Battle of the Birds

by Lee Murray

  Nodding, Toa takes up his spear. It’s decided. They’ll go east. Kahurangi pushes some edible mushrooms into Annie’s hands. She eats on the move as the three run swiftly through the bush, Toa leading the way.

  The chase is on again.

  Grand Designs

  After two days of hiking, the little party reaches the ocean. They are bone-weary and hungry. Kahurangi is nursing a bruised wrist from a tumble taken earlier in the day and Annie’s legs are criss-crossed with nicks and scratches. Plus, she’s got a heap of insect bites that are driving her crazy. Several times, they’ve had to take detours around steep-sided gullies and fallen logs. Once they were sent on a wild goose chase by a befuddled wood pigeon that didn’t know east from west. Mostly though, the birds’ beak-to-bill system kept them informed of Te Hōkioi’s flight path. Annie had gotten used to saying, ‘A little bird told me,’ without giggling.

  But now they’ve come to the end of the trail and there’s no sign of Te Hōkioi — or Moana. Perhaps the raptor followed the coast? But which way? North or south? Annie strains her eyes for a clue, or at least a marine bird to ask.

  Then far, far away, Annie spies movement. A seabird flying north? She squints to block out the glaring sunshine. With a start, she recognises the tiny silhouette of Moana’s te manu tukutuku, the one Kahurangi made her, flapping and diving on the sea breezes.

  ‘Look! Kahurangi. It’s Moana’s kite. Te Hōkioi must have abandoned her on that little island.’ Kahurangi shades his eyes with his hands. Then he sees the kite too!

  ‘You’re right! It is Moana. She’s letting us know where she is.’

  Annie is delighted and discouraged all at the same time. At least, she knows her friend is still alive; but from this distance, the island appears hostile and barren, and separating them from that craggy, treeless terrain is a wide tract of blue-green ocean.

  Toa frowns. ‘We haven’t got a waka, and even if we did, we couldn’t get through that surf.’ Annie looks at the churning, foaming waves. If only Ken were here. He could fly over and bring Moana back.

  Annie’s eyes widen. ‘Kahurangi, what if we could fly?’ She points to the kite in the distance. ‘Like that.’

  ‘That little thing? How will that help?’ Annie doesn’t answer. Her mind is racing ahead.

  ‘Where did you get the cloth to make Moana’s kite?’

  ‘I made it. From the aute trees. There are plenty of them about. See?’ Kahurangi points out a couple. Annie doesn’t remember ever seeing these trees before. The trunks are thick and knobbly. The outer branches have spindly, fuzzy outer stems smothered with broad leaves that resemble snowflakes.

  ‘How do you make it? From the leaves?’

  ‘No, the kite cloth is made from the tree’s inner bark. It takes a few days and a lot of beating to make a good length of cloth. Why do you want to know? I can’t see how it will help get Moana off the island.’

  Annie grabs a stick and draws a rough diagram in the dust. This time, Kahurangi’s eyes widen. Excited, he traces a few adjustments on Annie’s design.

  They explain their plan to Toa.

  ‘Wow! That’s daring. You know, it might just work,’ he says. ‘But if not, we’ll have wasted valuable time we could’ve spent getting help — time Moana may not have.’

  ‘Ahuru and the others have enough to do. It’s up to us to save Moana,’ Annie says.

  Kahurangi agrees. ‘Besides, there may not be any fresh water or food on that island. There are dangerous fumes, though. See the white steam rising off the headland?’ Annie follows the direction of his finger, squinting again in the mid-morning sun. ‘I’ve heard that steam is poisonous.’

  ‘I’ve heard that, too,’ Toa says tersely. ‘And it’s not the only danger. The island we can see, Te Puia o Whakaari, is called the ‘dramatic volcano.’’

  Annie gulps. ‘Then we’ll just have to work fast.’

  ‘I’ll prepare the cloth.’

  Not wanting to lose any time, Kahurangi has already turned, digging his feet into the sand on his way to the forest.

  ‘I’ll gather flax,’ Annie calls. ‘There’s plenty further inland. We’re going to need it for weaving and for string.’

  ‘Wait!’ Toa shouts. Annie frowns. Moana may not have much time. They can’t afford to stand around arguing, but Toa surprises her. Instead of his usual gruffness, he sounds optimistic. ‘We’ll need food to keep us going. What say I set a couple of lines? See if I can catch us some fish? As soon as I’m done, I’ll come and help you.’

