaked, musket floating beside him, cutlass drawn.

‘Row, damn it!' someone yelled, and the longboat men thrashed about, trying to turn the head of their vessel, men in the water behind it aiding them. The incoming fire waned as the enemy reloaded. From the right, though, three of Venn's men knelt on a small ledge, perfectly placed on their flank to pick off the men in the water. A marine helping the longboat was struck. He stiffened, then dropped beneath the waters without a sound. Mat tried to send a ball of fire roiling up the slope at them, but they were too far away.

‘They've got us pinned!' someone shouted.

Mat searched for some way to intervene, then saw movement above and behind the sharpshooters. It was Damien, cutlass in teeth, Hotu of the Nga Puhi behind him. They must have swum ashore on the far side of Homestead Point. His heart went to his mouth, as his friend crept closer. Then, by some sixth sense, the first of the snipers turned and saw the danger.

Damien leapt, hand flying to the hilt of his cutlass as the musket swung into line.

 

Damien had read somewhere that danger was addictive. He could believe that.
What's the street value of adrenalin?
He flew at the nearest sniper, screaming a challenge to put him off. The man's musket came around, but too slowly. Damien booted it aside and lunged, copybook straight-arm, in and out,
wrist strong. The gunman stared down at the shiny steel in his chest, face agape, then folded over and fell down the slope.

Hotu exploded past him, going for the next man, who was only just realizing his peril. He jerked his gun about to block an overhead blow, stone patu slamming against the steel and wood of the breech. But Hotu's other hand held a bone mere, whose sharp edge ripped out the man's throat. Hotu roared, and tossed the man bodily down the slope.

Now me!
Damien snatched up his man's musket, which was primed and ready, and fired as the third sniper turned to face them. The man went down in a kicking heap. He and Hotu swarmed onwards, while below them the men of the
Rattlesnake
cheered. Damien saw Mat and waved merrily, then took the third man's gun and ran on. The third sniper was still alive, but he was out of the game.
And it is a game
, Damien thought.
An evil game, but fun
. He checked the priming on the stolen musket, then followed Hotu up the slope.

 

Evie had found a flat space beneath the
Rattlesnake
's foremast to lay out her cards. She put down the Jack of Diamonds again, a Knight of Swords across it: bravery, skill in battle, heroism. She had to fight the tarot card in place — it kept trying to reverse, meaning impulsiveness and foolish mistakes …
Stay safe, Damien!

She turned her attention back to Mat, her Jack of Hearts. She laid the Nine of Cups across him: success, victory. She saw the men on the beach fan out, firing upslope. Hayes's men were backing away from the fray, their leaders already far up the gravel slopes, fleeing towards the ridge. Whakaari
was two kilometres wide, a broken cone with a hollow centre. Venn and Grieve seemed to be climbing towards the crest, the lip of the crater.

‘If Father had cards of his own, you'd be in trouble, girl,' Donna Kyle growled beside her. ‘He is a master of these tricks you are improvising.'

‘But he doesn't,' Evie replied. ‘Shut up, so I can concentrate.'

‘You must free my powers, girl,' Donna snarled, seizing her shoulder. Her nails bit into Evie's flesh painfully as she pulled the girl to face her. ‘Free me! You must!'

‘I don't know how!'

‘Do as I tell you!'

‘NO!' Evie glared furiously at the woman. ‘Let go — I'm trying to help!'

‘Then free me! You must obey me!'

‘Why should I?'

Donna's face contorted in fury and exasperation. She gripped Evie's other shoulder, and pulled her face to hers. Her eyes were burning.
‘Because I'm your mother!'

The bottom fell out of Evie's world.

No. Impossible.

Please, no!

Evie's parents' faces swam before her eyes. The tender, loving people who had held her close in their warm and giving hearts for all her life.
They
were her parents. They were the ones she loved and who loved her, and this evil witch was lying.
She is lying she is lying lying lying—

The cards on the deck slid away, out of her control. The livid white face of the witch filled her senses.

It's not true. It's all lies.

‘You are not my mother!' she shrieked back. ‘Leave me alone.'

‘The longboat is on the way back, Cap'n!' someone shouted from high on the mast.

‘Ready the second shore-party!' Hobson shouted in response. ‘I'm joining it.' He looked down at the two women. ‘Miss van Zelle? Miss Kyle?' He had missed the exchange between Evie and Donna, but sensed the tension.

‘I'm coming,' Evie told him, breaking eye contact with Donna. She shook free of the witch's grasp and stood. ‘Don't touch me, liar,' she hissed, and backed away, scooping up her cards. When she looked up, Donna had risen also, picked up an abandoned sword, and was stalking towards the longboat.

‘Are you well, Miss van Zelle?' Hobson breathed, his eyes on Donna and his expression concerned. Evie's throat was too constricted to reply. Hobson's eyes narrowed. ‘What was she saying to you?' Evie shook her head, unable to even articulate the filthy lie the witch had uttered.

