Fires of Change (The Fire Blossom Saga)

by Sarah Lark

  “There’s something out there, somewhere in the woods,” Omaka said.

  Linda yawned. “Vera must be prowling around.”

  Omaka shook her head. “No. It is not so close. But it is coming. Something is coming closer.”

  Linda frowned. “What’s coming, Omaka? A storm?”

  The old woman shook her head. “I don’t know. But the land can feel it too. The spirits are in turmoil. We must be watchful.”

  The next morning, Linda awoke well rested and happy. She smiled as Aroha, whom Omaka had lain down next to her, opened her pale blue eyes. Linda wondered if they’d stay blue like her own eyes and Fitz’s or if they’d turn brown like Cat’s. A tear ran down Linda’s cheek at the thought of her mother. How she would have loved to have her here right now.

  “You can nurse her now,” Omaka suggested, skillfully placing the child at Linda’s breast.

  While the old priestess sang more karakias, Linda placed her nipple in the baby’s mouth, and Aroha’s tiny lips immediately closed over it. Linda enjoyed the baby’s tentative attempts at trying to coax the rich milk from her mother’s breast, and her fervent, vigorous appetite. She was overcome by love and tenderness as the little girl fell asleep, snuggled contently on her chest.

  Cautiously, Linda sat up in bed. Through the cabin’s open door, she could see Omaka lighting a fire in front of the house, cooking kumara, and baking flatbreads. The Maori priestess was uncomfortable with the indoor stove, but the fire seemed to be serving another purpose as well. After Linda had eaten hungrily and drunk some tea, Omaka went back outside. This time, she stoked the fire until it was blazing and tossed in some herbs, invoking the spirits. Then she ceremoniously burned the umbilical cord and placenta while singing strange incantations. Previously, Linda had only heard such prayers during Matariki celebrations, for the Maori New Year, when the Maori flew kites to send greetings to the gods.

  “You anchored her soul to the sky?” Linda finally asked, uncertain.

  Omaka nodded. “I appointed Rangi as her guardian,” she explained. Rangi was the sky god; newborn babies’ souls usually found their places with Papa, the earth goddess. “Your child will not be bound to any river or mountain.”

  Linda laughed uneasily. “She will recite a strange pepeha, then.”

  The speech that every Maori reserved for their personal introduction described the rivers and mountains of their home. They would tell of their maunga, the land to which they were bound no matter how far they wandered.

  Omaka lifted her eyes. “The sky will be her maunga.”

  The sun had reached its zenith. Vera hadn’t shown herself since the night before, and Linda was almost daring to hope that the girl had found herself another place to live. Unfortunately, this didn’t turn out to be the case. In fact, Vera had waited by the river for Fitz until he finally returned from Patea around noon. While he’d been in town, he’d taken the opportunity to drink to the purchase of the pretty little gray mare he had bought the girl. Of course, he’d also played a few rounds of blackjack. He’d almost managed to make back the money that he’d spent on the horse, as he bragged later.

  Linda never did learn everything the two of them had talked about. But he already knew about his daughter’s birth as he careened into the cabin.

  “Lindy! The baby’s here? You had her without me?”

  He was beaming brightly and gave Linda a kiss, and then he focused all his attention on his daughter. Fitz was so delighted over Aroha that Linda almost forgave him for his absence. In his joy and euphoria, he was briefly the man he used to be. He joked around with Linda, complimenting her and tickling Aroha.

  “She’s wonderful!” he cried, picking up the baby and cradling her in his arms. “What a pity I couldn’t be here for the birth.”

  Fitz’s good mood had mollified Linda, but now her anger returned. Didn’t he even regret in the slightest that he’d left her alone when she’d needed him most? Did he not understand?

  Linda finally exploded. With harsh words, she laid out the danger he’d put her in. As she had expected, he didn’t seem to be aware of any fault on his part. Her husband wouldn’t even take her reproaches seriously.

