Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (24 page)

Chapter
40

Magical

Tastes like: Fizz-pop

Smells like: Star jasmine

Sounds like: Wind-chimes
tinkling in the breeze

Feels like: A shiver

Looks
like: Glitter and starlight

‘It’s so beautiful,’ I say, ‘no, that’s the wrong word,
it’s…magical.’

Kael steps up beside me onto the flat rock and we both
gaze around the tiny clearing. ‘Magical’ is the only word that can describe the
moss-covered trunks and exposed roots; the dark, rich earth; the rays of
sunshine glittering with dust particles; the unearthly swirls of mist tangling
through the leaves and between the branches. It’s easy to believe in fairies
from this vantage point.

‘Come on you two!’ Kent shouts, dashing past us as he
follows the rest of the
Maor
group
deeper into the forest. Kael steps off the rock and holds his hand out to me. I
take it, feel the shiver of electricity pass between us as skin meets skin, but
it’s much too brief. As soon as my feet touch the ground, he lets go and starts
moving in the direction of the laughter.

We walk until the last of the tourists are left far
behind and then deeper still into the heart of the forest. I can’t get enough
of the scenery or the fresh air and more than once, Kael has to urge me to move
faster because I’m falling too far behind the others.

At last, we come to a small clearing, bisected by a
stream and the group fans out into a circle. The air is charged with excitement
and everyone is smiling as they take hands without speaking. I slide my hand
into Kael’s on my right, Michelle’s on my left and survey the group, while
trying to ignore the tingling charge moving from Kael’s hand into my body.

There are only about twenty of us, between the ages of
sixteen and twenty five or so. It’s a small group, yet large considering that
we come from such a sparsely populated area. Our green eyes and even heights are
striking in this context and I can’t help feeling that we really epitomize the fey
legends, standing as we are in this circle, in the middle of the forest, with
tendrils of mist from the stream wrapping around our ankles.

One of the older boys, Justin, steps into the middle of
the circle and says:

‘Within this circle of family, there is no judgment,
only love and acceptance.’
 

Justin holds his hands out and begins to move around the
inside of the circle, carefully making eye contact with each of us in turn.
When he reaches me, he smiles and inclines his head slightly. I’m filled with
an incredible sense of welcome and belonging and I smile back before he moves
onto Michelle.

Three quarters of his way into the rotation, he stops in
front of a girl with a mass of brown frizzy curls. I can’t remember her name
but her skin is a shade darker than the rest of us and she reminds me a little
of Jenne. She looks more nervous than the rest of the group, but takes Justin’s
extended hand and steps into the middle of the circle. As the rest of us move to
bridge the gap she has created, Kael leans into me and whispers:

‘Katy has just turned eighteen,’ he says. ‘She came into
her talent about two weeks ago.’

I nod, distracted by Kael’s minty warm breath against my
ear. As he moves back away from me, I turn my attention again to the middle of
the circle.

Justin says nothing more, puts his hand on Katy’s
shoulder and gives her an encouraging smile. At first, she looks uncertain, but
she kneels on the ground in the middle of the circle, takes a deep breath, cups
her hands and places them over the ground in front of her.

A look of intense concentration crosses her face and
everyone watches, unmoving, until she blows out a breath and opens her hands. Her
expression immediately turns to one of disappointment, even as I let out a gasp
of surprise. There, where before was only dark soil, is a single yellow flower.
It’s a small, fragile looking thing, but a beautiful miracle and I can’t
understand why Katy looks so crest-fallen.

Justin squeezes Katy’s shoulder and looks up at one of
the older girls across from him. The skinny girl I know as Rentia leaves her
place in the circle, joins the two in the centre and places her hand on Katy’s
other shoulder.

‘Again,’ Justin says.

Katy repeats the procedure of cupping her hands over the
earth before her. This time, before she can even remove her hands, green leaves
and yellow petals spring up from between her fingers. Katy laughs in delight as
she caresses the greenery.
 
 

‘That’s Rentia’s talent,’ Kael whispers in my ear, ‘she
amplifies our powers. Now watch.’

The circle becomes smaller as more
Maor
step into its centre until it’s only those of us who have not
yet manifested our talents that are left on the outskirts. Each of the
Maor
in the centre of the circle joins
hands and creates another, smaller circle inside of ours. They close their
eyes, bow their heads, lift their hands and all I can do is stare in utter amazement
as the ground beneath the entire clearing erupts into life.

