“Runner,” the grotesque man grunted. His face was covered with scars, one of them causing his lip to curl unnaturally.
“Gothman,” she replied, kept her laser at her side and fired. Then barely managed to leap to the side to avoid the giant of a man from tumbling forward on top of her.
Within minutes she’d eliminated three more Gothman. Patha was right; these people loved to fight but hadn’t mastered the art of being true warriors. They were loud and easy to spot. They fired without having true aim and their weapons’ explosions and putrid odor gave their location away every time.
She slowed to a trot and listened as the breeze carried the scent of the pines through the air. Trees stood far enough apart to allow wide sunbeams to graze the ground. Grass and patches of moss glowed an emerald green, offering a bright contrast against the patches of sky. It was a deep blue, indication that the sun would set soon. With twilight, the long shadows would make it more difficult to spot a person hiding, especially one clothed the color of tree trunks. The stories said Gothman warriors always wore brown.
Tara studied every bush, tree, and rock. She stopped at each sound, wondering if more Gothman waited to attack. The Gothman had successfully controlled these lands for hundreds of winters. She found it hard to believe there weren’t more lying in wait for her. Did they think a woman might do no harm?
She continued walking at a slow pace, getting her bearings by studying the sun shining through the trees. The silence grew eerie in its stillness. Tara sensed something was very wrong.
Her skin prickled. They were watching her. Why didn’t they try and kill her? Instinct told her to run. Run like hell. Return to her motorcycle and safety. But those same senses also urged her to go on. After all, the Gothman had seen and fired at her, yet now kept their distance. She’d even taken out a handful of their men, yet they didn’t retaliate.
What were they waiting for her to do?
The smell of the pine invaded her senses, telling her she was now deep in Gothman territory. Her chances of walking into another ambush were growing higher. The Gothman people were said to be well protected by rocky hills and thick pine forests.
Tara used the rocks to her advantage as natural shields and held her laser as she scanned for life-signs. The Gothman controlled large amounts of land. They certainly couldn’t do so if it weren’t well guarded.
The smell of wood burning caught her attention.
She started through the pines looking for its source.
A small wooden house with a stone foundation appeared through the trees.
“I don’t believe it. It really does exist.” Tara stopped and stared at the house, which was permanently attached to the ground.
Before her stood the small, wooden house Patha had described over and over again when he talked about Gothman. Patha was known for embellishing on many of his stories. She’d heard them numerous times, and noted the changes as he shared past adventures with any new Runner visiting their clan. But he’d always described this hidden, tidy looking home just as she saw it now.
Tara approached cautiously, making sure to stay hidden by the trees until she was sure of its occupants. Light flowery, faded curtains were closed on the inside of glass windows, preventing Tara from seeing inside. Voices trailed through the night air, and the front door of the house opened. She moved nimbly through the natural camouflage until she was able to see inside the house.
“It will go well for you to notify us immediately if you notice anyone.” The deep grumbling man’s voice broke through the still night air.
While the Gothman accent had been mimicked for Tara before, it still sounded strange hearing it for the first time.
“Of course, I’ll call immediately if there be any disturbances. I daresay you’re too kind to protect an old lady.”
Tara watched two large men leave the small home and move toward motorcycles. A petite woman stepped outside her door and stood on the open room of the house and wrapped a knit shawl tightly around her shoulders. The tilted roof of the open room extended from the secluded house and wooden posts supported it. A swing, wide enough for two to sit on it, hung on chains from the open room’s ceiling and to the side of the woman. She didn’t move toward it but remained planted where she was, holding her shawl tightly around her as she watched the men leave.
“Tell his Lord that I’ll be sure to have a warm pie to his house in time for lunch. I look forward to seeing his mama. Is she well?” the woman called after the men.
The two men grunted in answer and started they’re noisy bikes. They took off down a gravel road, raising dust into the night air.
Tara studied the woman who remained on the open room watching the Gothman warriors until the sound of their motorcycles was barely audible. She continued to stand there, glancing up at the sky, apparently surveying the first of the stars as twilight faded to darkness.
The woman tightened her grip on her shawl and finally looked toward the trees where Tara remained hidden. “You can come out now. I’m a simple woman and I’m no threat to you. I know about Runners, and you didn’t come to my house by accident, so come out and allow me to be hospitable.”
Tara didn’t move.
