Witi Ihimaera - Sky Dancer

What was this? A pathway. Leading up the cliff. The dawn was coming up, lighting the way.

“I worked very hard and my dream came true,

I went to New York and became a star …”

Cora tripped lightly up the pathway. She was feeling triumphant. Victorious. She reached the halfway point where there was a lookout and a bench to take advantage of the view. She hesitated but decided to go on.

Yes, go right to the top, Cora, dear. Find your mark. Then begin your song. One two, one two three and:

“I wanted to make people happy …”

She made it — to the top of path, the top of the cliff, the top of the world.

Now find a place to sit and watch the sun come up and have a smoke and get going before those damn birds start their singing.

“Mama’s got her own plans for a party.”

Giggling to herself, Cora sat down. She lit a cigarette and threw the match away. She took a few puffs and then got down to the serious business of feeling good. Good about herself as a woman. Good about herself as a person. Good about herself as a mother.

One tab. Two tabs. Three tabs. Hell, make myself a cocktail.

Where is that can of beer to skull it down with? Ah, that’s better. “May as well trash myself for good and get it over with.”

Oh no, the match was smouldering in the grass. Reach over, stamp it out. Too far, too far.

“Who gives a damn anyway.”

The tabs took effect. Something began to tickle her. Whatever it was, Cora was giggling as if the whole world was a laughing matter.

Suddenly, whatever was tickling her stopped. It became angry and jumped on her. It was big, black and it was growling, and it bit her head off.

“Oh, Cora Edwards,” Cora said to herself, “you’re going straight to Hell.”

Finally it was the dawn.

With a deep inward breath, Hoki realised something was wrong. For a moment she couldn’t put a finger on it. Then she knew.

“Where’s the birdsong?” she asked Bella.

Bella shrugged her shoulders. She stood up and looked across Manu Valley. Everything appeared normal. It was a day just like any other day. Then she looked up at the cliff, and her face blazed with grief.

“Well, nobody can hold back the dawn,” Hoki said.

Bella kissed her on the forehead. “We tried, Sister. We tried.”

The sun had come up, shockingly bright. Silhouetted against the sunrise was the ancient tree. All its branches were on fire.

“Look, Sister,” Hoki said. Her voice was hushed. Above the sacred mountains, Venus was shining in its heliacal rising. The conjunction of dawn, Venus and burning tree made the sky glow. Within the glow was an imperfection, a place where the sky was thin.

Suddenly the fire from the ancient tree found that place of thinness. It found a seam, invisible to the naked eye and began to track along it until, with a sudden flaring, the sky ripped apart. Behind was a black opening, so dark and disturbing that Hoki gave a cry and fell forward. Bella caught her.

Hoki’s attention turned to the sea.

Yes. There it is! As was prophesied, the sky has opened!

The first wave of seabirds was riding the thermals and ascending up the Manu Valley.

With a cry, a seashag hurtled toward the rip in the sky and in.

“It’s started,” Bella said.

For thousands of years the seabirds had been promised this dawn. They smothered the offshore islands and the ocean around it, waiting for Kawanatanga to appear on the ramparts of his island fortress and lead them to their deliverance.

“Ka-wana-tanga! Ka-wana-tanga! Ka-wana-tanga!”

There was a roar as, from out of the eye of destiny, Kawanatanga appeared. His plumage was like armour, flashing metallic in the early light. Some of his plumes were ornamental, glinting like knives. His head was crested and the red side panels of his face gave the appearance of an iron mask. Protruding from the mask was a long, sharply hooked bill.

He quivered and shrilled with anticipation. From generation to generation the legend had been passed of the time when seabirds fought landbirds, when the sky dripped blood and when — oh, shame of shames — the seabirds had retreated the sky of battle. Then had come the promise from Lord Tane to Karuhiruhi his ancestor, that the seabirds would be offered the opportunity of a second battle of the birds.

Kawanatanga flapped his wings for silence, and a hiss came up from the sea. All eyes looked to the east, to the rising sun.

“It comes,” Kawanatanga cried. He pointed to the horizon.

The dawn was there, travelling fast towards the land that the Lord Tane had made. Lo, it passed quickly over the offshore islands and made of the ocean surrounding it a simulacrum of another ocean in another Time — the sea of legend, the unholy Sea of White Feathers. But where was the open sky? In his impatience, Kawanatanga called out:

“Oh, Lord Tane, give unto us that which you promised.” The bitter bile of anger surged within his stomach. It was almost on his beak to curse the Lord Tane for not fulfilling his promise. However, Kawanatanga saw another conjunction had appeared. “The planet, Venus —”

Red as a ruby, Venus ascended in its heliacal rising. Like a baleful, angry eye it looked down on the earth. Its gaze struck the twin mountains and flared across the valley beneath. The words of anger stilled on Kawanatanga’s beak and he counted his lucky stars, because if the Lord Tane had heard them he might have penalised the seabirds for their arrogance.

The dawn was over. Venus disappeared. Kawanatanga saw something flickering red at the top of Manu Valley.

“The paepae,” he whispered in awe. “The holy tree of the landbirds. It is on fire —”

Suddenly, one of the branches of the holy tree sizzled like a match and lit a seam in the sky, burning it open. Behind it, Kawanatanga saw the dark tunnel back to the Beginning of All Things. He gave a cry of triumph. The air around the ocean erupted into a maelstrom of harsh squealing as seashags, mollymawks, fulmars, prions, shearwaters and petrels communicated the news to each other. Albatrosses swooped joyfully in the sky.

Huge, black and avenging, Kawanatanga stepped forward. “Today, the long-waited prophecy has come to pass,” he said. “Let us begin our great task.”

He took wing. Following him came the first wave of seabirds, silent, intent, beak ready, riding the thermals of the sun-warmed morning, ascending up to Manu Valley.

That same morning, Cora was front page news in the New Zealand Herald : Ex-tv Star, Cora Edwards, Falls From Stage

Below the headline was the dramatic photograph taken by the local reporter of an unconscious Cora being carried from Tuapa College in Lucas’s burly arms. The caption read:

Ex-television star, Cora Edwards, is reported to be in hospital following a dangerous fall. Ms Edwards, the popular weather girl on New Zealand television, was making her comeback to the stage in a local production of the American musical Bye Bye Birdie at Tuapa. During the performance, directed by well known director Ronnie Shore, she fell from the top of a staircase which had been constructed especially for her entrance number. Although Ms Edwards appeared to recover she later suffered a mysterious relapse. She was rushed to Southern Health’s regional centre at Tuapa this morning.

The story effectively put up a smoke screen against the real reason for Cora’s “mysterious relapse”. Bella had driven Skylark and Cora down to the centre earlier that morning. The surgeon on duty, Dr Goodwin, looked into Cora’s dilated pupils and immediately diagnosed the reason for her comatose state. His face was grim.