Witi Ihimaera - Sky Dancer

“Is that you, Arnie?”

Arnie’s overalls lay in a crumpled heap. There was a pecking movement from within. Then a face appeared — the face of a falcon. One eye was green, the other brown. Payback time.

“You should laugh,” Arnie said. “Look in a mirror.”

Skylark had a short crest and her coat was streaked brown and dark brown. Her underparts were buffy white, her breast was streaked brown, and her outer feathers were conspicuously white. She gave a short scream and discovered that her voice had changed into continuous liquid trills and runs. She had turned into a — well, a skylark.

The transformation had Arnie in fits of hysteria. He hopped out of his clothes and he just loved the way he looked. Hooked bill and grasping talons. Long and narrow wings. Overall plumage brown. He flexed his muscles and was thrilled to feel the powah . “Uh oh, trouble,” Arnie whistled.

The two rangers had arrived at the tower. When they spoke, their voices sounded huge. “Where the hell did they go?”

And there were other sounds too. New ones. Skylark’s new perceptions caught another presence coming into the caverns. Kawanatanga had finally caught up, and he was leading his seashag squad thundering into the amphitheatre.

“Arnie, quick, do something!” Skylark trilled.

Kawanatanga glided through the amphitheatre flicking at the fragile bones with contempt. The rangers watched, stunned. Kawanatanga saw Skylark and Arnie. He stalled and stretched out his neck.

Stop them! Kill the chick! Kill them both before they go through the Time Portal.

As for Arnie, what was he doing? He saw his cellphone, flew to it, and hopped out the number for Hoki and Bella.

“Mother Ship, I think we have lift-off.”

With a scream, Kawanatanga dived.

“Arnie!” Skylark yelled.

Arnie flapped his wings and enfolded Skylark in them. Just as Kawanatanga opened his beak to strike, the cathedral opened like a door. Something big and black, made up of trillions of whirling bones, came at Skylark and Arnie like a huge mouth, and swallowed them.

Kawanatanga howled his rage to the universe.

No. No. No .

In Manu Valley, Hoki ran to answer the telephone.

“Hello? Hello?”

All she could hear was a series of harsh squawks and whistles.

“Is anybody there?”

The telephone went dead. For a while, Hoki stood there, puzzled. Then she gasped, put the receiver down and took herself up to Bella, Mitch and Francis as fast as her walking sticks would let her.

“Bella! Arnie’s just called. I think he’s gone with Skylark.”

“How can Arnie go with her!”

“I don’t know,” Hoki answered. She gave an incredulous laugh. “But I think they’ve both gone through the Time Portal.”

Hoki stayed on the clifftop. She knew she was right about Arnie calling her. Just before dusk, she looked west and saw a black convoy coming across the twin mountains. It brought thoughts to her of Armageddon, of something apocalyptic, of a world that was about to descend into chaos. Hoki stepped forward:

“So, Kawanatanga, you’re back.”

With an angry scream, Kawanatanga circled the ripped sky.

We may not have been able to stop the chick on this side of the sky. But we will meet her on the other side. When we do, we promise you we shall spear her like a fish and shred her to pieces.

Hoki grabbed her shotgun and aimed for Kawanatanga. With contemptuous ease he twisted, stilled, dived and was in.

The sun fell into the sea. There was a sudden silver flash along the line where sky met ocean.

The next morning, Bella left Hoki, Mitch and Francis guarding the ripped sky and went into Tuapa to stock up on food and drink from the local supermarket. With Mitch as a drinking partner, Bella’s booze cupboard was already low, and that boy of his could sure eat.

Bella’s second call was to Harry Summers at the farming supplies store for another two cases of ammunition.

“Out already?” Harry asked.

“I’m teaching Hoki how to fire a shotgun,” Bella said. “Now I can’t stop her from taking potshots at anything.”

“In that case, I’m staying clear of Manu Valley,” Harry quipped.

The next stop was to see Lucas at the garage and return his doll. “What happened to Maisie?” he asked, gaping at the shredded pile of plastic in Bella’s arms.

“Sorry, Lucas, Hoki was mowing the lawn and ran over it. Would you like another one? I notice the massage parlour has a sale on some of its products. They have one of these dolls in the window and —”

“No,” Lucas said, blushing. “Let Arnie buy his own when he gets back.”

“That’s the other thing I want to tell you,” Bella said. “Hoki asked him to take Skylark to Auckland to get some clothes and other personal things that Cora needs. He’ll be gone for a week.”

“A week?” Lucas yelped. “Why so long? You could go round the world in a week.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bella clucked sympathetically. “But look on the bright side, Lucas. Just think how grateful Cora will be that you did this for her.”

“You think so?” Lucas asked hopefully. “You really think so?”

Bella nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Lucas,” she said as, finally, she was able to leave him and go to visit Cora at the hospital.

There, Bella’s heart went out to this woman who had come to mean so much to so many different people.

“Cora? Can you hear me?” Bella asked, as she sat down beside her and held her hand. “Hold on, dear. Skylark’s on the way to save you. She’ll be back soon.”

Cora seemed to hear her, gave a sigh and turned her head away. In profile, Bella saw the look of her dear sister Agnes, and her thoughts turned to the possibility of some connection.

“No, it’s a crazy idea,” Bella muttered. But the idea kept nagging at her and soon she was making two and two out of so many flimsy possibilities. Cora was born in Christchurch in the same year that Agnes ran away from home. Cora had Maori ancestry on her mother’s side, so could that mother have been Agnes? Looked at from another angle, if Skylark was the chick, it made sense that she should have some kinship relationship with Manu Valley, didn’t it?

Yes, and pigs could fly.

“Get a grip,” Bella scolded herself. She looked for some way of diverting her attention. A bouquet of beautiful long-stemmed roses had been delivered to Cora. Bella found a vase, filled it with water, took the roses out of their cellophane wrapping and began to arrange them. Fantasising that they had been sent by Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt, she couldn’t resist looking at the card: To My Darling Goddaughter, Cora. Get Well Soon. Love Florence.

“Florence?” Bella mused. “Who the hell’s Florence?”

Her curiousity piqued, she walked out to the hospital receptionist. “Can you tell me who sent the roses?” she asked.

“They arrived this morning,” the receptionist answered. “Beautiful, aren’t they? I had to sign for them.” She rummaged through the filing cabinet for the receipt. “Here we are,” she continued. “They came from Mrs Florence Wipani of Christchurch.”

“I know that name,” Bella said, and her eyes widened with recognition. “You wouldn’t have a phone number there would you?”

“You can use the telephone in Dr Goodwin’s room if you wish,” the receptionist said, giving the number to Bella.