Key to the Journey (The Chronicles of Hawthorn, Book 2) Page 6

  She sat up and checked her surroundings.

  She grabbed three small downed branches and formed a triangle. She took off her shirt and stretched it over the wooden spikes. A little depression formed in the middle of the shirt and immediately water began to pool. She reached for her waterskin, tugged out the cork, and carefully pulled one edge of her blouse down toward the mouth of the waterskin.

  The weight suddenly shifted and the contraption collapsed, spilling all of her precious water onto the sodden earth. The storm broke as quickly as it had started. She watched her optimism trickle away with the water and felt a little piece of her heart breaking. Flynn, where are you?

  I’m coming, Hazel. Stay where you are, I’m coming.

  Hazel jumped and struggled back into her wet sticky shirt as she searched the tangled trees for the source of the words.

  She knew the forest could be toying with her again, but something in her gut fluttered with renewed hope. Maybe she should stay put. After last night’s panic, she had no idea which direction she had been traveling in and if she headed off into the forest again she may be walking farther away from Flynn.

  Today she would stay put. Tomorrow…

  She’d worry about that tomorrow.

  ***

  Flynn looked around at her soggy companions and smiled.

  “What are you so happy about?” Po asked as he took off his shirt and twisted the water out of the fabric.

  “Water for Hazel,” she replied.

  “What?” He tilted his head questioningly.

  Pounamu answered for Flynn. “The water is not from the forest, so it would be safe for Hazel to drink. It is quite likely she did not enter the wood with a full waterskin if she thought she would be coming to my cottage.”

  Flynn nodded in agreement. “I don’t understand why she didn’t use the homing stone you gave her? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have it with her,” volunteered Po.

  “What do you mean?” asked Flynn.

  “I found her at the smithy’s, eh? She handed me her mother’s knife, whistled for Mr. Mango, and scarpered out of the village,” he explained.

  “But why didn’t she keep the stone with her?” continued Flynn.

  “We’ll have to ask her that when we find her,” Pounamu said. She rose up, with the aid of her staff, and strode after Zip.

  Flynn and Po jumped to their feet and scurried after them.

  The falcon preened at her wet feathers as they marched through the forest. Flynn felt the weight of the bird on her shoulder, but she preferred this new arrangement to supporting the bird on her forearm for hours at a time. She wondered if there would ever come a time where the falcon would trust her enough to fly along above her—without a leash of any kind.

  Zip hovered in midair and Pounamu raised her hand to stop the party.

  Flynn strained to hear what had brought their search party to a halt.

  A low growl in the underbrush made the hair on the back of her neck jump and a shiver liquefied her insides.

  Pounamu leaned her staff against a tree and readied her curved blade.

  Flynn took out the adze and held it in her right hand, her left shoulder back to protect her bird.

  Po silently knocked an arrow and drew back the bow.

  A huge tan and white beast burst from thicket. Powerful limbs propelled it high into the air and gleaming fangs protruded from its upper jaw. The creature loomed, easily twice the size of a large male boar.

  Po let his arrow fly and it pierced the huge mammal cleanly through the heart.

  The ground shook when the carcass landed—a hair’s breadth from Pounamu.

  “Thank you, my darling,” she said without tearing her eyes from the quivering mass of fur and pooling blood.

  Flynn’s knees gave out and she thudded to the forest floor. She dropped her adze and covered her face with her hands. Once her heart stopped racing and she caught her breath she stared in awe at Po. “Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

  “Mistress of the Hunt, Rehia, eh?” Po slowly lowered his bow and gasped for air. Flynn noticed he hadn’t taken a breath since he knocked the arrow. “She used to watch over me when I was too young to go with my ma to The Hagathorn to collect carving wood,” he added.

  “I’ve never seen one this large,” Pounamu said to no one in particular. “Young man, do you think you could remove those fangs, as well as the whiskers? There is powerful magic in certain parts of the creatures of this forest. And if any of the blood touches your skin wipe it off immediately,” she added.

