Paniha's Taniwha: The Artifact Hunters 3.5

by A. W. Exley

  “A very long line!”

  Loki patted the girl on the head. “Very good, yes. We needed a very long line that would reach all the way to the water.”

  She then grabbed his hand and reeled off a whole speech in a very solemn tone. Paniha’s adult voice spoke gently over the top of the child’s words. “Maui used a very long line when he fished up Te Ika a Maui. Te Waipounamu was the name of his waka, or canoe. He threw his line into the water and hauled up the other island. That is how Aotearoa came to be made up of two islands.”

  “Did he? Well, that is an impressive fishing story.” Loki rubbed his chin. “I don’t know if you’ll want to hear my silly little story now.”

  He dropped in the water until his shoulders were submerged and kept going as though he were sinking to the bottom of the ocean. The children called out and dived after him. Enthusiastic little mites. Their wide eyes and obvious delight were hard to resist—plus he was in danger of drowning if they all piled on him and held him below the surface.

  “All right, I’ll carry on.” He bobbed back up and they cheered. How could he refuse such an appreciative audience? And Paniha was drifting closer, her skin brushing against his as they stood shoulder to shoulder among the children.

  “Since I am captain, I said I would fish for my crew. We wound a chain around my ankles and I grabbed a spear. Slowly, they lowered me over the side toward the ocean.” It was at that point, swaying upside down under the bobbing Hellcat after far too many drinks, that the rum decided to vacate his stomach and erupted back out his gullet.

  “I reached the ocean, and began my search for dinner.” Loki mimed clutching a spear and peering into the water, looking for fish. The true event had him jerking on the chain as he vomited into the water and tried to stop it going up his nose. “I spotted a shoal of mackerel—that would make a tasty dinner. I waved for my men to move me further along to where the fish were feeding.”

  The mackerel were feeding on the chum he had let loose. Loki didn’t want his head swimming through his own vomit, but his equally drunk crew thought it was hilarious. Unfortunately one feeding frenzy sparked another and drew the attention of hungry sharks.

  “But I wasn’t the only hunter after mackerel that day. A large mako swam in the waters too.” Loki pointed to one of the boys. “You be the mako and we’ll pretend everyone else is a mackerel.”

  The boy grinned and took his role very seriously. He wriggled his body though the water, swinging side to side like a shark scenting the water. He held one hand up behind his back as his fin as he approached his friends, now giggling mackerel who weren’t supposed to be able to see the shark. Squeals of delight echoed around the shaded swimming hole.

  Loki waded toward the group, his imaginary spear held high. The picture wasn’t quite right, because he had been swinging upside down beneath the airship, which made the idea of trying to spear a fish even more ridiculous. The Maori boy-mako swum from the other side, as the two predators converged on the smaller fish.

  “As I reached the middle of the shoal, the mako and I both leapt for the same mackerel. He jumped through the air and his teeth closed around me.” Loki gestured to the boy as Paniha quickly relayed events.

  The boy lunged at the pirate, his arms held wide as his ‘jaws,’ and he dug his fingernails into Loki’s side over the oval scar line.

  Loki cried out. “The mako had me in his powerful jaws, pulling me toward his underwater lair. What could I do now?”

  In reality he’d screamed like a banshee as the shark tried to drag him underwater and his blood flowed, creating crimson froth. He would have drowned if the aquatic monster had managed to keep his head beneath the waves. Meanwhile the drunken sots who called themselves his crew thought he was hamming it up, and cheered him from the deck. Luckily some of them were still sober and realised he was under attack.

  “Taiaha!” one girl yelled.

  Loki knew that word—it was the spear-like staff the Maori warriors used. He looked at his empty hand and feigned surprise. “The taiaha!”

  A pantomime ensued of Loki attacking the boy-shark with an invisible weapon while the children cheered—much like his crew at the time.

  “I hit the mako in the nose with my taiaha and then stabbed its eye with the end.” Skewering the creature’s eye had been a fluke, a result of Loki flailing around. Either way, it had the desired result and the shark let go but backed off, ready for another attack.

