Karuhiruhi could scarcely believe it. “They come to us, Kawanatanga. Who gives them such bravado?”
“It is the falcon from the future,” Kawanatanga realised. “I have misjudged him, but I will not do it again. Front ranks, prepare to engage.”
The order was given just in time, for when the swifts closed with the enemy, they used their speed to scythe through the seabirds. Those in their way were speared where they flew. Those who were alert deflected their attackers. The first blood of the battle went to the landbirds.
The second squad was unleashed. This time Karuhiruhi had his wits about himself. “Let them through,” he commanded. As the swifts arrowed closer, the front lines of gulls, prions and terns opened up. “Now close and kill,” Karuhiruhi screamed.
Trapped in a circle of snapping, ripping beaks, the swift squad succumbed.
“Never mind your losses!” Chieftain Teretere yelled from the middle of the melee. “Press on, press on.”
Kawanatanga turned to look in Arnie’s direction. “Come on, my little chickadee,” he called, “show me the stuff you’re made of.”
Arnie gave the signal for the second contingent of windhovers to go forward.
“Chieftain Kahu, it’s your turn,” he said.
Kahu nodded and with a single flap of his powerful wings took to the sky. His hawk squadron followed him, using the thermals to gain cruise altitude. Aware of the danger, Karuhiruhi ordered Karoro’s battalion to pursue the hawks and form a buffer between them and the seabird army. As the battalion did so, Karoro realised with alarm that he was being blinded by the light. He cursed that his gulls were so vulnerable. “Watch for hawks coming out of the sun,” he cried.
Too late. Kahu levelled and screamed his harsh hunting cry to his warriors. “At my command, pick your own targets and dive, dive, dive —”
One by one, the hawks banked, closed their wings, approached attack velocity and struck with hooked bill and powerful grasping talons. Flying with the sun at their backs, they swept a bloodied swathe through Karoro’s blinded seagull troops. Many were the gulls who went to meet their Maker that day.
The battle was not all one way, however. Kahu let out a cry of sorrow when he saw that two of his favorite nephews had been engaged, lost the fight and were falling headless to the earth. To his left flank, another of his lieutenants was wounded, and fighting wing to wing against four opponents.
Then Toroa and his albatross squad came whistling down from the upper Heavens — and the hawks were fighting for their lives.
Watching from the forest, Chieftain Tui turned to Arnie. “We are outnumbered. The odds are against us,” he said.
“Send in all our birds,” Kawau yelled. “Throw everything at them.”
“Yes,” Chieftain Kaka added. “Let’s do or die.”
“No,” Arnie answered. “If we lose our control we will die. Hold to the battle plan. Should the manu moana breach the windhover defences, our second line of bellbirds, parakeets and pigeons will be waiting. And if they breach that, we will have the rails, robins, fantails and saddlebacks at the third. At every seabird advance, they will find our troops. If we have to, we will field a running battle all the way back to the inlet.” He gave the signal to Chieftain Parera of ducks: “Time for you to make your diversionary move.”
“Come on, boys,” Parera quacked. “Let’s do our thing.”
Large and goose-like, the paradise shelducks took wing like bomber squadrons. Quickly they closed on the seabird front. All the way across, however, the shelducks were complaining:
“Why can’t we continue on our flight path and engage the enemy? Do we really have to pretend to be afraid and break to the right, boss?”
“We must follow Chieftain Arnie’s instructions,” Parera ordered. He kept his squadron in V-formation, maintaining their flight path for as long as he dared.
“They’re getting too close,” Arnie said to Tui.
“Now,” Parera called. In front of him was Tarara of terns.
The paradise shellduck clan stalled in the air and set up a clamour loud enough to wake the dead: “The enemy is too strong for us! They will overpower us! Head for the hills, boys, head for the hills —”
With that, Parera’s troops banked and fell away, flying towards the sacred mountains.
Elated, Tarara took the bait. “Come on, troops, they’re sitting ducks.”
“No, maintain your position,” Kawanatanga said.
But it was too late. To a bird, the terns followed Tarara’s impetuous lead. Further and further away from the seabird army they sped, gaining on the fleeing paradise shelducks. Over the flanks of the sacred mountains, around the corner they flew, across a large reed-filled lake. The shelducks descended lower, skimming the water and turned as if to make a last-ditch stand. Tarara led his terns in for the kill.
From among the reeds, the 100-strong mallard duck clan leapt up in a hail of white-feathered fury. Hissing and quacking, they grabbed the terns by throat, leg or wing and pulled them down into the water. A second contingent of ducks leapt into the fray, kicking up in single springs.
“Glink-glink,” they cried. “Come to your deaths, terns.”
“It’s a trap,” Tarara yelled. “Retreat!”
As he said the words, he felt himself being dragged down through the air. There was a splash. He tried to struggle, but it was no use. Held firmly underwater, he knew he was going to drown.
“It’s working,” Arnie said. The diversionary attacks by Chieftain Kahu and Chieftain Parera had softened the front-line attack of the manu moana. But not for long.
“Call my seashags to the front,” Karuhiruhi ordered.
Wheezing, whining, writhing, the seashags advanced like a horde of black striking snakes. With a sudden push they broke through the neck of Manu Valley.
“This is bad news,” Tui said. “Ka oti te kakati e te kawau waha nui. A shag which flies up a narrow valley cannot be turned back. Once its big throat has closed on a fish, its beak closes firm and the fish has no hope of escaping it. It will be the same with us.”
Arnie turned to Kawau. “Take a message to Chieftainess Skylark. Tell her that Manu Valley has been breached. We shall hold the seabirds off as long as possible and then make a controlled retreat. We shall make our stand at the lagoon. Tell her to be ready for my signal.”
Skylark turned her head, alarmed. Although the wind was blowing away from her, she could hear the clash of beak on beak and strike of claw against claw.
“We must hurry,” she said to Ruru.
Chieftain Ruru remained puzzled over the role of the shotgun. In following Skylark’s orders on how to install it, he had been basically working in the dark. No problem, he was used to that. Even so, he was still none the wiser about the function of the “cannon”, as Skylark called it now.
Would it work? Only one way to find out.
“Open the shotgun,” Skylark ordered.
With a sharp click, Ruru flicked the lever, and the double barrels were exposed.
“Load,” Skylark commanded.
Working in groups of four, owls placed two cartridges on the mats Kotuku and the other women had woven. Taking a corner each, they flapped their wings, ferried the cartridges up into the air and hovered over the shotgun. There, the beaks of other owls nudged the cartridges off the mats and into the two barrels of the gun.
“Close the shotgun,” Skylark said. Her voice came out as a small squeak. Her nerves were getting to her.
The owls put their backs under the barrel and raised it. Click.
“So what now, Chieftainess?” Ruru asked.