Witi Ihimaera - Sky Dancer

Arnie was going out of his mind with terror. He stared wide-eyed into that black universe and began to sob.

“What’s wrong, Arnie?”

“The darkness,” Arnie whispered. “Have I ever told you that I’ve always hated the dark? My foster parents used to throw me into a cupboard and lock the door and —”

“Sssh now,” Skylark soothed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything harm you.”

But Arnie was rigid and sweating with fright.

“I can hear things moving around us,” he whimpered. “They’ve come to get us. Can’t you hear? Can’t you hear them?”

Indeed, Skylark could hear the sliding, the hissing, the scraping as things with scales slid closer and closer. Quickly, she fumbled among her feathers, found her prize, and struck it. The match flared, a glowing light of comfort. The darkness erupted with screams as creatures with thousands of blind eyes shrank away from the light. When they screamed, Skylark screamed too. But Arnie began to gibber with gladness.

“Skylark! You brought the matchbox!”

“No, but I’ve got six matches. They’re under my wings. So hold on tight, Arnie, because I’m getting us out of here — and quick.”

Holding the match in her beak, Skylark closed her wings and hoped that gravity worked here. How could you tell with all this blackness? As she descended, she pulled Arnie down with her. His imagination was still working overtime. When the match went out, he gave a moan of horror and clung to her like a drowning man.

“I dreaded being put into the cupboard,” he said. “I used to yell and cry but nobody came to get me out. And then spiders, snakes and scorpions came to crawl all over me —”

“Sssh,” Skylark soothed. All around her the whispering had started. The blindworms were talking to each other. What are these two birds doing here? This is not their domain. Are you hungry, my sisters? When was the last time we ate, my brothers? Oh, let us keep them here with us. Grab them while they are unaware. Do it now.

Skylark struck the second match.

“They’re all around us,” Arnie screamed.

“Coming through,” Skylark roared. Down and down she pulled him, slashing out at the thousands and thousands of blindworms with their opaque shining eyes. The second match winked out. The creatures made a rush at them, and again Arnie started to blubber.

With quivering hands, Skylark lit the third match. Arnie had grabbed her around the neck and his tight hold was strangling her. “Arnie! Arnie —”

“We’re never going to get out of here, never. We’ll be lost in the dark forever.”

They were still descending, but there were no lights anywhere below them. And the creatures in the darkness were bolder now, coming closer, sliding after them, crowding in, taking away the air.

“Get back! Get back.” Skylark yelled.

A few seconds later, she struck the fourth match. Then the fifth.

One of the blindworms came close, pursed its scabrous lips and blew it out.

Now’s our chance. Attack, my brothers. Ambush them, my sisters. Cover them, weigh them down, go into all their openings and eat them from the inside. Quick.

“One more match to go,” Skylark said. She stopped herself from saying aloud the obvious next question: “And when it goes out, what then?” Instead she started to sing:

“Mud, mud, glorious mud, nothing quite like it for soothing the blood,

So follow me, follow, down to the hollow, and there let us wallow

In glorious mud.”

It was such a silly song and Arnie couldn’t understand. “How can you sing at a time like this?”

Then he saw stars below.

“We’ve made it, Skylark!” Arnie yelped. “We’ve made it!”

The blindworms gave a loud scream of anger. Grab them. Pull them back. Don’t let them get away. Shuddering, Skylark fought her way through them and plummeted down, dragging Arnie with her.

“I wouldn’t want to do that again,” she said. She looked around, taking her bearings.

They were back in the universe and way over on the horizon were five stars. The Southern Cross.

“It’s still there!” Arnie cried.

“And the Time Portal hasn’t closed yet!”

The lights were still winking on and off, on and off.

Before Skylark could stop him, Arnie went hurtling across the universe, dropping through the well of the night sky. All he wanted to do was be in the light.

“Wait for me!” Skylark laughed. Boys were all the same. Always in a hurry. She folded her wings and dived after him. Caught up in the thrill of the chase, she registered only dimly at first a shadow that cut across the Milky Way, looming out from behind Pluto. It looked like a dark island, spinning in space, coming closer and closer out of the luminous sea of the universe. As it approached, the whole universe began to vibrate. Warning bells began to clang in Skylark’s head. Something that Lottie had said to her, just before she pushed her out of the plane:

Whatever you do, do not let the winds of the Heavens take you up into the uppermost reaches of the sky. If they do, pray very hard. And, above all, don’t go anywhere near the volcanic island where the giant pouakai lives. Otherwise …

Skylark’s heart began to pump very hard. “Please God, please make the island just a nice, cute, desert island with a palm tree on it and no sign of anything that looks remotely like a volcano, please God —”

But the island wasn’t nice or cute, and there were no palm trees in sight. Instead, as it loomed closer it revolved and, as it rolled, a huge volcano loomed out of the dark side. Sometimes in life, luck runs out. As the volcano came closer, Skylark saw something looking over the rim. Two crimson eyes with cruel black facets, watching Arnie as he fluttered erratically by. The face was straight out of Aliens 1, 2 and 3 and Alien Resurrection. With a terrifying rush, the creature slithered and scrambled up to the rim to take a better look.

Skylark’s heart stopped. The pouakai. She back-pedalled like crazy, knowing that it had not seen her.

Standing on the crater’s edge, the giant ogre bird was a terrifying sight. In that world of birds it was the size of a jumbo jet. Its body was entirely covered with scales. Iridescent colours flashed off its metallic hide. Through its multi-faceted eyes it calibrated Arnie and locked on to him. Silently it opened its wings, became a tattooed pterodactyl, a terrifying flying alligator. It smelt Arnie’s blood and began to hunt.

Terrified as she was. Skylark moved in behind the pouakai. Her brain was racing. What could she do? She couldn’t stand by and watch Arnie being eaten, not when they were so close to home.

“Arnie, watch your back!”

But he was too far ahead and did not hear her warning cry. Nor did he know he was being hunted until the raptor was right onto him. He felt its breath, heard its clamouring hide. He turned, saw the pouakai and its cruel wide-open beak, and knew it was certain death.

Then Skylark came speeding from behind the pouakai.

“No, Skylark, don’t,” Arnie yelled. “Save yourself.”

All I have to do, Skylark thought, is lure the pouakai away. That will leave Arnie time to reach the portal. Then I can make a U-turn and join him just before it closes. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.

She zoomed in front of the pouakai, faced off, and stopped it in its tracks. “Touch him and you’re dead.”

The pouakai looked at Skylark, astonished.

Skylark darted at it again. “It’s me you want, you feathered orange predator creep!”

Arnie saw the danger. The pouakai had an extendable neck. “You’re too close,” he shouted.

Skylark tried to get away. The pouakai lunged. Missed. It lunged again, its beak opening wide. Missed again. But the third time the pouakai’s neck suddenly elongated. There was a sudden jab, a clamp —