Coiled Snake (The Windstorm Series Book 2) (17 page)

“So I take it most people don’t go to college?” I say carefully.

Stephen’s razor eyes cut across my face, but then his expression dulls. “We stay with our
hapa
,” he says. “Go to school in the
marae
, prepare to live and die for the good of the
iwi
. We pretend we’re Māori, but even the Māori get to pick their vocation and go to University.”

“Does anyone know? About … you know?” I lower my voice to prevent the people around us from hearing me.

Stephen shakes his head. “I’ve managed to keep it a secret from everyone but my family, but I won’t be going back for next term. At this rate, with the war getting so serious, I’ll probably never graduate.” He shrugs. “Oh well. It’s not as if I would have gotten to be an architect anyway.”

“Maybe the war will be short,” I say, thinking of my conversation with Miri.

“Maybe,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

By this time, we’ve reached the serving tables, and we stop talking as we fill our plates. Stephen suggests we take our breakfast out of the dining hall to escape the crowds. I follow him to an exit that opens onto a large ledge jutting out of the mountain, and we sit down on a rock.

As I eat, I breathe in the fresh smell of morning, flavored with the salty mist blown inland from the sea.

“Here.” Stephen rolls up his sleeve to reveal another tattoo, this one on his bicep. It’s a plain circle, about two inches in diameter. “This is the mark of a
maiha
.”

“It doesn’t look like much.”

“If I’m ever promoted, I’ll be given another ring.”

His words stir a memory in the back of my mind. “Paika has a tattoo like that,” I say. “His has three circles.”

“It’ll have four now that he’s a
kanara
.”

“What’s it for?”

“To announce our rank, and to allow the
Matoa
to locate us during battle. He has the ability, using the
hiri
, to find any warrior of course, but it’s faster for him to sometimes just focus on the
maiha
.”

“Huh.” I pull my necklace out of my pocket and rub my fingers along the polished bone. “How different is the current
hiri
?”

“Not too different,” Stephen says. “They had to alter all of our
hirimoko
, so they only added a few more twists to his body.” He lifts up his shirt to show me.

I try not to gawk at his defined chest and instead make a show of comparing his tattoo to the serpentine design of my necklace.

“Why a snake?” I ask in an attempt to sound composed.

“This isn’t a snake,” he answers, pulling down his shirt. “It’s a Manaia, a bird. It represents our connection to the wind and to First Parents.”

“It’s a bird?” I ask, stunned.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that, I mean, the Yakone—their symbol is a bird too.”

“So?”

I don’t know how to explain it to him—I don’t know what there is
to
explain—so I just say, “Never mind.”

As I watch the petrels swoop over the fiord, my mind summons the image of the Rangi warriors flying after the falcon, the twisting form of the Manaia carved into their skin. I think too about the way the Yakone initiates danced in the air, like the eagle on their flag. Both birds.

Despite myself, I picture Stephen cutting down Yakone soldiers, the way he killed Hohepa, his own kinsman. I glance up at him. He’s looking out across the water, the side of his face without the
moko
turned toward me
.
His skin is smooth and clear, his eyebrows straight, cheekbone high. Sitting here watching him, wondering how many Yakone he’s going to kill, if he’s going to die too, it’s almost more than I can stand. I haven’t even known him very long, but the thought of what’s going to happen is unbearable.

As the curve of his mouth tips upward, I’m suddenly reminded of another smooth face, another warrior who wanted to be more than what he was told.

I wish I could push Rye out of my mind permanently, forget about him and the Yakone. But the truth is I can’t. I’ll never be able to forget the people I knew at the camp, or that I saved their tribe from the explosives, or that I sold out and delivered them to their enemies—enemies that now call me one of theirs.

Back when I was with the Yakone, the Rangi were easy to hate. They weren’t real people. They weren’t grandmothers who had lost their children or sons who had been abandoned or grieving families whose loved ones had been murdered. But now they’re names and faces, people who have risked their lives for me—and I’m one of them. My name is carved on their wall. And I don’t want them to die.

Why is the world so screwed up?
There’s no solution, nothing I can do. I’m going to be stuck here while the Rangi and Yakone reel toward each other like two roaring thunderclouds.

