“I’d like to see my children first. It’s important they know I’m fine. I’ll be more than willing to answer your questions after I see them. After all, I have nothing to hide from you or your people.” She decided to take a chance and started hobbling to the door. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t let her go, but she needed to make sure. If he had questions for her, he’d better start asking.
“Your children aren’t in Semore anymore. Your trailer pulled out of here yesterday.”
“You’re a fool!” Tara turned and faced Gowsky. The rage burned in her eyes and her body tensed. She saw the amused look in his eyes and her anger intensified. “You better let me contact my family so I can tell them I’m all right.”
“I might be able to arrange that.” Gowsky stood and walked over to Tara, took her arm, and calmly but firmly escorted her back to the bench. “You handle pain well, but I wouldn’t give that foot too much of a workout too soon.”
She yanked away her arm and sat. Once again, her hair streamed over her shoulder. Lifting several strands in her hand, she realized her hair was definitely longer.
Gowsky dropped into the chair across from her, a serious expression on his face. He stared at her once again.
She glared back. “Go ahead with your questions.”
“Why did you come to Semore?”
“I’ve never been south of the Trueland. I simply wanted to visit your town.”
“You were looking for a job with our government.”
“I liked it here. Your people have…” She hesitated.
“We have what?”
Tara reminded herself she had nothing to hide. “You have oil. We need oil. Getting a job with your government seemed like a good way to convince you to trust me so I could begin negotiations.”
* * * * *
Gowsky was surprised by her answer. Could she be telling the truth? He suddenly worried he’d made a grave mistake. These people were so different. Could he trust her?
He told himself her beauty preoccupied him, and she could easily be lying to him. “Neurians have had their way of life stripped from them. Many of our people are without jobs. Regrettably, the dire situation has made us suspicious.” Gowsky got up and stuck her laser into the top of his pants. He opened the door to leave. “I’ll see if we can contact your trailer so you can talk to your family.”
* * * * *
Tara stared at the door after Gowsky left, hearing the lock click into place. Cold air rushed her face, and Tara frowned. It felt like winter outside, but if Tara understood the climate pattern this far south, winter shouldn’t be here for another five cycles.
She cuddled into the thick comforters spread over the bench and observed the dimly lit room. The floor was nothing more than smooth, packed dirt, and the ceiling was wooden. There were no windows, although sunshine peered through slabs of wood that constituted the walls.
She couldn’t see anything indicating this room led to any other. It appeared to be a type of shed, yet Gowsky had said she was in his barn.
She noticed several different sets of footprints leading from the door to the bench and back again. Apparently many visitors had come and gone while she slept. She could only imagine who they might have been.
Tara rubbed her leg above the cloth wrapped around her foot. She could tell whatever pain reliever they’d given her was wearing off. She lifted her sore foot slowly onto her other leg, unpinned and unwrapped the bandage. There was a three-inch line of stitches along the side of her foot by her ankle
She studied the injury. There was no bruising and just a little swelling. As she ran her hand slowly over it, she noticed something that grabbed her attention. Next to the stitches was a faint scar, a scar she didn’t remember having received, and it wasn’t old. How strange, she thought as she rewrapped the injury and secured it with the pins.
Standing up was easy enough, but she worried about how soon she would be able to walk. She tried standing on one foot but was not successful. If she could master putting weight on her bad foot, she could kick through the wall with her good one. Her prison was not that sturdy, but her injuries made escape futile at the moment.
She hobbled over to one of the walls and looked through the slits in the wood. She could see a dirt yard and two trees. No other buildings and no roads were visible. She heard no sounds of animals, and no talking. Would Gowsky live outside town by himself? If that were the case, all she had to do was get out of this dilapidated structure and overpower one man. Child’s play, if she weren’t injured.
Had she really only been there several days? She thought about the faint scar on her foot. Could it possibly be from the injury she’d given herself climbing out of the burning building? So, why the new scar? Was somebody trying to make it seem like she’d been out of it for days when, in reality, it had been months?
Tara’s heart began to pound, and she felt icy fingers creep slowly throughout her body. Something was very wrong. It was definitely wintertime. How long had she been asleep? She thought of her children, of Syra, and of Darius. What did they think? Had they tried to rescue her? She wondered why Gowsky wanted her to think she’d only been sleeping a short time.
Tara didn’t see him for the next few days. She spent every waking minute exercising, trying desperately to rouse her atrophied muscles. The condition of her body proved to her beyond any doubt that she’d been asleep a long time. She was weak and out of shape. And she felt like a caged animal. Her body had always been in prime physical condition, and her lack of strength annoyed her.
Someone brought her a generous plate of food several times a day, usually dried meat and canned fruit. The same person never visited her twice, and no one talked to her. By the sound of their footsteps, she determined quite a few people worked for Gowsky. She could sense the fear of each person who brought her food as they slid the plate through the gap between the door and the dirt floor, and then fled.
Her foot was mending quickly, but she decided it was best to give no indication of this. The room that was her prison was old and unstable. A week or two of recuperation and intense calisthenics, and her escape would be imminent.
