Coiled Snake (The Windstorm Series Book 2) (15 page)

I don’t think about what will happen if I can’t find the
Wakemaunga,
if I get lost in the mountains with no food or drink
. Come on
, I plead.
It’s got to be around here somewhere.

Just then, I feel a slight disturbance in the wind. I turn around and see someone in a blue jumpsuit windwalking toward me. I can’t tell who it is—Mokai or Stephen, I think. Breathing a sigh of relief, I wave at him and point to my helmet to indicate my radio is broken. He waves back and comes closer. I wait where I am, treading the air.

When he’s about twenty feet away, he pulls something out of his belt. With his right hand, he flicks the object open and twists it with his wrist. Then he raises it above his head and dives toward me. The shiny surface gleams in the sunlight. It’s a knife.

Screaming, I seize the wind and flee in the opposite direction. But my assailant has the advantage, and I sense him catch up to me before I’ve gone more than a few yards. Spinning to meet him, I throw my arm above my face to protect it and kick at his hand. He grabs my ankle.

“Stop!” I scream. “What are you doing?”

I rotate in the air, twisting my leg around in his grip and kicking with my other foot to loosen his hold. It’s then that I notice the tattoo on his wrist: an image of a blue sea serpent.

“Stephen, please don’t do this!” I plead, kicking again and planting my foot in his throat.

My kick forces him to let go, but he snarls and slashes the knife across my shin. Reeling from the pain, I try desperately to remember Paika’s training. Hazily, I slip the backpack from my shoulders and swing it at his head. He ducks and backhandedly swipes the knife toward my face. I lean back and grab his arm as it comes around, only barely keeping the sharp blade away from my throat.

Using his own momentum, I swing him around and hurl him to the side, pushing him away from me with all my strength. But I know it will only be a matter of moments before he’s back. I reach out to the wind, pleading urgently for help.
Don’t let him get me,
I beg.

Suddenly, a massive gust sends Stephen flying backward across the sky. Seizing my chance, I release my connection and drop toward the earth.

I let myself fall until I’m almost to the trees then reach for a current. But the wind is weak, and I barely form
honga
as I smash into the branches. I try to slow myself down, but the battering I get from the trees makes it nearly impossible to maintain my bond with the feeble breeze, and I hit the ground hard.

Wincing, struggling to breathe, I look up at the sky and brace myself for Stephen’s attack. After a moment, I watch him come sailing toward me. Then, just as he’s moving into a dive, someone hurdles across the air and plows into him, knocking him off course, his own knife raised.

A second later, another figure appears. He looks around, sees me, and drops from the sky. When he lands on the ground, he takes off his helmet.

“Oh gosh,” I gasp, collapsing against the dirt.

“Where have you been?” Mokai demands, walking toward me. He crouches down and examines my cut leg.

“My radio stopped working,” I pant. “I got lost. How did you find me?”

“We were looking for you everywhere. Luckily, we were close enough to feel a ripple in the wind. It was kind of weird. Unnatural.”

Just then, something comes crashing through the trees. I look up in time to see one of the two men falling in a dead weight to the forest floor. He hits the earth and lies in a lifeless heap.

Mokai jumps to his feet and pulls out a knife
.
A moment later, the other man descends on the wind and removes his bloodied helmet. It’s Stephen.

“You gave me a scare, bro,” Mokai says. “Wasn’t sure which one of you was the corpse.”

“Any word from Paika?” Stephen asks.

“No, let me get him on the radio. Hello, Paik?” Mokai steps off to the side, talking into the headset.

“Are you all right?” Stephen looks at me.

“I think so,” I say shakily. “I thought—I thought it was you.”

“No,” he says curtly, his expression more stony than ever. “It wasn’t me. Tell Mokai I’m taking the body back, will you?”

He walks over to the dead man and lifts him over his shoulders. Then he rises into the air.

When Mokai returns, I convey Stephen’s message. “That man was a Tuhoe,” I murmur.

“What a mess,” Mokai says, running his hands through his hair. “The
Riki
will be furious. This is all your fault!”

I gape at him. “My fault? How is this my fault?”

“You didn’t stick with the group, and now we’ve killed one of our own. When Wiremu finds out … Kava, Kit! I can’t believe you did this.”

“Hang on a sec—I was the one who was attacked!” I’m surprised how much his words sting. We had been getting along so well …

“You should have stayed with the group.”

“I didn’t mean to get lost. Besides, how was I supposed to know someone would try to kill me?”

“You just can’t stay with the group, can you?” He paces back and forth. “You have to go off on your own, thinking you can take care of yourself. But then you can’t, and someone has to risk their neck to save you.”

“I didn’t mean to leave the group!”

“Of course you did. It’s what you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Miri told me about the twins, how you left them.”

“That was totally different,” I defend myself, even more stung. “I left in order to help them.”

“Don’t try to justify yourself. I get it. It runs in the family.”

“I didn’t leave you!” I shout, propping myself up.

Just then, Paika drops down between the trees. “Are you okay, Kit?” he asks, rushing over to me.

“I’m fine,” I say, more shortly than I intended.

“Cut’s not too deep,” he says. “Thank goodness. Sorry, girl. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have lost sight of you.”

“It isn’t your fault,” I argue, looking at Mokai as I say it. “It’s no one’s fault except the guy who tried to kill me.”

Paika shakes his head. “Let’s hope the
Riki
sees it that way.”

“Why do you think he attacked me?”

He shrugs. “Well, he was Tuhoe, so it could be he’s pissed off that the reps voted to let you live.”

“Do you think he was working for Wiremu?”

“I don’t know. I hope not—that seems beneath him. Wiremu would rather kick your arse in a fair fight than hire a knife.” He frowns.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s just that, why try to kill you now, after you just handed us the Yakone on a silver platter?”

