Songstone Read online

  INDIGO ROAD Teen

  Dedication

  In loving memory of Edmund “Big” Glatkowski,

  who always encouraged me in my writing.

  One

  I SLAMMED THE DOOR shut behind me. The warm morning breeze flattened my woven grass dress against my thighs and swirled my hair away from me in a red stream. Like blood under water.

  As I sucked in a soul-cleansing breath of salty air, my eyes drank in the soothing blues of the sea. The water seemed to stretch out forever before it touched the sky. How could the island spirits allow the day to be so blue, so bright and clear, when I could still hear the sounds of Matiko in his secret room, chanting his awful chants and practicing his evil magic?

  I hated that sound. It pricked at my skin, much like a sharpened bird bone piercing the back of my neck.

  I hitched my water jars onto my hips and hurried to the path. The sand crunched beneath my sandals. The morning sun tried desperately to burn a hole through the top of my head, and the scrubby trees in the village provided little relief. I thought of the stream at the foot of the mountain. I longed for the kiss of its cold, clear water on my ankles and for the cooling forest shade.

  And I heard the stones calling to me:

  Come to me. Come to me and sing.

  I quickened my step.

  Though I fixed my gaze ahead, I felt the village women carefully ignoring me. A group of boys crouched by one of the thatched huts, whispering behind their hands. You didn’t have to hear their words to know what they were saying, what they always said:

  Is she really Huwi?

  They stole a glance, but didn’t point. They didn’t dare.

  For the Huwi were mysterious. They lived in the trees of the smoking mountain, among the ancient island spirits. They protected the sacred places—and they could turn to mist.

  Don’t look into their eyes, mothers whispered, or they’ll steal you.

  The mysterious tribe with pale skin and blood red hair.

  Like mine.

  That was why they didn’t point at me. That was why they didn’t look into my eyes. They feared I’d steal them away. Or turn into mist and call the ancient spirits to war. Turning into mist would be nice...but I couldn’t. I’d tried. I couldn’t steal anyone away either. So maybe I wasn’t Huwi.

  I didn’t know who or what I was.

  The truth was Noni found me. She was just a child herself when she found me at the edge of the forest. I was a baby, crawling in the dirt, hungry. Alone. Maybe I was crying—maybe that was why she took me home. That was her mistake. When Muna, Noni’s mother, washed me and saw all my white skin—as pale as bleached bones—she screamed. Still, she’d kept me, for a while anyway. I stayed there until I was eight, until the day Matiko came for me.

  “I need a servant girl,” he’d said, and Muna let him take me. Just like that. I remembered a rush of air against my heels as the hut door closed behind me. Maybe Matiko cast a spell on her. Maybe he only let her see what he wanted her to see. That was what he did after all, but I knew she wasn’t sorry, none of them were. I supposed I wasn’t sorry either, not then.

  Sorry didn’t come until later, when I learned what Matiko really was.

  That was an old story now—how I didn’t look like any of them. I didn’t have their warm brown eyes or their thick, beautiful, nut-brown hair. Mine was straight and red.

  When I was little, Noni would play with my hair. She’d take it in her hands and let it spill through her fingers like water.

  “Kita, I love your hair!” she’d say. “It’s so beautiful and slippery!” Then she’d laugh.

  Every time Noni had said that, I pictured eels squirming in a fishing basket. Eels were slippery and good to eat, but they weren’t beautiful. Noni’s words and laugh had been a lie. I’d never be beautiful, not like her.

  * * *

  By the time I got to the stream, the other village girls were already kneeling at the edge of the rushing waters, with their backs to me. High above, Mount Tul loomed over them, watching them like a disapproving mother. Though they were crouched at her ankles, they didn’t seem to notice her scowl or the trail of smoke rising off her brow. They just laughed and chatted, filling jars or washing dresses. The sound of their tinkling liquid laughter was like a sun-warmed tidal pool.

  I wanted to be in that pool too. Laughing. Chatting.

  Smiling at one of those girls and seeing her smile back at me.

