Adventures of Grace Quinlan and Lord William Hayden on the Isles of Polynesia (Tale of the Birdmen) Volume 4 Read online

  Lord Hayden's brow furrowed. "It appears the decision is made for me."

  The priest glanced at the warrior and nodded. The warrior spoke, "As Tesk’s Hopu Manu, Tunai will attempt to kill you." Tunai’s wife swears you are a special man, one who has overcome insurmountable obstacles in your search for the past. We believe her and have faith in you." Both men dropped to their knees before the prisoners.

  Lord Hayden winced. He knelt and grasped the priest’s arms and bade him to stand. "I’m no God, if that’s what you think."

  "No," the priest agreed. "But not just a man, a palu, a special man."

  Hayden stifled a laugh, not wanting to appear rude. Grace had called him that once. It was a word common to the Oceanian people. Why would they put such a tag on him? He was only an instructor of archeology who enjoyed fieldwork. Lord Hayden turned to Ronne. "We don’t truly have any other choice. We work with them, or we end up at the bottom of the strait."

  Ronne nodded in mute agreement. He smiled resignedly, adding, "I have faith in you as well."

  All this faith in him, tended to unnerve him, causing him to forget the low ceiling, stand up, raise and hit his head again. "Palu, huh?" he grimaced, rubbing his bruised scalp.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Crowned with a headdress of cock and tropic-bird feathers, a white cloak on his bare shoulders and a loincloth about his hips, Ronne stood before the High Priest. To his side, Lord Hayden, shirtless except for a shoulder pouch, and wearing a mahute band around his head, waited as the High Priest recited the consecration prayers in front of the stone monument that bore an undelineated carving of the face of Make-Make with Birdmen in attendance, each holding an egg. Lord Hayden turned to view the woman, drugged and asleep on the rectangular ahu behind him. With all his heart he wished to lift her into his arms and carry her away from this island without making all their deaths a certainty. Under the light of the early afternoon sun, the monument cast a shadow over her, and over Lord Hayden’s heart. If he did not return with the egg, death was imminent. Lord Hayden turned back to the High Priest.

  An eternity of chants and anointing, and then all too soon it was time. Ronne took Lord Hayden’s hand into his two and shook it with deep emotion. "May He of justice and peace be with you, my teacher. I will watch over your lady with my very life, I promise you."

  Lord Hayden smiled his thanks, although he recognized the fact that Ronne could do little against the villagers, and worse, against Tesk, who had arrived a short time ago. His archenemy wore ceremonial gear and his visage under the black and red paint was dark, but controlled. Lord Hayden had seen him conferring with Tunai. No doubt, he was instructing his hopu manu to kill Lord Hayden if it appeared he might be successful.

  His throat felt dry and his chest tight. Chances were strong that if the climb down the path overhanging the caves and the precipices did not land him at the foot of the cliff in a mashed heap, the current or the sharks in the strait would finish him. And as if these obstacles were not enough, he must constantly watch his back to avoid Tunai’s knife between his shoulder blades, and end up as those poor unfortunates who had tried to outwit Tesk last year. He swallowed hard as the High Priest bellowed the signal to begin.

  The Tangata Manus, with Tesk in the lead and Ronne a few candidates behind, lined up to one side. Tunai and the other hopu manus filed past them. Lord Hayden fell in behind Tunai—he preferred his enemy in plain sight in front of him. He cast one last look at Grace and stiffened. She was gone. He scanned the village and saw a group of women supporting her and leading her toward an underground hut similar to the one in which he and his student had been held. She did not respond to his cry. The hopu manus lining up behind him urged him forward. Lord Hayden turned reluctantly and followed Tunai.

  The descent to the foot of the cliffs and the strait proved torturous. Lord Hayden’s hands tore and bled, his pants shredded along with the skin beneath, his chest and arms suffered scratches in a hundred places. He slipped and nearly lost his grip and foothold numerous times along the downward, narrow irregular path slimy with mist from the sea below. Each time his foot slipped, he grabbed on to protrusions in the rock, gasping. This next time he nearly plummeted.