“Maybe he wanted to wait until after she had tapped into the network,” Mokai says. “Reap the benefits and still get revenge.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He rubs his ear. “Well, let’s go face the music.”

Paika helps me windwalk back to the
Wakemaunga
. In the hangar, I take off my gear, and he bandages the cut on my leg. Then we slowly make our way toward the council room.

As we walk,
I keep replaying Stephen’s face in my mind, how he looked after he killed my attacker. It was someone from his
hapa
; he probably knew him.
And yet he still killed him.
Why? He isn’t my guard anymore. He didn’t have to protect me.

I glance at Paika’s tight shoulders.
I hope no one gets in trouble.
Maybe Mokai was right. Maybe it was my fault. I should have been more careful. Instead, I allowed myself to be distracted by the wind.

The wind. Suddenly, I remember what happened with the warrior, the way the wind pushed him away from me … in response to my command.

Did I really control it, or was it just an accident?
No, there’s no way a freak gust would have arisen just when I needed it. What had Mokai called it? Unnatural.

A fuzzy memory begins to emerge at the back of my mind—about another time I commanded the wind.
At the Wakenunat
, I realize.
The bombs.
I had to get them out of the fortress, but the wind wasn’t moving in the direction I needed. So I asked it to change. And it did.

I concentrate very hard, trying to remember every detail of that night. It wasn’t just that the wind changed; it actually went with me into the fortress and then turned around and carried me back out. But why?

I think about what Mokai said about sensing the breeze shift, what Paika said about feeling for airplanes in the jet stream, what Stephen said about listening to the wind, what Miri said about using the
hiri
. But not once did any of them mention
controlling
the wind.
I need to figure this out.

When we reach the entrance to the control room, I brace myself for Wiremu’s wrath and the
Riki
’s censure. But I’m not prepared for the sight that greets us as we step inside. The room is even more crowded than before, if that’s possible, and almost everyone is moving around quickly, delivering messages, speaking in tense voices.

“I wasn’t expecting so many people to be upset,” I whisper to Paika.

“Nor I,” he says, frowning.

Jian is standing over the table. As soon as he sees us he hurries over. “Tane’s been assassinated,” he says, his face grave.

“What?” Paika exclaims.

“He was ambushed after he finished his negotiations with the Kre. The survivors from his party claim it was the Kaana, but we don’t have proof.”

“Who are they again?” I look at Paika.

“The tribe that controls the southern U.S. and Central America,” he says, his face white. “They’re close allies of the Yakone.”

“So this isn’t because Stephen killed the Tuhoe?” I ask, gesturing at the frantic people around us.

Jian scratches his nose. “No. When Stephen reported it, Wiremu was furious—apparently the man was one of his right hands—and he insisted that Stephen was lying.”

“But Stephen’s a Tuhoe too,” I point out.

“He said you must have beguiled him, the way Aroha—well, anyway, he demanded that you and Stephen be punished, but we had just received the news about Tane, so the
Riki
couldn’t give the matter much attention except to say he believed Stephen. I’m afraid that annoyed Wiremu a great deal.”

I look around for Wiremu, but he’s no longer in the room. I see Stephen though; he’s standing near the chief. So is Miri.

“No one’s getting in trouble then?” I ask.

“No.”

“Wiremu isn’t going to like that,” Paika says. “Not getting retribution for the death of one of his men.”

“Well,” Jian shrugs his shoulders, “he’ll have to deal with it. The man violated our laws, and we have more important things to worry about now. The tribe will be gathering for Tane’s funeral in a week or two, whenever they arrive with the body. In the meantime, a new
Matoa
has to be chosen, so the reps need to reassemble, and the warriors need to be mobilized.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“After an offense like this, the
Riki
has to step up his plans.”

“Yes,” Paika agrees. “We must retaliate.”

As we approach the table, the
Riki
looks up. “Paika, I’m glad you’re here,” he
says. “Sorry about this business with Wiremu’s man. I’ve told Stephen he’s to receive highest honors.”

I glance at Stephen, but his handsome face is masked in stone.

“How can I help?” Paika asks.

“I need you to cover Wiremu’s command—I don’t know when he’ll be back. Mokai, you know where those plans are kept. Will you get them for Paika?”

As Mokai nods and hurries out of the room, the chief turns to look at me. “We better give you a guard again, just in case your attacker wasn’t acting on his own.”

“Why don’t I keep her with me for a bit?” Miri says, stepping forward.

“Thanks, Miri. I’ll get this sorted.” He directs his attention back to the table, and Miri puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she says into my ear.

When we’re back in the glowing tunnels, she asks me how I’m doing.

“I’m okay,” I say.

“Your success with the device couldn’t be better timed. The information you’ve given the council will be invaluable now. In fact, I think you’re something of a celebrity.”

“Then why did someone try to kill me?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. You’re a full member of the tribe. It’s against our laws to kill one of our own unless the council has condemned them.”

“There’s something else that’s bothering me.”

“What?”

I take a deep breath and then tell her what happened when the warrior attacked me, how I used the wind to push him away.

Miri is quiet for a long moment and then says, “Come with me.”

She takes me into the older part of the mountain, through the lower
poro
, and for a moment I think we’re going back to the cave with the pools. But then we enter the dining hall.

“Why are we here?” I ask, confused.

“Because I’m hungry.”

“But—”

“Get some food, girl. You look like you need it.”

I do as she says and then follow her to a table near one of the fire pits.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” I ask. When she doesn’t answer, I sigh and begin peeling an orange.

Miri traces the tattoo on her chin and then pulls a flask out of her pocket and adds some Scotch to her cup. She takes a swallow. And another. Finally she speaks. “It’s simple really,” she says. “You can windtalk.”