Like a midnight flower opening to the moon, flowers
bloom in waves from the middle of the circle until there is nothing but vibrant
color as far as I can see, stretching into the undergrowth, climbing up the
moss-covered tree-trunks into the branches above our heads and kissing the
water at the edge of the stream.

I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life, never
felt so much a part of nature, never felt so at home as I do, standing here
between the flowers and the family that have created this little piece of
heaven. For the first time since I arrived here, I’m beginning to understand what
it is to be
Maor,
how lucky I am to
be part of something that has the power to make a huge difference in this world.

I feel a tear slide down my cheek and look toward Kael.
His lips tilt up and he holds my gaze. Can he feel the wonder coursing through
me? I smile, turn back toward the clearing and stop breathing.

Every head is turned in my direction and every
expression is awe-struck. My gaze drops to the riot of color at my feet and I
understand why. Like the violets I always kept beside my bed in South Africa,
every flower-head is straining toward me.

Chapter
41

Amity

Tastes like: Strawberries
and cream

Smells like: Coffee and
cake
 

Sounds like: The national
anthem sung before a rugby game

Feels like: A team member
patting your back after a well-played game

Looks
like: A hand shake

‘I’ve never seen anything like that,’ Rentia says,
passing me a serviette from across the picnic-blanket. ‘Has it ever happened
before?’

I shrug, uncomfortable with being the centre of
attention again and glance around the public picnic area where our group is
clustered. There are other tourists here too and they only contribute to my
unease. The rest of the group doesn’t seem too fazed though; they are not even
trying to keep their voices down.

 
‘I wonder what
talent you’ll manifest,’ Michelle says, a little wistfully. ‘I mean, you’re not
even manifested yet and you’re already attracting flowers like bees – or is
that the other way around?’

She bites on the ends of her black enameled nails and looks
off to the little touch and feed area where some toddlers are feeding carrots
to the goats. I help myself to a paper-plate in the middle of our blanket, add
a chicken leg and a plain bread-roll, and then scoot back, moving closer to
Kael so that my folded knees brush against his thighs. Somehow, the physical
contact with him soothes my self-conscious nerves. Kael looks at my knee,
glances up at my face and almost imperceptibly, shifts closer.

‘So, do you guys do this often?’ I ask Rentia, intent on
moving the conversation away from myself.

She smiles and nods her head.

‘Once a month. It can be quite a daunting experience
when you first come into your powers, and no offence to any of our parents, but
the adult mentors don’t always get us.’ There are a few snickers and one of the
kids mutters ‘Amen’ from the other side of the blanket. ‘Anyway, we try to give
the newbies a safe place to practice their new talents away from the pressure
of formal training. We try to motivate and keep them excited about their skills.’

‘Of course, we don’t always come here,’ Michelle says.

‘Yes, we try to mix it up every time,’ Rentia agrees.
‘Sometimes we go to the river, sometimes we go to Clearwell Caves, sometimes we
come here. It really depends on the talents of the newbies, you know, what elements
they need.’

‘Yip,’ Michelle says, ‘and it’s also great for those of
us who haven’t manifested yet. It gives us an idea of what to expect.’

‘And,’ Rentia adds, ‘we form great friendships, so when
the time comes, you’ll feel comfortable with sharing your experiences with us.’

Michelle nods and Justin stands up from beside Rentia.

‘And of course, sometimes we just want to get out and
have a bit of fun, so who’s up for some volleyball?’

A general ‘whoop’ goes up and most of the youth jump up
and run toward the volleyball net that has been set up on one side of the
picnic area.

‘Want to play?’ Kael asks me.

‘I’m not very good at volleyball,’ I reply dubiously.

‘It’s not a competition, come on.’

He stands, grabs my hand and pulls me up to my feet. He
holds onto my hand for just a little longer than he probably should, then he
gives me that lob-sided lip-tilt that passes as a smile for him, he let’s go of
my hand and we stroll toward the volleyball setup.
 

It’s already dark when we congregate in the parking lot
of Puzzelwood for our goodbyes. Each of the
Maor
embraces me as though I’ve always been one of them, before they head off toward
their vehicles. Michelle waits until the last of them has walked off, glances
uneasily at Kael beside me and asks:

‘You coming to tomorrow’s meeting?’

‘Yes,’ I say, ‘don’t worry, Kael is coming with me this
time.’

