by Joanna Orwin
‘Tama, you’ve got to help,’ said Hamish fiercely. ‘What does it take? First us, then Storm. Now Mum.’
‘She slipped,’ said Tama. ‘Oh all right. There is someone I could phone. I s’pose.’
‘Please, Tama,’ said Kirsten. ‘We can’t do this without you.’
Hamish led him to the office and closed the door. ‘There’s the phone.’
Tama picked up the phone and waited pointedly, his finger poised over the number pad. Hamish sighed, then left him to it. He lurked outside, rubbing his glasses on his sleeve. Kirsten and Tod waited silently nearby. It wasn’t long before Tama rejoined them.
‘Well?’ asked Tod.
‘He’ll arrange a meeting, this afternoon,’ said Tama. ‘You just have to get yourself there, Hamish.’
‘Oh,’ said Kirsten blankly. ‘I assumed we’d all go.’
‘Just him,’ said Tama firmly. ‘He’s the only one of you that’s seen this giant eagle.’
‘What about you? You were attacked by it. You’re coming too?’ Hamish stared at Tama anxiously. He couldn’t do this on his own. He was way out of his depth.
For a moment, Tama stared back, then he relented. ‘Do I have a choice?’
≈ EIGHT
HAMISH STOOD at the end of the inner city street where Kirsten had left them on her way to take the injured Jane MacIntyre to the doctor. A keen wind had blown the softness out of the air, and the buildings were all sharp angles and hard light. Bits of paper and dead leaves scudded in flurries as the wind gusted. Hamish’s eyes watered in the unaccustomed brightness. He jerked his sleeve across them.
Tama had already moved away. He followed him reluctantly. The other boy had reverted to type. He slouched along the footpath, his shoulders hunched, a scowl on his face, his old cap screwed down over his bright hair. They were being watched by a group of young men hanging around outside some rundown shops.
It was too late for second thoughts. Tama was already knocking on the door of a small house tucked behind the shops. He didn’t wait for anyone to answer, but pushed the door open and went in, impatiently gesturing for Hamish to follow him.
A burly man leaned back in his chair at a cluttered kitchen table. He regarded them steadily before speaking. ‘Haven’t seen you around here for a while, Tama. Thought you’d decided you were too good for us. This your mate from up-country, ne?’
Tama pushed Hamish forward. ‘This is Hamish, Uncle Manny.’
Tama’s uncle ignored Hamish’s awkwardly held out hand. ‘You been stirring up trouble, I hear?’
Eyes set in creases of fat assessed him, their brown irises surrounded by yellow-streaked whites. Hamish swallowed nervously. He’d no idea how to start. Tama’s uncle wasn’t what he’d been expecting. He was a total contrast to his nephew. Dark-skinned, almost black. His greying hair was tied into a loose knot on top of his head, and his face was tattooed. He looked, well, uncompromisingly Maori. Hamish found himself stuttering like a total idiot.
Tama was no help. He leant against the dresser, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He didn’t say a thing, just watched.
‘Don’t you believe everything you hear about us fullas,’ said Tama’s Uncle Manny suddenly. ‘We throw back tiddlers like you.’ He chuckled, a deep chuckle that shook the enormous belly hanging over his trouser waistband.
Hamish blinked, then managed a sheepish grin. He’d asked for that.
‘Go on, boy, find yourself a pew,’ Uncle Manny pointed at a chair. ‘You take your time. There’s no hurry, eh. You too, Tama. Park your bum.’
Hamish took a pile of newspapers off the chair and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. It was hard finding the right words, and he continued to stumble over them. It all sounded so far-fetched. But the big man just sat there listening patiently, his face neutral, not rushing him. Gradually Hamish gained enough confidence to make a reasonable fist of explaining what had been happening. And about finding the rock drawings and his growing certainty that they were all linked somehow. Finally he came to an abrupt end. He said lamely, ‘That’s about it, I guess.’
Uncle Manny sat there a while without saying anything. Then he lumbered slowly and stiffly to his feet. ‘Well, boy. Reckon you’re out of your league all right. Put the kettle on, Tama. I’ll make a phone call, then we’ll have a kai.’
