The Sacrifice

by Joanna Orwin

  Gentle these gales, Tanga of the winds

  Calm that tempest, Tanga of the winds.

  As he called, his voice grew stronger. As he called, he twisted so that he could brandish the god stick at each prow in turn, then at each stern. Three times, he chanted the ancient words. Then he fell silent. He could sense Matu staring amazed at him from the stern, but he kept his back turned. All they could do now was wait.

  Nothing changed. Another wave pounded them. Then another. Kua-the-Seeker shuddered violently as she struggled up through the pressing weight of water. Her movement was sluggish now. She hardly rose as the next wave hit them. Waist-high water swept along the hull towards him. The moki shuddered again, weaker this time. Taka held his breath, sure this would prove to be her death throes. The hulls stayed submerged. The wind snatched at his swaying body. It howled triumph in his ears. He had left it too late. He had failed.

  Chapter 12

  Taka faced blindly forward, his head bowed. Tears mingled with the rain battering him. Water still swirled around his knees and slapped against the sodden shelter. Kua-the-Seeker had not succeeded in shaking off the last wave that swamped her. The hulls were still submerged. Lightning cracked overhead. In the brief flare of light he saw that only the prows and sterns were visible above the surface. They canted at an angle, one hull submerged deeper than the other. He could feel the moki straining to rise beneath his feet. The weight of water was too much. Then, slowly, slowly, she fought her valiant way upwards. Now the water was only ankle-deep. He held his breath. But the hulls stayed canted and submerged. She hadn’t recovered enough. Another wave like that would send them down into the depths. He had failed. Kai was right in saying the gods were fickle. Tanga wasn’t responding to his call for help.

  Kua-the-Seeker couldn’t last much longer. Another huge wave loomed. She lurched sideways. Taka squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to witness their inevitable slide into the demon-depths of the Great Ocean. They were about to die. There was nothing any of them could do.

  Then, even as these thoughts dulled his mind into despair, his straining muscles felt a difference in the movement of the submerged hulls beneath his feet. A subtle difference. Taka’s eyes flew open. The moki was slowly righting herself. The strain on his legs began to equalize. The prows in front of him started to rise as the wave approached. The moki lifted gradually but steadily up through the water. Now the platform rose above the surface. The water drained away from around his feet, equally from each now-level hull. But it was too soon to dare hope. The huge wave was upon them. Its crest was already breaking overhead.

  This time Taka willed himself to watch. Whatever fate the gods had determined for them, he should face it with his eyes open, chin up, a hero not a coward. The moki climbed steadily up the wave. He dared not breathe as Kua-the-Seeker straddled the breaking crest. The welter of white water filled the air around him and roared in his ears. He waited for the swirling rush of water along the hulls to overcome them, then watched in disbelief as the seething mass was shed on either side of the hulls. The moki shook herself free. By the time the water reached him, it was only ankle-deep. The rain eased. Its spear points no longer stabbed at his skin. The shriek of the wind softened. Moonlight streamed through a sudden rent in the clouds to light the moki and the surrounding sea with an unearthly glimmer. Although the next wave was approaching, he could see that it didn’t loom so high.

  The wave passed under them. Then the next. Neither crest broke. Both times, Kua-the-Seeker rose up and over the wave. Both times, the moki slid safely down the other side, the water draining away from her flanks. Behind him, he heard Matu murmur thanks to Tanga. From inside the shelter, he heard Piko and Kota repeat his thanks, their voices awed. Taka became aware of the solidity of the god stick; a hard, reassuring shape pressed into his hand. He stared at its delicate wrapping, soaked and frayed by the wind. Even as he looked at it, the god stick stirred in his grip. It was no longer inert; he could feel its hidden power. Unable to speak out loud, he said the prayers of thanks in his head, then carefully returned the god stick to its resting place in his pouch, his hands shaking.

  Matu was shouting at him from the stern platform. ‘The god has given us a break — what are you waiting for?’

