The Lost Tohunga (2 page)

Saturday

M
atiu Douglas fidgeted as the kilometres rolled past, taking him ever closer to Taupo. His father, Tama, hummed tunelessly to an FM signal that came and went as they wound through the hills. The spring rains lashing Hawke's Bay that morning were well behind them. On this side of the Kaimanawa Ranges the skies were silvery grey, and a stiff wind swept the aisles of verdant pines on the final approaches to Taupo. He hoped it would be blue skies for the next two weeks. School holidays were meant to be sunny. It was the first Saturday of the September break, and Dad had insisted on driving Mat to Taupo, hoping to see his estranged wife for a while.

The Napier–Taupo road held many memories for Mat. His mind drifted back to almost exactly one year ago, and the terrifying chase that had changed his life totally. He held his breath at the spot where he and his new-found friend Kelly had been run off the road by the minions of Puarata, the evil tohunga. But Puarata was dead now, and Mat had survived and grown. Nine months ago at Lake Waikaremoana he had been duped by one of Puarata's former allies and almost died
in a flood, but he had got through that, too. He was now almost seventeen.

Dad glanced across at Mat, a strangely uncertain look on his dark, pugnacious features. ‘Mat, do you know if your mother is still seeing that Neil fella she was dating back in June?'

‘Dunno.' Mat shrugged apologetically, feeling bad for Dad. Since that Christmas holiday in Gisborne, it felt like Mum and Dad had hit another brick wall in terms of them ever getting back together. Dad was pretty low, and on the few occasions he saw Mum, he tensed up and said the wrong thing. His parents seemed further apart than ever. Dad still worked his law practice in Napier, and Mum still taught at her school in Taupo.

The pine forests that fed the central North Island's logging industry gave way to thick brush and tussock, and then a lake appeared through the folds of the land, shining like a sheet-metal plate. Lake Taupo, a water-filled crater left after an explosion thousands of years ago that had matched the famous Krakatoa eruption for power. Or if you went with the Maori legends, a great dry basin, until the legendary tohunga Ngatoro-i-rangi had flung a tree from the top of Mount Tauhara, which pierced the basin causing water to erupt from below and fill the lake.

Remembering this naturally led Mat to thoughts of Ngatoro. Since his adventure in Waikaremoana at New Year, Mat had been in intermittent mental contact with the supposedly dead tohunga. It was eerie — sometimes the old tohunga's thoughts would spill into Mat's mind. They managed conversation occasionally. All Ngatoro could tell him was that he was floating weightless, in complete darkness and silence. It sounded awful.

On impulse, he called in his mind.
Ngatoro?

The dry, ancient voice responded almost at once.
Matiu? What is it?

Oh, nothing really. I just wondered whether you actually created Lake Taupo or not?

I'm an old man, Mat. The last thing I need is this trivia! You know how these things are: in your world, it was formed by a volcanic eruption, but in Aotearoa …

It was made by you. Yeah, sorry. I just kind of thought of you, and called without thinking.

The old tohunga tutted.
I must preserve my energies, poai. I feel so weak …

Mat winced as the contact faded. ‘Uh, sorry,' he said aloud.

His father threw a look his way. ‘Huh?'

‘Oh, nothing,' he replied. Dad knew about Aotearoa, but if he knew Mat was in mental contact with a missing tohunga, he would flip.

Jones and Mat had a mini project going trying to trace those brief mental contacts so they could find Ngatoro and free him, but they had made little progress. He was looking forward to seeing the Welshman again. This would be his fourth holiday in Taupo since he had met Jones. He would divide his time between Mum's house, and Jones's cottage in Aotearoa, the Ghost World. Just thinking about going to Aotearoa had him smiling again. Sure, he had to study and Mum would ride him hard over the exams that were coming up next term. But most importantly, he wanted to see Jones, and renew his REAL training. His fingers carved little patterns in the air as he remembered lessons and movements …
Mat Douglas, apprentice Adept of Aotearoa!

 

The township of Taupo lay on the north side of the lake. It was base camp for those wanting to ski the mountains, boat or fish the lake, go bungee jumping or white-water rafting, or try any of the loads of other adventure activities. It was also a geothermal area. He liked Taupo. Mum and Jones made it special, even if they didn't get on with each other.