  He hesitated for a moment before he moved with a hunter’s caution toward the beast and worked on retrieving the items Pounamu had requested.

  “I wonder if Hazel has run into any of these?” worried Flynn.

  “I would assume that is her reason for seeking the relative safety of the tree tops,” replied Pounamu. She reached into her satchel and pulled out a small wax-coated linen bag. “Please put everything in here,” she said as she handed the empty sack to Po.

  He completed his task, handed the filled bag back to Pounamu, and wiped his hands on the rain-wet leaves of the underbrush. He stood up and made eye contact with Flynn for the first time since he had felled the monster.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  He shrugged nonchalantly, like it was something he did every day.

  But Flynn saw the tremor in his hand as he slid his thumb absently along the scar on his cheek and sniffed at the acrid blood of the foul beast as it spilled onto the forest floor—killing everything in its path.

  Pounamu adjusted her satchel strap, slipped the curved blade back through a loop on her belt, and retrieved her staff. “Let’s put some distance between us and this creature. Other things will be attracted to these scents.”

  Flynn couldn’t imagine anything being attracted to that scent, but each day she learned how little she knew about the inhabitants of Atahu Forest, and what deadly dangers lurked for Hazel.

  The incident with the enormous beast put a spring in everyone’s step. They covered far more ground in the aftermath than they had in the first part of the day.

  “We must stop and set up some defenses. If one of those knife-fanged creatures comes in the night, we may not have as much warning.” Pounamu stopped and conferred with Zip.

  Warning? The word rattled around in Flynn’s head. There had barely been any warning at all. If Po’s first arrow had missed they’d all have been killed in a flash of fangs and claws. Then, another thought crossed her mind, “Wait, what about Hazel? I thought we were going to get to the Split Tree today. She can’t fight one of those things by herself. We have to keep going,” pleaded Flynn.

  “Zip made a poor estimate of human traveling speed. We have to stop, my darling. I can’t scamper up into the trees like you younglings. We must set up some defenses and prepare a fire—to be used as a last resort.” Pounamu hung her satchel over the top of her staff and showed Po how to create a crisscrossed fence of downed branches.

  After he sank them into the earth and wedged them against each other Pounamu sharpened the ends pointed outward with her belt knife.

  Flynn’s brain bubbled over with arguments, but when she saw the amount of time it took to get an arm-span of logs in place, she decided to keep her mouth shut and help Pounamu sharpen the branches.

  By the time they finished the makeshift fence and put the last logs on the staged bonfire, the shadows of the forest had deepened. Things that looked like simple trees by daylight took on shifting shapes in the dusky light.

  “Why don’t we light it right now, if the animals are so afraid of fire?” asked Flynn.

  “The trees also fear the fire. Thus far we have only had to contend with the strange beasts of this place, but if Tane’s children turn on us—we will be as lost as Hazel.”

  ***

  Flynn hadn’t arrived, as Hazel had hoped. The message had felt so real. Now she had no food, no water, and no idea if she p
ossessed the strength to climb to safety for the night.

  The instinct to survive won out and she inched her way up a stocky trunk. Both of her legs ached so she played the beetle bug game to decide which leg to cinch to the branch. She danced her pointer finger back and forth from her left leg to her right leg as she recited the childhood chant.

  Beetle bug, beetle bug, how would I know,

  Who to choose and which way to go?

  Flap your wings and show me the way,

  I need to pick the best one on this day.

  You said this is the very best one.

  Her finger landed on her right leg, so she strapped the belt around that leg and the branch. Rumbles and snarls drifted up from below and made her heart thud in her chest. However, fear could not keep her awake tonight, the stress of her predicament and her lack of food brought a weakness, which led to broken sleep.

  ***

  Flynn waited until her turn came to take watch. As soon as her companions dozed she risked their safety and her own as she reached into her satchel and touched Hazel’s tunic. She pushed worry from her mind and focused all her thoughts on Hazel—seeing Hazel—comforting Hazel—talking to Hazel—finding Hazel in Dreamwood Forest.

