Coiled Snake (The Windstorm Series Book 2) (23 page)

At the bottom of the paper is a hand-scrawled note:

Best of luck.

— J

I lean back against my pillow. That note can only mean one thing.

Offering a prayer of thanks, I reach under the bed where I keep my things and find a shirt. I wince as the cloth slides over the cuts on my back, but the pain is manageable. Then I swing both legs over the side of the cot and plant my feet on the floor. Taking a deep breath, I stand all the way up. As I walk carefully out of the room, I notice that the other initiated girls are still lying on the mattresses, twitching in their sleep.

It doesn’t take me long to find Room 15, a small meeting room with a handful of folded chairs positioned in a semi-circle around a table. Nine other warriors are already there. I take a seat, holding my assignment in my lap.

“Looks like everyone’s here,” a familiar voice says from behind me, entering the room and closing the door. Mokai walks to the front and stands with his arms held at the small of his back.

“I know most of you,” my brother states, “but we’ll do a formal roll call anyway.” He pulls out a piece of paper and a pencil. “Kahu Toa.” The man I named Mafia at the training holds up a finger.

“Kahu is my second,” Mokai says. “He is also
kapa
, but due to our low numbers does not currently have a
raiti
to command. You will show him the respect his title deserves.”

Kai looks at his list. “Aata Toa,” he reads. A boy who looks remarkably similar to Mafia, probably his brother, raises his hand. I name him Junior.

“Hahana Rā.”

Sunshine tips her chin up, glaring at everyone in the room as if daring us to challenge her right to be here. No one does.

Next, Kai reads the names of three newbies. I immediately recognize Julian, but only vaguely remember the other two: Etera and Haimona. I rename Etera Rex because of his large head and short arms and Haimona Sneeze for the pedestrian reason that he sneezes right as Mokai reads his name.

The next two, Ihu and Palo, are both older warriors with gray at their temples. Ihu is mostly bald with large, round eyes, and Palo is eating a banana, so I name them Ostrich and Monkey. I’m guessing they’re
rohamaka
too, unable to advance to a higher rank. Why else would they be under the command of someone half their age?

“Kitara Awha,” Mokai calls.

My name draws everyone’s attention, but I act like I don’t notice. “Here,” I say.

“Right, fellas,” Mokai says when he finishes crossing off the names. “Everyone’s here, which means our
raiti
can leave with the rest of the
tanga
tonight. The ship sails at high tide, about 7:00.

“Our team has a special objective. We’re to secure a high-profile Cuan captive being transported to a Kaana prison camp. His name is Yingo. He has important information about our enemies and is very valuable to his tribe. Rescuing him will not only move us one step closer to victory, it will also help us bring the Cua to our side. But because we are not officially at war with the Kaana, this mission will be black-op. No radios. No cell phones. We will have forty-eight hours to retrieve him. If we fail, the ship will leave without us, and the
Riki
will deny any knowledge of our actions.”

Sunshine raises her hand. “Are we working with any other
raiti
?”

“Scared are ya, Hana?” Mafia asks.

“Naff off! I just don’t like the idea that you buggers will be the only thing keeping me from sucking the kumura.”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Enough!” Mokai says. “We’ll be on our own. Anyone who doesn’t like that can go get buggered.” He pulls out a map and spreads it across the table. “This is the location of the camp,” he says, pointing to a spot in the southernmost part of Mexico, near Guatemala.

“It’s built into some Maya ruins in the jungle, a giant labyrinth. It’s outfitted with top-level security. Nearly impossible to penetrate. We’ve received information, however, that Yingo will be moved ten days from now. That will be our window. We’ll go over strategy en route.

“All of you should report to the supply rooms to get your gear this afternoon. Make sure they give you camouflaged issue. Meet in the courtyard after the evening meal. Wear street clothes. And make sure you keep your passport on your person. Are there any other questions?”

There are none, so Mokai ends the meeting. I wait behind while everyone files out.

“You’re out of bed,” Mokai says when they’re gone.

“Reporting for duty,
Kapa
.”

He looks me over critically, and I stand as tall as I can. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

“They pulled you out early, you know. Because the boat’s leaving tonight. The cuts might not have—”

“Kai, please,” I interrupt him, “I’m not going to stay here.” I lower my voice. “Jack and Maisy need us.”

He looks around then leans toward me. “That is not part of our directive,” he says firmly.

I take my assignment out of my pocket and show him Jian’s note. “I have the
Riki
’s permission,” I say.

“Maybe his personal permission,” he says, “but not an official sanction. If we get the twins and not Yingo, the
Riki
will get a lot of heat for sending a strike team to rescue two kids.”

“Then we get all three.”

“Yingo has to come first.”

“But they’re your brother and sister!” I hiss.

“There are lots of people’s brothers and sisters in that camp.”

“So let’s free everyone.”

“I’ll give the orders, thank you,” Mokai retorts. “And you will obey them if you want to come with us.”

I glower at him.

“Give me your word,” he says. “I’m not taking you if you don’t promise to follow my commands exactly. It’s important that we follow protocol, now more than ever.”

“Fine,” I spit. “But if the twins die because of your
protocol
—”

“Go get your gear,” Mokai says. “The supplies are in the underground bunker.” He pushes past me and leaves the room.

Fists clenched against my sides, I walk into the hall.
Breathe
, I tell myself.
It’ll be fine. I’m still going to get the twins.
I just don’t understand why Mokai is acting this way.

