Kaya Stormchild

by Lael Whitehead

  Kaya Stormchild

  Title Page

  Chapter 1: A New Friend

  Chapter 2: The Duchess

  Chapter 3: Rex and Spencer

  Chapter 4: The Omrith

  Chapter 5: The Chase

  Chapter 6 : Asking Magic

  Chapter 7: The Turning

  KAYA STORMCHILD

  by

  Lael Whitehead

  Cover art and book illustrations by Tamsin McIntosh

  Published by Night Publishing, Smashwords edition

  Copyright 2011, Lael Whitehead

  ISBN 978-1-4580-7807-0

  Thank you for downloading this e-book. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form.

  All characters are fictional, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is accidental.

  To discover other books by Lael Whitehead, please go to http://www.nightpublishing.com/id49.html.

  Chapter 1: A New Friend

  Kaya Stormchild knew she wasn’t like other girls her age. Grandmother had explained to her how other people lived: children grew up inside square buildings called houses and schools, and traveled from place to place in machines called cars. At night they sat in front of glowing boxes called televisions or computers. Kaya’s eyes would widen as she listened, her head shaking with pity. The thought that made her saddest of all was that these other girls had no Grandmother to live with like she had.

  Grandmother was a bald eagle, a great, stately bird who had seen many seasons come and go, and was wiser than the sea itself. She taught Kaya about so many things: how to understand the ways of all the creatures who shared their island home and the sea which surrounded it; how to read the tides and the winds and the changing seasons; how to use the plants and roots that grew nearby for healing and strength. Grandmother told Kaya stories about things long past and things yet to come.

  But most of all, Grandmother was always there, her warm wings soft and cozy to curl up against on winter nights, her voice gentle and soothing, like the sound of a murmuring wind through leaves.

  Grandmother and Kaya lived in Moon Cove on Tangle Island, a small, crescent-shaped island that lay mid-way in a chain of islands dotting the body of water called the Salish Sea. Westward lay Henby Island, which was much larger than Tangle, with a human population of over a thousand. Eastward, the dim mountains of the mainland loomed tall on the horizon.

  Kaya could barely remember the time before she had come to live on Tangle Island. There had been a boat, and then a storm, and then the cold, wild sea closing all around her. Voices had called out her name, but the sea choked her and she couldn’t answer.

  Then darkness.

  Her next memory was of waking up on the beach, here on Tangle Island, with rain beating down and thunder still howling in the distance. Two round, dark eyes were peering anxiously at her. It was Kelpie, the seal who had found her drowning out in the strait and pushed her all that way through the tossing sea. Kelpie shouted and called, until at last a great dark figure came swooping out of the wind. Grandmother.

  “You’ve brought me a little half-drowned seal-pup!”

  That was how Grandmother told the story, describing her first impression of the small, drenched girl with the dark eyes and the long, black hair clinging to her shoulders. Later that night, and for days afterwards, Grandmother flew back and forth over the tossing sea, searching for signs of the lost girl’s family. At last a passing kingfisher told her the news: the bodies of a drowned man and woman had washed ashore on Henby Island, near the battered remains of an empty fishing boat. The old eagle hung her head sadly as the kingfisher finished his tale and flew off over the sea. The poor child was an orphan. She and Kelpie would have to care for the girl from now on.

  “You once lived with a human family,” Grandmother would recount softly, when Kaya questioned her years later. “But one night the Tempest scooped you up and whirled you away here to Tangle Island, to live with me. That is why I gave you your new last name: Stormchild.”

  Kaya knew that once she had had a different name, in the time before the storm. But she had long forgotten it. Grandmother told her she couldn’t have been more than four years old when she came to the island.

  Since then Kaya had carved notches into the trunk of the maple tree in Moon cove, one for each winter that passed. Seven notches now.

  I’ve lived here seven years, thought Kaya, as she dipped her paddle into the waves.