He left the room, and Hamish heard him talking on the phone. He waited anxiously. His fingers automatically plucked his glasses from his nose to polish them on his handkerchief.
‘Hey! Snap out of it! Make yourself useful,’ said Tama. He thrust a loaf of bread, some butter and a pot of raspberry jam at Hamish. ‘Make a space on the table. Plates on the dresser.’ He took a cake tin out of the cupboard and opened it.
Hamish found plates and mugs. He spread slices of bread, his mind worrying away, worse than a dog with a bone. What if these people couldn’t – or wouldn’t – help?
Tama’s uncle came back into the room. He just grunted when he saw the food, and sat down at the table. ‘Hope you put plenty of tea in that pot. I like it strong, eh.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know how you like it,’ said Tama. He poured them all mugfuls and pushed the plate of bread and jam at Hamish. ‘Help yourself.’
Although his anxiety made the bread taste like sawdust, Hamish obediently chewed his way through a slice. It formed unpalatable wads in his mouth that he found hard to swallow. He washed them down with mouthfuls of tea so strong he thought it would strip the lining off his stomach. Surreptitiously, he spooned more sugar into his mug. Tama was scoffing slices of bread and muffins as if he didn’t have a worry in the world.
At last Tama and his uncle finished eating. Hamish helped Tama stack the plates in the sink and run the hot tap over them. Uncle Manny shrugged his way into an old quilted jacket. ‘Get your skates on. I’m taking you to see Tāua Gray. You too, Tama,’ he added sharply as Tama looked as though he was going to stay put.
Trying to breathe evenly, get his nerves under control, Hamish followed Tama and his uncle back past the corner shops. The young men were still there, drinking beer out of cans. They greeted the big man civilly enough, but Hamish sensed them looking him up and down as he walked past. Assessing him and finding him wanting. He was glad he wasn’t on his own. Tama didn’t give them a second glance, just hunched his shoulders even higher and slouched after his uncle.
Before he’d had time to gather his wits, Hamish found himself in a tiny immaculate front room, being introduced to an old lady. A slim upright old lady with white hair neatly brushed around a still beautiful olive-skinned face. This time sharp intelligent eyes of an intense depth assessed him. In her neatly tailored knitted dress, a brooch at the collar, she was even more unnerving than Uncle Manny.
The big man introduced the boys formally, showing the old lady considerable deference. He called her Tāua – granny – but it didn’t sound like a term of endearment to Hamish, more like a high title.
‘Yes. Thank you, Manny,’ she said quietly. ‘You can leave them to me now.’
Uncle Manny nodded and left, shutting the door carefully behind him.
Now Hamish was seated on the edge of an upholstered chair, Tama on another one nearby. He told his story as clearly as he could, not holding back on anything he thought might be relevant. This time, the words came easier.
She listened without comment to what he was saying. But when he’d finished, she said, ‘You have left something out of your telling.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘You have in your possession something that does not belong to you.’
Hamish was disconcerted. For a moment he’d no idea what she meant. He hadn’t left anything out. Then he remembered. With everything that had happened, it’d completely escaped his mind. The carved stone tucked into a handkerchief in the bottom of his sports bag. Is that what she meant? That crudely shaped piece of limestone? It had to be. He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I suppose I do.’
Out of the corner of his eye, he felt rather than saw Tama stir, look at hi
m accusingly. He couldn’t stop himself, even though the words sounded impertinent as soon as he said them. ‘How did you know?’
Tāua Gray was unruffled. ‘Pouākai, the man-eating giant of the past, the eagle that flies on the north-west wind, has been set free,’ she said. ‘That much is clear from your story.’
Hamish nodded. His heart started to thump.
‘For Pouākai to be set free, the kaitiaki stone of protection must have been removed,’ she continued. ‘You are the one who has taken this kaitiaki.’
Her tone wasn’t accusatory, but to Hamish each word sounded like a judgement. He hadn’t understood everything she said, but he’d been right about the identity of their attacker. It was the giant eagle from that legend about people being eaten. It was a creature from ancient Maori times. Worse still, she was saying the stone he’d taken was the reason the giant eagle had appeared. If only he’d put the stone back into the matting bag. If only….
