by Joanna Orwin
They set off again. For a while they made good progress. Then the slope steepened, and the effort of kicking steps became harder. When Tod let them stop again, Hamish leaned on his pole and waited for his breathing to slow. He could feel the burn in his straining calf muscles. Behind him, he heard Tama muttering expletives. But when he summoned the energy to look upwards, he could see the summit rocks clearly now, much closer.
‘Okay,’ said Tod. ‘This last stretch gets quite steep. We’re going to rope up – it’s not really necessary, but it’s good practice.’
He sounded far too cheerful for Hamish’s liking. He closed his mind off. A step at a time. When they started climbing again, Tod had Tama on his rope, and Hamish was roped to Kirsten. They moved slowly but steadily up the slope, stopping every now and then for Tod to cut steps up the steeper sections. Even though the snow on these higher slopes had firmed again, it was hard going. Hamish was glad when his brother at last called a halt where the ridge flattened out into a shoulder.
They sat down to catch their breath. They could see the whole basin from up here, the whole of Hamish’s world. A world that he was about to lose. It looked far away and remote, a haze of blue shadows. The scatter of limestone outcrops across the slopes above the basin were mere scratchings on the landscape. Only the Seven Sentinels were distinguishable.
Before he had time to brood, Tod got them moving again. ‘A bit of wind on top now,’ he said, pointing at the faint skiff of snow pluming from the summit. ‘It might get worse later, so the sooner we get there….’
‘How much further?’ asked Hamish.
‘Maybe half an hour to the summit rocks,’ said Tod. ‘Not far now.’
Hamish plodded up behind Kirsten. It wasn’t quite so steep now, but ahead of them he could see the summit rocks, mostly clear of snow, rising abruptly from the ridge. He didn’t like the look of them, not one little bit.
They’d been climbing for about twenty minutes when Tama stopped dead in his tracks and held up his hand. ‘Listen!’ he hissed.
At first, all Hamish could hear was the faint susurration of the wind amongst the rocks above them. Then, intermingled with the sound, he heard something else. Thin and reedy, surging then fading as the wind gusted. Pouākai’s children, mourning for their slain parents. The purpose of their climb came flooding back.
≈ SIXTEEN
‘CAN YOU HEAR THAT?’ asked Tama softly. ‘It’s Pouākai’s children.’
They all nodded. Hamish’s mouth was suddenly dry. He stood listening, trying to establish where the wavering sound was coming from. It wasn’t until the wind dropped briefly that Hamish was able to pinpoint its origin. ‘Up there,’ he breathed. ‘Right on the top somewhere.’
He stared up at the rocks. There, almost on the skyline, he thought he could make out a darker shadow. The cave of the legend? The rocks leading to the summit looked impossibly steep. Beside him, he heard Tama swallow. Hamish turned to Tod. ‘Can we get up there?’
Tod scanned the route ahead carefully, then said, ‘Yep, can do.’ He paused. ‘It’s only a scramble. Not as bad as it looks from here.’
Tama was silent. Hamish looked at him. His jaw was clenched and the freckles stood out on his face.
‘Tama? D’you think you can get up there?’
The other boy stared at the jumbled black rocks. ‘Might be tricky,’ he said at last. ‘Told you, didn’t I? I’m no good on heights.’
‘You’ve got this far,’ said Kirsten encouragingly.
‘Only by not looking down,’ muttered Tama.
‘What if I go up first?’ said Tod. ‘Bring you up on the rope? With Kirsten right behind you for added security.’
Tama licked his lips. His hand touched the outline of the pendant lying inside his woollen shirt. He raised his head defiantly. ‘Guess I’ll have to give it a go.’
They watched while Tod scrambled agilely up the rocks, picking out the easiest route. Always perfectly balanced, he never seemed to strain for a foot or handhold. Tod was in his element up here. It wasn’t long before he was sending the rope down to them. ‘No worries!’ he called softly. ‘I’m on the top. Reckon that cave will be a bit further along. But it looks okay from here.’
Kirsten helped Tama fasten himself to the rope again. ‘Leave your pole here,’ she said. ‘It’ll get in the way. And take your pack off too. We’ll take that up separately.’
