The trip to the Buried Village passed through some spectacular road cuttings where thick layers of volcanic material could be seen. The thickest layer was composed of small balls of pumice, which Hone said was mined in a nearby quarry. The ash layer from the 1886 eruption was less than half a metre at the top, showing how insignificant it had been when compared with some of the mighty events from the past.
The museum at the Buried Village had lots of the sort of stuff that Matt might find with his metal detector. However, most of them were everyday items like tools and cooking pots, whereas Matt wanted money, gold, jewellery and things he might be able to sell. If all he was going to find were horseshoes and the like, then it wasn’t worth getting the detector out of the car.
Surrounding the museum were the excavated remains of the village of Te Wairoa. Clearly the ash and mud that had fallen here was much more than had fallen back at the road cutting. The most interesting was the whare of Tuhoto, the old Maori tohunga who had predicted the disaster. Nine days before the eruption, a group going to see the Pink and White Terraces had seen the image of a large canoe floating through the mist on Lake Tarawera. When Tuhoto learned of the sighting, he said that it was an omen that something bad was coming; that the whole area would be overwhelmed. When disaster struck, the ash buried him in his whare, where he spent four days before being rescued. The world he came
out to was vastly different to the one that he’d known all his life: his village was buried; the gardens and bush were lost under tonnes of mud and ash; the Pink and White Terraces that had brought tourists from all over the world were gone forever. Tuhoto died two weeks later.
On the way back they stopped at Lake Tikitapu so that Matt could try out his metal detector on the beach.
No sooner had he started than he got a high-pitched whine, indicating something metallic. A moment’s digging with his trowel and he had it: a two-dollar coin. Three other coins came in quick succession, followed by a cheap watch that no longer worked, and set of metal-framed false teeth. By then, they were at the end of the beach and Matt’s arm was aching from waving the detector back and forth. Hone suggested they take a rest.
‘See that ridge up there,’ said Hone, sitting down on a low wooden fence. ‘That’s called Te Ahi Manawa—the place where the heart was cooked.’
Matt recognized this as the start of a story. He smiled and asked, ‘And whose heart was that?’
‘Kataore’s,’ replied Hone. ‘The big taniwha from around here.’ He paused for a while to let that sink in, before continuing: ‘Some say Kataore was a dragon, others that he was more like an eel with legs. But all are agreed that he started life as the pet of one of the chiefs in the area. However, as time went by Kataore got so big that lizards and birds were not enough to keep him fed and he started eating humans. He got bigger and bigger, and soon he would take several people a day, eating them whole in one gulp.’
‘Did he prefer males or females? Matt asked with a chuckle.
‘It would have to be females,’ replied Nan. ‘We’re much tastier than men.’
‘Yes, my dear. As always, you are right. In fact, Kataore developed a taste for beautiful maidens. But that was also his downfall. For one day he ate the most beautiful girl in the whole of Rotorua. Tuhi was her name, and on the day she was killed she had been going to Ohinemutu to be married. Well, her husband-to-be was so upset that he vowed to slay the taniwha. He got together a party of many men and marched to Tikitapu. They located Kataore in his cave over there.’ Hone pointed across the lake to where the land rose steeply from the water. ‘The warriors taunted Kataore until he came out, whereupon they attacked him. The battle raged for many hours, until eventually they killed him up on that ridge. Then they chopped him up, cooked the heart and had a big feast. Hence the name Te Ahi Manawa.’
Matt looked over to the steep land which was now covered with pine trees. ‘Is the cave still there?’
‘I believe so. That’s the same Whakarewarewa forest that you can see from our place. They do a lot of mountain-biking in there. One of the tracks is called the Taniwha Track.’
‘But there’s no taniwha anymore, is there?’ said Matt.
Hone looked at him sideways. ‘I didn’t say that. Kataore may have been killed, but if the warriors left any of the flesh around that would quickly turn into a new taniwha.’
Matt rolled his eyes. ‘And I bet the cyclists see them all the time.’
‘Oh, they do,’ said Hone, seriously. ‘Every day. They just don’t recognize what they’re seeing. A taniwha can take many forms, and you wouldn’t know it was one until you harmed it in some way.’
‘And what would happen then?’
Hone looked directly at him. ‘You’ll find out if you ever harm one,’ he replied, mysteriously. ‘I only hope that it never happens.’
That evening, sitting in the lounge after dinner, Matt realized that he would have to find something to do or he’d go mad. The television programmes that Nan and Hone watched were of no interest to him, and the only books he could see were either about cooking or famous sportsmen, neither of which he would want to read. There was no computer so far as he could tell.
‘Are there any computer cafés around here?’ he asked during a commercial break.