  It was spring, and though the sky was overcast, the air no longer had the chill edge of late winter. Kaya was in the red canoe that Kelpie had found drifting loose in the strait two years before and had brought for the girl to use. It had taken Kaya a while to learn to steer the canoe with one paddle, but once she had mastered the skill, she went out often in the little boat. She loved to explore the islets on either side of Tangle. The canoe was so fast and light, she could travel to Campbell Harbour on Henby Island in less than an hour. At least once a week she made the trip to the town, taking salmon Grandmother caught to trade for supplies at the general store.

  “I don‘t like the look of that sky,” came a peevish voice from the front of the canoe.

  “Oh, Tike, don’t be such a worrier!” said Kaya, laughing. “It’s just a little wind.”

  A pointed head stretched up and sniffed the breeze. Then a small, sleek otter reached out and rapped his paw on the side of the boat.

  “Kaya, look at that cloud over there. It’s moving so fast! And it’s black!”

  “Tike, you insisted on coming along. You said you couldn’t wait to see what Campbell Harbour is like, and now you’re afraid of a little weather? You can hop out and swim home, if you’re scared,” Kaya said patiently. “But I’m not turning back.”

  “No, I want to stay with you. But - Oh, I hate boats!”

  Kaya chuckled. “You told me you were bored. You said you wanted to get off Tangle Island and see some of the world, remember? Well, if you are going to go on adventures, you have to put up with a little discomfort now and then.”

  “Humph!” grunted the otter.

  Just then a flash and a loud crack shook the sky.

  “Whoa!” said Kaya, her paddle poised in mid-stroke. The sea was turning a dark steely gray, and the surface began to wrinkle in white-tipped waves. Kaya gazed up at the sky, then at the sea, frowning.

  “I’ve never seen a storm whip up so fast! That’s more weather than even I bargained for! The question now is do we keep going and try to reach Campbell Harbour, or do we turn around and head back home? We’re just about half-way.”

  But Tike wasn’t any help. At the first sound of thunder he dove into the bottom of the canoe and lay there whimpering, curled in a tight ball.

  Kaya made up her mind. She turned the canoe and began to paddle hard back towards Tangle Island. More flashes of lightning lit the sky, followed by rolling thunder. After a moment, the sky split right open. Rain came pelting down upon them with such force that the sea on either side of the canoe seemed to boil. The storm blotted out the distant landscape. Kaya could no longer make out the dark green shoreline of home.

  “Tike! Your nose is better than mine!” Kaya shouted through the howling wind. “Which way should I go?”

  The otter reluctantly poked out his nose. He squinted through the rain, scenting the wind for a moment, but a sudden peal of thunder made him dive back into the bottom of the boat with a shriek.

  Far overhead, through the clamor of the rain, Kaya heard a familiar call. Out of the sky a dark form descended. With a flurry of great dark wings, an eagle came to perch on the prow of the canoe.

  “Grandmother, it’s you! I’m so glad
, ‘cause we’re lost!”

  “I know,” said the eagle, in her husky, warm voice. “I will show you the way home, but first we need to help someone. There is a rowboat adrift not far from here. Follow me!”

  With that, Grandmother lifted her wings and flew off into the swirling mist. Kaya heard Tike’s shout of protest as she turned the canoe and followed the eagle.

  “Someone’s in trouble, Tike. We’ve got to go and see. Hang on!” she called over her shoulder.

  Straining, she drove the little boat over the swelling waves. All around her the world howled and blew and raged. Nothing could be seen but the tumbling sea and the wild, hammering rain. Kaya felt more lost than ever. Where was Grandmother?

  Just then she caught sight of something ahead. A darker patch of grey on the grey water. She paddled hard towards it and at last saw that it was a small rowboat. A figure sat slumped in the stern, clutching a single oar.

  It was a boy, about her own age. He had no jacket, and his thin T-shirt was soaked right through. Kaya approached the boat and could see that the boy’s shoulders shuddered as though he were crying. Every now and then, he gave a pull on his one oar, but that only sent the boat in circles and made him shake his head in frustration. He caught sight of the canoe and immediately straightened in his seat, wiping his eyes with the backs of his fists.

