The Lost Tohunga (Aotearoa, Book 3)
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Publish Year note: First published April 1st 2011
It is a year since Matiu Douglas and his friends slew Puarata, the tohunga makutu, and nine months since they rescued the taniwha in Lake Waikaremoana. Life has settled into a normal routine, although Mat is training every school holidays in Taupo, with Aethlyn Jones, refining his magical and martial skills. He is also in mental contact with Ngatoro-i-rangi. The legendary tohunga is imprisoned somewhere in Aotearoa, the Ghost World, where war continues among the warlocks who served Puarata. It has become a covert war, of bitter intrigue and chilling murders, as they seek the elusive power Puarata used to gain pre-eminence - Te Iho - The Heart. The first of the warlocks to find Te Iho will assume Puarata's bloody korowai and dominate Aotearoa. They are closing in.
Mat's next visit to Taupo will see him drawn once more into the fray. When Jones is attacked and a fellow protege kidnapped, Mat finds himself once more on the tail of the warlocks, on a path leading to Te Iho.
Handguns and flintlocks, technology and magic, modern teens and mythological beings, all collide in this thrilling young adult fantasy novel from the writer who defines the new genre of Maori Gothic.
aside as fire leapt into his hands. It bloomed to a purplish-yellow conflagration in an instant as he shaped it, his arms spreading as he roared. Musket balls shattered around him, and the warriors tried to reach him, seemingly swimming through the air in slow motion as their deaths took shape before them in flame and shadow. Mat did two things at once: he thrust the heart-blood-stained taiaha into Ngatoro’s hands, and he stepped in front of Asher Grieve, lifting up his right hand, shielding the
about the health issues involved. They all fell silent for a time, lost in their own thoughts. Then Fitzy jumped onto the table to help himself to more venison, and sparked a round of laughter that seemed to never stop. Tim Spriggs teased Hine about her clothes, and Kelly threatened to tell them all about her labour all over again, until a thin, plaintive cry came from the corner where the baby boy was lying in a bassinet. They passed the little boy around; a naming competition ensued, but few
‘You, milady, have some floors to sweep, I believe? Mat, you need that poultice changed.’ Jones bullied them apart, muttering to Mat: ‘You’re not going to make this easy on yourself, are you?’ Beneath the strapping, Mat’s ribs were yellow and purple, as if a huge bunch of violets were flowering beneath his skin. Jones looked pleased, saying that the poultice had accelerated the healing process, and he set about boiling up another one. After the new poultice was bound on, warm and damp against
his fallen companion. Wiri interposed himself, crouching in readiness for a renewed attack, breathing heavily. Spriggs crawled to his feet, but all Kelly really saw was the face of the male patupaiarehe, contorted by shock and malice. She thought it was going to fly at her. But instead, with a desolate cry, it turned and was gone, a dark shape that the bush swallowed up in an instant. She staggered and fell. Wiri gasped and ran to her. ‘Kel! Are you—?’ ‘No. I’m fine. You were right about
much cake. She suddenly didn’t care about winning any more. Or even escaping. She had lost. It wasn’t her fault. Donna lay back on the wet stone, listening to the gushing water slow. She felt utterly out of her depth. The world had turned on its head, and the only familiar thing left was the distant but familiar sound of a tipua war-party disintegrating in confusion. Perhaps she could crawl away … Daughter! She groaned. Daughter — come! She wanted to block him out. But some kind of