We finish eating and return inside. As we move through the crowded tunnels, I keep my eyes trained on the floor. I can’t bear to look into the faces of all these people preparing to kill and get killed in turn.

Because I’m not watching where I’m going, Stephen has to stop me from crashing into a person standing in the middle of corridor. Startled, I look up into the anxious eyes of Jian.

“Kitara, I’m glad to have found you!” he says. “May I have a word? Alone?” He gestures to a nearby alcove, looking nervously at Stephen.

Stephen shrugs and moves to the side. I follow Jian into the niche.

“I need to talk to you,” he says, “but I don’t have much time.” He kneads his hands together.

“What’s going on?”

“After the news about Tane,” he says, voice low, “we had our spies do some reconnaissance on the Kaana.”

I nod, not sure where this is going.

“Well, they sent back something that I thought I should tell you about.”

“What?”

“The
Riki
didn’t seem to think it was significant, but I’m afraid I disagree with him. This is between you and me, though, you understand? I could get in serious trouble if he finds out I shared classified information.”

“What is it?” I ask, feeling my pulse speed up.

“Our spies took pictures of some of the Kaana’s prisoners. There was one picture that, well, I’ll show you.”

He takes a tablet out of his pocket and pulls up a photograph. Then he hands it to me.

“Oh gods,” I gasp when I see the image on the screen.

Staring back at me are Jack and Maisy.

As the cyclone develops, air rotates around the low-pressure center in the same direction as the Earth. This spinning system is capable of causing severe destruction, especially in mountainous areas where the wind is funneled between the peaks.

Tāwhaki was an ancestor of the Māori. One day while he was fishing, his brothers attacked him and left him for dead. When Tāwhaki recovered from his wounds, he took his followers to a fortified village on the top of a mountain. There he called on the gods for revenge. In response to his prayer, the storm clouds were opened, and his brothers and their tribes were wiped from the face of the Earth.

Hands shaking, I continue to stare at the screen, at my siblings’ frightened faces.

“How is this possible?” I finally gasp.

“So you know them?” Jian asks.

“Of course I know them! They’re my brother and sister! Why do the Kaana have them? I don’t understand!”

“
Lǎo tiān
,” Jian whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“We have to rescue them!”

He shakes his head and looks back into the corridor. “This is classified information, remember?” he says, still in a low voice. “You’re not supposed to know about it.”

“The
Riki
will understand! When I tell him—”

“No, Kitara, please,” Jian interrupts. “I’m asking you not to say anything. My position here is already tenuous. If my adversaries knew I shared this information with you … ”

“But we have to do something! We have to get them out of there.”

“We will,” Jian says, taking the tablet out of my hands. “But you must be patient. Let me see what I can do.”

“Patient? If we don’t hurry, they could … they could … ” I can’t bring myself to say the words.

“I’ll see if I can influence the
Riki
to send a strike team, but you need to give me time. I’m leaving tomorrow to meet with the Oya, and there are a lot of locations with higher priorities. ”

I can’t wait that long.
“At least tell me where they are,” I say.

Jian looks at me carefully. “You promise not to do anything rash?”

“I promise.”

“They’re in Mexico,” he says. “The Kaana have a prison camp in the jungle.”

“Mexico,” I repeat despondently.
How on earth will I get to Mexico?

“You have to trust me to help you,” Jian is saying. “But I can’t do anything until I get back. And right now I need to return to the council room before I’m missed. I’m very sorry about this.”

I watch, stunned, as he turns to leave. “Wait!” I call before he’s gone. “How did you know they were my siblings?”

“They look just like Hemi,” Jian answers. “And the fact that they’re twins made me wonder.” He pauses and then adds, “I’m really, truly sorry, Kitara. Remember Rangiātea.” With that, he disappears around the bend.

For a moment I stand there, unable to move. It doesn’t seem real. The twins shouldn’t be mixed up in all this. They’re only twelve! They’re supposed to be safe, back in Minnesota with Sue. How in the world did they end up in Mexico? Are they hurt? Are they scared?
Of course they are! They’re prisoners.
I slam my fist against the rock wall. I need to get to that prison camp.

Jian said not to tell anyone, but I’m going to have to. I’ll need help.
Just one person.