  I jerked my jars closer to my sides, pressing them tightly into my flesh until it hurt.

  You’ll never belong.

  You’ll never be one of them.

  I tried not to look, but, out of the corner of my eye, I found Noni. Today she was sitting on a boulder on the far shore, apart from the others. Her baby boy, Ruoni, nestled against her shoulder, and he grabbed at her grass dress with his chubby little fist. Noni’s beautiful dark brown hair floated past her shoulders and brushed like a veil of wispy feathers all along her waist. How pretty she was.

  Why was she sitting by herself? Facing this way....

  I gripped my jars, wondering.

  Noni’s gaze landed on me. Her face lit as if the sun had just struck it.

  Oh no. Most days she just watched silently and let me walk by, but today, it looked like she was going to wave me over. Didn’t she know we could never be sisters, not really?

  “Kita!” she called out, her smile a flash of white against her golden skin.

  Silence fell like a blanket over a fire, choking it in an instant.

  Every girl snapped her head toward Noni, their eyes wide with panic. They glanced back at me and just as quickly turned to their jars. Except for Tairua, a girl my age—sixteen—who kept staring. Her eyes stabbed me, sharp as thorns.

  I shot a glare back.

  See? My eyes are green.

  Maybe I’m Huwi. Maybe I am!

  Tairua spun away and stared down at the dress in her hands. Then she dunked it in the stream and held it under. Drowning it.

  All the while Noni was smiling—as if she couldn’t see all this, or was ignoring it—and she kept scooping her free arm toward her.

  Waving me in: Come, Kita, come.

  A cock of her head: Oh, just come.

  I ducked my chin, seething as I skirted by them, edging as far away as I could on the pebbly bank. I heard Noni call out again, and I wanted to scream at her and maybe shake her too.

  Stop it, Noni! If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for little Ruoni. Don’t let him grow up like me.

  As it was, the village girls tolerated Noni, probably because she was so pretty and loved to laugh. Whenever she spoke to me though, I could feel them drawing away from her too, like the low tide. I couldn’t understand why she took such risks. She wasn’t stupid, so she had to know she was better off without me. Well, for whatever reason, she’d called out to me, and that left me with the unpleasant task of ignoring her.

  I weaved through some larger rocks on the bank of the stream. Sheer walls of sand-colored stone rose high above me on either side, but I was so intent on my steps that I barely noticed.

  Soon I heard the sounds of water splashing behind me and the joyful squeal of girls giggling. Now that I was gone they could go on with their day, as if I’d never been there. Could Noni?

  They’d find a way to punish her, I knew. Not with fists, of course, but with the stinging slap of silence. Their rejection was cruel, a writhing thing that could wrap around your whole body. I shook my head. Noni was much older than me, almost twenty-one, and married. She had a baby. She didn’t need me.

  As the trees high above me closed in tighter, their cooling green shade swallowed me up. I stopped to wipe the sweat from my brow, telling myself I shouldn’t have let Tairua get to me. After all, if she and her frien
ds were brave, they’d hike into the shade too. The water was cooler here, sweeter, but they were too afraid of shadows. Too afraid of wandering onto some sacred patch of ground and being swept away by the Huwi.

  I glanced into the leaves above and, for a moment, I could almost feel eyes on me.... That tingly sensation of being watched crawled up my back. Feeling silly, I shook it off. If the Huwi wanted me they could have come for me long ago, right? Firming my chin, I bent and dipped my jars into the stream.

  The call of the stones was more subdued now, but I still felt the tug on my heart. I set my jars in the stream to fill with water and left them there. In an instant, I saw my stone—a long, flat boulder with its face turned upwards—catching the bits of flashing sunlight that streamed through the trees. It seemed to be waiting for me.

  Come. Come to me and sing....

  Like Noni, scooping her arm in and trying to draw me near.

  I felt a flutter in my stomach, knowing when I sang, I had to let the world around me fall away. My hands started to tremble. I rubbed them down the skirt of my dress, tracing the bumpy weave of dried grass stalks with my fingertips. Soothing.... Calling my racing heart to rest.