The old lady was watching him. ‘Removing the stone on its own would not have been enough,’ she said. ‘You did more.’
Hamish looked warily at her.
‘You also freed Pouākai from under the eyes of the tūtei who guard the place where his likeness was constrained.’
‘What likeness?’ For a moment Hamish didn’t understand what she meant. ‘Oh … I think I get it … do you mean the rock drawings?’
Tāua Gray nodded calmly.
Hamish stared at her, thinking hard. ‘Are you saying that taking photographs of the rock drawings freed…?’
She nodded again.
Hamish realised he’d still been hoping that he’d got it all wrong. She was confirming what he’d feared most. His actions had released the man-eating bird from the past. But how could he have predicted that the drawings would have such significance? He said defensively, ‘Lots of people take photos of rock drawings.’
‘Sometimes events and actions bring together forces of which we have little understanding,’ she said. ‘You were the unwitting agent of such a combination. Nevertheless, you have activated an ancient pattern.’
‘An ancient pattern?’ Hamish was struggling to keep up.
‘Pouākai has been released before,’ she said. ‘Long ago. We have a tradition that tells us of this. Even so, I would not have expected one such as you could have such an effect.’
Hamish tried to grasp the implications of what she was saying. Before he’d unravelled it all, Tāua Gray was speaking again.
‘There is a crisis, to do with the land you hold.’ Again, she was making a statement, not asking a question.
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Hamish slowly. What did his family troubles have to do with the release of an ancient mythical creature?
She was waiting, expecting him to elaborate.
‘We have to sell the farm,’ he said. ‘My father died.’ It was the second time he’d managed to say it out loud. It wasn’t so hard this time.
‘Who is buying the land?’ she asked.
‘Well, it’s not decided yet. An Asian consortium has made an offer apparently. They want the land for tourism.’
‘Ah,’ she said. There was a pause. Then she changed tack completely. ‘What do they call you, boy?’
Now he was really confused. What did his name have to do with anything? Uncle Manny had introduced him clearly enough. He didn’t get the impression this old lady forgot things like that. But he meekly repeated his name.
‘You have another name you are known by.’ Again it didn’t seem to be a question.
‘Well, I do have a family nickname,’ said Hamish slowly.
She waited.
‘I’m called Owl,’ he blurted, wanting to sink into the floor with embarrassment.
Tāua Gray was nodding in satisfaction. ‘Owl, yes – that’s it. Ruru. I thought it must be so,’ she murmured, almost to herself. Then she addressed Hamish again. ‘And where do you come in your family?’ she asked.
‘Er, I’m the youngest,’ said Hamish. He’d no idea where these questions were heading.
‘Yes indeed, the pōtiki, the youngest,’ she said. ‘A position with its own power. There had to be more than one link for a Pākehā to act as the trigger.’
Hamish stared at her, bewildered, but she turned to Tama for the first time. ‘You are part of this,’ she said.
Tama took it as a question. ‘Me? No way.’ Seeming to realise his manner was somehow disrespectful, he sat up straighter. ‘I mean, I just happened to be there, like.’
‘No, Tama,’ she said. ‘Your presence was nothing to do with chance. You are part of the trigger, part of this combination of events and circumstances.’
‘How’d you make that out?’ This time he seemed unaware of how rude he sounded. ‘I’d nothing to do with any of it. It was just chance it was me that thing attacked.’
The old lady answered him patiently. ‘You are everything to do with it. On your grandfather’s side you are Ngāti Ruru – the people of the Owl.’
Tama and Hamish both gaped at her.
‘That is why you were attacked, not Hamish,’ she explained. ‘Ruru and his people have always been the enemies of Pouākai, his conquerors. You are part of this age-old pattern, Tama.’
Hamish looked at him with sharpened attention. A sudden thought struck him. That warning Tama had given him up at the rock shelter. The warning Tama had later dismissed as meaningless. It’d meant something all right, even if Tama hadn’t known it himself.