In the meantime, icy breezes tormented her, mingling with dreams of her babies and loved ones. The blankets she kept wrapped around her provided little comfort. Tara’s imagination made things even worse. She worried that her family was sick with worry, doing everything in their power to search for her, and growing frustrated when they couldn’t find her. Yet while their images plagued her, they also added incentive to endure the cold and bring back her body to health.
Gowsky visited her nine days after she awakened. It was a bitter cold morning, and he pushed open the door with one hand and carried a pitcher with a steamy, hot fluid in the other. The morning glare was behind him.
Tara fought to keep her eyelids from shuttering against the light. He’d awakened her, and she forced her mind to clear before she moved a muscle.
He stood above her for a minute before sitting. Her body was stretched out under the comforters. She was on her side and the comforter curved over the outline of her hip. One of her arms draped across her body and her long fingers fell gracefully off the edge of the bench. Her sandy brown hair fell in strings.
“I do believe it’s time to bathe you,” Gowsky drawled in his singsong accent.
She focused one eye on him but didn’t move. Every muscle in her body ached from the intense workout she’d put herself through the day before.
“I’ve been bathing myself successfully for many winters now,” she answered.
Gowsky chuckled as he placed the pitcher on the ground next to him. “Does a hot bath sound good to you?” he asked and produced two mugs from his coat pocket. The steam floated up to the ceiling as he poured some of the dark liquid from the pitcher into each cup. It looked incredibly tantalizing, whatever it was. She licked her lips.
“It’s good.” He held out one of the mugs. “It also helps wake you up.”
She open
ed the other eye and stared at him.
“Come on. You’ll like it.” He waved the cup under her nose. “Come on.”
She felt its warmth brush her face. Sitting up slowly, she tried appearing to be in more pain than she actually was. The warmth of the mug in her hand felt so good that she wrapped both hands around it and sipped slowly. The liquid was thick and had a sweet honey and chocolate taste. She took another, longer drink and then looked up to Gowsky again. He had filled his mug and took a large gulp before setting the pitcher on the floor.
“How’s your foot?”
She didn’t respond, but instead situated herself on the bench carefully. She had taken the clothes she’d worn since she’d been there and laid them at the end of the bench while she slept. At the moment, she only wore a white pullover blouse.
Adjusting the comforter over her legs, she noticed he watched the action. His gaze locked on her bare legs, not looking away until she’d covered herself. Whether he noticed her muscles weren’t as atrophied, or simply enjoyed seeing a partially naked woman, she had no clue. Something told her he enjoyed watching her. She knew interest in a man’s eyes when she saw it. But how much had he watched her? For whatever amount of time he’d kept her here, he’d kept her unconscious. He could have enjoyed any part of her, and she wouldn’t have been able to stop him.
When she met his gaze, he didn’t look away but instead smiled.
She didn’t smile back. “Why’d you tell me I’d only been asleep for several days?”
Gowsky’s face looked completely innocent as he raised his eyebrows. “And what makes you think you weren’t?”
“It’s almost new winter. You’ve intentionally cut my foot and stitched it up so it would look like the injury from the building. How long have you had me here?”
“You’ve had plenty of time to think in here, haven’t you?” Gowsky leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Well, it’s true. We made certain you’d remain unconscious longer than a few days. It was necessary at the time.”
He said this so nonchalantly, the words stung. Anger brewed through her veins slowly, building to a boiling climax.
The Neurians had held her prisoner for cycles.
“I assume the Gothman and Runners believe me dead.”
Gowsky looked at her with dark eyes and sipped from his mug. “Like I said, it was necessary at the time.”
“So why did you bother to wake me now?” She matched his look of apathy. Her mind now, however, focused on a method of escape.
* * * * *
Gowsky shifted position, drawing his long legs underneath the chair and then stretching them out again. He thought of the best way to answer her question. It was one he had anticipated being asked and had thought of several convincing responses. He couldn’t tell her it was the suggestion of another Runner. He wouldn’t say, sorry lady, it was politics, and Neurians need an income.
He’d almost talked himself into doing away with her when Fleeders came forward and mentioned that Tara had talked to a guardian in the desert. Gowsky was a man of faith. He’d seen the dog-woman in his dreams a lot lately, and they’d made him uneasy. So he’d brought Tara out of her unconscious state. If anyone discovered her here, Gowsky knew he’d never be elected to another term
He desperately wanted to confide in Tara and tell her everything that had happened. The woman possessed a calmness, a sense of authoritative ease, that led him to believe she could talk through a dilemma and find a solution to please everyone. He wanted to share his dreams that he’d had during her time in captivity. He knew it meant Crator guided him when he dreamed of a Guardian, and he wanted to share this with her. She wouldn’t understand though. She was a Runner, a member of a race without Crator. If she had seen a Guardian in the desert, it only validated his dreams; it didn’t mean she understood Crator.
* * * * *
Tara realized from the way he hesitated that Gowsky wouldn’t give her a straight answer. Her mind raced. Darius thought she was dead. Had he claimed another? Was someone else raising her children? What about Patha and Reena? Did her parents believe her dead, as well?
