Key to the Journey (The Chronicles of Hawthorn, Book 2) Page 5

“Zip and I have come to an understanding,” Pounamu said, “I let him sample my lovely food, borrow my buttons, and even draw him the occasional bath in my soup bowl—and in exchange he guides my guests safely to the cottage, and other favors.” She smiled knowingly at the small, stubborn faery and added, “We keep each other’s secrets.”

  “Will he help us find Hazel?” asked Flynn.

  “I’m right here, youngling. I can speak for myself,” replied Zip.

  Pounamu interjected, “The Fae do not control the forest, but they have traveled much more of it than I.” She returned to the floor beside the scrying platter and poured the inky liquid onto the tray. “Come closer, Zip. You may recognize something useful.”

  Flynn, Zip, and Pounamu crowded around the sliver disc.

  Po stepped away from the door, but he didn’t come too close to the group. He seemed to be listening to the strange buzzing and humming noises that punctuated Pounamu’s speech.

  “Hazel Ivy Tetekura. Hazel Ivy Tetekura. Hazel Ivy Tetekura.” Pounamu waved her hand over the surface as she spoke.

  The vision caught Flynn off guard. Hazel lay unconscious on the ground. Her mouth slack, dark circles under her eyes, and an angry bruise on her forehead. “Oh, Hazel!” she cried.

  The girl in the platter opened her eyes and sat up. She leaned to the side, looked around, and jumped to her feet. She took off her sandals, slipped her belt around a tree and climbed as fast as any of the village boys. When the girl reached the branches she found a safe haven and lashed herself to a branch. She stared out into the night.

  Flynn could see the fear in Hazel’s eyes.

  “She is near the Split Tree,” Zip whispered in an unusually caring tone.

  “You can find her?” Flynn turned from the scrying platter and waited.

  “Yes, but—”

  Flynn jumped to her feet. “Let’s go!”

  Zip fluttered up to Flynn’s eye level and continued, “As I was saying, the area is at least a day’s walk from here and it is heavily guarded by Tane Mahuta’s children.”

  “The trees?” Flynn looked at Zip like he had gone faery foolish. “The trees are everywhere in this forest. The trees near Hazel are no different than the birch trees surrounding this cottage. Don’t be silly, let’s go.”

  Pounamu stepped between Flynn and the door. “You know I cannot let you leave this cottage after dark. Hazel will be safe in that tree, for now.”

  “For now? Zip can lead us and you can use your magick to protect us; we have to go tonight—before she moves again.” Flynn took another step toward the thick wooden door.

  The witch of the wood grew—her presence filled the cabin and the candles dimmed. “We will leave at first light.” Pounamu’s voice rumbled like thunder and Flynn dropped into the chair supporting the hooded bird.

  Po crouched on the floor near the door and covered his head with his arms.

  Pounamu walked toward the frightened girl and stroked her cheek lightly. “I cannot use my magick outside these four walls. The forest does not allow it. The very air in Atahu crackles with warning.”

  Flynn noticed Pounamu’s use of the ancient name for the forest and worried about the secrets that had been kept from her. She had nearly resigned herself to waiting until morning when she remembered the secret she had to share with Pounamu.

  Po managed to shakily ask for a blanket and when he received the thick wool coverlet and a small pillow he hastily tossed them on the floor and wedged himself into a corner—his back against the wall. His wide eyes did not find sleep.

  “Auntie, I forgot to tell you why Hazel ran away,” uttered Flynn, quietly.

  “Why, my darling?”

  “They are going to pull me out of the levels and apprentice me to the High Priestess. Hazel wanted to ask you for help in stopping them,” replied Flynn.

  “Who is ‘them’ and why would they pull you out of the levels?” Pounamu leaned toward Flynn and let her eyelids fall softly, half-hiding her curiosity.

  “The Grand Coven, and they want to pull me because I disappeared yesterday.” Flynn looked eagerly at her auntie, hoping for some of the approval she had received from her mother.

  “What? Why would you run away from the village?” Pounamu sat back and shook her head in confusion.

  “Not that kind of ‘disappear’. I vanished, right before their eyes.” Flynn smiled hopefully.