Tāua Gray was still speaking. ‘The pattern has been initiated – even if in a way that could not have been predicted by our tīpuna. But such patterns have always reflected the times. It is for you two to complete this one, Tama – true descendant of Ruru, and Hamish – Pākehā Owl.’
Hamish didn’t think he’d heard right. Was she saying that it was up to the two of them to conquer a bullet-proof legendary bird? But they’d already failed. That’s why they were here. Before he could say anything, the other boy spoke.
‘How?’
‘You must learn to be patient. All will be revealed,’ said Tāua Gray austerely. The room became quiet, still. Its neat old-fashioned furniture and arrangements of dried flowers came from a world other than the one she was speaking of, yet Hamish saw nothing incongruous. Her authority seemed absolute.
‘I will tell you the ancient story of Pouākai, and how Ruru and his companions came to defeat him,’ Tāua Gray said. And she told them the story, a full version of the legend that Hamish had once heard. Her words brought Pouākai to life. His ominous presence filled the room.
But her words conjured up more. There were other presences in the room. Tall men, proud in their warrior tradition. And one man, Ruru, with the imagination and the audacity needed to devise a trap capable of deceiving the terrifying creature that swooped from the sky to devastate his people. It was Ruru who enticed Pouākai into this trap, Ruru who succeeded in slaying him. Hamish sneaked a look at Tama, the descendant of this man. Tall and skinny with his bright hair and white skin, Tama didn’t seem any more like one of those ancient warriors than he did.
But there was more. About five hundred years ago, Pouākai had reappeared. ‘It was at a time of great disturbance in the land,’ said Tāua Gray. ‘The north-west winds had raged for days, and the mountains could not be seen for the dust that billowed from all the gorges. By summer’s end the earth was parched. A great fire then ravaged the land. It destroyed the forests of the inland basins that had been an important mahinga kai for our people. It was then that Pouākai reappeared. The beating of his wings was heard once more on the north-west wind.’ She paused.
‘Wow,’ breathed Tama, enthralled despite himself. ‘What happened?’
‘Just as he had before, the huge eagle began to seize people and carry them off as its food,’ she said. ‘And so the ancient pattern of the legend was triggered once more. Another of the name Ruru, a descendant of the original hero, took responsibility for the defeat of Pouākai. And again he was successful. The giant eagle
was trapped and slain. But this time, Ruru took certain precautions to prevent Pouākai from ever reappearing.’
Neither boy breathed a word. They both leant forward, their eyes fastened on the old lady’s face.
When Tāua Gray was sure she had their undivided attention, she went on with her story. Her voice took on a deeper timbre, each word vibrated.
‘In a cave high above the basin where the eagle had once again flown free, Ruru captured the likeness of Pouākai and fastened it to the rock. Above that place, he set seven pillars of stone as tūtei to watch for intruders. And he concealed a carved kaitiaki within the cave to guard his captive.’
The words resonated in Hamish’s head. The story had come full circle. It was that likeness, the one drawn by the second Ruru, that he’d found. What she’d said when they first arrived now made sense. All of it. By taking the photographs he’d inadvertently released the likeness of Pouākai from where it’d been fastened to the rock. By removing the kaitiaki stone, he’d allowed the power of the eagle to redevelop. The eagle had flown free. And the seven pillars of stone had to be the Seven Sentinels.
But none of Ruru’s precautions had been enough to prevent Hamish blundering headlong into this nightmare.
Tāua Gray spoke again, her words echoing his thoughts. ‘For five hundred years or more, Ruru’s precautions kept Pouākai safe,’ she said. ‘But the day came when those precautions were no longer enough. The signs of the tapu protecting that place were no longer recognised.’
Hamish couldn’t contain himself any longer. He blurted, ‘How was I meant to know?’ He was close to tears.
‘We often do not foresee the consequences of our actions,’ said the old lady. ‘It is apparent from what you have told me that the land is again under threat. Perhaps that was enough to weaken the precautions set in place by Ruru.’
‘What will happen?’ asked Hamish. ‘Can anything be done?’