With Kirsten close behind him, guiding his feet, and Tod calling directions from the top as he kept tension on the rope, Tama gradually made his way up the rocks. He stopped often. Hamish, watching from below, could hear Tod’s voice murmuring encouragement. Eventually Tama would move again, up another few steps before he had to stop once more. Hamish could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his legs were trembling with the effort. The climb was taking all his courage. Hamish realised he was holding his own body rigid in sympathy. He forced himself to relax. He’d need all his energy when it came to his turn. At last, Tama vanished over the top, with Kirsten following.
‘What about you, Owl?’ Tod’s head appeared above him. ‘Send up that pack first, but do you want to be roped?’
Hamish tied Tama’s pack to the rope before he answered. In a way it seemed a cop-out for him to use the rope. He knew he had none of Tod’s or Kirsten’s ability on rock, but he wasn’t afraid of heights and he knew the route, didn’t he? Perversely, he felt the need to test himself, to push himself to his limits, as Tama had done. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, more firmly than he felt. ‘I won’t need the rope.’
Concentrating fiercely, Hamish climbed slowly but steadily, trying not to stop. The rocks were slick with melting ice. Once, his feet scrabbled for purchase, and for a heart-stopping moment he thought he was going to fall. With one toe precariously wedged, he lunged upwards onto safer footing. His admiration for Tama grew. He was regretting his decision to climb without the rope. He gritted his teeth and pushed on upwards. The short pitch of rock seemed endless. At last he gave one last thrust and was there. He sprawled at Tod’s feet, gasping for air.
‘Unorthodox, but effective,’ said Tod, reaching out a hand to help him up. As Hamish moved past him to safe ground, Tod murmured, ‘Way to go, Owl – good one.’
He sounded genuine, and Hamish realised his brother had guessed why he’d climbed without help. Tod wasn’t usually so perceptive. He smiled gratefully at him and said, ‘You make it look too easy, that’s the problem.’
The place where the others were waiting was just big enough for the four of them, a flat shelf of snow above the rocks they’d climbed. Tama was sitting as far from the edge as possible, his back braced against a slab of rock, but he had a grin on his face. He gave Hamish a thumbs-up sign. Hamish grinned back. For someone who hated heights, Tama was doing better than okay.
Behind where Tama was sitting, another outcrop jutted in a toothed crag. The shelf dropped away steeply on one side, but on the other side Hamish could see a narrow ledge curving past the base of the crag. Was that where they had to go? It looked horribly exposed.
‘I’ve checked it out,’ said Tod, seeing where he was looking. ‘It’s fine – we can get around that crag, no sweat. Then there’s just a flat shoulder leading to the summit outcrop where you saw that cave.’
In single file, they made their way along the ledge, carefully placing their feet in Tod’s steps. Hamish could see Tama ahead of him, averting his eyes from the drop as they sidled the base of the crag. He followed closely behind Tod without faltering. He was one staunch guy all right. Hamish averted his own eyes and tried to resist the temptation to lean towards the crag. But he couldn’t stop himself from keeping one hand on the security of the rock.
As they came out onto the snow-covered shoulder, Hamish could hear the young birds again, not far away now. The haunting sound was coming from a shallow recess at the base of a rock slab perched right on the summit. He could just make out a pile of sticks in the recess. Pouākai’s nest.
‘Okay you two,’ said Tod
quietly. ‘This is where I hand over. What now?’
‘I think Tama and me have to do this on our own,’ said Hamish slowly. He was remembering something Tāua Gray had said. It was their responsibility to complete the ancient pattern, bring the legend full circle. He, Pākehā Owl, and yellow-haired Tama, true descendant of Ruru. He lifted his head and looked somewhat anxiously at his brother. ‘Tod? I don’t mean….’
Tod interrupted him. ‘It’s fine, Hamish. Really. I understand. I’ve done my bit. I said I was handing over.’ He took his pack off and sat down. Kirsten followed suit. ‘We’ll wait here.’
Hamish listened to the piping call from the nest as it rose and fell. He remembered what the legend had said. Ruru and his companions had stopped to learn the words of the song. He listened carefully, but couldn’t detect any words. He felt a sudden sense of defeat.
‘Owl, it’s okay,’ said Tama softly. ‘I already know the words. The old lady taught them to me. They were handed down.’
