WARRIOR OF TANGAROA

Tangaroa dipped down low behind a large flaxen bush, his chest was on fire. He closed his eyes listening for any sound that would alert him to the men chasing him.  A lone morepork was calling out through the night. Please, don't you be following me too, he thought.  The bird was a harbinger of death, call to THEM, prayed Tangaroa silently. He just needed to get to the river, to his waka tiwai. With his boat he could escape home to his loved ones and warn them. He kept his hand close to his patu, if they caught him he would have to fight. His heart was beating out of his chest and his breath was coming raspy, breathe slowly he thought. Insects scuttled across the bush floor, Tangaroa felt like every breath was as loud as that pesky morepork. He could hear nothing at the moment, but he knew those men were out there silently hunting him like ghosts in the darkness. There were at least five of them. Maori warriors from an enemy tribe looking to kill him, warriors who would eat his heart. This had been Tangaroa's first foray out with the men of his village, Tangaroa had dreamed of becoming a famed warrior, he still had a destiny to fulfill. He would spill blood, roast the bones of his conquests and take as many beautiful wahine as he wanted. They had been a small scouting party, as such there had only been three grown warriors with them and the rest made up of half a dozen young boys like himself. This was more of a learning mission for the small group. They had come upriver in the waka, braved the rapids to the hidden caves here, the three grown warriors had taken time to show the boys how to hide their waka, most had taken time to take theirs into the bush, out of the water and cover them with leaves.  Tangaroa himself had chose to keep his in the water, hidden in the reeds guarded by two giant boulders and a grove of Ponga trees. The men had warned them that taniwha monsters dwelled in the caves here and would sometimes eat young unassuming men. The young boys had boasted how they would fight the taniwha and return home to their people victorious.They were full of bravado yet no boy would tempt to walk in the caves alone. The warriors had laughed, it was best to do these things with your brothers anyway, a brother could always save your life, it was a rare warrior who walked alone.  The boys had soon caught three fat eels, built a fire and roasted them, with their pukus full of kai, they told stories through the night, all of them happy to be away from the nagging, yapping woman. The boys were on the cusp of manhood and they couldn't wait to be men. It had been that pesky morepork that had woken him up early and alerted him to the fact that he needed to take a piss. The others were still sleeping, his patu he hung around his waist, just in case that taniwha decided to come looking for a fight, though he could always yell for his brothers if it did. He stole away quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, he had to get far enough away that he wouldn't taint the area with his waste. He had just finished relieving himself when the first blood curdling scream broke the nights reverie. Taniwha was his first thought! Tangaroa had crept back to the makeshift camp to see a sight he never wanted to see again. The monstrous sight of unknown warriors assassinating his brothers in the night. The three men had their throats slit as they slept and his young brothers were no match for these full blooded warriors. It had been a silent m******e with no mana involved at all.  All Tangaroa's thoughts of glory and honour had been replaced by a fear he had never felt. He would be stupid to attack them now he would only be slaughtered too. He had stopped at the edge of the clearing backing away knowing he had to get home to sound the alarm. Slowly, slowly while being hyper aware of his surroundings he had backed away hoping the monsters were too busy, yet tonight Te Marama the moon was at her brightest shining on the bush in all her glory. It only took one of the enemy to look up and see him, his wild eyes like a madman's. "Bleh," he stuck his tongue out at him and rolled his eyes back into his head. I will eat you small dog and take your head as a trophy," the madman snarled. Tangaroa felt frozen with fear. "Aue," the madman called out to his men, see this little forgotten dog in the bush here, we shall eradicate him now." As Tangaroa's heart just about leaped out of his chest, he turned and ran as fast as he could. His life depended on it. He knew the land well here and he was quick and agile, he just didn't know if he was quick enough. These were fierce men blooded in war, they were all muscle, their faces and bodies covered in the ta moko, tattoos that told the tale of their history and fierceness. He had expected to gain his own ta moko soon, he prayed he still would.  He heard their monstrous battle cries, the warriors were coming for him. He wasnt ready to meet his ancestors today. He needed to get distance and he could feel their breath at his neck. Water, he thought to himself, water is where I will find my strength, for I have a calling to fulfill. Here in the bush is where I will meet my death if I don't make it back to the water. Tangaroa had been given his name and marked as a special child by the people. It was when his mother was pregnant that a lauded tribal mystic, Matakite, had placed her hand on the stomach of Rangi and given a prophecy that this child would rise to be the greatest of warriors, his spirit half fish. For this his mother had named him after Tangaroa, god of the sea. He was wondering whether to stay hidden or make a run for it when a twig broke close to him and with his heart beating out of his chest, he ran in fear. Ran once more for his life.  He wanted his whaea Rangi, his beautiful mother who would tell him stories of the gods, cook his kai and tell him how he carried the strength of his ancestors. She who had always held him close and kept the monsters at bay. He felt like screaming whaea into the night, but it would be no use. It didn't take long once he had broken free from his flaxen hiding spot, that he heard the murderous screams and the heavy beating of the mens feet coming for him. He did not dare to look back. He was near the water's edge now, he felt the wind of a heavy weapon skimming past his ear, Tangaroa taking a giant gulp of air, dove deep into the creek. Tangaroa could stay underwater much longer than his peers, he was not coming up for breath soon. These monsters were now in his element, he knew the muddy brown water would hide his exact location. Diving down deep he made his way to where the two large boulders should give him some cover, if even a few moments. He surfaced slowly on the opposite side of his waka tiwai, trying to breathe in a measure stillness. He had to be careful, work quickly. He quickly broke off a large circular reed and placed it between his teeth. He could hear the men on the bank calling for him. " You cannot hide forever young dog." Hearing a  giant splash  he knew at least one of the men was in the water with him, the others spotting for him, searching on the riverbank.  