Mum's house was on a quiet side street several blocks from the lake and the shops. It wasn't the same house Mum had lived in a year ago, where Puarata had kidnapped her and attacked Mat. She had left that place almost immediately, unable to feel safe there again. Dad peered up the driveway, sighing in relief that only one car was parked there. Mat agreed. Not that he didn't like Neil, but Mum's recent boyfriend didn't feel like family. Mat hoped he was off the scene, too.

Mum greeted Mat at the door with a warm hug, her red hair tumbling over her shoulders and into his face. Her voice still held a soft Irish lilt. There were a few strands of grey, and a few more frown lines, but she still felt the same when she hugged him.

Mum hugged Dad, too, but it was brief and businesslike, a glorified handshake. Dad agreed to stay for lunch, and the two adults headed for the kitchen while he deposited his bag in a bedroom that still didn't feel like it was his, with its cheery yellow curtains and sky-blue walls. He propped his practice taiaha in the corner and stared at an old easel and some paints by the window. A half-finished girl's face stared back at him from the canvas: Lena, painted from memory. It wasn't a bad
likeness, but it didn't express all he wanted to say about her. Recently they had been learning some Art History and he had tried out adding symbolism to the picture, little coded messages. A taniwha coiled in the waters in the background, and Lena's finger was raised to her lips, urging silence. He regarded it for a while, until his parents called him for lunch.

The table was awash with bowls of salads and tins of fish. Mum only ate fish and vegetables at the moment — no red meat. As usual they talked about Mat as if he wasn't there. His father gave a rundown on Mat's recent school test results. Mat was in his second-to-last year at high school, and had big NCEA exams in six weeks or so. ‘They're doing mock exams in his first week back at school, so keep him focused,' Dad told Mum.

Mat rolled his eyes while Mum nodded firmly. ‘That means you'll not be spending all your time at that Welshman's place,' she told Mat. ‘I'm expecting some good marks to justify those fees we're paying.'

‘If he goes on to university, then the costs are only just beginning,' said Tama. ‘The fees are going up more than ten per cent again next year. Those varsity heads are bigger crooks than most of my clients.' He immediately coloured, clearly wishing he hadn't put it quite that way.

‘I got pretty good marks mid-term,' volunteered Mat, to head off the old ‘protecting criminals' argument. It worked. They went back to picking over his results, which at least they agreed upon. Finally, it was time for Dad to go, and Mum shooed him off. They all hugged again awkwardly, then with a gentle surge the Mercedes was gone.

That could've gone better
, Mat reflected sadly. He noticed a
pile of letters on the bench addressed to ‘Ms C O'Connor'. Mum was using her maiden name then. She had told him she would be doing that, but it didn't feel real until you saw it written down.

Mum frowned, and visibly put her ex-husband from her mind. She reached up and ruffled Mat's hair. ‘Well, you've grown, to be sure. You're taller than me. And handsome, too. You breaking those Napier girls' hearts?'

Mat grimaced. ‘Other way round, more like.'

Colleen looked intrigued. ‘Really? Have you got a sweetheart then?'

‘We don't have “sweethearts”, Mum. We're not living in the 'fifties or 'sixties or whenever you last dated.'

‘Oh, that's harsh, Matty. I wager I get as many dates as you do. More, probably, with you being at an all-male school, and under your dad's thumb at home.'

Mat grunted. ‘It's like a prison camp sometimes.'

‘Well, after this year, you've only one to go, and then you'll be off to university. You'll have to leave home then. Which university do you want to go to? Victoria in Wellington, so you can stay with Wiri and Kelly and Fitzy?'

‘Hopefully. Wiri says that Wellington rocks.' Just thinking of Wiri and Kelly brought a smile to his face. They had married in March at a Hawke's Bay vineyard, announcing mid-ceremony that Kelly was already four months pregnant, which was kind of obvious when she arrived looking like a puffball. The baby was nearly due.

‘Come on, lad, let's go for a walk down by the lake. You still haven't told me about your sweetheart. Or whatever you want to call her.'