  “Hazel!” Flynn covered her mouth with one hand. She quickly discovered neither body part had any substance. Her physical body remained back at the camp. Somehow she had traveled through the astral plane—to Hazel.

  “Flynn?” Hazel’s parched throat cracked and her eyes burned with sadness. “The cruelty of this forest knowss no bounds,” she mumbled.

  “No, Hazel, it’s really me. I’m here—well, not exactly here,” Flynn pointed to Hazel’s tree, “but I’m in the forest and we’re coming for you.”

  “I can’t last much longer, Flynn. Please tell me this isn’t a vision—please.” Hazel wiped at her tearless eyes and drew a ragged breath through her parched lips.

  “It’s real, I think I accidentally astral traveled, or something,” replied Flynn.

  “That does sound like something you’d do,” said Hazel. “But these trees know everything. They knew my father’s special name for me, so how can I be sure?”

  Flynn’s mind raced. There had to be a way to convince Hazel. “Oh, I know. You said the forest fills your mind with beautiful dreams, so you never want to leave—”

  “The forest would know I said that,” interrupted Hazel.

  “Right, but what if I share something terrible? The forest wouldn’t give you a bad memory, right?” Flynn hoped this would work.

  “I guess,” admitted Hazel.

  “All right. Remember the day we fought about the Wand of Temarama, in the woods by Mata Crossing?”

  A speck of hope glistened in Hazel’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “I’m talking about the worst fight we ever had, and you were so mad that I said that I should’ve been given the homing stone—”

  “The homing stone!” Hazel thunked herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I left it at home, locked in my waka huia, my treasure box.”

  Flynn smiled and nodded, “Do you believe me now?”

  Hazel looked at the flickering, floating image of her best friend and nodded slowly. “I want to.”

  “Good, then stay here, in this tree, and listen for the call of the karearea. I’m coming for you, Hazel. I promise.” Flynn floated closer and kissed the top of her friend’s head.

  Hazel’s fingers touched the patch of her scalp where she felt a cold shiver in spite of the suffocating heat.

  ***

  A hand clutched Flynn’s shoulder and a voice hissed in her ear, “What do you think you’re doing, child? You will bring the wrath of Tane Mahuta himself down upon us.”

  Flynn’s eyes flew open in the darkness and it took her a moment to get her bearings. “Auntie?”

  Pounamu clutched the girl’s arms and studied her face. “What did you do?”

  “I accidentally astral traveled, I think. I talked to Hazel, and I told her to wait for us. She’s alive, but she’s so weak.” Flynn wiped a tear from her cheek and hoped that she had convinced Hazel to stay put.

  “You’re sure it wasn’t a dream?” questioned Pounamu.

  “I’m sure, well, pretty sure. I’ve never done that before, but it felt like the real Hazel.” Flynn thought for a moment. “Ah ha, I can prove it. I asked her why she didn’t have the homing stone and she said she had left it at home in her waka huia.”

  “I believe you, my darling. I’m simply trying to work out how you could use magick within the boundaries of Atahu Forest, and survive.” Pounamu absently rubbed Flynn’s hand between her fingers. “You are a most curious puzzle, sweet child.”

  The dim grey light of dawn filtered through the canopy and Flynn jumped up to wake Po. “Come on, sleepy head, today we find Hazel.”

  They each ate a bit of dried meat, dried mango, and stale bread.

  Flynn shared a piece of her dried meat with the falcon, and to her great surprise the bird gobbled it up without hesitation.

  They broke camp and Zip appeared out of the shapeless depths to lead them onward.

  Eager to get to Hazel, Flynn pushed the pace. She stayed right behind Zip and urged him onward each time he slowed.

  They reached the Split Tree by midday.

  Flynn gave the short rapid call of the karearea. Her falcon echoed the call.

  No Hazel.

  “I don’t understand. I told her to wait,” shouted Flynn, into the thicket.

  “Quiet, my darling. We do not need to alert everything to our presence.” Pounamu leaned on her staff and added, “Remember a full day passed from the time you saw her in the scrying dish by the Split Tree until you spoke to her last night in the astral plane.”