  “Sweetheart, why are you still angry?” he asked in surprise. “Everything worked out in the end. What a beautiful child we have! You did wonderfully!” He grinned. “I have to say, I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

  He tried to kiss her, but Linda pulled away. “Fitz, this isn’t funny,” she tried again. “I could have died. And your dear little Vera would have watched it all with a cold smile on her face. We have to talk about her too. She—”

  “But she called the old Maori woman in the end, didn’t she?” Fitz interrupted, prepared to nip any attack on Vera in the bud. “Even though she’s scared of her! And even though the old witch shouted at her again. Vera just asked me again to report that woman, and I think I’m going to do it. She has no business here; she should go back to her tribe.”

  Linda’s cheeks flushed with fury. “Fitz, Omaka saved your daughter’s life and mine last night. I don’t know what Vera told you, but she didn’t call Omaka. That was Amy.” She paused as Fitz smiled at her condescendingly. “No, really,” she insisted. “Amy howled. Omaka heard her. Vera had nothing to do with it, unless you want to thank her for locking the dog out.”

  “So, she was inside with you,” Fitz said. “She told me she was going to make you some tea, but you didn’t want any, you—you were acting like a madwoman, apparently. Understandable, of course. The contractions, the pain . . .”

  Linda balled her hands into fists. “Fitz, she’s twisting the facts around completely. Vera’s lying. She lies whenever she opens her mouth, she—”

  Fitz was about to object again, but at that moment, Aroha began whimpering, working her way up to a scream. Fitz almost dropped her.

  “Woah!” He laughed, visibly grateful for the interruption. “Now you’ve gone and woken the baby with your ranting. Here.” He handed the child to Linda. “Do you think she’s hungry?”

  Linda nodded, resigned. She did need to feed Aroha, and it was important that she calm down first, especially since she was so very, very tired.

  “I’ll be outside, then,” Fitz said, “breaking in Vera’s horse. An elegant horse, perfect for a young lady—”

  Linda shot him a poisonous look over Aroha’s little head. “We’ll talk about Vera later,” she said as calmly as she could.

  Fitz gave her a superior smile. “Of course, sweetheart, of course.”

  Linda closed her eyes and allowed her weariness and Aroha’s nursing to calm her as Fitz left the cabin. Omaka silently returned to her bedside and began singing her songs.

  “I couldn’t do it, Omaka,” Linda said with a sigh before closing her eyes in exhaustion. “But I’m going to try again, and I will not be swayed next time. I will tell him that Vera has to leave.”

  Linda was true to her word. Late in the afternoon when she awoke, after feeding Aroha, she brought up the subject of Vera again. The girl wasn’t around. She’d gone for a ride on her new horse. Linda felt sorry for the animal. Vera was no rider. She clung insecurely to the horse’s back with a death grip on the reins. That was why Linda had forbidden Fitz to let her ride Brianna. And as usual, when she was fighting for someone other than herself, she’d become so adamant that Fitz and Vera had actually respected her wishes. Now, the memory gave Linda the courage she needed to tell her husband everything that had happened the day before.

  As expected, Fitz brushed off her accusations with a laugh. “That’s absurd, Lindy. What kind of grudge is Vera supposed to have against your baby? And you’re saying the whole thing with the horse was planned? How was she supposed to know the child was going to be born yesterday, of all days? You don’t really believe she set up the livestock market for that day too, do you?” He shook his head, smiling.

  “I calculated the due date!” Linda cried, her eyes flashing angrily. “Goodness knows that wasn’t difficult af
ter you—” She took a deep breath and stopped. There was no use in bringing up his failure in bed too. “You knew when to be ready, and your superiors knew. Vera obviously knew too. And the livestock market was convenient for her plans. Otherwise, I’m sure she would’ve found another reason to coax you away.”

  Linda fell silent when she heard rifle shots coming from outside. Amy was barking again. She’d been at it on and off all afternoon, and howling too.

  “Don’t you have to go?” Linda asked, worried.

  Now, the shots were accompanied by the trumpet signal calling the settlers to arms. Fitz stopped there, obviously trying to decide whether the uncomfortable conversation or military service was less appealing.

  “But it’s my day off,” he said, gesturing toward Aroha and grinning. “They’ll have to fight off the savages without me. McDonnell’s done it before. Besides, it could be a false alarm. The major worries too much. Just like you, sweetheart. Vera—”

  Linda sat up and took a deep breath. “Vera’s a liar and a whore, and if Omaka hadn’t joined us yesterday, she would have killed your child. I’m sure of it, Fitz! This isn’t a joke.”

