Justice and Utu (22 page)

Hobson nodded agreement. ‘Master Carver, take your
marines around the point, and secure the docks. Beware the sloop.'

The marine officer saluted, and with more whistles and shouts led a collection of marines and sailors back to the flat outcropping that was Homestead Point.

Mat glanced up at the crest worriedly. ‘We've got to find Damien.'

Wiri looked at Hobson. ‘He and that mad Nga Puhi went over the top.'

‘Then we must delay no further.' Hobson waved an arm, gesturing the remaining men, mostly sailors, forward. ‘If we can command the crest, and Carver can get to the docks, we'll have them.' He glanced back at his ship. ‘My worry is that the sloop might catch the
Rattlesnake
on the rocks.'

‘Then secure her, Captain,' Wiri advised.

Hobson gritted his teeth, but didn't waste time in hesitation. ‘Take six of my men and get to the rim. Find Master Meilinck and Hotu. Try to drive the enemy down into Carver's guns. I must stay in line of sight of my ship. Smythe is refloating her.'

Wiri nodded agreement, then gripped Mat's shoulder and nodded upslope. ‘C'mon, chief, let's go.' He looked at Evie, who lifted her chin defiantly. ‘Head down, girl,' was all the warrior said. He glanced at Donna's drawn face but said nothing.

They struggled up the slope, perspiring. The rocky slope seemed to radiate heat, the sunlight vivid and harsh. By the time they crested the rim, it felt like they'd sprinted a marathon. Mat caught Evie's arm as she teetered, her face drenched in sweat, her hair a sticky tangle. They gazed down upon a primal scene. They were at the western rim of a huge
hole, several hundred metres across. Below them the slope was almost vertical, a goat track winding down towards the bottom. The interior was, as Wiri had advised, a vast flat area, white volcanic rock pitted with craters and vents and tiny streams that steamed as they wound right to left, towards the south. The opposite cliffs were half a kilometre away, towering and bathed in brilliant sunlight. The landscape was more lunar than Earth-like, apart from the brilliant sea glittering to the right.

To his left, the blue-green crater lake was wreathed in thick steam. The air reeked of sulphur. The interior of Whakaari was like a forge, a place where worlds were built, the most unearthly natural landscape Mat had ever seen.

Wiri touched his shoulder and pointed towards the crater lake. Mat could barely make it out through the churning steam, but he could see that the waters and steam were both spiralling unnaturally, as if some giant unseen spoon were stirring the waters. Something was building inside the lake. Something very bad. He could feel the energies beating against his soul.

Below them, most of the enemy had reached the floor of the interior. They were taking cover behind rocks and reloading guns. Descent along the same path would be deadly. And there was no sign yet of Asher Grieve.

Mat glanced to his right and saw Damien and Hotu. They were only a hundred yards away, scrabbling along the treacherous crest, on the trail of another enemy party. He saw that Venn was there, descending along the falling ridge towards the south where the docks were, although they were still out of sight from where Mat stood. Venn had only a few
men with him, but even at this distance Mat could see that Hayes was there, and so was Byron Kikitoa.

‘Damien!' he shouted. ‘Wait!'

‘What's he doing?' Evie asked aloud, pointing towards the crater lake. Mat caught his breath as he glimpsed through the smoke a robed shape, standing on the very rim of the crater lake, waving his cane.

Donna appeared behind the girl. ‘There is power here. Energy that Father can tap.' She looked at Mat imploringly. ‘Free me — please! You have to trust me: I won't run, I swear. Just let me help!'

Mat hung his head.
How can she ask for trust after all she's done?
A flash of white caught his eye, away to sea. He squinted, and made out the incoming sloop, its sails full as it sheared through the water. It was maybe twenty minutes away, at most, and coming up fast. The wind had swung around, and he could bet that hadn't been natural.

‘Mat, you and I need to deal to Grieve. Stick with me. I'll send others to help Damien.' Wiri ordered half the men after Damien and Hotu. Then he pointed down the path leading into the crater, where the
Rona
's remaining men waited with Hayes. ‘They cannot shoot effectively until we're within fifty yards. That will take us to the place where the slope evens out. There is cover there. They've ceded us the high ground, lads. Let's make them pay for that.'