  Resting a moment, his gazed at the sea beyond. In the distance squatted the three islets, two hardly land masses, and the third a small, green, rocky island where the sooty terns nested and laid their eggs. Here and there sharp angular fins jutted from the water’s surface and glided through the waves. From above him, an anguished cry echoed. The flailing body of a hopu manu crashed through the emptiness. Lord Hayden flattened himself against the stone and breathed a prayer for the poor man who continued to scream as he fell past, arms and legs aimlessly clutching at nothingness, until the jagged rocks below silenced him with death. Lord Hayden closed his mind to the thought that he might soon be joining the unfortunate hopu manu, and continued the perilous climb downward.

  Slowly the path grew wider and finally merged with the base of the cliff. In disbelief that he had reached the foot of the cliff and was still alive, he faced the greater challenge of the treacherous strait. A native of the island and its topography, Tunai had reached the bottom of the cliff long before the others. However, he had not entered the water to start for the islet. Instead, he watched the archaeologist’s descent. He scowled when Lord Hayden reached the bottom, saw him and grinned, as if to say, "I made it this far!"

  Four other hopu manus had reached the bottom safely. Tunai shelved the scowl, laughed deeply and slapped Lord Hayden’s shoulder, congratulating him. The archaeologist gasped, grimacing with pain, his body a mass of cuts and bruises. Tunai said, "We will rest for a few hours. If the night is clear and the moon light our way, we will swim to Motu Nui."

  Nature did not disappoint them. In the moonlit darkness the hopu manus plunged into the silvery water. Shivering at first, Lord Hayden’s body warmed as he stroked and kicked against the current. He moved slowly and laboriously, turning his head from side to side, catching his breath with each opposing stroke. This was not a contest of speed, but rather of stamina. Lord Hayden purposely held back behind Tunai, keeping him under constant sight.

  The group swam quietly and as far away as feasible from where shark fins pierced the waves from beneath. Weary and waterlogged, the candidates at last clambered onto the steep banks of Motu Nui. Tunai sprawled on the sand, as weary and waterlogged as the rest. Hayden, armed with advice and directions from the priest who had enlisted his help, and making sure that no one followed him, skirted the bank, searching for the hiding place in which he could rest securely, a place known only to a loyal handful. The safe haven proved to be a horizontal hole in the side of a tall bank, deep enough to hold a man prone. He gathered stalks of grass and reeds, and scrambling backwards into the narrow space, covered the entrance with the growth. Exhausted, he fell asleep almost immediately.

  * * *

  The thick fog dulling Elizabeth’s thoughts lifted slowly. She opened her eyes and focused on slabs of rocks that interlocked and cantilevered, and were carved and painted with figures of Make-Make and birdmen. In her weakened state, deciphering the carvings felt a task too daunting. She lay on a reed mattress on the floor. With great difficulty she managed to stand up. Her head felt heavy, her esophagus raw, and the inside of her mouth tasted bitter, but her mind was clearing and she remembered being forcibly taken from Alana’s house, tied and gagged, and something injected into her arm. The bitter taste in her mouth suggested she might have been further drugged orally. As she managed to sit up by her third attempt, Elizabeth noticed her clothes, a white cotton sheath that reached to her sandaled feet.

  On examination of her surroundings, she concluded it was a cave dwelling, narrow and barely high enough for her to stand, the entrance merely a deep crawl space. Outside the hut, people sang and chanted. She tried to stand, but her weakened legs gave way and she fell down on the mattress, though for sure, whatever inhibitor they had injected into her had partially worn off, and no one had c
ome to administer more. Perhaps with the feasting going on, they had forgotten.

