Sing? What a joke. Or shall I give it a try anyway? Skylark thought.
She cleared her throat, opened her beak and remembered some of Cora’s dreadful Broadway show music.
“The hills are alive with the sound of music,
With songs they have sung for a thousand years …”
The notes were like a string of pearls, cascading across the velvet sky.I didn’t realise you had such a terrific voice, Arnie had said. The notes shone, gleaming with lustre and loveliness, carrolling out of that terrifying desolate place. When you open out the throttle Skylark, you can really soar. But was it working? No. The chicks were on top of Skylark again, and this time there would be no stopping them.
But what was this? The mother pouakai began a throbbing growl. The song seemed to have penetrated into the dark maze of her brain, whizzing across the synapses and short-circuiting all the usual connections until it hit the pleasure centre in the left hemisphere. There, a small explosion sent warm signals back to the mother pouakai. Her eyes widened with joy, she swatted her chicks away and peered down at this surprising little bird. Swaying to the song, she opened her mouth:
Da heels ar aloiv wiv da sarn or moozeec …
The voice was like a trumpet, brazen and baritonal, and so powerful that it knocked Skylark backwards. What had happened? Some long-ago writer had said something about music having the power to soothe the savage beast. Was that what was happening?
Yup and yessirree. “Oh Mum, it worked,” Skylark sobbed, frantic with relief. Bewitched by the beauty of Skylark’s voice, the mother pouakai gathered her chicks to her and prodded Skylark with a wicked claw.
More! More!
“So you want a monster karaoke sing-along, do you?” Skylark asked. “Okay, you’ve got it.”
With that, she began going through her repertoire of show songs. From Sound of Music she went on to My Fair Lady. The chicks imitated their mother, bobbing their heads and swaying along with the words. It was weird. It was awful. Like the mother pouakai, they opened their throats, trying to imitate Skylark’s sounds. What came out was a cacophony of brays, yells, trills and howls.
“Orl oi wont ees a woom sumwear
far awoiy frum da coal noit ear …”
The mother pouakai gave a gasp, crowed with joy, decapitated one of the last remaining blindworms and fed it to the chicks.
Sweeties, aren’t you just clever little things?
Skylark took the opportunity to saw through the tether again. Only two more strands to go, and then a sudden dash for that hole in the nest, and —
She was exhausted, but she knew that if she stopped singing she was a goner. From My Fair Lady she went on to Oklahoma, thankful at last for her mother’s musical tastes. When the chips were down, Mum’s show songs were coming in handy after all.
Except that while Skylark knew the tunes, she didn’t know all the words. “Oh Mum, why didn’t I listen to you more closely when you were singing your songs? I promise you if I get out of this alive I’ll pay more attention and never laugh at you again.” Ah well, she’d just have to make up the lyrics.
Did the mother pouakai notice? A flicker of suspicion shone in her eyes, and she showed Skylark her fanged teeth.
Worse was to come. Skylark was ready to drop with fatigue and she was running out of tunes.
She had no choice but to repeat herself. The mother pouakai cuffed her sternly with her sharp claws — and, oh no, some of her high notes went sour, curdled and decidedly flat. The pouakai became very cross.
You’ll have to do better than that, dearie.
Quickly Skylark sawed through the last two strands of the tether. Just in time. The mother pouakai recognised “Do-re-mi”, and as everybody in the whole world knows, there are only so many repetitions of that song anybody can take. Ruthlessly and with glittering eyes, the pouakai nodded to her chicks.
Party’s over, babies. Go get her.
The chicks were ravenous. Hopping, snapping and half flying they rushed over to Skylark for the kill. With a cry, Skylark lunged out of their way. The tether snapped and she was free. The mother pouakai spread her wings to stop the little brown bird from gaining flight, and looked bewildered to find herself outwitted. Where had she gone?
There! Wriggling down through the floor of the nest.
I don’t think so, sweetheart.
The outraged pouakai started to demolish the nest. She elongated her neck, pulling the thatching of bones, mud and branches apart. At every beak thrust she got closer and closer to Skylark.
“Help!” Skylark cried. Screaming for her life, panting and crying, she burrowed further down. The thorns and protusions of the nest scratched at her, tearing her feathers and skin. But she kept on pushing deeper and deeper until she was falling out of the bottom of the nest. Seconds later, she hit a small outjutting ledge. The fall winded her but she managed to crawl into a small crack. Gasping for breath, she manoeuvred her-self inside. She heard the pouakai approaching. Maybe if she flattened herself against the wall, her protective colouration would save her from being seen.
No such luck. The pouakai’s very angry eye looked into the crack. Blinked.
Come out of there, you little bitch.
The pouakai’s wicked beak slashed back and forth, trying to winkle her out.
And Hoki was falling through a crimson sky.
Seizing the opportunity, a few seabirds sneaked through with her. As soon as they were on the other side, fierce revolving winds swept them down an elevator shaft to the world below. But Hoki was swept in another direction, into a part of the sky where water spouts were being created. The forces at work were cataclysmic, thunderous.
“I haven’t even got a pilot’s certificate, yet,” Hoki wailed.
The water spouts coiled and spiralled like liquid snakes across the sky. Every now and then, one would crash into another and a bigger water spout was formed from the collision. With alarm, Hoki saw two headed her way.
“Time to get out of here,” she yelled.
She snapped her wings close to her sides and plunged like a sky diver — she’d seen people doing it on television and hadn’t realised it was so much fun.
A few seconds later, all light disappeared. Hoki increased her wing surface, stabilised, and found herself approaching a gateway to a region of absolute and awful blackness. Her first test was about to begin.
“I am at the threshold of Te Kore, The Void,” she said to herself. “The place where all things began. The Great Abyss at the beginning of Time.”
The gateway was ebony. Carved spirals, black on black, covered the gateway with curvilinear petroglyphs. Hoki’s blood ran cold as she saw three awesome manu Atua, guardians of the gateway, coming to confront her.
Who are you, you who dares to trespass the highest Heavens? The three God birds were six storeys high, heavy bodied with contorted mask-like heads and three-digit hands and feet.
“I’m Hoki,” Hoki answered, scared as hell. “I’m fifty nine, my address is Post Office Box 2, Tuapa, my social security number is —”
The manu Atua computed Hoki’s response. Their faces swivelled towards her, examining her closely. Their paua eyes glowed with supernatural light, and Hoki knew that her answer wasn’t acceptable. But the God birds were forgiving.
The correct answer is that you are the Hokioi, the Spirit Messenger of the Gods. But we know you like to play tricks on us, favourite bird of Tane. Pass by.