The naval men hurrahed vociferously, and began to swarm down the slope. Mat found an instant to wonder how men could be so eager to risk their lives, then found he felt the same way. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid, and it wasn't that he wanted to hurt other people: he just wanted to win.

Wiri jabbed a finger at the shape of Asher Grieve, just visible amid the swirling steam below. They all heard his voice, calling out something like a chant, coming from far below. ‘What's he doing?'

‘I don't know.'

‘He's the danger,' Wiri said in a low voice. ‘Venn is more businessman than warlock, but Asher is the real deal.' Wiri touched his shoulder. ‘Can you stop him?'

‘Sure,' Mat said, not sure at all. He glanced at Evie, who was staring at Donna Kyle. Something passed between them. He was sure it wasn't good. He touched Evie's shoulder, to break her eye contact with Donna more than anything else, then ducked his head, stepped off the ridge and joined the column clambering down into the crater.

 

Evie watched the men descend more than a hundred yards down a goat track into enemy guns. It looked like madness. And Mat was one of them.

Donna Kyle waited beside her. She began to speak: words Evie didn't want to hear, but she had no choice.

‘I realized I was pregnant while alone on a mission, in Nelson. I kept it secret because I wanted to protect you.'

Lies. My mother is a schoolteacher from Auckland.

(But I was born in Nelson, just before my parents left there and came to Auckland …)

My father is a Dutch builder. My father …

Lies. She's lying!

Evie stumbled after the line of men descending into the volcano.

The descent was vertiginous, the air tugging at her, making every step treacherous. Steam roared up from below, becoming more and more deafening as they came closer to the vents. Some of the men below began to fire up at them, but none of the shots came her way. Yet. She caught up to the main party cowering atop a bulge, a place where an old rock fall had brought down part of the rock face, providing about twenty yards of solid cover. Musket fire began to whip about them. Most of the shot seemed to be caught in a net of light Mat spun before them. The soldiers below became more and more frantic as their fire proved ineffectual. Then, at a shout from Wiri, Mat dropped his shield and the crew of the
Rattlesnake
returned fire. Then the men about her whooped and pelted down the last of the slope, brandishing blades and guns and shouting like barbarian invaders.

Donna clutched at Evie's arm. ‘You must believe me: I am your mother! Free me, and I will never leave you again!'

‘Never leave me? Ha! I'd pay you to go away,' Evie snapped back.

‘They're going to hang me!'

‘Then die!'

Donna hunched her shoulders and curled her fingers into talons. She looked like a bird of prey, ready to pounce on a rat and tear it in two. Evie backed away. Below them both, the sound of combat boiled up, but she dared not look away from the witch.

Then, from the heart of the island, amidst the vapours billowing from the crater lake, there came a howl that froze them both. Evie tore her eyes away and stared into the wall of steam belching from the lake. A dark shape emerged —
Asher Grieve, leaning on his cane. He lifted his other hand and jabbed a finger at Mat and Wiri.

Behind the wizard, something huge loomed from the steam clouds. It was shaped like a lizard, or a dinosaur, and was the size of a small truck. It seemed hewn from burning coals and drenched in boiling water. Laval blood ran from the cracks in its hide. Another joined it, and another. As they shed the steaming waters of the lake, they belched flame from throats like tunnels, lit from within. A sulphurous stench rolled up the slope as they coiled and slithered. More and more boiled into view, some as small as cats, others the size of cattle. Asher Grieve stood among the creatures, untouched by their heat, which was causing the air to ripple, distorting their shapes, his shape, wildly.

Evie's eyes flew to Mat. He was among the crewmen below. All the enemy crew were either dead or had fled. But how could they protect themselves from these new, terrible creatures?

Donna flowed towards her. ‘Fire-demons!' the witch shrieked. ‘Release me — only I can save us now!' She seized Evie and shook her. ‘Free me!'

Asher Grieve's voice rolled out of the burning air as he pointed his hand towards Mat's group. His voice carried thinly up from below, crackling with malevolence. ‘Burn them. Burn them all.'

The fire-demons yowled, and began to stream towards the men of the
Rattlesnake
like lava.