  I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, listening as it whistled between my teeth.

  Even if I didn’t have a friend to laugh with, I had something none of those other girls did. I could meld song into stone like old Napiro, like the storytellers of ancient days. But my songs were for no one, not really. Not like they were supposed to be, for everyone, to carry the island’s stories on forever and ever. Even so, I sang.

  I sang for the leaves—for the birds and sky.

  As I breathed in the cool, refreshing air, forest smells filled my nose: the damp scent of freshly-turned dirt and the pungent, musky scent of drying leaves. These smells reminded me of other mornings, years ago, when I first learned what I could do. How I’d sneaked up here where the trees were dense. How I kept looking over my shoulder, even though Matiko never followed me here. I remembered the thrilling pound-pound-pound of my heart, knowing I was keeping a secret from him.

  I rubbed the back of my neck and traced the pattern of tiny scars there, as pebbly as grains of sand. His mark on me. All for his terrible black magic. His magic held me always, tightening like a rope around the sensitive skin of my throat. Threatening to steal my breath if I dared go too far.

  Matiko couldn’t see me here. He couldn’t do that. He could hold me with his power. He could steal my blood—and he did, every morning—but he didn’t know about this.

  He never will, I promised myself with a determined smile.

  Feeling calmer now, I kneeled and dipped my hand in the stream. Then I placed my moistened palm on the boulder and began to rub the roughened surface of the stone in a circular motion.

  A beat thudded through my pulse, echoing in my ears like a drum.

  Power surged through me: a restless, burning fire, rushing down my arm. It spurted from my fingertips. I tingled everywhere with it.

  An image filled my blank mind, as real as the forest air and the stone beneath my palm. A flower bloomed, its plump white petals opening to the sun. I couldn’t feel the stone any longer, even though I knew I was still gliding my hand across its surface.

  “Kita” was gone.

  I was the flower.

  I was its light, fruity fragrance, floating on a warm island breeze. Flowing over rocks and twigs toward the embrace of the sea....

  Bringing a smile of pleasure to a little girl on the beach.

  And I was the little girl. I gathered the breeze, bending my arms, sweeping the fruity-sweet scent to my face. Then I began to dance, this little girl inside me, even though I never danced. Twirling around and around and around...my bare feet pounding against the hard, flat sand.

  The song thudded through me:

  O Arawea, Arawea went down to the sea

  And there she met a handsome stranger

  He took her hand; he took her heart

  They danced in the sand; they danced in the sea

  A le la A le li

  O strong warrior, O stranger here,

  do not take my daughter away from me

  O dear chieftainess, can’t you see?

  My hand and my heart has she

  She bowed her head; she gave her praise

  But send to me a song, dear daughter,

  when you go from me

  O le la O le li

  Yes, my chieftainess, my mother,

  when I go, I will do as you say to me

  O le la O le li

  O li la li la li le....

  My voice trailed off softly as I rubbed one last circle into the rock. My whole body pulsed with the heady sensation of power and satisfaction. Would some brave young village girl stumble upon this boulder one day and listen to my song? I traced the stone with my fingertips, feeling the hollow I’d left there. Would she rub her palm here, just so, and hear the words of my song in her heart? Would she too wish for a love like Arawea’s?

  I hugged that delicious thought to myself and sank back on my heels.

  At the sound of a swift, sharp trill, I sprang to my feet and searched the canopy of crisscrossing branches high above. Nothing moved. No shapes loomed over the ledge. There was nothing, only leaves, thin, fingerlike, gray-green branches, and sparkling bits of sunshine breaking through.

  Surely the Huwi wouldn’t attack on such a bright day, and so close to the village....

  Surely, it wasn’t Matiko, not here. He never followed me. Why would he? At any moment his power could snap around my neck. A shiver went through me at the memory of the last time. I rubbed the sore spot on my neck where his magic always was, chafing my skin.

  There was another panicked trill:

  Come!