  Flynn nodded, but did not understand.

  “Most likely she moved from the place we saw her to the place where you spoke to her, but perhaps not far. Describe the place to Zip.” She patted Flynn’s shoulder. “Do not give up hope.”

  Flynn plopped down on the damp earth and closed her eyes. She worked to remember any details from her astral travel. It had been dark and she had been so excited to see Hazel, she hadn’t looked around. Before she knew what had happened, she traveled there—again.

  Hazel hung awkwardly from the leg that tethered her to the tree.

  Flynn shouted, but Hazel did not wake up. She grew concerned that her friend might not be asleep, but unconscious. Focus, focus. She looked around and made mental notes of any strange trees or twisted limbs.

  Pounamu’s hand shaking her shoulder jolted Flynn back into her body.

  Zip buzzed close to Pounamu’s ear and she nodded vigorously. “I too am baffled, my winged friend.”

  Flynn blinked rapidly and recited everything she could remember. “Seven trees in a circle. One tree has a thick limb missing. A large stone sits in the mid—”

  “The faery circle!” Zip shouted. “It’s not far, and better still, for you humans, it is quite close to the Barren Hills side of the forest.”

  Flynn situated the falcon and ran ahead. “Hurry Zip, I think she’s unconscious.”

  He whizzed past Flynn and took the lead.

  For once he had an accurate grasp of distance.

  Flynn burst into the circle. “Hazel, Hazel,” she whisper-shouted.

  Po crashed past her, scampered up the tree with his hands and feet, unfastened Hazel, and drooped her over his shoulder. He held her with one arm while he slid down the tree with his legs wrapped tightly around the trunk. He hit the ground with a thud. Blood trickled from the inside of his right arm where he had scraped it on the tree.

  Flynn raced to Hazel. She poured water into Hazel’s slack mouth before Pounamu grabbed her arm and pulled the waterskin away.

  “Careful, my darling. You can’t force water down her throat if she’s not responding.” She turned to Zip and said, “Bring me a corpse flower.”

  “Is she dead?” Flynn grabbed her auntie’s arm in panic.

  “No
, she still lives. The flower will wake her; it gets its name from its terrible odor. They say it can wake the dead.”

  Zip returned in a flash with a huge purple bloom. He held it in one hand and pinched his miniature nose with his other.

  Flynn and Po could smell why. They both covered their noses.

  Pounamu pinched the bottom tip of the flower and pointed it way from her face. She knelt down next to Hazel and fanned the flower back and forth.

  Hazel did not move. Her pale skin reflected the green of the forest and her arms lay motionless at her sides.

  Flynn’s eyes grew wet. She blinked back tears.

  “Come, my child.” Pounamu motioned for Flynn to kneel next to Hazel.

  She crept to her friend’s side.

  “Place your right hand here,” Pounamu laid Flynn’s hand in the middle of Hazel’s chest. “Now listen to my voice and do exactly as I say.”

  She nodded at her auntie.

  “Feel your heart beating in your chest.”

  She did.

  “Feel the life force flowing through your body.”

  She could.

  “Push some of that life force through your hand and into Hazel.”

  Her hand tingled. She was.

  “Now, feel her heart beating.”

  She did.

  Hazel’s bloodless eyelids fluttered open. “You found me,” she muttered. They slowly drifted shut, but her chest moved up and down with shallow breaths.

  Pounamu looked at Po’s injuries and bit her lip for a moment. “Can you carry her to the edge of the wood, Po?” She needed to get beyond the boundaries of Atahu before she could use her own healing magick on the child—on either of them.

  In answer, Po gently scooped Hazel up and over his left shoulder.

  Flynn snatched his bow and quiver from the ground where he had tossed them as he leapt up the tree earlier, to save Hazel.

  Zip quickly led them to safety—outside the borders of the deadly forest.

  Pounamu beckoned a passing dragonfly and sent a message to Elenora, Priestess of Hokitika Haven. “Tell her one of the children of Toki is in need of water and a moa. Make haste.”