Key to the Journey (The Chronicles of Hawthorn, Book 2) Page 2

  Flynn felt a twisting pain in her gut. She wanted to continue to please her mother, but she couldn’t bear to leave Hazel, especially while things were so broken between them. Hazel, who had stood by her for fourteen years, when others gave up, or worse? Hazel, who had defended her against Magdelana—and saved her life. Hazel. She had to stay in the levels and find a way to repair their friendship. She felt terrible that she let her jealousy over her best friend’s magick ruin their summer. Flynn had been the child of destiny her entire life and Hazel never once entertained resentment. She would rather be one of Hazel’s friends, than have no Hazel at all.

  The majority of the coven eagerly agreed with the High Priestess, even Thelema conceded. However, she never missed an opportunity for public speaking.

  “The recent unprecedented breach of our island’s protective mist is surely cause for concern,” bellowed Thelema. “Over three hundred years ago, when Makutu came to destroy The Book of Light, she possessed a homing stone. No member of the Shadow Coven ever found another way through the mist—until that hex bag made its way to dear innocent Lania. I agree that quick action is the best course.”

  “I fear the threat from Magdelana and the Shadow Coven is growing, my Priestess.” Windemere kept her voice calm, but her eyes widened.

  Cabot stood and waited for Kahu to nod her acknowledgment. “Only Flynn, the ninth daughter of the ninth daughter can fulfill the prophecy and reunite The Book of Light with The Book of Shadow to restore balance to Aotearoa. I support her training and will tutor her in Protections, if you approve, my Priestess.”

  Not one of the venerable Mistresses or Masters offered a dissenting opinion. No one hesitated to strap this burden to the young girl’s back.

  No one, that is, except Po. From his hiding place he heard about the disappearing Flynn and the rapid-fire plans of the coven. He sneaked off to find Hazel and give her the wonderful, horrible news.

  South of the village center, Hazel waited in the thin smoke wafting from the forge while the smithy sharpened her mother’s best carving knife. The added heat of the dying embers in the hearth brought fresh beads of sweat to Hazel’s skin. The late afternoon breeze had died and the stifling evening heat thickened the air. She coiled her damp hair into a messy bun on her head and held it in place with a small stick she collected earlier, near the swimming hole.

  “Hazel! Hazel!” yelled Po, as he came barreling down the road like a wild moa.

  She smiled and waved.

  “They’re taking Flynn away,” he panted and placed his strong hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath.

  She wasn’t sure she had heard Po correctly. The grinding and scraping from Master Rino’s sharpening stone drowned out part of Po’s announcement. Worry clouded her pale blue eyes and Hazel fired questions out with increasing panic. “What? Who’s taking Flynn away? Where are they taking her? What did she do?”

  “She disappeared!” blurted Po.

  “You’re not making any sense.” Hazel turned to Rino, the smithy, and asked, “Do you have a waterskin?”

  “Oh, I do, diddly do, I do,” he replied. Rino was a stout man with massive arms, a broad chest, and a warm smile. He always hummed or sang when he worked the forge and his speech had a lilt that brought a grin to most customers. He handed his waterskin to Hazel.

  She uncapped it and passed it to Po. “Here, take a drink and start from the beginning.”

  Po wet his lips, caught his breath, and spilled out his tale to Hazel’s growing concern.

  “So, Flynn has magick?” Hazel couldn’t believe her ears.

  “Well, she can disappear, eh? No one’s been able to do that since the Rift. That’s what they all said,” offered Po.

  Hazel tapped her fingertips together and circled back and forth in front of Po. “I can’t believe I wasn’t with her today. I’ve been a terrible friend this summer, haven’t I?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I got all caught up with Carissa and Abelia—all of it—I left her all alone in that musty Herb Hut with that crusty Tamsin.”

  “What can you do now?” asked Po.

  “Is it decided? Are you sure they’re going to take her out of the levels?” she asked.

  “They all agreed. No one argued against it, no one.” He shook his head and handed the waterskin back to Rino. “Thank you.”

  Rino nodded, took the bag, and hung it on a nearby hook. He wiped the knife and mumbled, “She needs more time, she does, bumpity buzz, she does.”