She nods at him, looking relieved.

‘I know it’s a Sunday night but we need to make the final
arrangements for the festival,’ she explains, although he doesn’t look
particularly interested.

‘The spring dance is also not that far off,’ she adds,
‘and after last year’s catering disaster, we need all the help we can get.
Especially since Mrs. W is going to be the teacher’s rep.’

‘Mrs. W?’ I say.

‘Mrs. Whitcomb. Weird hey? I never pegged her for the extra-activities
type. I heard she practically begged Mrs. Kean to give her a chance this year.’

An inexplicable shiver passes through me and Kael steps
closer to my side.

‘There’s something strange about her…’ I say.

Michelle nods.

‘Yip, she’s a little too eccentric for my taste too but
we don’t have a say in the teacher’s rep unfortunately.’

She shrugs and steps forward to embrace me.

‘See you tomorrow.’

She gives Kael a little finger-wave and walks across to
Justin’s waiting car.

Kael and I climb into the truck. I’m silent as I consider
the events of the day, but Kael doesn’t seem to mind. I’m starting to see why
Nan is so ‘in love’ with her people. They’re as kind, as generous and as
amazing as she says and then some.

I never imagined that I’d ever feel as connected to a
group as I’ve become in just one afternoon with these
Maor
youth. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can make
a real difference, like
we
can make a
difference. Perhaps it’s just the team spirit I feel in the moment, but maybe,
for the first time I truly understand what my father meant by ‘home is where
the heart is.’

 
Chapter 42

Romance

Tastes like: Champagne and
chocolate

Smells like: Candle wax
 

Sounds like: A saxophone

Feels like: Velvet red rose
petals

Looks
like: A crystal chandelier

‘Are you sure you won’t just ride with us?’ I ask Kael
but he shakes his head and climbs into his truck. His expression is dark today,
with no hint of the half-smile that featured so prominently yesterday.

As Tristan helps me into the passenger seat of his Beamer,
I lament the insanity of this arrangement. We’re going to the same place, it
seems such a waste to take two cars, but neither of the boys seems keen to
share a ride. In fact, the tension between them is thicker than ever and I
suppose that’s to be expected. They haven’t seen one another since the day
Tristan brought me home from Dalby and I think they’re both holding grudges.

 
‘Are you sure
you’re feeling okay?’ Tristan asks as he slides into the driver’s seat.

‘Yes, I’m sure. So, where are we going?’ I ask, eager to
move the conversation along.

Tristan starts the car and I watch in the side mirror as
Kael’s truck pulls out after us.

‘Berkeley castle.’

I flick my gaze to Tristan with genuine interest.

‘Is that a real castle? I’ve always wanted to see one in
real life.’

‘Aren’t there any castles in South Africa?’ he asks.

‘Very few. I only know of two really. There’s one in
Kempton park that some Scottish Laird built to persuade his wife to be to immigrate
with him, and another one in Midrand that’s a hotel now, but they’re nowhere
near as old as most of the buildings in England.’

‘Well Berkeley castle is very old,’ Tristan says,
shooting me a smile. ‘It was built in the eleventh century by William FitzOsburn
and has been owned and inhabited by the same Berkeley family through twenty
seven generations.’

‘They actually live there? Will we be able to go
inside?’

‘Yes, obviously not all the rooms are open to the
public, but we can view some of them.’

‘Oh, I can’t wait!’ I exclaim. ‘You know, I’ve always
thought I was born in the wrong era. I can just imagine myself in some beautiful
ball gown, walking down a sweeping staircase…’

Tristan looks over at me and laughs.

‘You wouldn’t last an hour in that day and age, Shaylee,’
he says. ‘You’re too headstrong.’ The way he says it makes it sound like a
compliment. ‘You need to remember that women weren’t very well treated in the
past and life must have been very hard for them.’

I nod, but it’s difficult for me to even imagine a time
where women can’t vote and I’m sure the hardships Tristan is referring to were
much worse. Still, the mere word ‘castle’ conjures up romantic images for me;
of hounds and hunts, balls and butteries, corsets and cameos; and I can’t help
thrilling at the idea of standing inside a real life fairytale castle. Imagine
the history, the people who may have walked there, the battles and sieges…

When we arrive, I stare up at the pinkish-brown stone
battlements, manicured lawns and terraced gardens of Berkeley castle. It’s more
magnificent than my imaginings and I can almost hear the history of the place whispering
through the surrounding trees and country-side.