Who can I trust
?
Paika is leaving tomorrow, and I can’t afford to wait until he gets back. Miri? Possibly. But would she be willing to leave without getting the
Riki
’s permission? Do I dare risk it?

I frown. There is someone else I can ask, someone who just might do it.

Whirling around, I dash out of the alcove and into the hall.

“Whoa! Hold up!” Stephen calls from behind me. I had completely forgotten about him. “Where are we off to in such a hurry?” he asks as he catches up.

“I need to find Mokai,” I say.

“What’s going on?”

I hesitate, wondering if I should tell him too, but the more people who know the riskier it will be. “I just … need to talk to him about something.”

“All right then,” he says, not pressing me further.

We move through the tunnels toward
Poro E
. Stephen shows me a shortcut through the warriors’ quarters—we pass tattooed men and women perched on benches, chatting while they dismantle and clean their weapons—and we arrive in the training rooms
just as a whistle blows to signal a break.

Stephen finds Kai in the crowd and waves him over.

“What?” Kai asks when he gets close, and I remember that the last time we spoke we weren’t exactly chummy.

“I need to talk to you,” I say

Stephen gives us our space, and Kai walks me over to the edge of the large chamber. “Make it quick,” he says, arms crossed.

“I need your help.” I meant to match his tone, but a tremor escapes my throat.

He raises an eyebrow. “With what?”

“The Kaana.” I exhale, and the words tumble out. “They have Jack and Maisy. We have to rescue them before they do something terrible.”

“Hang on,” he says, holding up his hands. “What are you talking about?”

I breathe in shakily. “Jian just showed me a picture. They’re prisoners!”

“Let me get this straight. The Kaana have captured your—our—younger brother and sister?”

“Yes! Aren’t you listening?”

He frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense. How would they know about them?”

“I don’t know, but I saw the picture. They’re scared, Kai.” My voice breaks, and I have to stop talking.

“Where are they?”

“Mexico. In a prison camp.”

“Have you told the
Riki
?”

I shake my head. “Jian said I can’t tell anyone, that he wasn’t supposed to show me.”

“Did he suggest a course of action?”

“He asked me not to do anything until he can arrange something. But if we wait that long, it will be too late!”

“Tell the
Riki.
”

“I can’t do that to Jian.”

Mokai shrugs. “He’s the one who broke the rules and shared the information. If you really want the twins back, you’ll need the
Riki
’s support.”

I bite my cheek. Jian broke the rules for
me
. I have no illusions that the council will let him off easily if they learn what he did.

“I can’t stab him in the back,” I say.

Mokai frowns again and scratches his ear. “Then I don’t know what else there is to do.”

“You’re just giving up?” I cry. “They’re our siblings! We have to save them.”

“Do you have a plan?” Mokai asks shortly.

“I don’t know … We need to go to Mexico and get them out of there.”

“Just the two of us?”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “It would take a
pataria
to attack a Kaana prison camp.”

“But if there’s only two of us,” I counter, “we could sneak in more easily.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” Mokai says. “This is real life. You can’t just sneak into a prison like they do in the movies. We don’t have the resources, and we don’t have the manpower. If you’re not willing to ask the
Riki
for help then we just have to wait.”

I walk toward him, fighting the temptation to kick over the container of practice weapons near my feet. “You’re just afraid.”

“Idiot,” Mokai says. “I’m being realistic. If we went after the twins ourselves, we’d just die too.”

“So you’re willing to sit here and do nothing?”

“If I had a team of trained fighters and the
Riki
’s blessing, I’d be there in a heartbeat.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I say, tears smudging my vision. “You don’t care what happens to them. You’re doing this to hurt me, because Mom and Dad chose me over you.”

As soon as the words are out, I wish I could take them back. Mokai gapes at me like he’s just taken a knife in his gut.

“I’ll just have to figure something out on my own,” I say quickly, knowing I’m only making things worse.

“Don’t be a fool,” Kai says hoarsely. “There’s nothing you can do.”

I turn around and walk away, furiously trying to get my tears in check, cursing everything that breathes. Myself most of all.