  Elizabeth climbed to her feet again and tried to walk. This time her legs held her weight better. She crawled through the entrance but stopped short of a pair of bare legs belonging to the guard holding a spear. His attention was on his fellow villagers who carried on to a measured rhythm. She recognized the village from her visits with Lord Hayden to study the birdmen petroglyphs decorating the basalt outcroppings. That village had been in ruins; this one was restored. She quietly backed up into the cave. She could not escape, not yet, but why had she been brought here? Where was Lord Hayden; was he all right? Elizabeth pondered that if she were a man, or at least knew some oriental self-defense, she might confront the guard posted outside. Or if she at least had a weapon... a rock... or a heavy stick. She checked about the room. An iron pot on the floor near the wall, and beside it a long thick wood stirrer. She hefted it. "Good enough," she whispered. She snuck back into the crawl space. The soldier was still there. He was a large, muscular fellow. If he heard her behind him, she would not stand a chance. She inched to a quarter of the way before the opening. Fortunate that the hut was at least a good twenty yards from the village square and in the shadows. Without further thought, she moved forward and swung the wood as hard as she could across the man’s shins.

  The chanting drowned the guard’s cry as pain registered and his legs buckled. He stumbled forward. Elizabeth jumped to her feet and swung her makeshift weapon across the side of the man’s head before he could regain his balance and turn on her. She hit him twice before he finally collapsed face down. She was tempted to hit him again, but her conscience stopped her. It was not her wish to kill him, only to render him unconscious and enable her to escape. Life, all life, like the past and its relics, was precious to her.

  The guard lay motionless. Cautiously, Elizabeth moved around him, holding tightly to the wood in case he should come to before she had stolen away. But the guard had only been feigning, teasing. He grabbed her ankle and sent her sprawling forward. Instinctively, Elizabeth rolled on her back. The guard loomed over her for a second, then dropped to his knees. Elizabeth swung the stick hard, aiming for his head, but the soldier caught the wood and the brunt of the blow with his callused palm. For an instant she thought he would strike her with the self-same stick, especially when he glared at her malevolently. Instead, he took the wood in both of his hands and snapped it in two, then cast it aside.

  Elizabeth slid backward. It was useless attempting to run. The guard would outrun her or alarm other guards. Nodding submission, she turned on her side in order to lever herself up, putting the soldier at ease, while his attention was drawn to her shapely derrière. If he had known the red-gold haired woman better, he would have suspected her deliberately slow rise. With a swift movement that startled him, she seized the half wood closest to her and swung herself and it around, catching the guard across his thighs. Bone cracked. The soldier doubled over as his hands reached for his injured thigh. Elizabeth brought the stick across the man’s neck, leaping out of the way as he toppled over, this time truly unconscious.

  In a neighboring cave-hut, Ronne lay prone on the dirt floor, blood oozing from a wound to his temple. Tesk, garbed in his ceremonial gear, continued to clutch the club he had used to deliver the blow, his breathing coming in rapid spurts as he considered his handiwork, then with a dark sinister determination he turned, and stooping to his knees, crawled through the opening. He headed toward the cave-hut holding Grace.

  Tesk worried about the result of the egg hunt. Lord Hayden’s reputation for accomplishing the impossible preceded him. The tenacious archaeologist might just return with the egg, although he counted on Tunai being the one obstacle Hayden would not surmount. If Hayden did return, the fewer enemies left alive, the better. He had not killed Ronne because of the young man’s new status. Even he, Tesk, with his present influence, could not so entirely break the laws of the villagers’ ancestors without diluting his power over the priests. Rendering Ronne unconscious, incapacitating him to prevent any aid to Lord Hayden or Grace, must suffice until he learned who returned from the sacred islet. But Grace was expendable, merely an anticipated sacrifice. If he killed her, making it appear that she had tried to escape and brought death upon herself, the villagers would not accuse him of breaking the laws he, himself, had convinced them to re-implement. When he reached the underground hut and discovered the guard unconscious and Grace gone, Tesk scowled darkly, cursing the day the two had come to Mrs. Chola’s estate in Hawaii. Deadly quiet, he left the village in pursuit.

  "Palu, wake up!" Lord Hayden woke with a start as hands gripped his shoulders and shook him. Light filled the hole in which he had fallen asleep, and he swung out defensively. "Palu, no!" voices urged him. "We are your friends and have brought you supplies. It is permitted; otherwise you may not survive the wait." Lord Hayden stayed his fists, bringing them instead to rub his eyes and clear them of the exhausted sleep after the muscle-wrenching swim across the strait.