I locate the stairs that lead to the basement and tightly grip the rail as I move down the steps. When I reach the bottom, I have no trouble locating the supply room to my right. Inside, a man checks my name off a list and hands me a MOLLE pack full of equipment. I flinch when I feel how heavy it is, remembering miserably that Stephen said the gear could weigh a hundred pounds. I’m grateful at least that I’m given camouflaged clothing instead of the black leather I see hanging nearby. The menacing suits douse me with a wave of unwanted memories, but I clench my jaw and think of Miri and the twins.

As I hoist the pack over my shoulder, I have to work hard to keep from crying out. But when I discover I’ll also need to carry an iron
patu
, an F88 Austeyr assault rifle, and its accompanying ammunition, several choice expletives slip past my lips.

Holding everything in my arms, I stagger out of the room, breaking out in a sweat before I even reach the stairs. I gaze up at the steps, wondering if I have enough strength to ascend them.

“Need help?” Mokai asks, appearing at my side, holding his own supplies.

“I’ve got it,” I mutter. I can’t let him think I’m not ready. Gritting my teeth, I make myself climb the stairs at a normal pace. At one point, I unsteadily grab the railing for support, but I don’t stop.

When I reach the top, I want to drop everything and collapse on the ground, but Mokai is following me, and I still have to climb another flight of stairs to my dormitory. I walk forward, focusing on each step, each breath. Finally, I reach the safety of my room, and I dump everything next to my bed and sink onto the mattress, panting heavily.

For a second, the thought crosses my mind that I might not be able to do this, but I squelch it before I start to second guess myself. Instead, I swallow down several of the painkiller tablets resting on my bedside table and slip into a fitful sleep.

I’m woken when someone taps me on the forehead. I open my eyes to see the ink-covered face of Paika looking down on me.

“Have something for you,” he says, revealing the gap between his teeth. He holds out an object wrapped in a blanket. “Seeing as how you missed Chrissy.”

I sit up slowly. “Should I open it now?” I ask, my voice thick with sleep.

“Yeh.”

I pull off the cloth and gasp when I see what’s underneath. It’s the decorated jade knife he showed me on the beach, the companion piece to his
patu
.

“You can’t give me this!” I exclaim. “It belongs to your family.”

“You’re the closest thing I have to family, girl. Besides, it belongs to your family too.”

“What do you mean?”

He coughs. “Your mum gave it to me, when we first became warriors.”

“Paika, are you sure you want to give it to me?”

“It’s a loan, love. Bring it back safe.” He coughs again and stands up. “Well, can’t stay long. Good luck, Kit. Remember Rangiātea
.
” He touches the scar on my cheek then tightens his jaw and leaves.

When he’s gone, I carefully trace my fingers along the handle’s carved lines, as if they contain a record of my mom’s life. There’s something soothing about the feel of the greenstone. As I study its twisting shape, I realize the end of the handle, where the feather hangs, is formed in the shape of a bird’s head.
Probably a Manaia.
I put the knife in my bag and take a deep breath.

The dining area is abuzz when I go down for the evening meal, everyone talking eagerly with his or her neighbor. I pick at my salad, too anxious to eat—or perhaps it’s just that my stomach has shrunk from not getting any solids for a week.

“You ready for this?”

I look up as Sunshine plops her plate down on the table next to me. “Hahana, right?” I ask, trying to remember her real name.

“Call me Hana.”

“I’m Kit. And yes, I’m ready.”

“You’re lucky. My first deployment was in Africa, but I never set foot on land. We were stationed just off the coast, and I spent the entire time in the galley washing mountains of dishes.”

“Why did they send you to Africa?”

“The Oya were having border disputes with the Biegga. They asked us to give them some of our men.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Four years.”

“Is that why the Oya are willing to help us now?”

“Yeh. And our tribes have a long history.” She takes a big bite of salad. “But like I said, not every newbie gets to see this kind of action.”

Before I can decide how to answer, she continues, “I guess that’s what happens when everyone dies and then half of the survivors decide to leave.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t you hear? Twenty
hapa
have withdrawn from the coalition. Upset about all the changes the
Riki
is making, sending out younger warriors, suspending
hapa
sovereignty. Can’t say it bothers me much. We have to make changes if we’re gonna survive.”

“Did the Tuhoe withdraw?”

“Yeh, Wiremu’s leading the thing.”

“What will they do?”

“No one knows. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“So we’re not going to force them to stay?”

She snorts. “As if we could do that. We barely have any warriors left. There’s not enough to fight the Yakone
and
our own people.” For some reason, she’s smiling.

“Are you actually happy about this?” I ask.

“You bet your arse I am.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you why—because it means the high and mighty
ahia
will have to start treating the rest of us like equals. If they don’t, what’s to stop us from leaving too? Look at our
raiti
, for example. They’re sending three
rohamaka
and an uninitiated, that’s you”—she takes another bite—“on a highly sensitive mission. That would never have happened a month ago, but now they don’t have any other choice. We can use that to our advantage. Don’t look at me like that. You wouldn’t be coming along if our base weren’t attacked. It’s a new era.”

I don’t answer. It’s not as if I care to defend the
ahia
—I don’t think the system’s fair either—but how can she speak so lightly about what happened?

My silence must get to her, because she swallows down more salad and sneers, “Well, I dunno, maybe you would have been allowed to come after all. Not every newbie is buddy-buddy with the
Matoa.
”

Again, I offer no response. It’s true that I’m on this team because of Paika. And because of Jian.