  “Meanwhile my crew hauled up the fishing line and pulled me out of the water. The mako wasn’t happy to see his prey escape. He jumped out of the water and tried once again to bite me.”

  A collective gasp came from the children and Paniha as Loki jumped away from the boy, who lunged after him.

  “But I smacked his nose again and he dropped back below the waves.” Loki mimed striking the shark on its blunt nose.

  The boy clutched as his face and sank down in the pool while the children yelled and clapped.

  Loki crooked his finger and gestured for the children to gather closer again as he dropped his voice. “Ever since that day, I have stayed out of the water when fishing. I only do so from piers or very large boats. Somewhere out there, circling the water, is a mako who has a taste for Kahu and he searches the ocean looking to finish his meal.”

  Paniha laid a hand on his arm and met his gaze. “I do not know if you were entirely truthful, but the tamiriki enjoyed your tale.”

  He pressed a hand to his chest. “I always tell the truth to little ones. Or at least some version of it.”

  She laughed. “I like the new Kahu.” Then she reached up and kissed his lips. It was a gentle movement that caught him off guard, but he savoured the taste nonetheless. His hand moved to the small of her back and she emitted a soft murmur of consent.

  The children either laughed or made eww noises as the adults kissed—although that was mainly the boys. When Loki let her go, Paniha’s eyes shone.

  Events were going swimmingly, until Miguel ran into the clearing yelling his name.

  “There’s been another one,” his first mate said, gesturing back behind him.

  Loki swore. He didn’t need to ask ‘another what.’ The laughter dropped away as a chill seemed to sweep over them. He waded toward the shore and grabbed his boots, shoving his wet feet into the leather. Miguel scooped up the rest of his clothes and tossed each item to Loki as they trotted back through the forest.

  “I thought you were going kiwi spotting,” he said.

  “We didn’t get far before we heard the cries and shouts at the edge of the forest.” They slowed over the stones of the shoreline.

  “Where is it?” Whoever was striking down the settlers seemed to prefer isolated locations; no one had died in bed yet.

  Miguel threw the last item of clothing at Loki. “At the edge of the field. The town barber—he had gone for a stroll and didn’t return. His son went looking for him.”

  By the time they passed the warehouse and the slumbering airship and crossed the field, a crowd had gathered. Loki had also managed to put most of his clothing back on, except for his socks, which he shoved in his jacket pocket. The body rested among the trees, next to a small tributary of the river. The slim rivulet of water snaked past and disappeared in the trees.

  A soldier stood guard and glared at Loki. “No one is to pass by order of Colonel Austin.”

  Loki pushed past. He needed to verify that their invisible bear, or big cat, had struck again. “Austin doesn’t run this town, nor does he control me.”

  The soldier waved his rifle, but seemed otherwise impotent. “He does now. Three unexplained deaths means this is now under investigation by the British.”

  Ignoring the red-clad British man, Loki approached the long shape with the blanket tossed over it. He picked up one end and peered underneath. He found a middle-aged man, his hair grey and receding at the temple, his stomach rising up into the air on his fleshy frame. Three large wounds ran from shoulder to waist, ripping open his clothin
g and the soft fatty flesh beneath. Blood seeped through the blanket above and the earth below.

  His eyes were wide open, a surprised look captured on his frozen features, as though he hadn’t expected the blow. Or was he surprised by the identity of the culprit? A beast would have elicited a fear reaction.

  Loki let the blanket drop back in place. “Let me guess, another happy family man?”

  Miguel stood at the man’s feet, which pointed toward the stream. “Divorced, from what I understand. His wife ran off with a younger farmer. He stayed here with his son to run the business.”

  Loki rose and gazed at the surrounding forest. The dense undergrowth crowded around them. He had no doubt in his mind that this wasn’t a bear, so unless it was the taniwha, a man had wielded the fatal weapon. But was their murderer British or Maori?