  Hazel spun around, still tapping the tips of her fingers together, and looked at Rino. “She does! And I know exactly who can get it for her.” She clapped her hands together, whistled out her lengthy call for Mr. Mango, and turned to Po. “You take that knife back to my mother and I’ll ride out to,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “Dreamwood Forest. Pounamu will make things right, I know she will.”

  Mr. Mango thundered into view, his russet brown feathers fluttering and a cloud of dust swirling around him. Hazel’s moa stood nearly twice her height. She had to climb up onto a nearby mounting platform to reach his back.

  “Tell my mother I ran an errand for Flynn and I’ll see her in the morning, all right?” Hazel instructed Po.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “Keep an eye out for Flynn. Find a way to tell her I’m sorry for being a horrible friend and I went for help, if you can. But don’t tell anyone else, promise me that.”

  Po dropped to one knee and touched the thumb of his fist to his forehead. “On my honor,” he replied.

  “Oh, you are too much, Po.” Hazel chuckled as she rode off. She gave Mr. Mango the signal for speed and squeezed her knees tightly to keep her position on the wingless beast.

  The huge biped charged toward the dangerous and off-limits Dreamwood Forest. Legends of disappearances and strange creatures kept the curious from entering. Hazel would never have dared to venture in before she and Flynn had met Pounamu, the 300-year-old witch of the wood. Pounamu had turned out to be a distant relative of Flynn’s and a staunch supporter. She had convinced the Grand Coven to preserve the Wand of Temarama for Flynn, even after the incident with Magdelana.

  Hazel brought Mr. Mango to a stop a distance from the wood. She gave him the signal to roam and headed toward the humid, sweltering tree line.

  She saw the now familiar glow of faeries swirling from the dense twisted underbrush and promised to keep from falling under their spell. She looked for the one Flynn had called “Zip,” and intended to ask for his help.

  She remembered, too late, that she could not speak to faeries.

  ***

  Kahu dismissed the Grand Coven and approached Flynn. “Well, sweet girl, are you ready to be a Priestess?”

  Flynn sensed a stabbing sensation in her gut and a warm pressure in her heart. She felt too many things to name, but she didn’t want to disappoint her mother—yet again. “If you think I’m ready,” she replied.

  “Ready? Oh, Flynn, you are more than ready. Do you know what you did today?” Kahu paused.

  Flynn wondered if she should answer, but her mother continued before she could.

  “You showed the entire coven why you are the savior of our people. You have a connection to magick so ancient, most of these Priests and Priestesses believed it had vanished from this land.” Kahu slipped an arm around Flynn’s shoulders and continued, “This is the kind of magick we sing about—”

  The High Priestess broke off suddenly. Flynn felt her mother’s body stiffen and she turned to inquire, but instead followed her gaze and saw Cabot standing in the doorway of the Meeting House. His intense brown eyes locked with Kahu for a moment before he nodded and silently slipped away. Flynn remembered the kissing and sweet words she had overheard between Cabot and her mother and worried that her father’s identity would not remain a mystery for much longer. “Mother, is everything all right?”

  “No, my sweet girl, no it isn’t, I haven’t been completely honest with you.” Kahu steered her daughter toward the do
or of the Meeting House. “Come, I’ll tell you a little story over supper.”

  As they exited the marae, Flynn saw Po waving to her from the Ceremonial Lawn. She turned to go to him, but her mother’s arm held her firm.

  “Not tonight, initiate,” said Kahu, to Po. “My daughter and I have much to discuss.”

  Flynn shrugged and waved. Something about Po’s expression bothered her, but she put it out of her mind and leaned into her mother’s protective embrace.

  They worked side-by-side in the cottage. Flynn sliced up some cheese and bread while Kahu chopped field mushrooms, fern root, and the young, inner leaves of ti kouka for a salad. The thick cloud cover outside held the heat to the earth like a moist towel and the thought of hot food seemed repulsive.

  Flynn glanced at the plain brown mushrooms, “Does this mean I can stop eating the blue mushrooms and tutu juice?”

  Kahu leaned over the salad and chuckled. “Oh, Nana will be so happy at this news she’ll probably make you nothing but mango stuffed sweet rolls for the rest of your life.”