  But Fitz laughed again. “Lindy, sweetheart, Vera’s just a girl!”

  Linda pulled the sleeping Aroha closer to her. “Fitz,” she said. Again, there was the sound of gunshots. They sounded dangerously close, but she couldn’t worry about that now. “Fitz, I don’t care what you believe. But you have to make up your mind now: I, your wife, want Vera gone. Send her away. It doesn’t matter if you understand my reasons or not.”

  Fitz straightened his back. Linda had never seen him so enraged. His features, which had been distorted by a careless, patronizing grin only moments ago, morphed into a mask of hatred.

  “Never!” he hissed. “And I’m not listening to any more of your insanity either. This is my land, Linda! Before Vera goes—”

  Before Fitz could continue, somebody tore open the door. Omaka stumbled into the cottage, shouting for Linda to follow her.

  “—you go!” Fitz shouted.

  Linda bit her lip. She didn’t have time to respond now. Omaka’s message was more important. Now there was another trumpet signal coming from the fort, and it barely managed to drown out the rough sound of a conch. Linda knew what it meant. She pulled Aroha closer and tried to get to her feet.

  “You have to report to your garrison right now, Fitz. Aroha and I are going into the forest with Omaka. She says the warriors are coming. They’re blowing the conch.”

  Omaka turned to Fitz and spoke in broken English. “Putara. Wife, child, escape. Forest safe. I find place.” She helped Linda to her feet.

  “Nonsense!” Fitz shook his head. “It’s just a few crazy savages again. The major’s going to beat them back in a minute.”

  “Not if they’re blowing the putara!” Linda said, gathering up a few blankets and some clothes for Aroha. “The conch horn calls the warriors to battle. There must be many of them. And well organized too—an army!”

  “They gathered last night,” Omaka explained in her own language, “which is why it was so quiet. They must have been hiding during the day, and now, at dusk—”

  “They won’t attack now,” Fitz insisted. “It’ll be dark soon.”

  “That’s exactly why they’ll attack!”

  Linda was ready to leave. She could hear extensive gunfire. Maybe the attackers were crossing the river.

  Outside the cabin they heard hoofbeats, and Vera burst in.

  “Fitz! Fitz! They’re chasing me!” It was the first time Linda had seen her truly upset. “Hundreds—hundreds of savages! They—they have—”

  “Rire rire, hau hau!”

  “Pai marire, hau hau!”

  From outside, they could hear warriors’ voices. The men weren’t shouting battle cries like they would have done while dancing a haka; they were chanting the syllables drearily, in a ghostly singsong like a choir of spirits.

  “Kira, kira, wana, tu, tiri, wha . . .”

  “Kill, kill, one, two, three, four . . . Kill in the north, kill in the south, kill in the east, kill in the west . . .”

  “Hapa, hapa! Pai marire, hau hau!”

  Linda peeked out the cabin door. The men had indeed crossed the river, and now they were coming around the hillside. Vera had led them straight to the house. There was no chance of escape.

  “Fitz, hurry!” While Linda was frozen in shock and Fitz was staring entranced at the apparitions, Vera sprang into action. “The shed! My shed!”

  The annex where Vera slept had a door to the outside, but there was also a small passageway into the house. It was low to the ground and had been made to pass wood or provisions through. Linda usually kept it bolted. She certainly didn’t want Vera to slip into the house unannounced. Now, the girl unbolted the door.

  “Come on, Fitz!” She shoved him through.

  Linda thought for a heartbeat. She had a plan that might work. Especially if she blew out the gas lantern she’d been using. The hatch would barely be visible inside the dim cabin. On the other hand, the warriors outside had already seen the light. They would come searching for pakeha in hiding.

  “Stay out here, Fitz, and take your rifle!” Linda cried. “Omaka and I and the baby—and Vera,” she said, adding the girl’s name reluctantly, “will hide in the shed. Shoot anybody who comes through the door. You’ll have to hold them off until help arrives.”

  Fitz reached for his weapon half-heartedly. Vera slapped it out of his hand.

  “Are you mad, Fitz?” she yelled. “Do you want to sacrifice yourself for that bitch and the old hag? Come on!”