Patha had talked about the Gothman woman, Reena, many times. This lady definitely fit the description. She was a small woman, petite but in nice proportion. Dark gray hair was twisted around her head in a wide bun. Her skin didn’t look wrinkled although laugh lines created creases by her eyes and mouth. The lone light hanging from the open room roof accented the rest of the woman’s features with graceful shadows.
Tara needed to be cautious. She could defend herself if this woman tried calling the Gothman warriors back, but there was no way of knowing if there were more in the house. The Gothman had any number of places to hide their motorcycles in the surrounding trees.
The old woman must have read her mind. “Now, I know you’re there, Runner. I can smell your leather. I know you’re armed, and I daresay I don’t have a gun. I don’t feel like going back into my house, wondering who is outside watching me. That much is certain. So, come out now!” she ended, her voice shrill.
She had thought her Runner attire would aid in hiding her, but the old lady’s comment made her rethink that decision. Tara glanced down at her clothing. The thick leather protected her skin in battle. The black Runner material, known throughout Nuworld as being virtually bulletproof, was woven with a thread made from crushed glass. Her boots laced to her knees and thin black gloves fit like a second skin, adding to the practicality of clothes worn by all Runners. Ridding herself of her Runner clothing would be smart. Maybe the old lady would prove useful.
Tara moved out of the trees and toward the open room. She didn’t watch the woman, but instead focused beyond her through the open door, looking for movement. She needed to make sure she wasn’t walking into a trap.
“Well now, there you are. That black leather hides you well in the shadows. Come on in. I promise I’m quite alone. So tell me your stories. How do you know of me?” The old woman spoke without taking a single breath even as she turned and walked back in to her home.
Tara followed her.
Reena stepped to the side, allowing Tara to see the inside of the home before she shut the door behind them. The kitchen was merely a wall along the side of a small living room. She put a tall thin pot on the stove and lit a match to start the fire underneath it. A pie was produced out of a cold box and the old woman pulled a plate out of the freestanding cupboard. Reena placed a large slice of the pie on it.
“It’s apple. I reckon I’ll make another one in the morning for the Lord’s family. It helps to show my loyalty, you know. Lord Darius knows I’ve entertained Runners before, but I like to keep peace in the family, so to speak.” She placed her hand over the pot, then reached for a rag hanging on the cold box and removed the container from the stove. “Do you like your coffee hot?”
“That’ll be fine. Thank you.” Tara couldn’t believe it. The woman had co
ffee. That was a coveted treat. The plants making the rare drink didn’t grow in their nation and were only obtained with very good connections. How would an old Gothman woman have such connections?
Reena picked up a wooden knitting needle and gathered together a project she’d obviously been working on for some time. It looked like a sweater. Tara wondered at the patience required to take on such a task.
Crow’s feet appeared next to the old lady’s eyes as she smiled, then used one of the knitting needles to point to a lumpy couch with a multi-colored quilt thrown over the back of it. “Sit. I’ll be curious to see how you plan on eating that pie with your Runner headscarf over your face, and I’ll be mighty offended if you refuse my food. My pies are known throughout Gothman and if you travelled through the trees with the usual Gothman hospitality to greet you, I daresay you should be hungry.”
Tara pulled the black scarf from her face and stroked the red circle around the embroidered red drop of blood— the symbol of the Blood Circle Clan, to which she proudly belonged. Although she missed her clan, if she lived through her adventure in Gothman she would have the best stories to tell around the fires. Tara folded and set the headsgroundmobilef on the couch next to her.
She placed the mug of coffee on the wooden table in front of the couch and eagerly tasted the sweet dessert. It was as good as promised.
“I’m thinking if the Gothman guards knew they were chasing such a beautiful wench as you, they’d have fought a bit harder to capture you.”
The woman’s laugh made it hard not to smile.
If a person was judged by their home, then Reena was a warm, caring person with patience and a solid foundation in her culture. The small wooden house permanently attached to the ground offered several different aromas that Tara easily distinguished.
The wooden walls and floors smelled of the spicy scent of the forest. The pungent smell of brewed coffee mixed with the sweet bouquet of baked apples. Other aromas floated through the air as well, not as easily defined—the pungent tang of spices and herbs used either for cooking or medicinal purposes, and a sterile smell, possibly soap used for laundry or bathing also hung in the air.
There were a variety of handcrafted items in addition to the faded patchwork quilt on the sofa: a knitted blanket hung over the back of the rocker where Reena sat, and several stitched wall hangings framed the walls. These items offered pieces of a story about the woman sitting across from her, smiling peacefully and glancing at her occasionally with gentle blue eyes.