W
HAKAARI
/W
HITE
I
SLAND
, B
AY OF
P
LENTY
, S
UNDAY

T
hirty yards and closing
, thought Damien, as he and Hotu worked their way along the treacherous footing on the crest of the ridge. To their left, the rough and sliding slope fell precipitously away. There was something going on down there, but there was too much steam to be able to make it out.

Ahead, a short, stubby man spun and fired at him. He and Hotu dropped to the ground. Although he'd already worked out that at this range these primitive guns were hopelessly inaccurate, that didn't mean he fancied getting hit. A pistol ball cracked against a rock and shrilled away. He glanced back and saw that a few of Hobson's men were trying to catch up. They were still a hundred yards or so behind.

Perhaps we should wait? Nah, bugger it!
He rolled to the right, and scrambled to his feet.
The bastards are getting away!
He lifted his pistol — one shot left — and darted to the next outcrop, gobbling up ten yards in a few seconds, and threw himself down, Hotu at his back. The cluster of enemy below
him was in the open, and he had line of sight on Hayes, who'd paused to shout an order. He sighted and pulled the trigger. Shui's face filled his vision as the hammer fell, and the gun blasted out its load. Hayes spun and glared up at him, while beside him another man threw up his hands as blood erupted from the middle of his back.

Damn!

Then he realized that he knew the face of the man that had fallen.

I've just shot Sebastian Venn! Mat, you owe me for this one!

He bolted after Hotu, before the warrior found himself alone. From away below and behind them, the basin of the crater was filled with a cacophony of bestial roars, but he'd passed the point where he could see what was going on down there. Before him the southern bays were arrayed, three tiny inlets divided by two rocky outcroppings. The ruins of a man-made building could be made out, the old sulphur works. Then he wrenched his eyes to the remaining enemy.

Hayes stumbled and rolled partway down the slope, and the remainder of the enemy sailors simply threw themselves from the ridge as Hotu roared and fell among them. In a few seconds two of the
Rona
's crew lay bludgeoned, and then Damien was in behind the Nga Puhi warrior.

Hotu launched himself bodily at the next man, his feet slamming into the man's chest and propelling him backwards into a boulder. The sailor collapsed, winded, as Hotu's patu smashed into his skull with a pulping sound.

Hayes was trying to stand when Damien placed his sword against the man's chest, and the American sea captain froze. Their eyes met.

I should just thrust.

Except that every other time he'd killed, it had been in the heat of the fight: kill or be killed.

This would be an execution.

He froze, and then a shadow blurred to his right, as a dark shape bulleted from behind a boulder, and the moment was gone. Byron Kikitoa flashed a taiaha blow at his head. Damien swayed, but already Kikitoa had turned the blow into a feint, pivoting and kicking to Damien's right knee. It struck home. Damien yelped as his knee wobbled sideways and some internal ligament screamed in protest. He tried to keep his balance, tried to raise his blade to parry, when he saw Hayes's right hand lift — he had a pistol in his fist. Damien jack-knifed as the pistol roared.

The ball gouged a furrow of skin in his forehead. Hotu roared and leapt at Byron Kikitoa, but all Damien saw was Hayes at his feet, now helpless, and the puckered scar that ran across Shui's jugular flashed before his eyes. He plunged his blade at Hayes as the American teetered on the edge of the drop. The captain's arms flailed, and he tumbled backwards over the edge, Damien's blade merely tearing his shirt — and then he was gone.

Damien watched the man roll down a sixty-yard slope and fetch up against a mound of pumice. Then he turned back, and sucked in a breath as Hotu waded into Byron Kikitoa. The smaller youth whirled away, swiping with his taiaha, but the blow catching Hotu on the thigh seemed ineffectual. The Nga Puhi roared in fury and pursued his foe. Below, Damien saw three of the
Rona
's crew converge on Hayes and lift him.

Damn!

He stalked to the fallen Venn and rolled the man onto his back. Lifeless eyes stared in glazed disbelief at death.

Just like that, Mr Warlock. One shot. Bet you didn't think you'd go like that, eh?

There was a document sticking out of his right breast pocket. Damien pulled it out, and swallowed as he realized it was the original Treaty. He thrust it into his back pocket, hoping it would not get more crushed than it already was. Then he went to help Hotu.

