Chapter 13 Flight From Hell
Flight From Hell
Tāwera slid a puzzled glance at Nyree as she bustled around the kitchen.
He wasn’t sure what was wrong with her, but every one of his instincts screamed something was out of balance.
Nyree was chatting with him. She was smiling, or at least her mouth curved upward.
Her eyes were as cold as blocks of ice. She seemed…
twitchy. That was the best description he could summon.
She set a meal in front of him. As usual, the food was foreign to him, but it smelled appetizing. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Once again, her expression didn’t match the words.
He opened his mouth to ask questions but pressed his lips together as he decided to wait. Perhaps the moonlust affected her differently. He would observe. Maybe his email to Manu would yield results.
“Are you looking forward to flying tonight?” he asked.
“Yes.”
A simple reply and nothing more. Tāwera stared down at his meal, no longer hungry. He ate anyway but didn’t pepper Nyree with his questions.
Once they’d eaten, Nyree took his photo several times and emailed them to Manu. They did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, then both read books to kill time.
The wait for complete darkness seemed endless, but he appreciated the necessity of secrecy.
The more he learned of the world from the tablet, his reading, and his conversations with Nyree, the more he understood the need for stealth.
This advanced world held things good and evil, the differences from what he’d known then to now vast. Questions pounded him, but he remained silent.
No, it was best if he waited for Nyree to work out whatever bothered her.
With Aroha, this approach had always worked best.
He thought back to the giggling girl he’d intended to marry and wondered how she’d fared with his brother. Had she been happy? Would marriage to Rāwiri have satisfied her? Had she cried when Tāwera had disappeared? So many queries for which he’d never know the answer.
Had Rāwiri wanted Aroha all along? Why hadn’t he told Tāwera this at the start instead of lying?
Tāwera had offered to carry Aroha’s basket one day.
Their relationship had started innocently, and they’d grown together in friendship, but if Rāwiri had told Tāwera of his interest, he would’ve stood back and let his brother court Aroha.
Looking back now, he thought his feelings for Aroha were that of lust and friendship.
If they’d married, he would’ve done his best to make her happy.
Now, learning the truth of what Rāwiri had done, he directed his anger at his brother.
He hoped the marriage had contented Aroha, and she’d enjoyed her children, her grandchildren.
“What’s wrong?” Nyree asked. “You’ve been staring at the same page for the last five minutes.”
“I was wondering about my brother and Aroha. I hope Aroha’s life pleased her.”
“And your brother?”
“I wish he’d given me the truth instead of plotting behind my back. We were different, had diverse strengths, and neither of us was better than the other. I never thought of Rāwiri as my competitor. He was my brother.”
“He thought differently.”
“I knew he had a cunning side, and he manipulated people, but I never suspected he’d betray me this way.”
“But you ended up imprisoned inside the rock. You told me your brother did this.”
Tāwera contorted his face hard enough to feel the grimace. “A tiny part of me has always hoped the curse was a mistake or an error of judgment.”
“Don’t you think the fact that Rāwiri sold you to a sailor pointed the finger directly at nefarious reasons?”
“True, but I’d hoped Rāwiri had an explanation.”
Nyree’s brows arched toward her hairline. “Like what? He tattooed a curse on your back by mistake?”
“He told me one of his friends had helped him with the intricate design.”
Nyree snorted this time. “Your brother played a part in the curse. Admit it. Chances are it was his idea, his plan, although you’ll never know what he was thinking.”
“That’s the part that frustrates me,” Tāwera confessed. “This anger pulses in me, and I have nowhere to direct my wrath. It’s most unsatisfactory.”
“Yes, it must be,” Nyree said and set her book aside. “It’s dark enough for us to fly now. It’s probably best for us to walk a distance from here before we shift and take off.”
“You know best,” Tāwera said. “I hope my transformation is easier this time. Is there any food we can take with us and leave with our clothes, ready for our return? Eating seems to help.”
“Sure, I’ll grab something now. Do you want to wait for me outside? Your hearing is better than mine. I’ve noticed the new group of scientists wander at all hours. One of them is studying the stars or clouds. I couldn’t quite understand the technical terms he used.”
Tāwera barked out a laugh. He’d spotted the men loitering, trying to grab Nyree’s attention.