  Flynn smiled for a minute before the tears spilled from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mama, I’m sorry I didn’t know—I wish I knew.”

  Strong arms pulled Flynn close and Kahu kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I’m the one who should be sorry, sweet girl. I struggled so hard to get you, I should’ve known your magick would be different.”

  “Get me? What do you mean, ‘get me’?” Flynn wiped the tears from her face and tipped her head. More memories of the conversation she had overheard between her mother and Cabot drifted back—someone had mentioned, “the truth would destroy her.”

  Kahu released her hold and picked up the large wooden bowl of salad. “Let’s sit down. It’s a long story, you’ll want the food.” She smiled and placed things on the table before she sat down in her chair, across from her daughter.

  Flynn nibbled at a piece of cheese and waited. Her stomach churned and she didn’t feel like eating. She stared at her mother and sipped her papaya juice.

  Kahu picked up a hunk of bread and set it back down with a sigh. “I didn’t have an easy path to the wand, Flynn. I was the eighth daughter in the line descended from Temarama. All eyes looked to me to bear the child of prophecy, you—but I failed five times. Every spring I’d wear the mask of the Earth Mother in the fertility ritual at the Spring Rite. I only conceived twice, but both of their spirits left before birth. A still born infant is a painful thing to see, sweet child.” Kahu swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “I secretly named them, but I never told Nana.” Her hand slipped to her bare shoulder and she traced a part of the pattern on her skin. “This is Mahanga,” her fingers moved to another part of the tattoo, “this is Roimata—your brothers.”

  Flynn reached across the table and squeezed her mother’s hand, “I’m so sorry, Mama.”

  Kahu shook her head and inhaled sharply. She slipped her hand from Flynn’s and wiped roughly at her tears. “So, by the time your grandmother sent me to the Cliffs of Tapu to call upon the aid of Dunedin, desperation had taken its hold.”

  The flecks of gold sparkled in Flynn’s eyes. “Powerful wings black as night, and silver eyes shining so bright. He keeps the moon from our sight and brings it full in deepest night.” She recited the rhyme from memory without hesitation. Every child of Aotearoa hears the tales of the great winged horse that shepherds the moon from faery fingernail to full and back again. “Did you see him? Is he real?”

  “He is real, all right. He is beyond description—he is a feeling—a magick so old and so deep that it flows from him like heat from the sun. I fell to my knees in awe.” She paused and added, “I need to show you something.” Kahu rose from her chair and retrieved a wooden box from her bedroom; she pulled a chain from around her neck and a golden key dangled and played in the light of the setting sun filtering through the open window.

  Flynn eagerly leaned forward.

  Kahu slipped the key into a slot on the front of the box, turned twice, and heard a soft click. She opened the box and produced a jet-black feather as long as Flynn’s arm. She passed it to her daughter.

  Flynn touched the feather and her breath caught in her throat. She saw the huge winged-horse, she felt the hot breath from his nostrils, and she heard him speak inside her mind.

  Come to me, daughter. Unlock my gift.

  Flynn dropped the feather and stared at her mother.

  “What? What happened, Flynn?”

  “It—he spoke to me.”

  Kahu sat down with a thud and stared at the feather. “I should’ve known.” She hung her head in her hands and wept.

  Flynn rushed to her mother’s side. “What’s wrong? Why did he call me daughter?”

  The weeping stopped abruptly and Kahu’s eyes shot to Flynn. “What did he say, exactly?”

  Flynn closed her eyes and recited the message, “Come to me, daughter. Unlock my gift.”

  Kahu breathed a sigh of relief. “He means ‘daughter’, like a daughter of the Earth. I think I understand the second part, too.” Kahu motioned for Flynn to sit down and she continued. “He gave me this feather, but that isn’t the end of the story. He gave me a ride on his back, Flynn. An indescribable feeling, flying through the night—I felt as though I could reach out and touch the moon.”

  “I can’t imagine,” whispered Flynn, in awe.

  “He landed on a beach below the cliffs, near an injured man. I bandaged the man’s head and when he opened his eyes he looked at me and he spoke a language I couldn’t understand.”

