Cry of the Taniwha Read Free Page A

other than that of the horses frightened by the shaking earth.
    Jack went from stall to stall, looking for the horse that was coping best with the distractions coming from the ground. It turned out to be a small, chestnut mare. All the gear he would need to ride her was resting on the wall alongside. To Jack it seemed as if she’d been put there just for him.
    Five minutes later, he was leading her out the stable door. It was then that the mare showed the first signs of fear. Smoke hung over the eastern hills, with a hint of red suggesting that there might be a fire of some sort.
    ‘Easy, girl,’ murmured Jack, trying to show more confidence than he felt. ‘It’s nothing to be afraid of.’
    One good thing about the smoke was that everyone was too concerned about it to notice a man leading a horse through the shadows. Only when he was clear of the buildings did he climb into the saddle. He jiggled around until the carpetbag’s weight was resting on the mare’s hindquarters, and then he was ready for the journey to Taupo.
    While it was tempting to raise the horse to a gallop, he realized that forcing her would only slow him down later. It was better to set a steady pace and be sure to get there. Similarly, he resisted the temptation to take the main road. There were simply too many people about, and when dawn came he would be exposed to too many prying eyes. The Waipa Track would be the best route, even though it was closer to the events that were lighting the sky.
    The first part of the journey around the southern shores of the lake went without mishap. He quickly crossed the Te Puke road and located the start of the track leading south through the scrub.
    After crossing a steaming stream, the track followed flat land alongside the slope of a hill. The horse was jittery from the rumbling that now seemed to fill the air; the loose handcuff banging on her shoulder didn’t help either. Jack hooked it under his shirtsleeve, hoping that it would hold for a while until he found a place to stop and remove the thing.
    She had just begun to settle a little when a terrible noise came from immediately ahead.
    Craarrk! Craarrk!
    The mare pulled back, calling out in fear. As Jack struggled to control her, the noise came again, louder and more urgent than before—a raucous croak that seemed like the death rattle of some monstrous creature. Jack thought of the taniwha and shuddered.
    Then he saw the creature. It was no monster, just a white bird standing in a clearing alongside the track. It stood absolutely still, with its long neck tucked into an S, its feathers tinged with red from the glowing sky.
    ‘ Craarrk! ’ it cried again, but this time more softly.
    Jack tried to hold the horse in place while he studied the bird. It was a white heron, the same as one he’d seen on the trip to the terraces. On that occasion their guide had pointed it out, saying that they were often a good omen. Jack looked at the bird and wondered if this one was trying to tell him something: maybe that he was in too big a rush to get out of the place. Perhaps now was the time to stop and sort outthat damned handcuff before he met someone who might question why he was wearing it.
    Ignoring the skittery protests of the horse, Jack moved into the clearing, dismounted, and sat down on the bare, white ground. Removing the cuff would take only a few minutes, and then he could continue on his journey. By morning, he’d be well away. He should reach Taupo by midday, and then, with a change of name, the person known as Jack Boult would cease to exist.
    As he fished around in his pocket for the lock pick, his hand touched the leather pouch containing the pendant. He pulled it out, unable to resist the desire to look at it again. The diamond seemed even more spectacular under the red light from the sky. ‘Look at this,’ he said holding it up to the heron. ‘You’ve already brought me luck tonight.’
    In answer, the heron screeched loudly, before spreading