  Pounamu stood, gestured to Zip, and held a private meeting in the far corner of the cottage. She turned back to Flynn. “Show me.”

  Flynn did not like the doubting tone, and she still didn’t fully understand what she had done yesterday. She remembered the visualization that Mistress Adriana had led her through, so she struggled to take herself through the same sequence. Worry over Hazel clouded her mind and she couldn’t reach the same clear focus she had felt in the Meeting House.

  After a quick intake of breath, Pounamu whispered, “That is enough, my darling.”

  “Did it work?” asked Flynn.

  “Not completely, but I can see the power in it. Interestingly, Zip admits that when you did flicker out he could not see you either. To hide from a human is one thing, but to disappear from the sight of a magickal creature, such as the Turehu, is ancient magick indeed.” Pounamu walked to the silver tray and picked it up from the floor. She flicked the liquid into the clean-swept fireplace and replaced the tray on her side table.

  Flynn watched and waited. “But they want to take me out of training and I’m not ready.” She stiffened her back and prepared to argue her point.

  “You are not ready, my darling. But that is a discussion for tomorrow.” Pounamu handed Flynn a bedroll and a pillow. “Get some sleep. You will need all your senses and a good bit of the Goddess’ favor to find your small friend in this vast expanse of trees.” She kissed the top of her niece’s head and opened the shutter to return Zip to the forest.

  Flynn opened her eyes and rolled over to the smell of sizzling boar bacon and freshly sliced mango. She glanced at Po and saw his hungry eyes looking suspiciously at the food. “Tell him about the food, Auntie.”

  Pounamu nodded knowingly and said, “The mangos are from the market in Moa Bend, I traded one of my sleeping draughts for the bacon at the Summer Solstice festivities. In other words, none of the food is from within the boundaries of the forest. It is safe, my darling.”

  Po nodded his head, but rubbed the prickling hairs on the back of his neck that would not go away. All disobedient children in Aotearoa had been told the terrible tales of the Witch of the Wood and anyone would be understandably worried that Pounamu may simply be fattening him or her up to make a fresh batch of bacon.

  They rolled up their blankets and stacked them in the corner with the small pillows. Flynn grabbed a plate of food and when Po saw that she survived her first bite, he took a hesitant nibble of the mango.

  “Hurry up, we have to get moving before Hazel gets farther away. If we’re quick we might be able to close the gap and find her by nightfall.”

  At the mention of nightfall Po dropped his bacon and stared at Flynn. “We’re not spending the night in the forest, are we?”

  In answer Pounamu laid two weapons on the table—a long curved sword with a leather wrapped hilt and a small sharp adze with a greenstone blade. “Po, can you use a bow?”

  He nodded his head in silence.

  “Good. Flynn will take the adze and I will carry the sword. If the Goddess wills it, we will have no need for any of our weapons,” she stated.

  A light tap sounded at the shutter.

  Pounamu opened a small crack and Zip rushed inside. “They found out I’m helping you and they’ve threatened to clip my wings,” Zip blurted in a panic.

  The witch of the wood nodded knowingly and went to her cupboard. She took out a small vial and handed it to Zip. “Give this to Teperi, with my humble request for your services.”

  Zip snatched the vial and whisked away.

  “If Zip can’t lead us to Hazel, we’ll
never find her. You have to do something, Auntie,” begged Flynn.

  “I have done all I can. It will be up to Zip to properly present the bribe,” answered Pounamu.

  “What was that?” asked Flynn.

  “The Fae have a strange liking for datura nectar mixed with a few drops of human blood. It’s a bit of a faery love potion, as I understand it.” Pounamu made the statement in a matter-of-fact tone, as though nothing could be more normal. “Before you get too worried, young Po, the blood is my own.”

  The fear in his eyes indicated he did not find that knowledge any less unsettling.

  Flynn helped her auntie make the rest of the preparations for their travels and when Zip tumbled back through the shutters she held her breath, hoping the bribe had worked.

  “We have Teperi’s blessing, she speaks for the tribe. They won’t help you directly, but they won’t interfere with my aid.” Zip turned to close the shutter, but he couldn’t quite get the required leverage.