  ‘That’d be great, Toa.’ Annie throws him an encouraging smile.

  ‘Hey, Annie,’ Kahurangi calls over his shoulder, ‘look out for a solid piece of flattened wood, would you? Wider at one end would be best. I’ll need a sturdy plank to use as a beater.’ Then he steps off the sand and disappears into the bush.

  For the next couple of days Annie, Toa and Kahurangi toil, stopping only to eat and to discuss changes to their design. When they finish, Annie is exhausted, but exhilarated. They’ve made their own hot air balloon! It doesn’t have a perfect teardrop shape, and nor is it brightly segmented in flashy primary colours. Instead, it’s a bit like an upside-down paper bag, and muddy brown. Made from lengths of Kahurangi’s rough aute cloth sewn tightly with flax string, it doesn’t look like any hot air balloon Annie has seen before, but Annie couldn’t be more proud.

  Kahurangi examines the large banana-shaped basket Toa has woven. Annie didn’t expect the soldier to have any knowledge of the simpler arts, but over the past few days Toa has worked hard weaving the crucible that will carry them to the island.

  ‘What do you think?’ Toa asks eagerly. ‘I’m worried it might be too heavy.’

  ‘The craft needs to be light,’ Annie says, ‘like a seed, or a feather. And strong, too.’

  Kahurangi feels the weight of the basket, juggling it between his hands as if it were a giant beach ball. Eventually, he declares it perfect. Toa beams in pleasure.

  ‘So, Annie, how are we going to get the air under this hollow eggshell?’

  Annie grins. ‘With fire!’

  Song of Hope

  From her science classes at school, Annie knows that hot air rises. But after all their hard work, they dare not risk the balloon catching fire. So using Annie’s design and Toa’s muscle, they dig a shallow upward sloping trench in the sand, which they cover with branches. Then they light a fire at one end of the trench and place the opening of the balloon over the other. Kahurangi and Toa take turns rubbing a stick of kaikōmako against a piece of softer māhoe wood. Eventually, the māhoe sawdust catches a tiny spark, which Toa carefully shields from the wind.

  ‘I think a smoky fire will be best,’ Kahurangi suggests. ‘With a bit of luck, the ash and debris will fill any holes we’ve missed, sealing the balloon and making it airtight.’ To make the fire smoke, they throw on damp driftwood and unused flax.

  ‘It’s working!’ Kahurangi shouts. Hot air, smoke and ash from the fire are rising and travelling along the trench into the opening at the base of the balloon.

  ‘Kahurangi,’ Annie calls, stoking the fire with a pole, ‘make sure the balloon is tied down to those pegs in the sand. We don’t want it flying away from us before we’re ready!’

  As time goes on, Annie can see that won’t happen. On one side, the balloon is inflated. It pulls at the pegs, the flax string securing it taut and straining, but the other side remains crumpled and flat. After an hour of feeding the fire, Annie decides it’s hopeless. The balloon isn’t going to fly. All that effort, only to see their plan fail. She’s crushed.

  Annie and Kahurangi flop on the beach, dejected. The flames of the fire dance gleefully before them, occasionally sending off a puff of tiny sparks. It’s as if the fire is mocking them.

  ‘We’ll have to go for help. It could take days,’ Kahurangi says, finally.

  ‘No!’ says Toa sharply. ‘We’ll try one more time.’

  ‘I don’t see what we can do that we haven’t already. My h
ands are burning from pulling on the ropes, trying to keep the balloon open.’

  ‘We’ll try again,’ Toa insists, his tone rejecting any further argument.

  They begin the procedure over again. They re-stoke the fire, and this time, as the balloon fills with air, Toa sings.

  A balloon song!

  Unlike Moana’s kite song, it’s not a soft melody. Instead, Toa’s chant is loud and rousing like a haka. It occurs to Annie that it’d make a good rap hit. His skin glistening with sweat, his thigh muscles flexed, and the veins in his neck bulging, Toa exhorts the balloon to face its enemy, the wind.

  ‘To overcome an enemy, turn his power against him,’ Toa sings. ‘Let’s capture the power of the wind. Rise above him. Fly!’

  All at once, Annie grins. It’s working! Toa’s magic is working. The balloon is inflating! Briefly, she wonders what Ken would make of all this.

  ‘Quick! Get on!’ Kahurangi yells, as he throws out some of the rocks weighing down the basket. Annie cuts the ropes with the sharp edge of a pipi shell. Still singing, Toa leaps on at the last moment.