In his head, Hamish heard Tama chanting again, at Tāua Gray’s house, then at the hollow. Remembered the power of that chanting, the way Tama had seemed full of the presence of someone else. This was not something for the likes of him. He looked at Tama. ‘I think you should go first, take charge.’
Tama nodded. ‘Perhaps you’re right. But we’re in this together, bro.’ He took the axe from his pack and stood looking at it. Then he took his shirt off, and touched the pendant lying against his chest. His eyes flashed. ‘Let’s go.’
Following suit, Hamish took his own outer layer off. He looked at his pendant, then at Tama’s. One from the modern world, one from the ancient world. He said softly. ‘I’m ready.’
Moving quietly, carefully, so that they wouldn’t alarm the young birds, the two boys made their way towards the nest. The singing grew stronger. Now Hamish knew he’d heard something like it before. Pouākai’s mate lamenting. The mournful notes mingled with the sighing of the wind. Then the sound was joined by a human voice. Hamish slowed to a halt.
Tama had begun to sing softly. His voice first echoed, then answered, the singing from the nest. The sound of the wind and the voices blended then swelled until Hamish’s ears were filled with an unearthly music. A music that seemed to distill all the sadness of the last few months, all the pain. A lump formed in his throat and tears pricked at his eyelids. He stood still and watched as Tama moved ahead of him, high-stepping as he had done once before. The sun lit his bright hair, glinted off the newly sharpened axe he wielded.
Through his unshed tears, for a fraction of a second, Hamish thought he saw another figure stepping beside Tama. Another figure with bright hair, but brown-skinned and naked. Then the tears blurred his eyes. As he blinked the moisture away, the two figures melded together and he was no longer sure what he’d seen.
The music faded then died away. Tama had reached the nest. He stood still for a moment, then beckoned Hamish to join him. Slowly, Hamish walked forward. He was intensely aware of everything around him. The tilted slabs of the rocks, their angular forms hard-etched against the rounded summit of snow. The crystalline clarity of the air, its scent sharp and cold in his nostrils. And the tall figure of Tama, his yellow hair sun-lit and glowing against the blue shadows of the basin far below. Slowly, Hamish walked forward, until Pākehā Owl and the descendant of Ruru stood side by side to face the offspring of Pouākai.
Side by side, the two fledgling giant eagles looked back at them, their yellow eyes cold and inhuman. Hamish took in their half-shed down and the sprouting tufts of brown feathers, the loose folds of pimpled skin, the hooked beaks that still stretched in hungry gapes. He saw the detail of the untidy pile of bleached sticks that formed the nest, the dried moss and tussock that lined it. And then he saw something else. Cracked and crushed bones littered the nest. A lamb’s skull, shreds of fleecy pelt. He smelt that carrion smell once more, and the acrid stench of the excrement that spattered the floor of the recess. The gorge rose in his throat.
Tama moved closer. He began to chant, the same measured chant he’d used to honour Pouākai and his mate. The heads of the fledgling birds swivelled towards the sound. They reared up, flapping their half-formed wings. Their beaks gaped. They hissed. Tama kept chanting. The agitated movements of the young eagles slowly subsided as they listened. The yellow of their staring eyes softened to gold. Gradually, they lowered their heads in submission until they lay outstretched on the sticks surrounding their nest. Tama, still chanting, raised the axe and moved closer. With one swift movement, he swung the axe. The blade flashed in the sun. When he stepped back, Hamish saw that one of the fledglings lay dead, its head severed cleanly.
Still chanting, Tama turned towards him, his face calm, his eyes stern. He handed the bloodied axe to Hamish. The weight of the axe heavy in his hands, Hamish looked at the remaining bird. It lay passive, waiting. As Tama’s chant again rose to a crescendo, Hamish took a deep breath, swung the axe, and severed the head of the last giant eagle. The fledgling jerked in a brief convulsion, then lay still.
The notes of Tama’s chant died away. Now only the wind whispered amongst the rocks. In its murmur, Hamish heard a faint echo of the song of Pouākai’s children. Then even that had gone. All was silent. They stood alone on the summit of the mountain amidst the white snow, the black rocks, and the blue shadows, unsullied and timeless, high in the still air.