If so, Patha would name someone else to be his successor over the Runners. She would have to fight for her rightful title if someone else was named heir in her absence.
Her children were the heirs to two nations. When they grew up, Andru would lead Gothman, Ana would lead the Runners. She would not have that right taken from them. If Tara lost her title, she knew Darius would see that Andru became Lord of Gothman when he grew up, but Ana would be without a title.
Tara looked into Gowsky’s dark eyes surrounded by that handsome face. Darius would never have to worry about her being unfaithful with this man. He was quite possibly as gorgeous as Darius was, but he had ruined her life.
“The Gothman were prepared to attack us when they thought you were a prisoner. We’re not in a position for such an attack.” Gowsky swallowed. “You died a warrior’s death, saving one of our scientists from a horrible death. We escorted your family safely to a rendezvous point where they joined one of the Runner clans.”
“How long ago was all this?”
He sucked in a breath and then exhaled loudly. “Six cycles ago.”
Tara’s muscles lurched. She wanted to leap from the bench and attack from midair. She wanted to pounce onto him, fists ready to injure with accurate stinging punches. She wanted to kill him.
Instead, Tara used every bit of power she possessed to remain calmly wrapped in the blanket, emotionless. “So now what?”
“We’re not murderers. You were put to sleep to protect our nation. Time has passed and our nation is no longer threatened.” His voice faded off as if to say, The rest is history.
“And so now you send me home.” Tara seethed with the outrageous suggestion he implied. “Just like that?”
Gowsky reached for the pitcher and stood. “We’ll discuss this further once you’ve calmed down.” He walked to the door and opened it, letting cold air rush through the small shed. “Get dressed if you want a hot bath.”
Tara sat in the same position for a long time after Gowsky left. Sunlight drifted through the cracks of the wood. She watched the dust rise through the rays of light as they shot through the room.
The Runners and the Gothman believed her dead. Darius had had six cycles now to mourn her and could quite possibly be ready to move on with his life. Andru and Ana would be over a winter old now. They would be walking and climbing and exploring their home.
Where was their home?
Were they living with the Runners? Or the Gothman?
She felt certain Darius would have them. They would grow up in his large house, exploring from attic to basement. The fields and hills surrounding it would be their backyard. And all of Gothman would be their playground. Tara groaned aloud. Oh, how she missed them. All of them. Somehow, she had to let them know she was alive.
Tara dressed quickly and threw the comforters to the side. The cotton pants she’d been wearing the night of the fire offered little to keep her warm in the shed. Her shirt sleeves were short, providing no protection for her long thin arms. Her flat leather boots, with their flimsy soles, would not do if she had to walk a long distance. Not only would her clothing not protect her from the elements, they would not protect her during battle, either. Somehow she needed to obtain different clothing.
She stood in the middle of the shed and jogged in place. Her foot had mended. It was sore, but she could live with that. After a bit, she dropped to the ground and began doing pushups. Her muscles were still far from the standard she normally expected from them.
Tara surveyed the walls of the shed. She could put her weight on her bad foot now. She glanced through the cracks in the wall and saw no one. Her time was limited. She took one of the blankets and carefully wrapped it around her leg. Using the laces of her shoes, she tied the blanket around her foot and leg. She stood up and tested the security of the blanket aroun
d her leg by jumping up and down. The blanket didn’t move. It would serve well to protect her from the wood of the shed. She’d already tested the sturdiness of the four walls and knew which wall was the weakest.
Standing in front of the wall, she jumped into the air and kicked the wall hard with her foot. Several of the boards immediately cracked and a hole, several feet wide, appeared in the wall. The blanket caught in the wall, and Tara fell to the ground with her foot stuck up in the air. She pulled her foot loose and got up to survey the situation.
There was still no one in sight outside the shed.
Tara rolled up the blanket tightly. Quickly, she untied the shoestrings and re-laced her shoe. She draped another blanket over the hole in the shed so that it covered the splintered and broken wood and easily jumped out of her prison.
The bitter morning air slipped easily through her thin dress, and she shivered. Wrapping one comforter around her, and carrying the other under her arm, she glanced at the clear sky and got a sense of her direction.
Semore was north. All indications showed Gowsky’s house to be on the southern edge of the town. If she moved south, she’d be out of town sooner. Then, she’d work her way west before heading north again.
Tara ran quietly through the yard. There was still no sight of anyone. She had no warm clothing, no food, no weapons, and no way to communicate with anyone. The odds for survival were not in her favor.
Within minutes, she stood surrounded by a clump of trees at the large yard. Tara turned back and looked at the house.
That was too easy.
Tara surveyed the abandoned shed back by the house. Did he want her to escape? Gowsky had said they weren’t murderers. She guessed that they didn’t know what to do with her. Were they just going to let her go?
“No,” Tara said out loud to herself as she pulled the blankets tighter to fight the chill. “It would be foolish to let me go back to my people and tell them I’ve been put to sleep for six cycles by the Neurians.”
Nuworld: The Saga Begins Page 31