  “You can’t be here.” The soldier had found his voice again and waved his rifle.

  “So this is now a British investigation?” Loki fixed him with a gaze while he tried to figure out how Austin was suddenly in charge.

  “Yes.” The soldier stood a little straighter and clutched his rifle a little tighter.

  Loki ignored the man, but pushed the barrel of his weapon downward so he wasn’t pointing it at anyone. “How convenient. I happen to be British and I’m investigating. Who was the last person to see our barber alive?”

  The soldier frowned. Obviously Loki asking the questions wasn’t in his training manual. “His son, two hours ago. He said he was going for a walk and didn’t come back.”

  “Did anyone see him enter this part of the forest?” Loki asked the assembled crowd, who were peering from behind the safety of large tree trunks.

  The soldier looked around. Several settlers were gathered, and they turned to stare at each other. Heads were shaken and someone called out, “No.”

  “But the Maori regularly walk this part of the forest on their way to the river,” someone said, pointing in the general direction of the pond where Loki had swum with the children.

  “The natives are trying to scare us away. I say we don’t let them. This is our home now!” Answering cries of ‘no’ echoed around the trees.

  “This is going to turn nasty,” Miguel said.

  Which was exactly what Loki was thinking.

  15

  It only takes one person to spread a panic. Within the space of an hour, life had changed in the small town. Settlers ran to find their children and usher them indoors. Shutters came down over windows and were hammered in place with enough nails to withstand a tornado. Rifles appeared on verandahs, propped up next to chairs as each man displayed his readiness to stand and defend his own. The traders began pulling down their tents and packing up their carts. Even the livestock was moved into barns, as though the townsfolk expected a fire-breathing dragon to swoop down out of the sky and roast their animals, or the taniwha to rise out of the water and slash their bodies to ribbons.

  Colonel Austin wasted no time in seizing control of the settlement. Every last soldier was mobilised to spread his first edict—the Maori were now banished from his jurisdiction. Any native who set foot on English soil would be arrested. The only exception made was for his house staff. Couldn’t expect Mrs Austin to do her own laundry or wash the dishes.

  Loki hoped Paniha and the elders had spirited the children from the swimming hole back to the safety of the pa. He could imagine Austin, in his over-reactive state, seizing them as an enemy raiding party. Friction between the two races would spiral out of control unless somebody did something. It said volumes about how bad the situation was, that men looked to him as the voice of reason needed to defuse the growing tension.

  Late afternoon saw a ludicrous development. One unfortunate infantryman was sent out with a paintbrush, a pail of white paint, and instructions to encircle the town and denote what was now deemed to be English territory. Loki shook his head as the man headed toward the Jenny Elle to draw a circle around the airship.

  “Bugger off!” Loki yelled. “You’re not including me or my crew in this mad idea.”

  The soldier frowned and looked at his paintbrush and then back at the town. “If you’re not within the circle you’re not under Colonel Austin’s protection.”

  Loki rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “The only thing I would trust the colonel to protect is his moustache wax.” Then he jabbed a finger in the direction of the painter. “I don’t need Austin’s protection. Now shove off before I do my own spot of painting with that brush.”

  The soldier drew in a breath to argue, then thought better of it. He shrugged and retraced his steps. Once back across the field he turned east to continue his temporary barrier. Troops were set up at regular intervals along the line in impromptu guard houses consisting of deck chairs and braziers. They were to ‘protect’ the settlers from the savage natives, and Maori were forbidden to cross the line.

  There was no movement on the hillside slope of the pa. All the Maori had been ushered inside the walls and the gate closed. Only the glint of metal gave away the warriors patrolling the wall and monitoring the situation. Loki wondered what Hone thought of events now that Austin had seized his town. Would the chief descend the hill with a war party to reclaim what was rightfully his?

  “Are they keeping the Maori out, or us in?” Miguel asked as both men watched Austin assert authority over his diminutive empire.