  Pounamu gently pulled the shutter closed and clicked the latch into place. “Let’s begin our journey, my darlings. Keep close. Weapons at the ready. And no singing, the Turehu despise human music.”

  The three humans, led by their faery guide, walked into the beguiling birch forest.

  Zip set a rapid pace and Flynn worried that Pounamu, at over three hundred years old, would faint from exhaustion.

  “Auntie, do we need to take a rest?” she asked.

  “Oh, my darling, I am more spirit than human. I barely use this body,” chuckled Pounamu. “However, I do get bored. Tell me about your falcon, and why you insisted on bringing her after I assured you she could not fly in the forest.”

  Flynn heard the judgment in her auntie’s voice and she knew she didn’t have a real explanation. She felt an odd connection with the bird. They had spent a great deal of time together over the summer months and Flynn had confided in the bird—sort of a surrogate Hazel. She gave a simple answer that held a thread of truth, “I didn’t want to leave her all alone in the cottage.” She had folded the leather glove around the strap of her satchel and created a sort of cadge on her shoulder, so the falcon could grip the makeshift perch and ride—leaving Flynn with both hands free. “We’re still getting to know each other and I thought if I left her behind she might lose some trust in me,” she added.

  “Indeed she might.” Pounamu shifted the shining curved blade to her other hand before she continued, “Flynn, I think you may need to take a little journey of your own after we find Hazel—you and your bird.”

  She liked the fact that her auntie had said “after” and not “if.” Some part of Flynn knew they would find Hazel, but she hoped it wouldn’t be too late. She wanted to find Hazel alive and well, not an empty husk of Hazel. She pushed that terrible thought from her mind and said, “When we find Hazel, we can all go back to the village together and you can tell the Grand Coven to leave me in the levels.”

  Pounamu’s laugh sounded icy and unnatural in the stifling heat of the forest. “I cannot ‘tell’ the Grand Coven anything, my darling. However, if you were to be beyond their reach—I may have an advantage in bringing them around to our way of thinking.”

  Flynn stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at her auntie. “Are you talking about manipulating the entire coven?”

  “Sometimes people don’t understand how precious and fragile something can be until it’s gone.” Pounamu signaled Zip to continue and walked past the shocked but guilty expression on Flynn’s face.

  Flynn had taken Hazel for granted. The silly fight they had over the Wand of Temarama seemed like a distant memory, and on top of that she had wasted her entire summer wracked with jealousy. If she could find her best friend, alive, she would never make that mistake again. When, not if, she corrected. “Wait for me,” called Flynn.

  Sweat dripped from her brow and she took a sip of water before she passed the life-sustaining fluid to Po.

  He took it eagerly and loudly swallowed a mouthful of water.

  “Slowly. Take a small sip and wait. We need that water to last at least two days.” Pounamu’s voice did not have a harsh edge, but rather a clear message.

  He capped the waterskin and passed it back to Flynn.

  She took the bag and turned the conversation toward the possibility of a solo journey. “Where would I go, Auntie? Would I stay with you, in the cottage?”

  “I’m pleased you are giving my suggestion some consideration. I think you might take your feathered friend to the Cliffs of Tapu. It is a wonderful place to train a falcon, among other things.”

  Flynn stumbled at the mention of the Cliffs of Tapu. She knows! She knows of my mother’s plea to Dunedin, but does she know about my father? “Do you think he would speak to me?” Flynn kept her question cryptic enough to keep Po out of the loop.

  “I think it is time for you to unlock his gift,” replied Pounamu.

  Flynn’s hand flew to her pocket and she felt the outline of the golden key, tucked into a soft cloth pouch. She hadn’t yet found the courage to touch the key directly. She wasn’t ready for that message, but it surprised her how closely her auntie’s words matched the words she had heard Dunedin speak when she had held the glistening black feather. “That is a long way to travel alone, Auntie.”

  “You are not so young, my darling, and you must learn to find the quiet within your own mind if you ever hope to wield the magick you have discovered.”

