“Sorry,” Hoki answered. “I won’t do it again.”
Bowing and scraping as she went through the gateway, Hoki dropped through Te Kore. How long her descent took her, she didn’t know. It could have taken a minute, a year, a thousand years, a million years. When you are negotiating a realm where there are no signposts to time or distance, Time itself ceases to exist. Hoki was so anxious to get to Skylark that even a minute of utter blackness was a minute too long.
Then Hoki saw a second gateway looming out of the darkness and knew that she had reached the threshold of Te Po, The Night. This time, the gateway was studded with geometric kowhaiwhai, abstract representations of the galaxies of the universe.
“Here we go again,” Hoki said as another three manu Atua came forward to mediate the threshold between one world and the next. They were glorious creatures of light. They had fabulous wings, webbed with astrological motifs — suns, moons, shooting stars — and, when they approached, Hoki was prepared.
“I am the Hokioi, the Spirit Messenger of the Gods,” Hoki intoned grandly. “By virtue of the powers vested in me, I bid you to let me pass.”
We know who you are, you who belongs to the Lord Tane, the three God birds answered, amused. But if you wish to pass by, even you must state the nature of your mission. Their voices contained the music of the spheres.
“The nature of my mission?” Hoki asked. “What is this? A quiz show? I am here to save Skylark. I haven’t got much time.”
The three manu Atua shimmered and scintillated, smiling among themselves. The Hokioi had always been short tempered. Then pass by, bird of the Lord Tane, you who determines the fate of all.
“Thank you,” Hoki answered. Goodness, this was worse than getting your eftpos number wrong at Big Save. She didn’t dare ask for Fly Buy points as she passed through the gateway.
And Hoki was dropping again, this time through Te Po. As she descended, she passed through the many gradations by which night became transformed into light. Aurora after aurora began to brighten the darkness until, with a triumphant flourish, the First Day dawned.
Again, Hoki didn’t know how long her descent was taking but she was really relieved when she saw the third gateway, standing on the horizon at the threshold of the dawn. After all, she hadn’t come for the view.
Hoki sent a prayer ahead of her. “Can you hear me, Skylark? I won’t be long now.”
The gateway was ablaze. It was golden, fiery, a living representation of Te Ra, the sun. Beyond it lay the twelve Heavens, Nga Rangi Tuhaha.
For the third time, Hoki sought permission from the manu Atua to pass. Their forms of pure light dazzled and blinded her.
“I am the Hokioi,” she said, “I am the bird of Tane, and I seek permission to cross your threshold on a matter of life or death.”
The three God birds blossomed with fiery sunspots and eruptions of flames. They seemed to be taking an agonisingly long time to consider Hoki’s request.
You speak truly, Spirit Messenger of the Gods, they said, finally, and their words were sad and inevitable. Whose life is to be saved?
Hoki’s mouth was dry. “The life of my niece,” she said.
The manu Atua twirled in a kaleidoscope of blazing, molten beauty.
And who will pay the price?
Hoki bowed her head. “I will.” There was nothing else to say, really. “Can I be on my way now?”
The God birds sighed with sadness. Yes, pass by, bird of the Lord Tane, and fulfil your destiny.
With gladness, Hoki soared through the gateway and sought a swift river of air that would take her south. Once in midstream, she searched ahead for her bearings. Oh, the sky was such a huge place with so many Heavens to it and so many unfamiliar constellations. But fate was on her side and guided her wings to a point where winds met, clashed and created huge turbulence. All of a sudden, elevator winds took her upward and she found herself in the realm of blindworms. She saw glowing eyes and spectral creepy-crawly shapes pressing in on her.
“Advance on me no further,” Hoki ordered. “I am the Hokioi —”
The bird of infrequent flight? We have not seen you, oh queen, not for a timeless Time. Let her pass, brothers. Let her go, sisters.
“Thank you,” Hoki said. All she wanted to do was get out of there. But then she heard one of the blindworms complain:
Boy, there’s sure been a lot of traffic coming through our skies lately.
Traffic?
Immediately Hoki put on the brakes. “What do you mean by that?”
Two birds have recently passed our way, the blindworm said. One of them was caught by the pouakai.
Hoki tried to still her thudding heart. “Is she still alive?”
Who knows? The pouakai herself has harvested our skies and taken some of our brothers to feed her chicks. The eggs have already hatched.
“Oh no,” Hoki answered. “I’d better get my skates on.”
She went absolutely vertical, hurtling downward through the blackness. What was a little vertigo when there was a matter of life or death to deal with? It seemed a thousand years went past before she emerged again into the light. But this time she knew she had made it.
“I’m here! I have reached the paepae o te Rangi,” she said. “I am at the edge of our universe.”
Before her eyes she saw the magnificence of the Earth’s planetary system, a place centred by a radiant sun and circled by familiar planets. She recognised Venus, Vega, Antares, Canopus and Orion’s Belt. Third planet out she saw the Earth, a beautiful green and blue orb with a circling moon. As the Earth revolved, she saw the sparkling corona called the Southern Cross.
Heart beating fast, Hoki dived for the Southern Cross. She was going so fast that she looked like a comet streaking through the stratosphere. When she arrived she stilled, staring squarely and intently deep into space. She was at the right coordinates, in the right quadrant.
“But have I come too late?” she agonised.
No. There was a rumble. A roar. From out of the menacing sea of the universe, where things go bump in the night, the volcanic island appeared, making its regular rotation from the dark side of the sun.
“Here we go.” Hoki beat her wings faster and faster. They blurred as she reached the same speed as the rotational circling of the volcanic island. As the island passed by, she hitched a ride. The centrifugal forces did the rest, pulling her in and then spitting her out.
Right below her was the pouakai’s nest. Three chicks were in it.
But where was the mother pouakai? There, at the base of the nest. It was trying to get at a tiny bird huddled in a small crack in the rocks. Hoki widened her irises and her long-range vision clicked in. The tiny bird was fighting back.
Skylark.
Hoki didn’t even take time to think. She opened her mouth and a tremendous screeching cry came from it.
“I am the Hokioi —”
Skylark had almost given up when the screeching cry split the heavens apart. Surprised, the pouakai, pulled her beak away.
Flying down through space, coming straight at her was a strange bird. The pouakai had never seen anything like it. But as soon as Skylark spotted the way the bird trailed its legs, as if it was lame, she knew it was Hoki. “Oh Hoki —”
Hoki flew around the pouakai’s head, trying to entice it away. But the pouakai was undeterred — it had the raptor’s advantage of size and strength, after all, so it bent again to rooting out its prey.
“Are you deaf?” Hoki screamed. “Did you not hear my name? I am the Spirit Messenger of the Gods.”