  ‘We’re flying!’ Kahurangi shouts, as the balloon lifts slowly into the air.

  Annie, Kahurangi and Toa straddle the banana-shaped basket and secure themselves to the flax ropes attached to the balloon. Salty gusts whip hair across Annie’s face, but she doesn’t dare let go of the ropes. Below her, the sea surges in huge rolling swells.

  Now that the balloon is a reality, Annie feels apprehensive. She’s never flown in a hot air balloon before. What if they’re swept off course? They have no real means of controlling their direction, apart from the few rocks stashed in the base of the basket. They could miss the island entirely and be blown out to the open sea. Annie recalls that modern ballooners use weights to fine-tune their ascent and descent. If the balloon travels off-course, they simply send another blast of hot air into the balloon from their burner. No doubt, they check the wind conditions on the internet before launching, too. Not for the first time, Annie wishes Ken were here.

  Sitting astride the basket next to Annie, Kahurangi is having the time of his life. He yelps in excitement. Unafraid to let go with one hand, he points northwards. ‘Hey, I can see Mauao! There, see! It’s so far away it’s just a tiny peak, smaller than the tip of Toa’s spear. This is amazing! It’s like being a bird, and seeing the world from a different perspective. Doesn’t it make you feel like you could reach up and touch the sun with your fingertips?’

  ‘Remind me to tell you the story of Icarus sometime,’ Annie says wryly.

  A sudden gust buffets them sideways. Gripping the basket with her knees, Annie clings to the ropes. Perhaps now is not the best time for that particular tale!

  Annie scans the island for a glimpse of Moana’s te manu tukutuku. She hopes her friend is still safe. It occurs to Annie that Te Hōkioi could still be nearby, but Kahurangi reassures her. ‘If he were, I doubt Moana would’ve been able to signal us. Besides, what use is a dead hostage?’

  Kahurangi’s reasoning makes sense, but Annie is still uneasy.

  Toa breaks off his chant. ‘I have my spear, but I would prefer not to meet him,’ he says. ‘In the sky, Te Hōkioi has the advantage.’

  As if to prove this point, the balloon falters, lurching downward. Annie squeaks in fear. Toa takes up his rousing song again.

  Escape

  ‘Moana!’

  Annie leaps off the basket and runs along the beach into the arms of her friend. They hug tightly, hongi, and then hug once more.

  ‘I knew you’d come,’ Moana whispers.

  ‘Hello, little cousin,’ Kahurangi calls from the shoreline, as he helps Toa drag the basket further up the beach. ‘We’ve come to rescue you.’

  ‘Kahurangi!’ A chubby little girl rushes out from behind the rocks and tackles Kahurangi around the legs, nearly toppling him. It’s the missing toddler from Kahurangi’s village.

  ‘Kakama! You found her!’ Kahurangi peels the toddler off his legs and lifts her high above his head, making her squeal with laughter.

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Moana exclaims. ‘She was already here when Te Hōkioi left me on the island. There were several guards — falcons — nasty mean-eyed brutes they were, including that one from the Council. Luckily, they didn’t seem too interested in guarding us closely; they spent most of their time throwing stones at each other and squabbling. They gave us scraps of food from time to time, and water. It was weird, though. They left a couple of days ago after another falcon came, and they all flew off together in a hurry. It was as if they’d forgotten we were here.’

  ‘Maybe they felt there was no chance of anyone rescuing you this far from the land,’ Kahurangi says, tossing Kakama one last time.

  ‘I guess so. Anyway, that’s when I had the idea to use my kite as a signal.’

  ‘It worked! We saw it,’ Annie tells her, as Kahurangi puts Kakama back down on the sand. The girl sidles close to him. Her thumb in her mouth, she snakes her other arm around one of Kahurangi’s legs.

  ‘After they left we explored the island a bit. It’s pretty creepy. It’s all boiling pools spewing hot smelly fumes. We’ve stayed near the beach, haven’t we, Kakama, away from the smelly air.’ Moana squats down and tickles the toddler’s tummy. ‘She’s been such a brave girl.’

  Kakama wrinkles her nose. ‘Smelly,’ she says, making them all laugh.

  Toa is shouting at them from the shore. The wind has changed and is now blowing inland. They should go. Taking Kakama by the hand, Moana follows Annie to the shore where Toa has secured the crumpled balloon. She fizzes with excitement as she examines the balloon.

