HOLES IN THE FABRIC: Bk 1 The Weaver Prophecy

PROLOGUE

ANCIENT NEW ZEALAND 

The matakite, emerged from the small hut, under the light of the full moon. The Elders of the tribe sat upon the smooth knoll of ground, awaiting her. She joined their circle, pushing a strand of graying hair, behind her ear, and sat upon the flax mat. She pulled her feather cloak around her shoulders, and waited for the Rangatira- the chief of her tribe, to signal her to speak.

He had dreamed of changes coming, and instructed her to prepare herself to enter the other worlds, to verify what he had seen. He nodded.

She closed her eyes and saw within her self, the entrance. Her spirit body walked along the opening and through to the other side of the veil that hangs between. The ancestors were waiting and merged with her physical body.

"There will come a time when the maps for our worlds will be forgotten," the matakite said, though the voice belonged to those from the world of the ancestors."The last remaining threads hidden, within the stories of our people. The Power will lay dormant."

The elders shook their heads in disbelief."The coming of the Pakeha, and his white man's ways has made many changes for our people." Kahu, one of the most esteemed men in the tribe, spoke in a low voice."They only know of the world, in which their physical body walks." He tapped his carved wooden tokotoko stick on the earth."They are ignorant of the knowledge that everything here, is created by the threads from the other worlds."

"It is so."The Rangatira agreed. "Their priests consult a book instead of the gods themselves." He looked up at the moon, it's silvery light turning the tattoos on his face blue."But the cycle will turn, it always does. How long will it stay hidden?" His intelligent eyes scrutinised her face, as he waited for the answer.

"Until the Weaver comes, that can awaken the Power from its slumber."

"How will we know who the Weaver is?" the Rangatira asked."Will it be one of our children?" All turned to the matakite then.

"We will know. We the ancestors. The keys for the spiral stairway will be activated within the Weaver, long after your children have joined us."

The matakite's spirit body stood among the ancestors as they spoke through her mouth. She could see the sun descending below the horizon in their world, it would soon be twilight.

"The stairs of the Ancestors?" the Rangatira asked.

"Yes." The matakite nodded.

The circle fell silent.

The matakite's head tilted back and a high pitched keening came forth from her lips, as the ancestors withdrew.

"Wait," the Rangitira's strong voice called out."How can we help you?"

The energy ebbed back in and the matakite waited, as the ancestors resumed their communication.

"Tell your stories to the white man, so he can write them in his books.Then what they have taken away, can one day be returned. The Weaver will need to be forcibly awakened, as most of our people will have become sleepwalkers. We will trigger the awakening, but it will only open the entrance at the lower steps."

The matakite questioned the ancestors, to make sure they had said it correctly, but the power faded away, they had left. She opened her eyes and felt the mists in them clear as her spirit returned fully back to the world where the Elders sat.

"The Weaver must journey through the night of souls."