‘No,’ replied Hone. ‘But I can get access to a computer if you like. What do you want to do?’
‘Check my emails.’
‘That’s easy enough. We’ll go round the corner to the hotel and you can use theirs.’ He stood up. ‘C’mon, and I’ll introduce you.’
The hotel was less than three minutes away. After a brief discussion with the desk staff, Matt had a user name and password. As he sat down to log on, Hone excused himself, saying he was going to visit Jackson’s mum.
Matt could tell at a glance that all of the thirteen emails in his inbox were junk. He’d hoped for something from some of his friends back in Dunedin, but it seemed they were too busy enjoying their summer to think of him.
For a while he played some web games before becoming bored. He moved onto a bit of browsing, typing ‘taniwha’
into the search engine. There were hundreds of thousands of sites containing the word taniwha. He added ‘Rotorua’ which reduced it to five thousand. Browsing through those, Matt soon found that taniwha had once been considered common around Rotorua. As Hone said, they took many forms. Kataore was mentioned many times, but was not the biggest that had ever lived. That prize went to Hotu-Puku who was considered bigger than a whale. Matt felt sure that if one that big was in the Whakarewarewa forest, then people would be sure to notice.
Hone arrived back at the house soon after Matt. He slumped down in his chair, looking sombre.
‘What’s the problem, dear?’ asked Nan, stretching a hand out to take his.
‘It’s that Jackson. He’s not going to his aunty’s during the day. He’s wandering the streets, and Mere thinks he’s getting into trouble.’ Hone turned to Matt. ‘Mere is a solo mum. She works at the hospital all day. During the holidays Jackson is meant to go to his aunty’s, but after Mere drops him off he just walks away from the place.’
‘What sort of trouble is he getting into?’ asked Nan.
‘Mere’s not sure. All she knows is that he’s got more money to spend than she gives him.’
‘Does she think he’s stealing it?’
Hone shrugged. ‘How else would he get money unless he’s stealing it? I asked her if anything was missing from the house, just in case he was selling stuff. But she said no, and I believe her. They’ve got so little that you’d notice anything that had gone.’
‘It’s not your problem, dear,’ said Nan, gently.
‘If it’s not mine, then whose is it? Over the years I’ve tried to be a bit of a father to the boy, and I hate seeing this happen. If something’s not done now, then he’ll end up a criminal.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
Hone was silent for some time before answering. ‘I’m wondering if Matt might be able to help.’ Another long silence followed. Then he turned to Matt. ‘I’m thinking that he could be interested in your metal detector. You could take it into the forest and search for stuff that the cyclists and runners have lost. You never know, you might find all sorts of things.’
Matt kept quiet, unwilling to say anything that could be taken as agreement.
‘Tell you what, Matt. If you give it a go, then I’ll take a day or two off and we’ll go do some exciting things. Jackson can come, too. There’s lots of things, we can do. The luge, quad bikes, karts; it’ll be your choice. What do you think?’
Matt looked at Hone and saw in the man’s eyes how important this was. Despite his earlier fears, he was beginning to like these people. They were being good to him, and he didn’t want to let them down. So he gave Hone the answer he wanted. However, later, as he lay in bed, he questioned the decision. He should have told them about seeing Jackson being bullied. Neither Hone nor Nan would have wanted their grandson exposed to that sort of thing. Jackson was into something far deeper than either of them imagined. And now chances were that Matt would become involved as well.
When Matt came out for breakfast, Hone had already been over to see Mere, arranging for Jackson to be brought over when she went to work. As yet, Jackson knew nothing about this because he was still asleep. Nobody was prepared to guess what his reaction might be.
‘I’ll be gone by then,’ Hone said to Nan. ‘If he doesn’t turn up by midday, check next door; and if he’s not there, give me a call.’ He turned to Matt. ‘And don’t take any nonsense from him. If you’re worried about what’s happening, leave him and come back here and tell Nan. If you can sort things out yourself, try and do so, but don’t put yourself at risk. Anything you can do to help will be appreciated.’
Matt sat down and ate his breakfast in silence. He knew that Hone’s speech had been meant to reassure him, yet all it did was make him more nervous and think about things that could go wrong. Deep down, he wanted nothing to do with the boy.
Jackson arrived an hour later. Even though the day was already sticky hot, he was wearing a hoodie with the hood up. His face was surly.
‘Have you had some breakfast?’ asked Nan.
Jackson gave a grunt that could have been a yes.
Nan ignored the rudeness and continued in her usual friendly way. ‘Well, just in case you get hungry, here’s a bacon-and-egg pie to go with you.’ She held out a large plastic box. Jackson could hardly do anything but take it.
‘I’ve got a bag we can put it in,’ said Matt. ‘I’ll go and get it.’