  Loki narrowed his gaze at the stationed soldiers acting as a barrier between the town and the field. Being British, they expected people to comply and come and go only via the gaps in the line, not simply step over the paint on the grass. “I don’t know, but what point of law Austin is using to seize control over this patch of soil?”

  Miguel closed his eyes for a moment and his lips moved as if he were reading an invisible book. Then he opened his lids and fixed a hazel gaze on Loki. “It’s a small provision in the treaty between England and the combined chiefs. Aotearoa is under Maori jurisdiction with one exception—three unexplained deaths of Englishmen within the same month can be investigated by an English authority. The area surrounding the scenes becomes English territory for the duration of the enquiry.”

  “Mighty convenient for the colonel.” Loki blew out a sigh.

  How the Hell had he become entangled in provincial politics? Part of him was tempted to load the cargo they had and shove off. Let the others sort it out; once airborne, it would no longer be his concern. But the fledging awareness in his gut stirred and pricked at him with a sharp nail. He couldn’t turn his back on these people. He didn’t know when it had happened or how, but he found he actually cared what happened to them.

  “We need to solve this before Austin goes mad with power. To find the responsible party, we still need to answer one vital question: Is this an act by Maori to drive away the settlers, or a disgruntled English member of the community?” Loki scratched his chin. While he had a tenuous thread connecting Dudley and Alder with their fishing venture, so far the only thing connecting the latest victim was the fact that he lived in Matanui.

  Solving crimes wasn’t Loki’s area of expertise, and normally he stayed out of other people’s problems. But the prickle in the back of his mind and the ache in his chest wouldn’t allow him to walk away from this one. He couldn’t figure out if it was the air or a contaminant in his food, but day by day his priorities changed. He thought of others, he worried about the fate of the untouched forests, and now he had become a seeker of justice. If he started growing his hair long and took up playing the lute he would have to admit himself to an asylum.

  At times he wished the occasional stab in his torso had been a precursor to a heart attack. Morals and a conscience were starting to weigh him down, and a hawk doesn’t need an anchor around its ankles. How would he fly free when the time came?

  “We need to consider a third option—the taniwha,” Miguel said.

  Loki shot his second a look. “I’m not sure which I would prefer to be the killer, man or beast. The motives of men a
re easier to understand.”

  Others might scoff at the idea of a mythical beast being responsible, but Loki shrugged and accepted the existence of a taniwha. He had seen things that could not be explained by modern science, and his experience told him of other, invisible, forces at play in the world. He had seen Cara Devon save her husband from drowning by using their bond to draw the water from his lungs and into hers to be vomited into a bucket. He had transported dragon eggs on the Hellcat and seen the hatchlings play in the snow.

  The concept of a taniwha didn’t bother him at all. He’d just like to know where it was hiding so he didn’t go swimming in its water hole. He didn’t need another scar to match the one the shark had left in his skin.

  “Come on, we have work to do.” They left Austin to rally his troops and draw up the boundary of his new British outpost. In the warehouse they catalogued and weighed the latest shipment from the traders, which had arrived by horse and cart. It wasn’t as much as Loki had hoped, but profitable routes would open once Hone had his airship.

  Marika had stayed inside while the town was being segregated. The young woman worked with Miguel to explain the significance of various artifacts they would be taking back to England. They also wrote notes about the stuffed specimens for naturalists, detailing the habitats of animals that armchair collectors would never see alive, much less in the wild. By late afternoon, the time had come for Marika to return to her people.

  “We’ll both walk you back,” Loki said. “We don’t want any problems with Austin.”

  They had two available routes back to the Maori settlement. They could go through the forest and give the town a wide berth by taking a circular path, or they could wander straight through the middle of town and scuff Austin’s line as they passed. Loki was sorely tempted by the latter option. He suspected the soldiers thought the paint created an invisible yet impenetrable barrier.

  “Let’s not buy a problem when we don’t have to. I say we go through the forest,” Miguel said, sensible as usual.