 

The wave of fire-demons stormed down the gentle slope towards them, while Asher Grieve cackled. All about Mat, the sailors fired their muskets, but his mind was far away.

Before he had rescued Ngatoro-i-rangi from his imprisonment in Te Iho, he'd been able to contact the tohunga mentally — in fact, Ngatoro had initiated it. Since then, that contact had been much harder. Ngatoro was no longer in suspended animation with his mind running free, for one thing. He had other cares and concerns, other things to concentrate his energies and psychic attention upon. This made contacting him much harder.

But not impossible.

Mat threw back his head and called with his mind, his voice and his heart, pouring all he could into the act.
‘NGATORO!'

His call echoed out across the island, across the waters, like a wave of sound, reverberating through Aotearoa.
‘NGATORO! HEAR ME! PLEASE!'

All over the Bay of Plenty he heard all kinds of things
hearken, faces of men, women and even turehu hearing his call, looking to the sky and wondering.

‘NGATORO!'

All the while the fire-demons poured towards them, seemingly unstoppable.

Evie grabbed Mat's arm and threw a rune stone at the fire-demons, shouting
‘Berkana!'
Stones rippled as if they were water, and the whole island shook. Her strength frightened him, but not as much as the fire-demons did. Stones rattled and slid on the slope, as the tremor ran through their limbs, leaving the demons wobbling like newborn calves. He saw the wall of fire-demons stagger, and waver …

… and then the ground began to rupture, tearing open in gaping fissures, and new vents exploded all about them. The earth frayed like tissue paper, and steam and boiling water gushed up in streams that shot skyward with a ghastly shriek. Everywhere, even more fire-demons burst out about them. He staggered as the ground wobbled and tipped, grabbed at Evie and tried to shelter her, as the stones that had exploded skyward began to rain down again.

 

Damien lunged, slashed and parried in the space of a heartbeat, as Kikitoa flashed about him, a whirlwind of grace and fury.
Jeez, he's fast!
Hotu bellowed in disgust and frustration. It was as if the Nga Puhi was fighting in slow motion compared with the league player. Damien began to fear for his new friend. He was forced to lurch away from a flurry of blows, then watch helplessly as Kikitoa spun and smashed his taiaha into Hotu's ribcage. The Nga Puhi grunted and staggered.

Damien stepped in front of his friend, moving painfully. His knee ligaments shrieked and he was gasping in the noxious air.

Kikitoa struck a fancy pose. ‘Not so cocky now, eh?' he taunted.

To the left, Hotu came stalking back, a patu and a mere in either hand, his massive chest heaving. He was panting like a roused bull. But Kikitoa was fast, and Damien bet the little shit would use his makutu, too, just like on the league pitch.

Two on one and we're outnumbered. We gotta tilt this our way, or we're in trouble … Where's our backup?
He glanced back and saw that Hobson's men were still fifty or sixty yards away, struggling over the difficult terrain.
We're on our own …

A plan formed. It started with a lunge, just a feint, trying to fence Kikitoa in, to force him to turn his back on Hotu. He bought it, or at least he seemed to, flitting away like a feather, his back to Hotu.

Hotu swung his stone patu at Kikitoa's head. It should have brained him.

It would have, if not for the earthquake.

Suddenly the ground was shaking like jelly, and they all staggered. Even as Hotu closed in on Kikitoa, the earth began to shelve, cracks opening and sweeping down the slope. Damien was worst affected.
Me and my long legs
. He lost his footing on the lunge, a thrust meant for Byron's side merely grazing his back instead. The young makutu's taiaha cracked him on the right knee, already throbbing from the strained ligaments.

Arghhh!
Damien felt the cruciate ligament snap, and the
pain was like electrocution. He lost all balance and control as he let out the agony in one shriek, and the shifting earth rose to meet him.

He rolled over, his sword gone. The ground was literally leaping beneath him. He saw boulders shoved up from the ground, shingle flowing like water. Hotu was flailing for balance on a rock that simply lifted, then rolled, the Nga Puhi going under the rock like a man under a train. His cry was lost in the roar of the earth as it caved inwards.

Hotu! Shit, no!