  I stumbled across the rocky bank. There, at the top of a steep outcropping of rock, I spotted a brilliant flash of blue—a bird. It was a tiny hiri, one that could have stood comfortably on my palm with two of its friends.

  I squinted, wondering why it couldn’t fly. As it frantically rose and fell again, I saw its leg was trapped in a snare, the kind young boys practiced with.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” I said, feeling a rush of pity.

  I looked up the wall of rock and winced. If I fell, I could easily snap my neck. But if I did nothing the bird would die. It would stay there trapped until thirst and hunger finally took it. What an awful way to die. The thought upset me so much I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. How could I? I’d lie awake wondering if it was still alive or not.

  After taking a breath for courage, I began to climb.

  “Hello, Hiri,” I said, as I picked my way up the steep slope. I was almost to the top, when my sandals slipped out from under me. The rocks tore my palms, but I held on, barely. The bird let out another shrill cry. The poor thing sounded terrified. I blew a strand of hair out of my eyes.

  “I’m coming.” I stretched, but the snare was still too far to reach. As I hoisted myself upward, the rocks teetered under me again. I gasped and grabbed a handhold, catching my balance. Leaning into the rock, I pushed myself higher, one little bit at a time, until I was able to pinch the dangling end of the snare between my fingertips.

  “There!” I tugged downward, uncoiling the snare with a sharp pull. Then I slid...down, down, down, sharp rocks raking over my hands. I cried out and toppled backward. I fell to the stony bank with a thud that jarred my bones. The snare landed across my face, and for a moment I lay there, winded and unable to move.

  Letting out a groan, I pushed the snare off. Every part of me hurt, but nothing seemed broken. My palms were the worst. They burned and throbbed. I held them up to my face and saw several scrapes. They stood out, red and raw, against my too-white skin. Blowing on my hands to cool them, I scanned the ledge above me and saw a flash of blue.

  “Can you fly?” I called, sitting up and groaning again as my scrapes and bruises complained.

  The bird darted through the branches. With a l
ighter call, it plunged down, straight at me. I flung my arm over my face, but it was too late. The bird struck, its tiny beak piercing my forehead. I cried out and glared as it flew away. It perched on a high branch, shaking out its feathers as it watched me.

  “Why did you do that?” I demanded. Ungrateful little bird! “I was only trying to help.”

  I scrambled up and, not thinking, brushed the pebbles off my back. Not only did it hurt my already aching fingers, but I felt bare skin just below my ribs. I’d torn my only work dress. If Matiko saw, he’d be furious. I’d have to mend it quickly in my room before he noticed. When was I supposed to do that? I had a hundred chores.

  “Aren’t you glad to be free, bird?”

  The bird flew down again and hovered before me, its wings fluttering wildly. I grabbed a handful of pebbles and flung them at it. The hiri darted over my head. Singing out another trill, it flew up through the leaves and disappeared.

  I gingerly felt the aching spot on my forehead. When I drew my hand away, I saw a single drop of bright red blood glistening on my thumb. Ungrateful little bird. Shaking my head, I rinsed my burning hands in the stream and washed my face. When I felt my forehead again, I found nothing. It was as if the bird had never touched me.

  How strange.

  I let my hand drop to my side.

  I looked around but didn’t see a flash of brilliant blue anywhere. It was gone. Free to fly away and go wherever it wanted.

  The snare lay crumpled near my feet. I picked it up and began to twist it in my fingers, hating it. I twisted and twisted until the flax fibers tore. It broke in two and I threw the pieces aside in disgust.

  Seeing that the sun was much higher now, I gathered my jars. I was going to be late even if I ran the whole way back. And Matiko would be waiting.

  Two

  AS I WALKED BACK to Matiko’s house, its shadow fell over me, heavy and dark. I stopped and glared up at it for a second. To me, it was all that was evil, but maybe to someone else’s eye it would have looked impressive, magnificent even. It was the largest house in the village after all, perched high on its ledge, overlooking the rest of the village. Its walls were made from ropey, earthy-brown timbers, which coiled around and around like some great snare, ready to snap me up. Not unlike that poor bird.