race meant something.
“She really is Tari? She was more aggressive than I would have expected.”
Jindabyne was relieved to realise that Serge had not seen the Queen’s face. There was something dangerous about the Queen’s beauty - she had felt her will being sapped by it. That was another reason why Serge must get away. Had Wolf seen the Queen? He had spoken as if he had. When? How? Why had he lied to her about the Queen’s face?
“What’s to stop her killing you once you’ve served your purpose? What makes you think she holds to your shared religion over her own wishes?” hissed Serge.
“It’s more than just a religion. It’s part of us. This is a secret and you must never speak of it to anyone. The Queen cannot kill me without feeling my death herself. And that journey into death harms us Tari - can even drive us mad.”
“Sweet Mir, you Tari are very strange!” said Serge wonderingly. He was thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, “You can be harmed in many ways without being killed. And there is nothing to stop others killing you.”
“Healing the river is more important than my life. The life spirit in me knows that.” She touched Serge’s arm gently. “Without your father my life does not seem to matter so much. But yours does. You must leave me.”
“What about Olga?”
Jindabyne sighed and touched Wolf’s sleeping daughter’s cheek lightly.
“I think she will have to stay with me. She will slow you down if you take her.”
“The Queen uttered threats against her.”
“I know, but I think they’re empty. She just wishes to frighten us. I injured her once.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. It was in the time before I can remember. Serge, I truly think Olga’s safer with me.”
Serge nodded unhappily. He could see all the complications of trying to escape with Olga but was ashamed at how much he wanted to leave her behind.
“That half-Tari girl, the princess. She said something about ... She said that when she was Olga’s age we Mirayans separated her from her mother and beat her to make her mother comply.”
“Which Mirayans?”
“She didn’t say. People have often asked me why my father honoured the treaty so loyally when it was so unpopular. Was there something between him and this Queen?”
A horrible thought came to Jindabyne’s mind. “That was because of the Guardians surely,” she said softly.
If Wolf had seen the Queen’s face... But Wolf would never harm a child to control its mother.
She could not share these suspicions with Serge.
“Serge if you ever have the opportunity to see the face of this Queen, don’t take it. She was once very beautiful but someone wounded her grievously. She covers her face because she cannot bear to have people see such terrible wounds and she would never forgive you if you saw them.”
Serge was silent.
“Did you wound her?” he asked at last.
He had taken up her lie up so quickly that his question confounded her.
She turned away, trying not to let her relief show. “I truly cannot remember. I hope not. Just get away from here, Serge. It’s me they really want. You get that bastard Lev for both of us. And for your father.”
It was only after he left her that Jindabyne remembered the Guardians. They were all powerful Tari mages. Surely the river pained them as it pained Jindabyne. So where were they?
Just after dawn the following day, Alyx was shaken awake by Didier.
“The young Mirayan’s gone,” he said. “We’re going after him.”
“What about the Tari woman?”
“She and the child are still in their tent. Several of the Gibadgee tried to escape last night. The young Mirayan must have got out while we were busy with them. He’s got the other man with him.”
“Curse him! Just let him get lost in the forest and die.”
“I wish we could,” Didier looked grim. “But we can’t risk him getting out and telling the Mirayans of our problem.”
The escapee’s tracks were not hard to find. The two men had left the camp in the predictable direction - heading west towards the forest border, but they hadn’t been stupid enough to travel in the dark. The Mori quickly found the place under a stand of ferns where they had spent the night. The freshness of their tracks showed they hadn’t been gone long. They must be relying on speed.
Soon Alyx, always fleet of foot, was joggling along the path with six Mori hunters behind her.
Around mid-morning, Didier shouted, “Stop! They’ve left the path.”
Alyx, a little ahead of the others, stood where she was uneasily scanning the forest.
“There he is,” yelled someone.
As Alyx swung round to give chase, she caught a glimpse of movement in the trees ahead.
“No,” she shouted. “This way! He’s here!” She took off after the man, who was sprinting away down the track like a startled animal.
The Mirayan ducked through some tree ferns, sending the branches whipping back at her as he ran. She leapt after him, sure footed over the rough ground, dodging the slashing branches. He was so close now she could almost ... He ducked away from her grasp. With a final burst of energy she threw herself forward and grabbed his legs. They fell together in a bone-jarring, struggling heap.
He was hitting at her, trying to push her away, but she held on with gritted teeth while he thrashed and kicked around. He was so strong, he flipped her over easily and suddenly she was under him and he was bent over her with his fist raised.
He stopped, his face shocked. For a moment they stared at each other. What blue eyes he had! He was really very good looking.
As she opened her mouth to scream, he clapped his hand over it. She kicked and struggled trying to bite and break his hold. Then suddenly he was off her. Two of the hunters had him round the neck, twisting his arms behind his back.
“You have to let me go. The resistance! I have to ...” shouted the Mirayan struggling between his two captors.
“Do you think we’re fools?” shouted Alyx, scrambling to her feet. “You just want to tell your friends that we’re weak so that you can prey on us.”
She longed to hit him so much that she had to turn away quickly.
“Damn you! You’re digging your own graves!” shouted the Mirayan. “You have a peace treaty with my father which I would honour.”
Alyx turned and looked at him. “Mirayans have no honour,” she spat at him. “Your father was a rapist and a murderer.”
As she walked away, she heard a sickening thwack one of the others hit the Mirayan.
“You lay your dirty Mirayan paws on the Forest Child again, you’ll die,” she heard one of them snarl.
Alyx started to run blindly. Away from the Mirayan, away from her tribesmen, away from everything. But the past kept pace with her.
She had vague happy memories of her father - the smell of leather, the feel of his cheek pressed against hers and of wriggling and giggling at the prickliness of his beard. When she was six, Serge Madraga’s father, Wolf, had raided their summer gathering at Fleurforet and killed Alyx’s father. Alyx clearly remembered huddling among the other children at the top of the stone tower while her mother and the other women fired arrows out of the windows. She remembered watching her mother cry and a grey dawn full of smoke and black clad men who loomed over her like birds