Damien tried to stand, but it was beyond him. The pain was white-hot and maddening. His head swam with nausea. The air seemed composed entirely of sulphur. He tried to pull himself towards the new edge to the cliff, as Byron Kikitoa turned languidly and strolled towards him. The league star picked up Damien's sword in his right hand as he came, and grinned malevolently.

Oh, no!

‘Say your prayers, white boy.'

 

The only thing to do was to hold on and hope, as the ground beneath them collapsed in on itself. Mat thought he heard men scream, and all about them he could hear hideous yowls, as dust filled his sight and blackened out the sun. Dirt clogged his nose and mouth, and stones battered his back as he shielded Evie desperately beneath himself, trying to erect shields that lasted only seconds before crumbling. It felt like the frozen moments before a car crash. Crushingly inevitable and deadly. But the thudding of rock on earth about him lessened in a few
seconds, and the roaring grew less. He tentatively raised his head. From out of the blinding dust barely ten yards away, a fire-demon erupted from the loose-packed rocks and snapped at a fallen sailor, who had no time to move before flaming jaws bit him in half. Then its eye turned on Mat, as it tried to pull the rest of itself from the ground.

A mind touched his.
Matiu?

‘NGATORO!'
he shouted desperately.
‘NGATORO — HELP US!'

In his mind's eye, it was as if the sun suddenly burst through the clouds. Or as if the sky was a face whose eyes suddenly opened. Two eyes, and a visage carved from the ages. The man who'd latched onto Mat as he fled Puarata, and aided him from a place beyond mortal reach, using Mat as his path back to life. A tohunga with blood on his hands, a hard man who dispensed hard justice. A man who'd once sung a spell of death over a whole war-party of his enemies, so that their blood soaked the shores of Motiti, his island home. A man who could call fire-demons from half a world away.

And, maybe, send them back.

Something pulsed through Mat. All about him, the fire-demons were sucked back into the rocks. A torrent of words channelled through his lips as if he were the plug in a power socket. In his mind's eye it seemed that two men contended in the sky above him: Ngatoro, and another man, an obese, toad-like man he instinctively knew was Kiki, the tohunga makutu Ngatoro had warned him of. Words flashed like thunder and lightning between them, while his own body, racked by these forces, simply floated free of the ground. He was torn from Evie's grip, lifted by powers stronger than Nature, mightier
than gravity. Below him he heard cries of dismay, and the fluted calls of fire-demons as one by one they were snuffed out.

Whether it took minutes or hours he didn't know. But suddenly the power discarded him, and he was falling backwards from ten feet above the ground. He struck the dust and gravel, and the air belted from him; he choked and gasped, helpless. Despite this, his senses, still enhanced by his contact with Ngatoro, were suddenly aware of all that were about him. Wiri was unconscious, somewhere off to the right. Evie was with him, her body battered by the falling rocks. Donna Kyle was further upslope, standing over the corpse of a soldier, inhaling his blood and trembling all over.

Asher Grieve was walking across the air towards him, his cane lifted, the silver head gleaming like a lighthouse, his face wrathful.

And far above, Damien Meilinck was fighting for his life.

 

Damien moved, as a coil of shadow darted from Byron Kikitoa's left hand, flowed along his taiaha blade, and tried to snare him. It meant going over the edge. He threw himself into the void, as the earth finally went still.

The fall opened up below him, a rocky slope still alive with slips and rolling stones, dust billowing all about him. But at least he was out of Byron Kikitoa's reach.

Then gravity seemed to forget him.

He hung in the air, like a fly in a spider web.

Kikitoa smirked as he lifted Damien's blade and prowled towards him.

 

Mat's awareness slammed straight back into his own head, as Asher Grieve came at him. He came to his feet, as his fingernails, the gift of Mahuika, shaped flames in his hand. He hurled the incandescent ball at the advancing wizard. Asher slapped it away contemptuously. ‘You know,' he laughed, ‘the thing that makes me laugh about you “Adepts” is that you don't know how to use your weapons to kill.' He bunched his fist, and jabbed his cane towards Mat. Lightning flashed, and Mat found himself dancing in the throes of electricity that crackled through him and earthed in the rubble at his feet. He felt his flesh go to jelly and his muscles simply give out. He folded to the ground, and all but blacked out.