When he got back, Jackson hadn’t moved. With a sigh, Matt took the box and put it in the bag with the rest of the gear. ‘Do you want to take that, while I take the detector?’
Jackson shrugged, but took the bag from Matt and draped it over his shoulder. Matt picked up the detector, and headed out the door, leaving Jackson to stay standing or follow. After a brief delay, the boy followed.
‘Where’s the best place to start?’ asked Matt, more cheerfully than he felt.
‘Dunno.’
‘Hone suggested going into the forest, as mountain-bikers and runners might drop stuff.’
Jackson gave no response.
‘What’s the best way?’
Jackson raised his arm a little, indicating a path leading to the thermal area.
Soon they were walking across the crater flat where Jackson had been bullied. The boy kept his eyes fixed firmly to the front.
From there, the track led through scrub until it reached some trees, where it opened onto a large lawn fronting several buildings.
‘What’s this?’ asked Matt.
‘Sumtin about the forest,’ replied Jackson. ‘Come this way.’ He led them around an empty building on to a track that skirted around a high netting fence. Inside, Matt could see rows and rows of small pine trees. A sign on the fence warning people to keep out had been tagged with
Juzza
and
WXK.
Matt pointed to the tag. ‘That yours?’
Jackson’s chin came out, and he tilted his head. ‘Yeah,’ he said, proudly.
‘What’s WXK?’
‘That’s Skulla’s gang. Named it after the gang’s first house on the corner of Waitea and Kaimanawa streets. Dubexkay we call it. That’s the one I’m gunna join.’
Matt thought back to the gang member with the skull tattoo. ‘Was Skulla one of those guys I saw you with yesterday morning?’
Jackson’s eyes jerked around to stare at Matt. They showed both aggression and uncertainty. ‘Yeah. What of it?’
Matt shrugged. ‘They just seemed a lot older than you, that’s all.’
‘I’m not joining any kids’ gang. Dubexkay are the meanest.’
Yes,
thought Matt,
I bet they are.
Out loud, he asked: ‘Why do you want to join a gang?’
‘Gangs rule, man. In the gang, you always got mates. You always got money. You always got women. In the gang, you’re somebody. Out of the gang, you’re nuttin.’
What could Matt say to that? It was probably true. He certainly agreed with the mates bit. He’d only been away from his friends for three days and he already missed them.
‘What about the violence?’
A flash of fear crossed Jackson’s face. ‘That doesn’t happen all the time.’
‘It happened yesterday.’
‘That was Diz. He’s always like that. That’s nuttin.’ His chin jutted out. ‘I can take it.’
That wasn’t quite what Matt had witnessed. Still, if that’s what Jackson wanted to believe, then let him.
Jackson turned away from the fence. ‘C’mon,’ he said, ‘and I’ll show you sumtin.’ He pushed his way into the
manuka, and after scrambling through the brush for a couple of minutes they came to a grassy clearing. In the middle was a big explosion crater. There was a strong smell of sulphur, with a hint of steam rising from the pit. When Matt looked over the edge, he saw that it was a mud pool. Every so often there would be a plopping sound as a gas bubble burst to the surface.
‘Hone says this is the home of Kataore. He’s a taniwha,’ said Jackson.
Matt laughed. ‘He was telling me about him yesterday. He said he was killed.’
Jackson grunted. ‘Yeah, that’s what he told me. Then he said a bit of him survived and now lives down there. He’s always talking about taniwha. When I was little, he scared the crap out me with his stories.’
Just then a loud croaking sound filled the air.
Craarrk! Craarrk!
Matt spun around. ‘What was that?’
‘That’s the cry of the taniwha. You hear it whenever you come near his home.’
Craarrk! Craarrk!
This time it was longer and louder. To Matt it sounded like the sort of noise you would’ve heard in a dinosaur swamp—perhaps from a pterodactyl flying overhead. It came again, and Matt realized why he’d thought of pterodactyls: the noise was coming from above the ground. He searched around and located the source. High in an old pine tree was a grey bird. Matt thought it might be a heron, because it had the same shape as the white herons he’d seen down the West Coast. But this was a smaller bird and the only white was around its face.
‘There’s the taniwha,’ he said, pointing it out to Jackson. ‘And look, it’s got a nest.’
‘Hone says that’s just one of his forms,’ said Jackson, smiling. ‘Sometimes he splits into two. Other times, he’s just one. And the nest is the place where he hides the things he steals.’
Matt noted the smile and felt that the ice between them had broken. ‘What does he steal?’
‘All sorts of things. Whenever you find sumtin missing, that’ll be Old Tani.’
‘Must have a lot of stuff up there, then.’