In the corner of my vision, I see Stephen glance curiously at Mokai and then fall into step behind me. He doesn’t ask me what’s wrong, earning my gratitude once more, and I consider reneging on my decision not to tell him—maybe he’ll help me since Mokai won’t. But deep down I know that if my own brother said no, Stephen will too. Besides, I couldn’t ask him to take the risk. It’s not his family that’s in danger. It’s mine. Mine and Mokai’s.

I can’t believe him
, I think angrily.
He’s such a coward.
But the truth is I know Mokai’s not a coward, and that infuriates me. Because it makes me think he might be right. That there’s nothing I can do.

No, I’m not giving up.
I’m not going to sit idly by while my younger siblings are in danger, even if no one will help me. But I have to be smart about this—no more half-baked plans. If there’s any chance of saving them, I’ll have to use my brains. And I’ll need equipment.

I steal a glance at Stephen, who’s now walking beside me. “Stephen?”

“Mm?”

“Tell me about what happens when you go to war. What kind of gear do you get?”

He blinks twice but replies without pausing. “Standard issue armor. It’s heavy as
pueha
. Makes windwalking a real treat.”

“Why? What do you wear?”

He ticks the items off on his fingers. “Combat clothing: leather body suit—usually in black, sometimes camo—Kevlar vest, knee and elbow pads, helmet, and boots. And a utility belt to carry grenades, mags, night vision goggles, etc.”

I think of the army of leather-clad warriors descending on the Yakone camp and repress a shudder. “What else?”

“We each get a MOLLE pack. In there we’ve got a parachute, sleeping bag, bivy sack, liner, parka, ear protection, MREs—nasty stuff, that. And then there are our weapons. That varies according to your assignment and what you’re trained for. I usually have an F88 Austeyr and Beretta M9, along with my
patu
and
tao
. All in all, it’s probably about fifty kilos—say a hundred pounds—of extra weight we’re hauling around.”

Kava!
A hundred pounds!
Well, I don’t need
all
of that.

“Where is all this kept?”

“
Poro K
mostly.”

I make a mental note to get down to
Poro K.
“So how do you get to wherever you have to go?” I ask.

“We leave with our
tanga
. Usually, we go by boat and windwalk onto shore. We
kapa
are each given the coordinates of our targets, and we use real-time data about the weather, which is fed into our headsets, to chart the course for our squad.”

“I see.” We continue walking in silence, but then we reach a fork, and I suddenly realize I don’t know where I’m going. I choose the tunnel that will take us down to the dormitories, but Stephen grabs my arm, preventing me from going further. Startled, I look at him.

“It won’t work, you know,” he says, still holding my arm and looking intently at me.

“What won’t work?” I ask.

“Running off.”

I open my mouth to ask him what he’s talking about but then close it. I respect him too much to play dumb.

“I know it’s hard to think of staying here while everyone else leaves,” Stephen continues, “but if you steal equipment, they’ll catch you. Everything is tagged. They’ll know right away, and you’ll get in a heap of trouble. Besides, you wouldn’t be allowed on the boat.”

I feel my face fall into a scowl. Luckily, Stephen doesn’t know the real reason I want to leave, but this information still cripples my plans. The only way I can get the gear I need is if it’s given to me.

“How can I get assigned to active service?” I ask.

“You can’t. You haven’t passed the testing.”

“But I’ve had training. Can’t someone give me permission?”

“Only the
Matoa
, and right now we don’t have one.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.
There has to be a way.
But at the moment, I can’t see one, and it takes all my willpower not to sink onto the floor and completely lose it.

“Come with me,” Stephen says. “I want to show you something.”

He leads me down the other tunnel, back toward the warriors’ quarters. We climb a flight of stairs that deposits us in front of a doorway, and Stephen motions me inside.

We’re standing in a square room, lined with sculpted foam blocks.

“They built out from the stone to soundproof it,” Stephen says, answering the question on my face.

He walks toward an enclosed shelving unit on one of the walls. Removing a keycard from his pocket, he unlocks the cabinet and opens the metal door. My eyes widen when I see the rows of firearms inside. Stephen pulls out a 9mm pistol and hands it to me. Then he gives me hearing protection.

Grabbing a handgun for himself, Stephen directs me through a door on the other side, and we step into a long rectangular chamber, also covered in foam. At the far end of the room stand human-shaped targets. A female warrior is in one of the lanes, planting bullet after bullet in a cutout’s chest.