  “I’ve lost an oar,” the boy shouted at her, pointing at the empty oarlock.

  “Did it fall in far from here?” Kaya shouted back.

  The boy shook his head, and pointed off to the other side of the rowboat. Kaya dug her paddle into the waves, intending to head around his boat in the direction he indicated, but then she saw Grandmother. The eagle was flying towards them over the water, clutching in her talons the end of a wooden oar.

  The boy’s jaw dropped in astonishment. He managed to grasp the handle just in time, ducking his head as the eagle swooped past above him.

  “Follow me,” Kaya called. “We’ve got to get out of this storm!”

  The boy eagerly fitted the oar back into place and began pulling hard, following the red canoe. He seemed so relieved at last to be able to make progress that he kept good time, despite the waves.

  At last the two boats entered the shelter of Moon Cove. Kaya hauled her canoe high up onto the beach, then turned to help the newcomer tie his boat to a driftwood log.

  “You’re freezing,” said Kaya, seeing the boy shiver in his wet T -shirt.

  “Yeah,” he said through chattering teeth. He began to cough. “And I got this cold, too. But I never thought there’d be a storm or anything, so I didn’t bring my jacket.”

  “Come on,” Kaya shouted through the wind. “We’d better get inside and get you warmed up!”

  “Inside?” The boy looked around puzzled. “There’s no shelter here. This is a wild island. No houses, don’t you know?”

  Kaya laughed. “Follow me!”

  She ran along the beach to an opening in the salal bushes that was invisible from the water. Beyond this, a narrow footpath led a short distance into the forest, stopping at the base of a giant, gnarled, maple tree. Up the trunk of this tree were carved footholds, like the rungs of a ladder. Kaya climbed up easily, turning to beckon her companion to follow. He paused at the base of the tree.

  “What the -?” he began, staring wide-eyed at Kaya’s feet as they disappeared into the canopy overhead.

  “Come on!” she insisted, and with a shrug, the boy began to climb after her.

  Twenty feet or more they climbed, until they came to a small, round opening in a wall of tightly woven branches. Kaya crawled through, the boy close behind her.

  “Cool!” breathed the boy, pausing in the doorway. “What is this place?”

  “This is our nest,” said Kaya proudly.

  A nest it was, although bigger than any nest a bird would build. It was composed of two ‘rooms’, a larger main room, and a small sleeping alcove opening off one end. The living room was roughly circular in shape. Its floor was carpeted with leaves and moss. The walls were a latticework of thick branches so densely interwoven with leafy boughs that the wind barely whistled through at all. The ceiling was similarly formed and watertight except for an opening in the middle that allowed light into the nest. Rain sprinkled down upon them through the opening, so Kaya reached up and blocked it with a piece of matting woven from long strips of cedar bark.

  For a moment it was dark inside, but then Kaya lit a candle and placed it on a driftwood shelf built into the wall of the nest. A collection of supplies lay on the shelf next to the candle: a bowl and cup, an old battered thermos, a knife, matches, a few sealed tins beside a basket of apples, a jar of peanut butter, bread. Hanging in neatly tied bundles from the ceiling above the shelf were various herbs and grasses, some still green, and some dried to a silver-gray. Beneath the shelf were folded a couple of blankets. Kaya grabbed the thickest of these and tossed it to her new friend.

  “Here,” she said. “Curl up in this. I’m going to see if there’s any tea left.”

  While the boy wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, Kaya took down the thermos and unscrewed the lid. A wonderful steamy, earthy smell filled the nest, like the scent of spring soil after rain.

  “Good, there’s plenty left. And it’s still warm.”

  She filled a mug and passed it to her visitor. He wrinkled his nose doubtfully.

  “It’s stinging nettle tea – well more of a tonic, actually, since I steep it for ages. It’ll warm you up, and help with your cold. I drink it all spring and I never get sick.”