I’m so excited that I grab hold of Tristan’s hand and
practically drag him along, half forgetting Kael, who follows reluctantly behind
us. We join one of the guided tours through the castle. Tristan laughs as I
gush over the tapestries; the stained glass windows in the great hall; the
portraits on the grand staircase; the huge barrels in the cellar; and the rich
wooden beamed ceiling in the morning room.

At the end of the tour, we meander through the terraced
gardens. When we reach the lily pond, I impulsively throw my arms around
Tristan.

‘Thank you for bringing me here!’ I exclaim as he catches
me around the waist and twirls me in a half circle. Too late, I see Kael’s face
before he disappears behind a topiary. I instinctively try to pull back from
Tristan, but he pulls me closer.

‘So you enjoyed it then?’ he asks.

‘I
loved
it!’
I exclaim.

‘Even the holding cell and dungeon?’

I remember the twenty eight foot hole protected by a
wooden balustrade that used to hold the castle waste and occasional prisoner
left to die; then I think of the little holding cell right by it where Edward
the second was believed to have been incarcerated and murdered. I shiver
involuntarily and wrinkle my nose as though I can smell the stench from the pit.
Tristan laughs and squeezes my waist.

‘Not so romantic anymore, my love?’

I freeze in his arms, but he doesn’t seem to notice my
response to his endearment. It’s silly but I can’t help myself. For all I know,
his usual endearment ‘mo cheannsa’ could very well mean the same thing as ‘my
love’, but hearing the worlds spoken out loud in my own language makes them more
real. They’re out there, between us now, and no matter how much I pretend to, I
can’t unhear them.
 

‘Come let’s go have some tea at the Yurt.’

He lets go of my waist and slides his hand into mine. Instinctively,
I look back toward the topiary as Kael emerges from behind it. I feel a stab of
guilt but I brush the feeling aside and glance up at Tristan with a smile. Except
he isn’t looking at me. There’s a frown on his face as he stares back at Kael.
His eyes move back to mine and he schools his expression into a smile again,
but this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

‘Hey babes, come on in.’ Michelle flings the door wide
and nods to Kael as he follows me inside. ‘Go on, I’ll be there in a mo.’

We make our way into the sitting room, which is filled with
students standing in little groups. Kelly waves to me from the other side of
the room and I immediately stiffen when I see who she’s with. Kael puts a hand
on my shoulder and follows my gaze to the group. His jaw clenches tightly when
he sees Peter.
 

Without a word, Kael wraps one arm around my waist and
tucks me beneath his arm. I glance up at him in surprise, but he continues to
stare across the room at Peter, and his eyes hold a challenge.

Peter stares back and begins to move across the room toward
us. Kael squeezes my waist, propels me forward and we meet halfway.

‘Hey there partner,’ Peter says. His eyes dart to Kael,
noting the arm curled possessively around my waist. Kael steps forward slightly,
angling his body in front of mine and holds his other hand out to Peter.

‘Hi Peter,’ Kael says. I give him a quick look of
surprise, before I remember that the likelihood of them not having met in a
town the size of Aylburton, is zero.
 

‘Kael.’ They shake hands, but it’s a tense exchange.

‘I see you survived the session with Mrs. Weirdo,’ Peter
says, turning his attention my way.

‘Sshh!’ Kelly warns, coming up beside him and glancing
in the direction of the doorway, ‘I wouldn’t say that too loud. Mrs. Whitcomb’s
the teacher’s rep for the dance. She should be here any minute.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Peter says, ‘what happened to Mrs. K?’

‘Not sure. I heard Mrs. Weir – I mean – Whitcomb,
insisted on being this year’s teacher’s rep.’

‘I hope she’s not going to interfere too much,’ Peter
grimaces. ‘Mrs. K pretty much let us do what we want.’

‘Listen up, peeps!’ Michelle shouts to the room in
general. The groups quiet and turn toward her.

‘Speak of the devil…’ Peter whispers.

‘Mrs. Whitcomb has generously agreed to be this year’s
teacher’s rep for the spring dance.’ Michelle gestures toward the woman at her
side and a few students give a half-hearted clap. Mrs. Whitcomb smiles and her
eyes scan the room behind her lenses. It takes less than a second for her gaze
to find me. It’s a brief meeting of gazes but I find myself burrowing closer to
Kael side.