  She thought about the magick, her magick, and sensed that Pounamu spoke the truth. She couldn’t completely vanish in the cottage because she didn’t quiet her mind and remember the visualization. Flynn reviewed her studies—Level Two lessons would focus on empathy and attunement; Level Three would explore introspection through the power of self-acceptance and authenticity. If Pounamu’s statement was true, then Flynn’s magick had been inside of her all along. She needed the training offered in the levels, but she couldn’t learn self-acceptance in a village full of people who doubted her and expected the worst. Flynn needed to give this idea of time alone some serious consideration. “My mother will worry. She’ll surely send someone after me.”

  Pounamu did not respond to Flynn’s concerns. “As a young girl I remember my mother calling it a Seeking. Back then a candidate who heard the call of the Goddess would take to the wilderness with a belt knife and one waterskin. She had to stay on her own for one full turning of the moon. A safe return by the next full moon granted her admission to Priestess training.”

  “What if she came back early, or didn’t return at all?” Flynn’s voice waned to a whisper.

  “Those who returned early had not found their true selves and could never serve in the Priestesshood. Those who did not return—did not return,” Pounamu’s voice held no regret.

  “No one looked for them?” Flynn thought of dying in the wilderness with no hope of a rescue.

  “They eventually abandoned the practice for the more ‘civilized’ Initiation Tests,” served as Pounamu’s only response.

  They walked in silence until the heat became too much.

  Pounamu asked Zip to stop and she and Flynn halted near a thick-trunked birch. Po kept walking.

  Flynn suddenly realized Po didn’t speak Meshwing and hadn’t understood what her Auntie had said to Zip. “Po, come back. We’re stopping for a quick snack.”

  He turned and stared at Flynn in confusion. “Did I miss something?”

  “Yes,” she grinned. “You don’t speak the language of the Fae, so you missed the signal to rest.”

  “Do you? Can you speak to the faeries?” Po’s eyes widened with wonder. He looked as though stories from his childhood were coming to life right in front of him and he couldn’t believe any of what his eyes and ears told him.

  “It’s called Meshwing, and yes, I guess I can,” replied Flynn, smiling. She handed Po a strip of dried eel, shifted her gaze to Pounamu, and added, “I don’t want to stop for too long, Auntie. I know Hazel needs us.”

  Exhaustion consumed
Hazel, her leg hurt, her forehead throbbed, and most of all her empty stomach cramped with hunger pangs. She hadn’t bothered to put on her sandals today. Her senses kept playing tricks on her and she wasn’t sure her ears would give her enough warning of approaching danger to have time to pull them off before scampering up a tree to safety. In a place filled with darkness and unseen threats—safety was a relative term.

  Beads of sweat trickled down her neck and back. She licked her arm, desperate for a hint of moisture on her tongue. The shadow of the forest encircled her and swallowed the light of any hope left in her heart. More than the heat pressed on her skin. Hazel felt the touch of something sinister, biding its time and licking its lips.

  At some point during her sleepless night she had eaten her last crust of bread and sucked the last drop of liquid from her waterskin. She didn’t have a clear memory of doing either, but as she searched through her satchel for something to nibble on—her fingers found only lint and a few of her collected stones and leaves.

  Lost in a forest full of things she couldn’t eat and now she had completely run out of food. Perhaps no one was searching for her. She didn’t want to imagine living out her last days hunted by strange creatures or starving to death. Actually, she worried that starving would be the better of her current options.

  Hazel leaned back against the nearest tree. She didn’t have the energy to tap her fingertips together. The thought of making a plan couldn’t hold her interest. She curled up and—

  “Was that a drop of water?” Her dry voice crackled; the sound of it frightened her more than the pain in her stomach. She needed water.

  She crawled away from the trunk of the tree and turned her face toward the sky,

  A warm drop of rain splattered on her cheek.

  Lightning flashed, momentarily defeating the darkness, and thunder roared through the forest.

  Raindrops fell faster and faster until Hazel laid on her back, opened her mouth, and worked to swallow as much water as she could.

  As the moisture slowly worked its way through her system, her brain regained a bit of its Hazel-ness. She calculated that the storm wouldn’t last forever and she needed to figure out a way to catch some of the water and refill her waterskin.