And now the four of them sprawled in the sun, their parkas spread beneath them as insulation from the snow, their faces lifted to the warmth. Behind them the ridge steepened towards the rocks leading up to the summit. The tricky descent to where they were resting had passed Hamish by. This time he hadn’t objected when Tod insisted on roping first him then Tama down through the rocks. Kirsten had gone ahead to guide their feet. When they reached the gentle slope of the shoulder, Tod untied the ropes, and told them to relax. The rest of the descent would be easy.
As the welcome heat penetrated his muscles, Hamish felt the last of the tension ebb from his body and his mind. Before they’d left the summit, Tod and Kirsten helped them scatter the nest and the decaying remains of the eagles’ prey. They piled stones over the bodies of the two young birds, forming a cairn. When they’d finished, they scrubbed their skin with handfuls of snow, removing all trace of what had taken place. As they turned to leave, Tama had sung a short version of the song Tāua Gray had sung over the grave of Pouākai. The ancient pattern Hamish had unwittingly activated was complete. Now, only the wind would sing where Pouākai had built his nest.
Already, the last two weeks were taking on an air of unreality. As though they’d been distant observers of events that had happened a long time ago, in a world that had passed. And even more unexpectedly, the world to come and what it might bring for Hamish’s family no longer seemed so threatening.
Kirsten, passing round some chocolate, echoed Hamish’s thoughts. ‘It’s all over, isn’t it?’ she said quietly. She propped herself on her pack, her arms crossed behind her head, so that she could see down the mountain to the basin spread out below. ‘Our life here. The Pinnacles, the farm, it looks so far away.’ She paused, trying to put her thoughts into words. ‘It all seems so distant. As if the farm no longer has anything to do with us.’
‘We go back to school after the weekend,’ said Hamish. ‘This might be our last few days at The Pinnacles.’
‘You’re probably right,’ said Tod. ‘Mum wants to move into town, nearer her clients, once the settlement with Ngāti Ruru is finalised.’
‘It’s strange,’ said Kirsten, musing. ‘Leaving doesn’t bother me so much any more. I’d never have thought that’d be possible. I can look down there now and see everything Dad wanted for the farm, for us. But those dreams no longer seem to involve me. They’ve gone, with him, haven’t they, and I’ve only just realised it.’
‘You’ll find other dreams,’ said Tod. ‘Your own dreams. We all will. We’ll all move on.’ He closed his eyes and stretched luxuriantly. ‘It’s not such a bad prospect.’
‘Any ideas what you might do, Kirsten?’ asked Hamish. He rolled over to feel the sun on his back.
‘S’pose I’ll go back to school, stay on for bursary,’ she said slowly. ‘That’ll be possible now, won’t it, if we’re in town and Mum doesn’t have to pay boarding fees. Then I’m not sure. Maybe one of those agriculture industry training courses.’
‘See?’ said Tod. ‘Without realising it, you must’ve already been thinking ahead. Sounds a good plan to me. What about you, Tama? Back to the city I guess.’
‘For starters,’ said Tama. ‘Back home to check my Mum’s okay, and the kids. Then, I dunno. Check out some of my background. Learn some stuff.’ His hand touched the pendant lying against his chest, traced the outline of Pouākai.
‘I thought you might end up here,’ said Hamish. ‘With Ngāti Ruru taking over the farm, setting up a training scheme. You seem to like farm work. You’re good with stock.’
‘Nah, I couldn’t do that,’ said Tama. ‘Farm work, yeah, maybe, but not here. That’d feel wrong, ’cos of you guys. Like, it’s your place.’
‘It’s your place too,’ said Hamish. ‘You being Ngāti Ruru – you belong here.’
‘You should think about doing one of the agriculture courses too, Tama,’ said Kirsten.
‘You’d have to go back to school, but….’ said Tod.
‘I’ll think on it,’ said Tama. ‘Maybe I could hack it, just.’ He poked Hamish with his foot. ‘Still going to do science, Owl?’
‘Yeah, I think so,’ said Hamish. ‘It mightn’t solve everything, but it sure poses some interesting questions.’ He thought wryly that the most important discovery of his life was likely to be those rock drawings and their association with a living pair of giant eagles, Harpagornis moorei, extinct for five hundred years. He reached for his bone pendant, traced the image of Pouākai like Tama had. He’d made the discovery of the century all right. But it wasn’t something the scientific world would ever get to know about. There’d be other questions to tackle. Other discoveries to make. The whole world was out there.