She’d treated them with friendliness and politeness and nothing more, showing no preference for one over another.
Her aloofness had challenged them, so it was no wonder they were everywhere, trying to grab her attention. “I shall wait for you outside.”
He stepped outdoors and listened carefully.
He heard the single bark of a seal and a high-pitched reply from a pup.
The wind whistled over the top of the hills surrounding Grytviken, creating a mournful whistle.
A lonely sound. As usual, the area was ripe with animal smells.
Tāwera heard or scented nothing else to alarm him.
“Can we go?” Nyree murmured when she joined him. She, too, wore dark clothes to blend with the night. She’d even changed her typical day pack for a black cloth carry bag.
“I can’t hear anyone. Which direction will we go?”
“Let’s walk toward the graveyard. That way, if anyone spots one of us and asks questions, we can say we wanted to search for Shackleton’s ghost.”
“You should not mock,” Tāwera said. “Our legends tell of spirits who march to the tip of New Zealand and slip into the sea to journey to the home of our ancestors. For all we know, the ghosts of Antarctica explorers travel here.”
Nyree’s smile faded. “You are right, but it is still wise to go in that direction. If we walk to the church, we must pass the scientist’s living quarters. One of them mentioned I do a lot of walking and we should go together next time.”
Tāwera didn’t comment, but a fit of uncharacteristic jealousy swept him, and he clenched his teeth so hard, his jaw ached.
Unwarranted wrath, too, since Nyree never flirted with the men of knowledge.
She was friendly and nothing more, which was why he shoved aside his resentment. Now that he was visible, his life had become way more complicated, and he disliked the necessity to sneak everywhere.
Hopefully, Manu would get him this passport thing soon.
Nyree had explained he was an unauthorized visitor, and she wasn’t sure of the protocol.
The United Kingdom ruled South Georgia and their laws applied here, even though they didn’t have lawmen onsite.
Nyree had told him she’d do some research on this area and read the manual on rules and regulations.
After pausing to listen for anything out of the ordinary, they slipped through the darkness.
Their taniwha heritage gave them excellent eyesight, and they avoided sleeping seals and drowsy penguins.
A few birds woke and shuffled out of their way but soon settled once they realized he and Nyree meant no harm.
Tāwera followed Nyree over the grass and the winding stream. They kept walking once they reached the cemetery and followed the white fence, Nyree leading him up the craggy slope beyond the graveyard.
“I went for a walk this way three days ago. Keith told me the view from this hill is into the next bay. Hopefully, that will work for our purposes. It’s best not to fly from the same spot all the time.”
“I agree,” Tāwera said.
The climb became more of a scramble, but they clambered over the rocks and higher to the peak. The tiny bay beyond was not appropriate for a boat landing, but it suited their purposes.
“Let’s leave our clothes here,” Nyree said. “They should be safe enough in this crevice and stay dry and undisturbed.”
“As long as nothing eats the food,” Tāwera said as he removed his clothes and footwear. He folded his T-shirt and trousers and handed them to Nyree. She gathered her clothes and placed them all in her bag.
“Ready?” she asked, standing back after securing their possessions inside the crevice.
Tāwera inhaled and released his breath on a loud sigh. “Ready, but I don’t have the same exhilaration I normally associate with a full moon flight.”
“Maybe it’s the weather,” Nyree said.
“I’ve never had this peculiar sense before.”
“Perhaps it’s because this is your first full moon since we broke the curse.”
Tāwera shrugged and stood back to give himself room. He hoped the more he shifted, the easier it would become.
He’d been so wrong.
This shift troubled him worse than the previous one, and he had to force back his panic and regather his thoughts.
It was only Nyree who pulled him from utter terror and chaos.
She moved into the narrow tunnel of his vision.
Her dragon lips moved as if she were speaking to him, but he didn’t comprehend.
Yet he heard her emotions—if that were possible—and sensed the urgency emanating from her.
Her will prevailed.
The last half of his shift proceeded with such force, it left him panting and weak.
“Are you well?” Nyree’s concern slipped into his mind, once again helping him to center and push away the worst of the pain.
He forced himself to take slow and even breaths until his nerve endings ceased their violent complaints and merely quivered. It took long moments before he dared to move a muscle.
“Tāwera, can you fly? Should we return home?”