  ‘I still can’t believe you flew over the water on this giant kite. At first, I thought it was a taniwha-monster rising up out of the sea. My knees knocked together so hard, my teeth rattled. Then, when the taniwha came closer, I saw it was Kahurangi waving. I thought the fumes had poisoned my brain.’

  Kahurangi laughs. ‘Well, thanks very much!’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that, silly,’ Moana says, pulling a face. ‘Of course, I was pleased to see you, although not as pleased as I’ll be to get off this island. So how does this giant kite work?’

  ‘It’s called a balloon,’ Kahurangi explains, ‘and in some ways it is like a giant kite. It floats on the shifting air currents. And all it takes is some of Toa’s balloon magic, and a fire to produce the hot air…’

  Annie stops short. She buries her face in her hands and feels the colour drain from her face. ‘Kahurangi, there are no trees on this island and we didn’t think to bring any wood! How are we going to make a fire to create the hot air?’ She sinks to her knees on the sand. ‘Some rescue! We’re all going to be stuck here.’

  ‘There has to be something we can burn,’ Kahurangi insists.

  ‘There isn’t,’ Moana says. ‘The whole island is a volcano. If anything grew here, it frazzled ages ago.’

  ‘But we have to have hot air.’

  ‘Smelly,’ Kakama says again.

  ‘That’s it!’ Kahurangi lifts the little girl up and gives her a quick squeeze. ‘Clever girl, Kakama! Moana, can you show us where the nearest fumarole is? One that isn’t too wide. We’ll use the hot, smelly air to inflate the balloon. Toa, help me pull the balloon over.’

  Together, the four of them haul the balloon up the beach to where pungent yellowy gas pours out of a rocky vent. Taking care not to rip the precious aute cloth, they manoeuvre the mouth of the balloon as best as they can over the opening in the ground.

  ‘Watch where you stand, the rocks are hot,’ Toa warns. Moana lifts Kakama onto her hip, protecting her chubby toddler feet.

  Slowly the balloon begins to fill. Toa removes the last of the stones weighing down the basket and commences his balloon song.

  Kakama is howling as only a toddler can. It’s a wonder the spirits can hear Toa’s karakia over the racket! Moana has secured the baby in the bottom of the basket, pulling the knots tight so the intrepid explorer can’t pick at
them with her nimble little fingers.

  ‘She can’t see anything and she’s frightened,’ Moana says. ‘Perhaps she remembers her flight with Te Hōkioi. That’s enough to give anyone nightmares.’ Annie notices Moana shiver.

  ‘It’s not far to the beach,’ says Kahurangi.

  But the wind drops suddenly and the basket lurches, dipping closer to the waves. It stumbles along, floating up and down; but each down is closer to the sea, until finally the basket slaps the water, throwing up spume. Quickly, Moana loosens the screaming toddler. Gripping her tightly, she pulls the squirming girl onto her lap. If Kakama were to fall out here, she’d drown. They desperately need more lift! But there are no stones left to throw overboard.

  ‘There are too many of us. The basket’s too heavy,’ cries Kahurangi.

  The next minute he’s gone, diving off the basket into the surf. Leaning out, Annie catches sight of his bronzed arms striking out over the waves. Immediately lighter, the balloon lifts in a graceful arc. It carries the remaining voyagers over the surf and sets them down safely on the shore.

  New Directions

  Kahurangi wades through the surf. He runs his hands through his bristly hair and squeezes out the seawater. It runs in salty trails down his body. Annie jogs down the beach to meet him and they walk up the sand together to where the others are waiting.

  Kakama has finally stopped screeching. Bouncing on her toes, she holds both arms up in the air, begging Kahurangi to pick her up. Although weary from his swim, Kahurangi indulges the little girl. She gurgles in delight. Annie smiles at how quickly Kakama has forgotten she doesn’t like flying! After a time, Kakama tires of the game. She toddles off to play in the sand, while they decide what to do next. It’s clear to Annie and Moana they can’t all travel in the balloon.

  Kahurangi disagrees. ‘Aw, come on, you two. This balloon is our fastest way of reaching Ahuru and the others. Imagine. We could be in Taupō by tomorrow.’ Or Timbuctoo, thinks Annie, who’s still reeling from their last brush with death! ‘Without it,’ Kahurangi argues, ‘we’re facing a five or six day march. And that’s only if everything goes well, because Kakama can’t walk as fast as us. We can’t afford that much time.’