‘Right, if we could just discuss the preliminaries for
the dance, Mrs. Whitcomb needs to leave shortly. We’ll finalize the festival
prep afterwards. For starters, we need a theme. Any ideas?’

‘How about Cultures of the world?’ someone shouts.

‘We did that last year!’ another student replies.

‘Seventies?’

‘Cliché!’ is the collective response and a little
argument ensues, until Michelle raises her voice.

‘Whoa, peeps! We need something fresh and different.
Something fun and vibey.’

There is a tentative silence and I bite my lip.

‘What about Sophiatown?’ I venture.

All eyes turn to me.

‘Sophia – what?’ someone asks.

‘Sophiatown,’ I reply, ‘you know – the township?’ They
all stare blankly at me and I sigh. ‘Never-mind.’

‘No, go on,’ says Peter, ‘is that a town in Africa?’

‘Um, it’s more than just a town,’ I say, ‘Sophiatown was
one of the most vibrant black and coloured communities in South Africa until
the Apartheid government forcefully relocated the residents to Meadowlands in
the fifties. Sophiatown was like a living, breathing soul, with shebeens, jazz,
afros, freedom and dancing.’

‘Well that sounds like a groovy theme,’ Michelle says,
‘what does everyone think?’

‘Cool,’ Kelly agrees, accompanied by other voices of
assent, ‘but not everyone knows what Sophiatown is about.’

Michelle nods.

‘We’ll have to do a marketing run-up then.’ She jabs her
pen in my direction. ‘Shaylee, can you do some research and work with the
graphics team on some posters?’

‘Um, sure,’ I say.
 

 
‘I’ll help,’ Mrs.
Whitcomb says. ‘I know a little about South African history.’

Michelle jots down our names on her clipboard.

‘Righto, let’s discuss catering. Kelly, I’m going to
need you and Haley to get the hotel students on board. I am
not
going to outsource again – we don’t want a repeat of last
year.’

‘You okay?’ Kael whispers into my ear as Michelle
continues assigning tasks. I realize then that I’ve grabbed hold of his hand at
my waist and am squeezing it tightly.
 
 

‘Fine…’ I say, forcing myself to ease the pressure on
his hand but not letting go. I have no idea what’s making me so tense but
Kael’s hand in mine and his arm around my waist feels comforting.

Once the task teams have been appointed, Mrs. Whitcomb leaves,
and the conversation turns to final arrangements for the upcoming weekend’s
spring festival. Michelle assigns me to gate duty with her for the seven thirty
shift on Saturday night, final preparations are completed quickly. Michelle
dismisses the group, leaving us to chat.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just go find my gate
partner,’ Peter glances uneasily at Kael and breaks away from our little group.
He walks across to the couch, where a small group of students are sitting
together, laughing and sits down next to one girl, a pretty brunette with a shy
smile.

‘Oh boy…’ Kelly says, ‘here comes trouble…’

I look at Peter, who is flirting with the brunette and follow
Kelly’s gaze across the room to Michelle, who is watching him too, with an odd
expression on her face.

‘You know, I love my brother but sometimes, he can be
such an ass.’ Kelly breaks away from us and heads off toward Michelle.

‘Ready to go?’ Kael asks.

I nod and he guides me toward the doorway. I hesitate
when we pass by Michelle and Kelly, but I don’t want to interrupt what looks to
be a serious conversation, so I carry on past them without saying goodbye.

‘You okay? You seem uneasy,’ Kael says when we’re seated
safely in his car.

‘I’m fine.…’ I say. Kael glances expectantly at me but since
I don’t really know myself why I’m feeling edgy, I just shrug.
 

‘Are you coming to the festival?’ I ask.

‘Have you forgotten the rules already, Shaylee?’ Kael
asks as he starts the car engine.

‘I know, where I go, you go,’ I say but this time, I don’t
feel the resentment that usually accompanies those words.

‘I’ll be next door if you need me,’ Kael says when we
stop outside my grandmother’s house. I nod and slide out of the truck but pause
with my hand on the door handle.

‘Um, Kael?’ I say, tentatively ‘Thanks for going with me
and for…everything.’

There is a hint of surprise in his expression and he holds
my gaze for a mili-second before looking forward again.

‘Just doing my duty,’ he replies. It’s a simple answer,
one that I should expect from him, but as he drives off, I stand there, wondering
why his words have left a hollow emptiness in the pit of my stomach.