  “Which village was he from?” Flynn leaned toward her mother.

  Kahu chewed on her lip and her eyes darted from side to side. “You’re old enough to hear this now. He came from beyond the mist—a seafarer.”

  “But where is he now? Did he die?”

  “No. Other than his injury he was quite healthy.” Kahu smiled as she remembered the feel of his body and the strength of his passion. “We—he was, I mean is, your father.”

  Flynn jumped out of her chair. “What?” So many thoughts raced through her mind. “My father isn’t from Aotearoa? Did he even have magick? Why did you hide this from me?”

  “Sit down, Flynn. I’ll answer as many questions as I can, but some of this knowledge is beyond me. Dunedin plucked a strand or two in the web of destiny and I can’t explain his actions.” Kahu steered Flynn back to her chair and poured a little more papaya juice into their mugs. “Now, for your questions.” She returned to her own chair and took a sip of her juice. “Your father is not from Aotearoa. I only know he is an outsider. As far as magick, I don’t know the answer to that question. I know he was gentle and kind, and you have his eyes and his thick black hair—but I saw no evidence of magick, as we know it.” Kahu smiled and for a moment seemed lost in a private memory.

  Flynn pulled a thick lock of her dark hair between her fingers—like her father’s. She had always wondered why she looked so unlike her mother. As a youngling she had looked into the faces of different men in the village and wondered who had worn the mask of the Sky Father.

  “After, well, I don’t need to give you details. I stole this key from around his neck and Dunedin flew the man back to his vessel. I wanted something to hold onto, to make sure the night was real—not a dream.”

  Flynn tilted her head and looked at the wooden box. “Did you take the box from him, too? I mean why does that key work in this box?”

  “Ah, that would be thanks to the skill of Master Rino. He forged a lock from this key,” Kahu held up the golden skeleton key. “I told him I found it along the shore,” she added hastily.

  “So, my father is an outsider, but why did you always think of me as cursed?” Flynn wiped a salty drop from her tan cheek.

  “I thought Dunedin had tricked me somehow. He had answered my plea for the child of prophecy, but he withheld magick from your veins because your father came from beyond the mist.” Kahu’s hand reached for Flynn’s. “I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

/>   “Because I can disappear?” asked Flynn.

  “That’s only the beginning, sweet child. The power to render yourself or objects invisible is deep magick—even I don’t fully understand it. But, I can teach you how to defeat Magdelana, Cabot can teach you how to protect yourself, and we can rejoin The Book of Shadow and Light. Balance can finally be restored.” Kahu rubbed the back of her daughter’s hand.

  “But I’m not ready. I only disappeared twice and I’m not exactly sure how it happened,” Flynn said. She worried that the truth would not exactly destroy her, but it would send her into a prison of loneliness and danger that would be far worse than the life of a Watcher.

  “Nonsense. You’ve got it now. The rest will be easy.”

  Flynn remembered the hate in Magdelana’s eyes and the power she could wield through an inexperienced vessel like Lania. She did not think there would be anything easy about defeating the shadow witch. Her head felt like mush and her stomach continued to churn. Maybe tomorrow would bring some answers she could swallow. “I think I better get some sleep. Today was a lot of—um, a lot.”

  Kahu nodded. She placed the feather back in the wooden box and locked it. She dangled the key for a minute and handed it to Flynn. “I think you should have this now. It’s your story to hold.”

  Flynn wanted to grab the key and squeeze every last bit of information about her father from the object, but her eyelids were drooping and she couldn’t handle any more surprises today. She held out her empty mug and said, “Drop it in here, all right?”

  With a smile and a nod, Kahu dropped the key and chain into the mug and added, “When you feel better you can see if the key brings you any message.” She stood and held her arms open wide for a good night hug.

  Flynn hurried to her mother’s arms and basked in the admiration and approval she had been denied for so many years. “Good night, Mama.”

  “Good night, my little witch.” Kahu kissed the top of her daughter’s head and sighed with long-awaited satisfaction.

  Hazel opened her eyes and looked around. The white and black peeling bark of the birch trees created a dizzying pattern in the gloomy wood. The faeries were gone and she had wandered deep into Dreamwood Forest—well and truly lost.