 

They walked down to the lake, where holidaying children were shouting and running, and tourists were peering out across the water wondering how the sky could be so blue when the air was so cold. Southerlies in Taupo carried fresh mountain-top air, direct from the snowfields.

The only unhappy faces were two Maori women, sitting beneath a tree, crying and hugging. The younger one looked strangely familiar to Mat, so much so that he caught himself staring. When she saw him watching her, she mouthed something rude and he looked away, feeling guilty.

His mother pulled his arm. ‘Don't stare, Matty. Whatever it is, it's their problem, not yours.'

They left the two women to their crisis, and bought an OJ and a coffee from a café on the edge of the shopping area, and took them down to the shore to sip. The lake's surface was dark grey-green, small waves being whisked by the stinging wind into little white-tops. Gulls tacked their way across the wind like airborne yachts.

Mum sipped her coffee appreciatively and smiled at him. ‘So, how's my boy then?'

He didn't mean to tell her much, but as usual he ended up telling her everything. He was OK at school, and he was basically popular, but he felt like an outsider at times. He didn't drink, smoke, attend church or play rugby. Cross all those off, and he felt like he had no common ground with anyone. Not when his mind was filled with Art and Aotearoa. Riki was still his best friend of course, and they were planning on getting together in the second week of these holidays, after
Riki's taiaha camp in Rotorua was over. But Riki also hung with the beer-and-dirty-jokes crowd, who treated Mat like he was a radical Mormon.

‘It's like, everyone I know smokes and drinks,' he found himself saying to his mum. ‘They've
all
got girlfriends, and spend all their time talking about them. Even the jerks have girlfriends. In fact, they get the girls before anyone else does. And the guys with cars can take their pick … Are all girls really that stupid?' he grumped morosely.

Mum smirked. ‘If you mean, is it stupid for girls to want to hang out with popular alpha males with visible wealth and status? Well, I wouldn't call them stupid. Life is like that. In the animal kingdom—'

‘Mum, I'm not a chimpanzee! I just want to fit in.'

‘Well, you're the one going off with that mystic Welsh weirdo, and spending all your time and money on art equipment and antique weaponry. Don't you think you're isolating yourself a little?'

‘If you saw the things I've seen in Aotearoa, you'd—'

Mum flinched. ‘Matty, I have no desire at all to see that awful place ever again. This world is hard enough without going to another place that's worse. I wish you could just put it aside. It's not safe, and it's taking you away from your family and friends.'

Mat looked at her. Mum never spoke much about what had happened a year ago, about her kidnapping by Puarata, and what they had seen up at Cape Reinga. He sometimes thought she was trying very, very hard to forget it had ever happened. He couldn't blame her. They fell into an awkward silence.

Finally, Mat looked up and asked, ‘So, are you still seeing Neil?' Dad always said attack was the best form of defence.

It was Mum's turn to colour. ‘Sometimes. No, not really. Sort of. Don't you like him, then?'

‘He's alright, if you like cars and rugby. He's just kinda …
ordinary
.'

‘Well, ordinary is nice sometimes. And Taupo can be a bit of a man-desert, for sure.'

‘Why live here then?'

‘Well, life is not just about finding a fella, Matty. I like my job here; I'm Deputy Head at the school now. I like the skiing and the hot pools, and there are a whole bunch of us single women I've buddied up with. It's close enough to Napier that I can see you regularly without bumping into your dad all the time.' She looked at him frankly. ‘Your dad and I aren't going to be getting back together again, Matty. You need to let it go. I'm happy enough. I like my life here.'

It was distressing how matter-of-factly she said it. He felt a deep ache inside, and didn't know what to say. His mum looked at him sadly, then gazed out over the water. ‘Look, Matty, there's a big log floatin' in the water out there.'

He looked, and sure enough, a dark shape bobbed amidst the waves, perhaps fifty metres from shore. He let his eyes mist slightly, and refocused the way Jones had taught him. Now he saw a serpentine shape sliding through the water. He blinked it away and shivered slightly.

‘They do say that there is a taniwha in the lake,' said Mum, as if she were a mind-reader. ‘They say it appears like a big log floating in the water, and it's seen before disasters.' She glanced at him anxiously.

‘It's just a log, Mum,' he lied. ‘Probably washed in from the forests.'