  Stunned by what had just happened, Taka moved slowly towards the sail. Only moments before he’d been convinced they were about to die. He felt strangely separated from his body, his legs hollowed out, the bones and sinews dissolved away. His mind emptied of all sensation, he started to loosen off the ropes. The struggle with water-tightened knots, the rasp of rough fibre against his fumbling fingers, gradually brought him back to reality. At last the sail flopped limply, not catching any wind. He gathered up armfuls of the sodden matting as best he could and wrapped it around the booms, then managed to loop the ropes round the resulting awkward bundle. He was looking at the booms, knowing he didn’t have the strength to lift them from their socket, when Matu joined him. Without a word, the Hara youth cut the bindings that held the booms in place. Together, they succeeded in wresting them out of their footing.

  As they lashed the booms securely on the platform alongside the shelter, a bedraggled and soaked Piko stuck his head out. He looked at the sullen sea and at the moon path that still held them in its light. Then he looked at Taka with what seemed to be a mixture of admiration and caution, and shook his head slowly. ‘Do you need a hand out here?’

  Before Taka could answer, Matu said, ‘We’ve got it under control. Best leave it to us, eh?’ He was busy loosening the rope he’d used to tether the steering oar in place while he helped with the booms. Taka couldn’t see the expression on his face.

  Piko gave Taka another considering look. ‘Right then. We’re taking advantage of this … lull … to lash everything down tighter, including Kai. He’s as sick as a dog.’ He vanished back into the shelter.

  Now that the sail wasn’t forcing their speed, Matu turned Kua-the-Seeker until she was running directly before the waves. The westerly wind picked up again. But it blew steadily this time, not in the violent gusts they’d been experiencing. Taka watched nervously as each wave now rose high behind them. But each one passed underneath the moki without breaking over her. As time passed, and they continued to ride safely over each wave, he allowed himself to relax. The tension slowly ebbed from his muscles. It had truly happened. Tanga had answered his call. The water-god had given them a reprieve. Even as Taka was thinking this, the moon vanished behind the racing clouds. He sensed that the god had left them. They were on their own once more. But hope and faith had returned, banishing the despair that had threatened to overwhelm him. He breathed steadily, feeling the strength return to his limbs. Slowly, he twisted to look at Matu.

  Matu was watching him, his face unreadable. His words were pragmatic. ‘Here, take over. I could do with a break.’

  When Taka joined him on the stern platform, the Hara youth waited until he had mastered the surging movement of the moki. Matu then took his hands off the steering oar. His voice gruff, he said, ‘You’re not bad, for a Repo dancer.’

  Taka glanced at him, but Matu was staring straight ahead.

  Dawn came stealthily, a faint stain of light on the horizon below a turbulent layer of dark storm cloud. The rain stopped and the wind moderated. The rush of air felt clean against Taka’s drying skin. Directly overhead, the cloud thinned. He glimpsed stars every now and then before the increasing daylight extinguished them. The huge waves still passed steadily under them. Not one had washed over the sterns. But as the light increased, it revealed unwelcome details that had been hidden by the darkness. He’d been struggling with the steering oar, but had put that down to exhaustion. Now he could see that Kua-the-Seeker was riding much lower than before. The sea slid past less than half a metre below the platform. His heart sank. The long hours of onslaught by rain and seawater had taken their toll. The reed bundles had absorbed a huge weight of water. Worse, the growing daylight revealed ungainly bulges in the hulls. Everywher
e he looked, he saw places where the water-swollen reeds had burst through the ties. They were not out of trouble yet.

  Matu was sitting slumped against the H-frame, half-asleep. He stirred, then looked at the sea and the clearing sky. ‘How about it, Repo dancer?’ Although his voice was the friendliest Taka had known it, he still detected an element of challenge. ‘How about trying that sail again — get some speed up?’

  ‘Maybe you should take a look at the moki first.’ Taka gestured over the side. ‘She’s in bad shape.’

  Matu’s lip twisted in his usual sneer, but when Taka met his gaze steadily, he shrugged. He moved around the platform, testing ties and checking the damage to the hulls. When he rejoined Taka, he was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘I still think we should set the sail. If we can get some speed up, the hulls should lift more. That might shift some of the water she’s taken on.’