  Linda could hardly believe her eyes, but Fitz followed the girl into her shed. For a moment, he turned, and their eyes met. His betrayal went through her like the blade of a knife, and yet . . . Before Vera could close the hatch, Linda shoved the baby into Fitz’s arms.

  “Take care of her!” she’d wanted to shout, but all she managed was a pitiful whimper.

  Linda heard Vera begin to complain and Fitz ordering her to be quiet. Then the hatch was bolted from the inside. Linda and Omaka were alone in the cabin. The warriors’ cries were close now, and farther off, they could hear the thundering of guns. Linda scarcely registered any of it. Every single emotion, even fear, was frozen inside her. She couldn’t think; all she could do was act automatically. She reached for the rifle, loaded it, and raised it to her shoulder.

  “I will try to talk to them,” Omaka said. “They were men once, tungata Maori.”

  The warrior filled the cabin’s entire doorframe. Linda looked into a tattooed face with burning eyes and at a huge, bare torso.

  “Rire rire, hau hau!”

  The man was holding an ax. A second warrior crowded inside after him. Linda stiffened at the sight of his blood-soaked skirt. The man was holding a spear in one hand and a severed human head in the other. He swung it back and forth like some kind of gruesome aspergillum, sprinkling the cabin floor with blood.

  “Stop, my sons. I am Omaka Te Pura. I am tohunga. You see what I am.” Omaka calmly raised her face to the light to show that she wore no moko. At this, the first warrior retreated a few steps. “I am tapu. Simply by touching my shadow, you offend the spirits.”

  “Is this your house, maata?” the large warrior asked.

  He had addressed her as mistress. Linda felt a flickering of hope, but then she recognized the head that the other warrior was carrying. It belonged to their neighbor, Phil Fairbanks. In a brief moment of hysteria, she wondered if there was still a chaw of tobacco in his mouth.

  Omaka nodded. “It is my house,” she said, “and it is tapu.”

  The warrior seemed unsure, but the one carrying Fairbanks’s head laughed.

  “Ridiculous! How can this be a tohunga’s house? This is a pakeha house, can’t you see? It is part of their settlement. One of their soldiers lives here, and the woman there is his wife. So, do as you are told, Rau! Rire rire, kira, kira, hau . . .”

  Linda didn’t ev
en wait for the first warrior to join in the battle cry. The moment he began approaching Omaka with his ax, she lifted the rifle and pulled the trigger.

  The warrior stopped in his tracks. Linda could see the hole that the bullet had made in his chest, and a second later, a torrent of blood followed it. The man stumbled, trying to say something, but only bloody foam escaped his lips as he fell to the ground.

  “How can this be?” The other warrior looked back and forth between the dying man and the old priestess—and then at Linda, who was swiftly reloading. “We are supposed to be invulnerable. The prophet said—”

  “Your prophet lied to you,” Omaka said gently. “Come, my son. Lay down your weapons. Remember that, some time ago, even your prophet preached peace, and—”

  “His faith was not strong enough!” the warrior crowed. “The prophet says he who believes will be invulnerable, and the pakeha’s bullets will bounce off him. Rau did not have enough faith.” He raised his spear, turning toward Linda.

  The thunder of her second shot, tidy as the first, mixed with the sound of other shots being fired outside the cabin. She could hear screams, blows, English cursing, and still, the hypnotic Hauhau chants, which were slowly dwindling. Omaka began singing a karakia. She was praying for the souls of the dead warriors.

  “Private Fitzpatrick? Mrs. Fitzpatrick?”

  Linda slowly returned to reality. She blinked at Captain Langdon, who had appeared in the doorway behind the bodies of the two Maori. Behind him, more members of the company were crowding inside.

  “In God’s name, Mrs. Fitzp—” Langdon stopped and leveled his weapon at Omaka.

  Linda threw herself in front of the old woman. “Don’t shoot! She’s with me. She’s not the enemy.”

  The captain glanced around. “Where’s the baby?” he asked, staring intently at the rifle that Linda was still holding. “Where’s Private Fitzpatrick?”

  Linda lowered the gun. Then she pointed at the hatch.

  Chapter 61

  “Mrs. Fitzpatrick, I don’t want to offend you,” the captain said, “but there are some discrepancies between your statement and Vera Carrigan’s. With regard to the Maori woman—what was her name?”