The daughter of the dawn

by William Reginald Hodder

A few paces before the brink of this road to Porawa the tohunga paused, and, holding his torch high, shed its light upon the face of another figure carved out of the granite, and standing apart with its back turned upon its fellows. Again the eerie feeling assailed me, for that rugged face gazing upwards through the dark was the face of the Twelfth Tohunga, having the same strange resemblance to the Maori himself. It was a noble countenance, and the contour of the lips expressed, not disdain like the others, but humility and sadness—perhaps repentance. Unlike the others, too, his hands were joined over his heart. Perchance this was one of the Great Ones who, as Te Makawawa had told us, had fallen from his high magic to consort with the vile to trick them, and, having completed his design, had turned his back upon their evil faces and set his image there apart to gaze up through the age-long night towards that distant point far above where the radiant Hinauri stood and waited. But how could I know anything? I could only conjecture, for Ngaraki said no word, and I could not read the strange characters engraven on the granite breast of this Twelfth Tohunga.

From the chief’s attitude it was evident that this image perplexed him sorely. Was it that he detected some resemblance of its face to his own, or was he communing in spirit with the ancient being who had set his image there with such ideal meaning? I could not tell, for he was silent, and when at last he turned, torch in hand, and, holding his arms up towards some vision he seemed to see above the darkness, chanted some words that were full of tenderness and yearning, it was in the ancient priestly language which few even of the ariki can understand. It was an unknown tongue to me, but I recognised it from its likeness to some of the more ancient karakias or mystic hymns I had often heard repeated as charms by the lesser tohungas. But the meaning of Ngaraki’s gestures, and the soft inflections of his voice showed plainly that he was addressing Hinauri as from the breast of the Twelfth Tohunga standing in the darkness of the abyss. His cursing mood had fallen from him like a garment, and in my heart I felt drawn towards this strange savage; yet I knew that any profane person found trespassing within the precincts of his sacred temple would find small mercy at his hands, and therefore I took good care to keep out of his way. I knew that if my presence was discovered I should be taken for one of those visitors mentioned by Te Makawawa as “certain men who had the fire of the Vile Tohungas in their eyes.” I should be accused of planning the destruction of Hinauri, and then my head would be taken and hung up in the abyss.

Ngaraki now turned in his ancient chant with a sudden quickening of his words, and, as most men do when a thing appeals to them in a new and surprising light, spoke in the tongue which came more fluent to him:

“See! the city is silent”—he appeared to be interpreting the ancient characters on the breast of the Twelfth Tohunga—“the great queen sleeps above the darkness, my fellow seers have withdrawn into the sky, and I, Zun, with these vile Brethren of Huo, am all that is left of the people of the South. Mine is the task”—yes, Ngaraki seemed to speak these words, which had been graven on the breast of the image, as if they stated exactly his own case—“mine is the task to watch over the tapu of the Bright One, and to this end I have cast myself down to consort with the vile, to know them, to know their names, to understand that of which they are the embodiment. And I record that I know what I do, and none shall say that I fell through weakness. It is done. The city is silent. The great queen sleeps above the darkness, but she sleeps in safety, for I have confounded the Vile Ones with their own magic. Lo, I have delivered a gross image into their hands to bind down and oppress, and now in scorn I turn my back upon them and gaze up towards the future of the world. They will return, and I shall return, and in the far future Hia will arise and hurl their gross image of Woman upon their heads. Then shall I conquer and triumph over the Vile Ones and cast their lord into the pit that yawns before me. And through the everlasting night I wait for Hia, praying that life shall be long and death short; praying that the Rival of the Dawn will obtain for man a life that ever rises again from the darkness.”

He paused and seemed lost in thought; he had evidently read the words in a new light. Then, as if seeking more of this new light from a familiar thing, he passed to the back of the image and held his torch up again till the rays fell upon the strange characters therealso engraven. As one who reconsiders what has long puzzled him he read:

“We, the Brotherhood of Huo, laugh in scorn at the windy words of Zun. He sees a phantom up there in the darkness. Hia is swallowed up in Huo, whose body we have bound down to the rock for ever. Her spirit we have bound also to the moon-face, that we may see to work our will. By her bondage we shall live, but the life of Hia’s people shall be short and their death long. They shall die and become like soil, and those they leave behind them shall weep and wail and lament. Therefore we laugh in scorn at the windy words of Zun. We shall live and rule the world while our images endure.”

Ngaraki remained silent a space. Then the last I saw of him for many weeks was characteristic of the man. He slowly approached the brink of the abyss below the abyss, and stood for a moment gazing down. In a second his sudden blood boiled over with a return of his former fierceness and, pointing downwards with outstretched arm, while he turned his head towards the chief of the Vile Ones, he yelled:

“Ngha! Destroyers of the Woman! My enemies of the ancient night! That is the way by which your heads go down to the pot.”

A moment the torch was held aloft; then, with a fierce gesture, he flung it into the depths below, and all was dark again, save for the patch of moonlight, which had now retreated far along the level floor.

I said this was the last I saw of Ngaraki, and that is quite true, for though I came into close contact with him that very night, and felt more of his strength than I have any desire to feel again, it was all transacted in the darkness of that terrible place.