The longboat pulled alongside and, from above, the watchman called again. ‘Captain! Sails to southward! She's a sloop, by the look of her.'

Hobson looked at Evie. ‘Miss van Zelle, are they friend or foe?'

Evie's eyes went to Donna Kyle's.
She is not my mother. It's impossible.
‘Uh, sorry, what? Oh …' She closed her eyes, questing through the maze of runes and symbols that swam before her blind eye.
A ship … Who are you?

Her blind eye's vision swooped down on the incoming ship, and was immediately drawn to an old Maori man standing
on the foredeck. A heavily carved Maori kaumatua, obese with thick lips and flabby jowls, his eyes so bloodshot they appeared red except for the dark pupils, bald but for a few thin grey strands, an aura of swirling darkness … then a sudden slap of power sent her sprawling across the deck.

She stared up into Hobson's face. He looked aghast. ‘What happened?'

Evie struggled to her feet. For an instant she had seen the world through this newcomer's eyes: the
Rattlesnake
like a bathtub toy, the men aboard less than ants. Herself just a curiosity to be pulled apart at leisure.

‘Not … f-f-friendly,' she managed to stammer.

Clouds rolled out of the south like spectres, and seemed to drag the sun into their claws. The light dimmed, and fresh gusts of wind scoured the decks. The King of Swords fell into her hand, upside-down, reversed: signifying an implacable will, bent on ruin.

 

‘One … two …' Wiri counted slowly, as he peered up the slopes.

Mat could see Hayes's men waiting, guns at the ready. Carver was pointing them out to his marines, assigning teams to each. Damien and Hotu were pinned down high up to the right, but safe for now. Fewer than a dozen men now faced them, and the longboat was pulling out from the
Rattlesnake
again. Hobson and Donna were in the bow, and Evie behind them. He prayed to whoever might listen that she would be safe. Her skills were not battlefield skills, and a musket ball could kill her in an instant.

He pulled his eyes back to the front, searching for other, more deadly foes. If Venn or Grieve took a hand in this, then it would be up to him to protect the men. He wished futilely that Jones was with him, or Ngatoro. Those veterans had done this sort of thing before, many times over, knew the tricks and traps.

‘… three …' Wiri raised his taiaha, pointing up the slope. ‘With me!' Wiri shouted, sprinting into the open. Behind him, the eight men of the
Rattlesnake
leapt up, and ran forward. Mat gripped his taiaha and went with them.

‘Covering fire!' Carver shouted, and the rest of the men spun from their shelter and blazed away up the slope. A ragged fusillade replied, the
Rona
's men firing desperately. Two of the charging men spun and dropped. Mat's stasis-shield caught another three shots before disintegrating. Wiri vaulted a rock and slammed a sideways blow onto a man behind it. Another man tried to fire and went down when a pistol barked from over Mat's shoulder. Mat rounded a boulder, a sword flashed, and he caught it on the iron-hard taiaha soaked in the blood of Te Iho; it caught the blow effortlessly, and the sword snapped. Mat whirled the taiaha and smashed its haft over the man's skull. He dropped with a thud, and Mat ran on, panting hard, blanking the way the blow had sounded, what it had done. Fuel for later nightmares. A second man tried to fire at him, but his gun exploded in his hands. The sailor fell to his knees, screaming and clutching his face.

He looked up and saw Damien and Hotu far above, almost at the crest, weapons blurring as they cut down two fleeing sailors. Damien whooped as he swept on out of sight and earshot. Mat glanced left and right, and found the enemy dead
or captured, the half-dozen prisoners kneeling, hands above their heads. Three of the
Rattlesnake
's men were sprawled on the slope, two unmoving.
To die here is to die forever
… He sucked in the smoky air and shuddered.

The longboat hit the shore below for the second time, and Hobson leapt into the surf, gesticulating with his sword. Donna and Evie waded behind him, struggling in the surf.

Wiri sent sharpshooters towards the crest of the slope, where a funnel of smoke or steam was jetting skyward from beyond the ridge line, probably from the crater. He trotted over to Mat. ‘The slope on the far side of the ridge is even steeper than this side. It's virtually a precipice, and drops all the way to sea level. The whole island is hollow on the inside.'

‘Damien's up there,' Mat said worriedly. ‘He might have already reached the ridge.'

‘I've sent men up,' Wiri replied. ‘They'll whistle them back.'

Will Hobson strode up, his face flushed. ‘Fine work, Sergeant Carver!' he called, then turned to Wiri. ‘Fine work, all of you. But we're not alone. The watch has spotted a sloop coming up from the south, heading for the island. Miss van Zelle says they are hostile.'

Mat glanced at the pale face of Evie.
Who?
he mouthed. She shrugged, shaking her head wearily. Her eyes were glazed, shocked. He wondered what had happened.

‘Captain, I've been here before,' Wiri said. ‘If you send men around Homestead Point, you'll find paths along the shoreline to the docks. They aren't easy, but they're passable. We must cut Venn off from the docks on the south side.'