sent her magical consciousness back behind them. She could not sense anyone nearby. She sent out her thoughts to find a bird to send back for reconnaissance. To her surprise she found none. But there are always birds and animals around.
“I can’t sense any life at all,” she told Serge, confused.
“What possessed Petrus to attack us?” asked Alain. “I thought he was loyal to your father.”
“He made the same accusation as my Uncle made. That bloody man has thought of everything, curse him!”
“What accusation?” asked Jindabyne.
“He accused me of murdering my own father,” growled Serge through gritted teeth. “Petrus told me he understood it was all your plan, Lady. He said if I handed you over, Olga and I would be safe. May he rot!”
Jindabyne was too shocked to speak.
“He can’t believe...?” whispered Alain Seagani. “Lady Jindabyne is Tari. She couldn’t do such a thing. And he must know that your uncle would kill you.”
“He honestly seemed to believe that I would be safe. And that part about Jindabyne? If you recall, Petrus doesn’t have a high opinion of women.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing else for it, Alain. We will have to keep to the forest for now. Lord Petrus’s fief borders it for a good ten more leagues.”
There were nods of agreement, but Jindabyne couldn’t help casting nervous glances around at the surrounding trees.
“The Mori do not like trespassers in their forest,” said Alain. “That’s probably why Petrus has let us go.”
“My father never broke his peace treaty with the Mori,” said Serge stoutly. “They have no reason to treat us ill.”
He’s doing a good job of hiding the uncertainty he must feel, thought Jindabyne.
“Perhaps if we travel fast they will not notice us,” said Alain.
“Yes,” said Serge. “We should leave the forest as quickly as possible. By the sun this path goes north. Let’s follow it till we can find something that leads back to the forest edge. I think a river flows through here somewhere, doesn’t it? If so, we may be able to find our way by it.”
Only fifteen members the party were left: nine men, three women, Jindabyne, Olga and Serge. No one knew whether those they had left behind during the battle at the forest edge were still alive. The mood of the party was heavy.
They rode silently along the narrow path, keeping their eyes sharp for movement and their hands on their weapons. The Mori were swift, silent killers, savage in defence of their sacred forest and they liked neither Seagani nor Mirayan.
Jindabyne kept her magical sense open to the element of life, but could feel nothing sentient - there was only vegetable life, trees and ferns stirring gently in passing breezes. The springtime fronds of the ferns were unfurling like the fingers of babies and the trees were covered in flowers. Those trees should have been full of honey eating birds, but there was no sign of them. Even the life spirit of the plants seemed muted.
A deep darkness fell on Jindabyne’s heart.
Wolf is dead. The thought so filled her mind that it was as if she was wearing a mourning veil made of lead. When the party stopped in a clearing to rest and get their bearings, she sat on her horse, too limp and heavy to move.
“Lady!” called one of the horsewomen, bringing her horse to Jindabyne’s side. She held out a small cloth parcel. “Here, I have a little food. Give it to Lady Olga. She looks so pale.”
Her words pulled Jindabyne out of her black daze. Olga did indeed look pale.
“I feel sick, Mumma,” she whimpered.
Jindabyne felt nausea roiling around in her own stomach too - as if the black mood had become physical. What was this? She felt terrible - not just grief but a cringing feeling like fear or horror. She increased her magical defences over herself and the feeling subsided. She spread the defences to include Olga and soon the colour came back into her daughter’s cheeks. A drink of water seemed to settle Olga’s stomach and she nibbled on the food the horsewoman had given her.
They started moving again, following the path.
Jindabyne looked around. Still no birds... Sweet life! What was that smell?
“Eww, what stinks!” cried Olga.
“Some animal is dead nearby,” said Serge. “A big one by the stink of it. We’ll be past it soon, Ollie.”
But instead of getting better the stench got worse and worse until it became strong enough to make their eyes burn.
“What the hell can it be? Has a whole herd of cows died?” muttered Alain.
“Smells like rotting fish,” said someone else.
Despair was gnawing at Jindabyne’s mind with small pointed teeth. Why did anyone bother fleeing? Everything was bleak and bitter. If Mirayans had attacked them now, she would have willingly thrown herself on their swords.
The sound of Olga crying jolted her back to awareness. She cuddled her, whispering soothing words, but Olga simply buried her head in Jindabyne’s breast and wept.
Jindabyne was suddenly overwhelmed by the conviction that something was terribly wrong, and in that same moment she knew what it was. The life spirit was wounded - was being attacked!
She reigned in her horse so violently it reared slightly.
“Stop, Serge! You must stop. Something terrible is ahead.”
Perhaps Serge felt the wrongness too. With no more than a quick questioning glance at Jindabyne, he gave the order to stop.
A sense of urgent determination gripped Jindabyne.
She kissed Olga and passed her to Serge.
“Stay with Serge, sweetheart. Here is my kerchief to cover the horrible smell. Serge, you must all turn round and go back. This is Tari business. I will meet you back beyond where the smell starts.”
She slid to the ground and began to run down the path, certain of her course.
“What are you doing?” cried Serge. He spurred his horse to catch up with her.
“I have to go and help. The life spirit needs me.”
“You can’t ... Jindabyne!”
“Go back!” shouted Jindabyne. “This is no place for Olga or for you.”
Serge’s protests were drowned out by Olga’s wailing and he turned back. In a moment Jindabyne had rounded a curve in the track and was out of sight. Even Olga’s wailing was less distressing than the overwhelming sense of horror up ahead.
A short time later Jindabyne heard the sound of horses hooves behind her and Serge and Alain Seagani rode up.
“Where’s Olga?”
“Don’t worry, she’s with the others. They’ve gone back, but I can’t let you go on alone.”
That was the only thing they said to each other, for now the stench was so strong that opening your mouth felt like you were eating something rotten. Tying handkerchiefs over their noses did nothing to help.
The horses refused to go on. Serge and Alain were forced to dismount, and the moment they set them loose, the horses fled away back down the path.
The sense of wrongness filled Jindabyne’s body like a pain. Through eyes blurred with tears she saw that the leaves of the still and silent trees had turned a blighted black. The ground was littered with the rotting carcasses of small animals.
Then they came to an opening in the trees and before them was a red gash in the land, as bloody as a fresh wound. For a shocking moment Jindabyne thought she was looking at a huge piece of torn flesh, before she realised it was