He untied the waka slowly, carefully trying not to make waves in the water. He could get away much faster with his own waka, carved by his own hands.  ******************************************************************************* The young totara tree had fallen into the river after a storm and like a gift from the gods it had floated its way directly to him. It was the perfect size. He had taken the totara out of the water himself,  lugging the heavy thing up on to the bank, and dried it in the sun. Taking his time to perfect it and carve it. He understood the wood and how to shape the waka for speed and for strength. Tangaroa knew every part of this waka, for he had poured his heart and soul into it. Already the men of his tribe bestowed on him compliments that he would be a master carver, as he carved he called on his ancestors and the gods to bless this waka tiwai.  ******************************************************************************** It was a big risk, he hoped it would pay off. Making sure the reed was placed correctly, he carefully kicked the waka out, keeping his head underwater as he did, breathing through the reed so he would not need to surface. He needed distance before he dared raise his head out of the water and paddle his own waka. Kicking his legs silently underwater, he hoped he could glide his boat a distance before being noticed.  As if the gods were playing tricks, a mighty eel brushed past his leg, Tangaroa popped his head up out of the water in total fright, it was too late one of the enemies saw him and yelled out to the others.  "I see the young dog, there in the water, he has a waka." The moonlight was bright and to Tangaroa's surprise he saw there was more than five men, he saw at least three large canoes and through the moonlight he could see many men creeping in the trees.  There was nothing for it Tangaroa pulled himself into his boat, his breath coming in short sharp rasps, he had to get to his people and quickly, before there was a m******e. He paddled as quickly as he could, calling on the gods as he did. His boat was built for speed and he knew the currents of this river, he was making distance, too late he heard the violent scream of a warrior behind him. They had seen him and were giving chase. There would be no mana in turning back for them now. He had to make it to the rapids, he knew this body of water better than anyone, he knew which parts to stay away from and which parts would swiftly carry him. He touched his head, was that blood, had he been hit earlier? There was no time for wonder, he had reached the rapids and he had to use all his strength and might to navigate them. As the river widened, his tribal home would make itself known soon, the pesky morepork returned calling out her deathly song letting the wind carry her voice far. His chest hurt, yet he paddled that waka with all his might, too scared to look back now,in the distance he saw the scouts of his tribe, and he knew they recognized the night birds call, he saw the cold breeze blow over them making them shiver. "Aue, Aue, he called to them with urgency, it is I Tangaroa, our enemy is near, prepare for a mighty fight. Our enemy is upon us." He knew they had heard and the wind had carried his voice to them, as he saw his people spring to life, the woman, putting out their fires and gathering the children, taking them deeper into their home caves. The men were waking springing to life, grabbing their weapons preparing to fight. Whispers of the enemy's voices on the wind carried to Tangaroa as he pulled his small waka up to the river's edge. "Morepork, morepork," sang the nightbird, he heard its call close and looking up he saw the morepork swooping down to him, he knew his ancestors were waiting for him. It was Uncle Tama, he saw first, rushing to come inspect the waka and help Tangaroa, but his uncle ignored him looking up river and to the trees beyond. The whites of his eyes shining in the moonlight.  Was that fear he saw shining in his eyes? "The enemy are upon us," he cried desperately to his Uncle Tama. "Get the boy to his mother, Tama growled to his men, then softly to himself he heard Tama whisper, he has the strength and bravery of ten full grown warriors this one." Tangaroa suddenly understood, even the greatest warriors felt fear, they just couldn't show it to their people. A warrior fought not for his own mana but for his people. The morepork called out again. Tangaroa collapsed, finally he was tired, so tired and as he did he heard mournful wailing sounds blow to him on the wind. It sounded like his own mother Rangi, but he couldn't be sure. As his people prepared for war, he closed his eyes in exhaustion, he was finally with his people. ******************************************************************************** In the aftermath of the mighty battle, the tears of Rangi fell on her boy, as he was gently placed in his waka, the shell of her boychild/man.  She listened to her chief speaking of the greatness of Tangaroa, his bravery, a young man with the mana of ten warriors.  "A mighty Totara has fallen, exclaimed the chief, this young man had the cunning and brave spirit to make it to his waka, though he lost his life there.  We know this because the body was stiff with the coldness of death once it arrived here. Our scouts saw his lifeless bloodied body carried in the currents by his own waka. They may have taken his life breath but the enemy could not contain his mighty spirit. It was long ago prophesied to his mother Rangi, that this child would be half-fish and rise to be the greatest of warriors, and so it is. The Morepork who must guide those to the afterworld, had to divert its course, so Tangaroa, the greatest of warriors could alert his people and save them. Thanks to Tangaroa's great warrior spirit we fought off the enemy and won. Rangis mournful rising wail filled the air as the chief continued,  "Sleep now and return to the sea, Tangaroa, child of the gods, we shall always tell your tale." Moe mai ra, Moe mai ra Aue, Aue, Aue