  A voice in Taka’s head urged caution. Would the moki withstand the strain? But what Matu said made some sense. The Hara youth was waiting for his response, the light of challenge still in his eye. Taka felt the welcome stir of a need to take life by the throat once more, a need to banish the hollow space left beneath his ribs by the despair that had led him to believe they were facing death. The voice of caution faded. ‘Why not? You’re on.’

  There was no protest from the shelter — no sound at all. Taka guessed the others were deeply asleep. Matu showed him how to tether the steering oar, then they set about restepping the booms. They both moved carefully, every action as noiseless as possible. Taka knew Matu was thinking what he was. If the others woke, they would be sure to veto their plan as too risky. He recognized the irony that the two of them had become unlikely conspirators.

  Matu checked the height of the waves. ‘We still need to sail directly downwind, keep running before these seas.’

  Although the tattered sail was sodden, it soon swelled with the wind. Slowly, the moki began to respond. Following Matu’s directions, Taka tightened the ropes until the sail lost most of its belly, successfully spilling some of the wind. He joined the other youth on the stern platform. They stood side by side, a hand each on the steering oar, feeling it start to vibrate as Kua-the-Seeker moved faster.

  Being lower in the water gave the moki increased stability. With the extra lift provided by the sail, she now rose up each oncoming wave with less effort. Matu soon proved to be right. As the wind gradually dried some of the moisture from the surface of the reeds, the moki lifted higher. She picked up speed, pausing high on each crest before the wave surged past underneath them. Once the sail also lost some of its moisture, it drew better. Before long, it felt as though they were flying. The sensation reminded Taka of when he and Kai had surfed on that wave a year ago at Ra-Repo. But that had been a brief moment. This was continuous, an exhilarating swoop and drop that went on and on. His spirits soared as adrenalin surged through his veins. Each time Kua-the-Seeker was poised on the crest of a wave, he could see right to the horizon. Only moments before they’d been about to die. Now they were riding on top of the world. They were the Travellers. They were survivors. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Matu’s grin matched his own.

  The others began to emerge from the shelter, woken by the change in the moki’s movement. Taka knew they both probably looked demon-possessed. He didn’t care.

  Kai, his face still bleached an unhealthy white, blinked in the growing strength of the sun. He took in the speed at which they were sailing. He watched as another huge wave approached from behind. His eyes widened. He looked askance at the two youths standing together on the stern platform. ‘Is this wise?’

  Before Taka could think of anything to say, Matu said, ‘It’s our homage to Tanga.’

  Kai ignored that. He pointed at the frayed sail, the straining hulls, the tattered streamers flying in the wind. ‘What about the stress on the moki?’

  Piko chipped in. ‘What’s more, you’re taking us even further off course.’

  They were still heading towards the east and the rising sun. Who knew how far the storm had already carried them eastwards? As always, Taka couldn’t deny these two were right. Sailing like this was irresponsible. He was about to acknowledge what he’d known deep down all along, when Matu got in first.

  He answered both objections. ‘Until this westerly eases, we’ve no choice. Sailing downwind puts less strain on the moki.’ It was a quiet statement without his usual bluster.

  Taka explained Matu’s theory about drying out the reeds. ‘It does seem to be working. We’re riding slightly higher in the water than we were.’

  Piko nodded slowly. ‘That’s as maybe. I’m still concerned about our course. We’ve already been at sea for two weeks. We’re running out of time.’

  He didn’t need to say anything else. They were all remembering what Maunu had told them: they would get three weeks out of the moki, no more. There was an uneasy silence.

  Matu broke it. ‘As soon as the wind switches back to the south-east, we’ll be able to sail directly westwards. Regain our position.’

  Kai spoke reluctantly. ‘I guess there’s nothing we can do about our course. We’re at the mercy of the wind and currents.’

  Taka’s thoughts were taking a different direction. ‘Maybe this is exactly the route Kahu took. The legend says he sailed north and towards the westering sun.’

  There was another silence.

  Then Kota spoke for the first time. ‘Taka’s right: we have to trust in the gods.’

  The wind continued to ease as the storm cloud shredded and vanished from the morning sky. Taka and Matu relinquished the steering oar and crawled into the shelter. Taka fell into a dead sleep almost before he’d rolled onto his sodden sleeping mat. When he woke some hours later, the sun was already in the west and he was ravenously hungry. They’d not eaten since the previous morning.