  "My name is not Palu," he insisted as he pushed himself out of the hole into the daylight. His help party was composed of three men. "Why do you keep calling me Palu?" he protested.

  "Because you are one," the islander said. "I am not originally from Easter Island, but from lands far to the northwest. In my homeland a Palu is a man of true worth, one who has wisdom, strength and courage."

  Rather than reply, Lord Hayden pointed to the party’s canoe rocking gently on the water. "Could have used one of those yesterday."

  "Yes, but the cult follows the old rules."

  The second man interjected in a voice that said he was tired of small talk, "Tesk must not be allowed to reclaim his title. You must bring back the first egg that is laid. You cannot stay in this hole much longer. The tides will drown you. We will take you to a safe cave where you may build a fire. But you must remain alert, for Tunai... will find you."

  "I hope you brought some coffee," Lord Hayden said, rising to his feet. "By the way, how’s Grace?"

  The third man spoke; a thread of compassion wove through his voice. "You must steel yourself, Lord Hayden."

  A chill shook Lord Hayden. His heart missed a beat. He waited for the third speaker to continue.

  "This will give you added strength to retrieve the first egg and swim back and depose Professor Tesk. Your woman was killed trying to escape. Tesk was her executioner."

  If someone had plunged a knife into his ribs, Lord Hayden would not have felt it, for the numbness that stole over him.

  "Time to mourn her and curse her killer as you wait for the Sooty Terns to arrive and nest. Come, we must get you to safety.

  He wanted to scream, but instead he followed the three men into the canoe. They paddled around the islet to a small cave, and unloaded the supplies—some firewood, canned food and fruit, and two jugs of drinking water. "We will return in a few days. Remember to stay alert. Tunai has probably already seen us."

  Lord Hayden stood on the bank watching the three men board the canoe. His face was drawn, but his mouth and jaw were set in a cruel line. "I’ll get the egg and bring it back to you," he told them. "And not Tunai, not hell itself will stop me," he vowed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lord Hayden mourned, and waited, three days, a week, two weeks, until the squeals of terns circling the islet brought the hopu manus out of their caves at the base of the islet. They, also, had received supplies for the wait. Now they rejoiced as the winged messengers of their God settled upon the high rocks.

  More weeks passed. The hopu manus watched for signs of the parents incubating. Then one morning, as dawn broke, the females began to lay their eggs. Lord Hayden skirted the rocks and began to climb toward the nest that contained the first egg and was briefly unattended. He had watched the terns, timing their flights to find food or relieve themselves. However, he seemed to be the only one climbing and he was puzzled. Tunai had made no attempts on his life. Where were the other four hopu manus? What came to m
ind was that the men were afraid of Tunai and were hiding. Then why hadn’t Tunai made his move? This was too easy. Lord Hayden wondered if he was playing right into the giant’s hands. He pushed the thought aside. At the top, he acted quickly. Carefully, he lifted the egg from the nest and placed it in his shoulder pouch slung diagonally across his chest. He pushed the pouch behind him between his shoulder blades to shield the delicate egg from the rocks, and climbed down.

  "Thank you, Lord Hayden. Now I will take the egg, if you please, or—" Lord Hayden turned and faced Tunai.

  The large man extended his palm. "Or if you don’t please," he concluded.

  So this had been Tunai’s plan all along. Let the archaeologist do all the work, then claim all the glory. "Just a minute," Lord Hayden said, removing the shoulder pouch. He scanned the area, then finding what he was looking for, placed the pouch in a nook in the rocks.

  "Where are the others? I haven’t seen anyone in the past ten days."

  Tunai smirked. "That is because there hasn’t been anyone on the island for the past ten days."

  Lord Hayden looked puzzled.

  "Give me the egg," Tunai said, "and I’ll tell you."

  Lord Hayden was not surprised that Tunai had not tried to seize the egg from him.

  That would entail a scuffle and the resulting broken egg would not be accepted. "No, I think not." Either the other hopu-manus had fled, or Tunai had eliminated them.

  "Why didn’t you try to kill me? You had ample chance." Lord Hayden asked.