Again Jackson smiled. ‘Yeah. Maybe some has fallen down and been buried in the ground. Maybe there’s jools and stuff. We should take a look.’
Matt looked around the area. It seemed as good a place as anywhere. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Let’s find Old Tani’s jewels.’
Matt wore the headphones draped around his neck so that Jackson could also hear the sounds. He’d only been scanning for a few minutes when they got the first screech from the headphones. Jackson dug down with the trowel and found it was the tab off a beer can. He laughed. ‘Old Tani’s been on the booze.’
They found five more tabs before the headphones gave a different sound. ‘Try there,’ said Matt. ‘But take it easy. Scraping away at it is best.’
Jackson knelt down and scraped the plants away, revealing a dark surface of humus. A couple of centimetres below that, the colour changed to the grey-white sinter that was found all over Whakarewarewa, except this was powdery as if it had been ground up and dumped on top.
After scraping for several more centimetres, Jackson
stopped and looked up at Matt. ‘You sure sumtin’s there?’
Matt stepped forward and wiped the sensor over the bare ground. Sure enough, it squealed just as it had before. ‘Yep! You just have to dig deeper.’
A bit more scraping revealed deeper coloured material that was more granular. Then they ran into another humus layer, and there was the object: links of metal forming a chain.
Jackson leant over to pick it up.
‘Hold it!’ said Matt. ‘I want to photograph it.’ He pulled his camera out of the bag and took shots from three different angles. ‘OK, you can pick it up now.’
That was much easier said than done. The moment Jackson pulled on the chain it fell to bits. ‘It’s just junk,’ he said.
‘There must be more than that to give the signal we got. Try scraping away on that side.’
Three scrapes and a larger object was revealed, about the size and shape of an egg yolk. Jackson picked it up and they studied it together. The surface was black with tarnish. Jackson gave it a rub between his thumb and finger and a golden surface was uncovered. ‘Hey! It’s gold,’ he said, excitedly.
Matt took it and rubbed it on his clothes, exposing a golden locket. ‘Yessss!’ he hissed. ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ This was just the sort of thing he’d imagined finding when he was back in Dunedin.
‘See if it opens,’ suggested Jackson.
Matt fiddled with the catch without any luck. ‘I’ve got some tools back at the house. We’ll open it when we get back.’ He dropped it into his pocket. ‘Let’s see if there’s
more stuff around. Here, you have a go.’
Jackson soon found some more stuff, but it was all rubbish, mostly bottle tops. Clearly people had used the place as a drinking area, probably quite recently.
As they got closer to the old pine tree, the heron started croaking more frequently. ‘We don’t want to disturb it too much,’ said Matt. ‘Hone reckons you only find out what they’re really like when you harm them in some way.’
Jackson didn’t reply. He was busy concentrating on the scanning. As he waved the sensor back and forth, his tongue did a similar movement across his lips. Matt looked at him and saw nothing of the surly boy who’d met him that morning. It looked like Hone’s idea was working. Maybe—
There was a loud screech from the headphones. It sounded like a cat fight had broken out. Whatever the object was, it was under the tree, a few metres out from the trunk.
Jackson looked up and grinned. ‘See! I can do better than you.’
Matt was already on the ground scraping away the pine needles. Soon he had to scrape around roots. ‘The thing’s been here longer than the tree,’ he said without pausing.
The sinter layer was thinner here, and soon he was into the darker granules. A moment later, the trowel clunked against something metallic. He took greater care from then on, until he had exposed a band of rusty iron.
‘What is it?’ asked Jackson.
Matt scraped away some more and found that the metal band was wrapped around a root. He scraped under the root to confirm that it went all the way around. That’s when he saw the lock. ‘It looks like a handcuff of some sort,’ he said.
‘Somebody handcuffed the root?’ said Jackson. ‘Doubt it.’
‘No! The root’s grown through it.’
‘If it’s a handcuff, then there must be another side to it.’
‘There has to be more metal that this,’ said Matt. ‘Or the detector would not’ve made so much noise. He stretched under the root. ‘There’s a chain going down.’
They looked at each other. A moment passed before Jackson put their thoughts into words: ‘Then what’s at the other end?’
Just then, the heron let out the loudest croak yet. They both looked up. The bird’s long neck was extended so that it could peer through the branches down to them. ‘I think he’s starting to get upset,’ said Jackson, with a grin.
‘Well, he’s going to get a lot more upset before we’re finished, because we’re going to cut through those roots to find what’s underneath.’ Matt said it jokingly, yet there was a superstitious niggle at the back of his mind that said that digging any further might be a mistake. He didn’t believe in taniwha, but he did believe that at times things were best left the way they were; maybe this was one of them.