  Once the moki settled to a more sedate passage as the seas diminished, they brought out their wet gear and spread it on the shelter roof to dry in the last of the afternoon sun. Kota prepared a quick meal of rau cake and dried fish. He seemed even quieter than usual. Intent on eating, Taka thought little of this, but when they’d finished their meal, Kota gave them disturbing news.

  ‘I checked our supplies. Most of the dried fish has been spoilt by saltwater. Some of the calabashes of rau, too.’

  ‘How much is left?’ Kai asked.

  ‘At the rate we’re eating? Three or four days.’ Kota hesitated, then added, ‘The stoppers came out of some of the water gourds.’

  ‘Half-portions from now on then.’ Piko’s voice was sober.

  They looked at the battered hulls that still rode too low in the water despite Kua-the-Seeker’s valiant response to wind and waves. They looked around them at the empty ocean that still stretched as far as they could see. They looked up at the empty sky. They felt the west wind on their backs still driving them remorselessly eastwards. No one said anything. Taka’s euphoria at surviving the storm and their exhilarating ride over the waves drained away. His stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard, trying to dispel a sudden surge of fear. Matu was watching him, and Taka knew he’d seen his change of mood. He braced himself. To his surprise, the other youth made no attempt to put him down. ‘No point dwelling on any of this. All we can do is keep sailing the best we can. We’re in Tanga’s hands.’

  Piko added a wry comment. ‘Maybe we should remind the water-god that we need this wind to switch soon.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Kai briskly. ‘At least with Matu’s skills, we’re doubly protected.’

  Taka watched the Hara youth flush, then turn away, busying himself by unnecessarily adjusting a rope. Later, when he and Kai were alone on deck for night duty, he asked his cousin what he made of Matu. ‘Now, when he really could boast about how good he is, he doesn’t say a thing.’

  ‘He’s in his element out here. He knows we can all see that.’

  Taka thought a moment. ‘You’re saying he no longer feels the need to keep telling us he’s
the best?’

  Kai nodded. ‘I reckon a lot of his bluster is more about convincing himself than us.’

  Taka envied Matu his consistent ease with the moki, no matter what each day brought. He’d been finding it increasingly hard to curb his natural restlessness as the slow days of their voyage passed. There was little room to move, cooped up here on the moki, suspended between the endless ocean and the endless sky. He missed the outlet of dance to release his feelings, and there were days when his weakening muscles twitched with longing. It was becoming hard to believe he would ever dance again.

  At last the wind changed. For two days it once more blew steadily from the south-east. Each morning, they adjusted their course so the rising sun was now directly behind them. They sailed westwards. Whenever Taka came on deck after a spell, the first thing he did was go forward and stand at one of the prows, his hand shading his eyes as he stared hungrily at the horizon, looking for signs of land. When any of the others came on deck, he noticed they did the same. Their anxiety was building. So far there’d been no signs to buoy their hopes.

  Then, on the third day after the storm, Matu woke them at dawn. ‘Something about the swell’s changed. Can you feel it?’

  They concentrated, trying to detect any difference in the way the moki moved. Taka’s heart beat faster. Surely if Matu had spotted Something, he as a dancer should be able to pick up even a subtle change in the movement and rhythm of the moki? Was this at last the first sign of land, out there over the horizon? After a moment he shook his head, his excitement ebbing. ‘Nothing.’

  One by one, the others reluctantly agreed.

  Matu’s face dropped. ‘Maybe I’m imagining things.’

  As the morning wore on, he was proved right, though: Something had changed, but there was no longed-for sign of land. The wind began to fade. By the time the sun was directly overhead, Kua-the-Seeker was drifting without direction. Her sail drooped, and not even Matu could coax any life out of the moki. Without the lift provided by sailing, none of them could deny that the drifting craft was wallowing noticeably lower in the water. The Travellers stood on deck, gazing silently over the sides of the hulls. Taka knew they were all thinking of old Maunu’s warning that the reed bundles would steadily lose their buoyancy. The process had been accelerated by the storm, and there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Three weeks. They only had three weeks. They were already well into that third week.