The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

‘You’re telling me!’ he laughed, mirthlessly. ‘Jed said it had something to do with the river being the tribe’s lifeblood or something? That’s why you had that accident in the canoe, supposedly. The spirit of the river was . . . enacting the curse. Anyway, it’s all horseshit but Alex wouldn’t listen. He took off before anyone could stop him.’

Tara stared into space, a bad feeling spreading through her like black smoke.

William had placed a curse. On her. That was what Jed had said. It was what Alex believed . . . But William hadn’t even met her when she’d had the accident.

You. And us. We are disposable to him . . . We welcomed him as a friend.

He had used the past tense. Were they not still friends, then? They had seemed so when she and Alex had arrived at the village. But in her experience, the truth often lay in what wasn’t said.

I thought I would get over it . . . but I didn’t.

We welcomed him as a friend . . . but he betrayed us.

It was Alex’s canoe. He was supposed to be on the boat, not her.

‘Twig? Are you there?’ Miles asked as she looked up to find William watching her. He had stopped whittling now. It was so quiet she could actually hear the forest breathe.

‘It’s not me who’s cursed,’ she said quietly, staring into the Awa’s deep brown eyes. ‘It’s Alex.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

‘William, you need to lift it,’ she said to his back. They were walking again, heading for her freedom, the direction of home. But she wasn’t interested in that now. She would stay in these trees forever if she had to.

It was heavy going. The rain was still falling, the ground underfoot sodden and making their feet sink, water running like tributaries down the narrow paths and animal tracks.

‘It is not so simple,’ he said, reaching for a plant as he passed and picking a leaf. He rubbed it between his fingers and sniffed it. Then he picked a few more and slipped them into his bag.

‘William!’

He turned to face her, the embodiment of calm.

‘You cannot let Alex be living under a curse.’

He regarded her with one of his ancient stares. ‘I thought you did not believe in such things as curses and plant medicines.’

She was taken aback. ‘I never told you I don’t believe in them.’

‘You did not have to say it.’

‘But . . .’ She stammered. She didn’t believe in curses, of course she didn’t. She didn’t believe in ghosts or fairies or the Easter Bunny either. She was a scientist and she went where the evidence took her – but she couldn’t deny things had happened out here that science alone couldn’t explain. Headaches dispelled, auras read . . . and she had felt the relentless power surging against the canoe. Even in her terror and panic, she had sensed, she thought, something more than just a river current at play. It had felt not like it had drifted away, but been spirited away.

She swallowed. ‘The whole point of me being out here was to help Jed’s son by bringing back plants the Awa thinks can help him.’

William gave a small smile and walked again. He wasn’t fooled by her elastic words, the illusion of action over belief. ‘Do you know how long it takes to train as an Awa?’

She sighed, not interested in the slightest, but knowing he wouldn’t be deterred from telling her. He had a gentle manner that was paradoxically forceful. Somehow, he seemed to get his way without appearing to try.

‘Fifteen years,’ he continued. ‘I began learning when I was eight. Our clan has always been awapa; it was my uncle who taught me the suwoh.’ He strained for a moment, trying to find the right English words. ‘Knowledge that is told, not written?’

She nodded impatiently.

‘He taught me the songs to help connect with the spirits. He showed me how to find medicine in these forests by accessing the spirit trinity – the spirit of the plant, of the disease, and of the patient. He gave me the knowledge and the wisdom and the power to help my people; I do not do harm.’

Tara was jolted by the echo of her own Hippocratic creed.

‘The curse was placed in defence of my tribe, not in contempt of Alex. But he is the body through which this project lives. His intentions are good, but they will involve our sacrifice and I cannot allow that. He must do his work, and I must do mine. The curse, once it is set, cannot be lifted until it is fulfilled.’

She ran ahead of him in the rain, blocking his way, stopping him. ‘And by fulfilled, you mean . . .?’ She dared him to say it, silently begged him not to.

‘Until he is stopped.’

Did that mean dead? She stared at him, remembering her terror as the boat had spirited her away down a rushing river, sending her over a waterfall that even now made her knees weak when she thought of it.

‘But you’ve got what you wanted,’ she cried. ‘The clause is going into the agreement and the handover will be delayed until it’s sorted. My father has given you his word. I’ll introduce you! He can personally pledge to you your protection. I guarantee it.’

‘I believe you, Tara. But nature will run,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘It cannot be stopped.’

She saw that he wasn’t lying to her. An unstoppable chain of events had simply been set into motion. It was as out of his hands now, as hers. ‘So what, we just have to wait?’ Her voice split, rain running down her hair and into her shirt. She didn’t notice or care. She could see only his expression confirming her worst fears. ‘. . . How will it happen? What’s going to happen to him?’

‘I do not know. It is sent out to the spirits. I am only the medium.’

She felt a well of despair open up in her as he led the way once more, but his walk, she saw, had become a trudge. He was saddened by this – not devastated, not feeling like the world was beginning