  The boy eyed the mug with suspicion.

  “Go on,” encouraged Kaya. “Drink the whole thing. You’ll feel better right away.”

  He took a deep breath and drank.

  “Yuck!” he announced with disgust, putting down the mug. “That’s gross!”

  Kaya laughed merrily. Then she reached out her hand.

  “I’m Kaya, by the way. Kaya Stormchild. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Josh,” the boy answered, shaking her hand shyly. “This place is so amazing, Do you - do you live here?”

  Kaya didn’t answer. Instead she turned and rummaged in the tins on her shelf, opening first one then another. At last she found what she was looking for.

  “Chocolate!” she said proudly. “I’m hungry. I’ll bet you are too. Do you want a piece?”

  Josh nodded, smiling. Kaya took the large bar and broke off two generous pieces. She handed one to Josh and the two of them leaned back against the soft mossy edge of the nest, munching for a moment in companionable silence.

  Kaya surveyed the boy across from her. She liked his face. He seemed fresh and sort of opened-up, like an oyster out of its shell. He had fair hair and pale freckles across the bridge of his nose. And very green eyes, like spring moss, that looked at you kind of shyly but steadily. She thought she could trust him.

  “About that question you asked me a minute ago,” she began slowly. “If you found out that I did live here, what would you do? Would you tell anyone else?”

  “Not if you didn’t want me to,” said Josh. He sat up and looked at her eagerly. “Are you a runaway or something? That’s so cool! I wish I could run away…” he trailed off, then lowered his eyes.

  “I’m not a runaway. I live with, well, with my Grandmother. She’s an eagle.”

  Josh snorted.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” he said, shaking his head. “Come on. You’re just pretending, aren’t you? Like this “tonic” drink you gave me, and everything. It’s a game, right?”

  Just then they heard a squeal from the base of the Maple tree.

  “I forgot about Tike!” said Kaya. She disappeared through the doorway, then reappeared an instant later with the otter tucked under one arm. Just as Kaya sat down again, Tike let out a loud sneeze. Josh jerked his head up in surprise, banging it on a branch protruding from the ceiling just above him.

  “How could you leave me behind?” Tike whined. “I can’t climb tree
s, remember?”

  He crept into Kaya’s lap, his dark pointed face peering warily at Josh.

  “What’s he doing here?” grumbled the otter. “Saving him was one thing, but bringing him home -?!”

  Kaya stroked the otter’s head affectionately. Josh stared in wide-eyed astonishment at the newcomer, forgetting all about the pain in the top of his head.

  “I know we agreed to be careful. But I think he’s all right. I get a good feeling about him,” whispered Kaya, bending close to the otter’s ear.

  “Is he like you? Can he speak?” Tike asked, also in a whisper.

  Kaya gave Josh a long appraising glance.

  “You can’t understand what he is saying, can you?” she asked the boy.

  He gulped and shook his head. His face was flushed.

  “Can you?” he asked.

  Kaya scratched Tike’s ear. Then the little otter rolled onto his back so she could rub the silvery fur on his belly.

  “I seem to be able to talk to just about anyone,” said Kaya. “Grandmother says I have the Speech. Only a few people - Human people, I mean - do. Long ago, it was different. All the Folk of the Salish Sea could communicate freely with one another. But for many years now, says Grandmother, humans have mostly been deaf to other creatures. No one knows quite why. The animals still understand them, of course, but it doesn’t work both ways….”

  Kaya shrugged. Josh was listening intently, an awed look on his face.

  “Most humans are just, well, ignorant,” muttered Tike scornfully, as he rolled over so Kaya could scratch his back.

  “I didn’t know I had the Speech until I came to live here,” she said, musing. “But it’s funny - I remember a squirrel telling me a whole long story when I was very small, and I understood every word. Grandmother kind of taught me how to use the Speech. Now I can speak most of the local languages.”