Reena tried hard not to stare at the beautiful young woman sitting on her couch. Tara’s light brown hair fell past her shoulders and was as supple and shiny as silk. Her complexion was fair. That Runner garb would prevent her from being tanned by the sun. Her skin was smooth, at least what Reena could see of it, with no battle scars, which was a relief to see. The girl’s sapphire eyes took in everything around her. They glowed with intelligence and a bit too much cockiness for her own good.
Not that she should be surprised, Reena thought with silent resignation. It was what got Tara this far, and was what would keep her going. She’d waited so impatiently, knowing Tara was on the Age of Searching and would eventually show up. But now that she was here, all Reena wanted to do was insist Tara remain with her and not go further into Gothman. That wouldn’t work though. Tara would continue her adventure and nothing Reena would say or do would change that. She knew Runners all too well. If only that glow would stay there, these next few cycles might be tolerable for all of them.
“My goodness, you’re so beautiful. The men of these parts won’t be leaving you alone. Now you know Gothman women don’t know the skills you’ve learned. It will be hard shielding yourself. And a Runner found inside Gothman will be killed.”
“So I’ve heard.” R eena had to try, although Tara’s unconcerned answer wasn’t surprising. “Well now, that’s good then. What’s your name, and whose stories bring you here?”
“I’m Tara of the Blood Circle Clan.”
“Ah, Patha’s stories sent you here.” Reena nodded and started to rock in her chair. It wasn’t as if she had doubted who this Runner was, but now she knew for sure. She would never have the skills of a Runner woman. But it was her own adventures and stories that kept her calm and quiet at the moment. Those were the skills Reena had mastered over the winters, wearing a mask indifference. “I’m Reena and you may call me that. Now, are you Patha’s daughter?”
“I gained that honor at the age of four, but not by birth.” Tara chewed as she spoke. “I’m on the Age of Searching and have heard the stories about you. Those stories also told me that Gothman don’t like women.”
Reena laughed, but then worried she’d insulted Tara. It was hard not to get up and move closer to this young Runner.
“Gothman like their women just fine,” she said, and smiled when Tara looked confused. “They like them in the kitchen and in the bedroom. An unclaimed woman such as you will be plenty liked in Gothman.”
Reena stopped laughing and asked what she needed to know. “So, Tara of the Blood Circle Clan and daughter of the leader of all Runners, I would think you’ve come here with your head full of stories of Gothman. I know a Runner doesn’t enter new land without a plan. So let’s hear it.”
“I—”
“You’re an excellent warrior,” Reena continued on. “You got past the men protecting Gothman’s borders. But if you display your skills you’ll be put in jail. Gothman women don’t fight. You’re young and unclaimed. I daresay you’ll be raped until you’re claimed. Although as pretty as you are, I bet you’re claimed the first day you’re in Gothman.”
“I’ve been attacked before. Don’t worry about me. No one is going to rape me. I promise. I know how to handle myself.” Tara gestured with her fork. “Possibly you have some clothing I could borrow. If I could mingle among the Gothman, I’d learn so much.”
“I’m sure your skills are outstanding, but ten men against one woman aren’t good odds…even if that woman is a Runner.”
“I thought—” Tara began.
Reena shook her head but already saw the inevitable happening. Why Patha hadn’t put a stop to this, Reena had no clue. She might not be able to change Tara’s mind, but she would protect her the best she could. “I might be able to find some clothes that will fit you. You’re small, like me.”
“Would you be willing—” Tara’s rush of words were cut off once more.
“I daresay in my youth I had much of your beauty. We can’t hide yours. The more you change to fit in to our culture, the more trouble you’ll bring on yourself.”
“I would never cause trouble.” Tara’s expression brightened. “I will dress plain. I won’t bring trouble to you, or to me. All I want is to walk the streets of Gothman. There are many great stories about your people, Reena. I want to witness for myself a culture so different from mine. Will you help me?”
Reena’s warnings had been ignored. She also saw if she didn’t agree, Tara would find another way into Gothman. Reena didn’t like it. But if she helped Tara at least she would know where she was. “Yes, I will help you,” Reena relented. Patha had sent Tara to her. There was no way she would let Tara out of her home without knowing her better first. “I’ve known a Runner or two in my day. You want to know about us, and if I don’t help you I’m sure you’ll resort to another plan,. You’ll stay the night here. I’m sure Lord Darius’ men will be keeping an eye on the woods for a Runner through the rest of the night.”
Tara watched the old lady get up from her rocking chair and open a door leading to a bedroom. Tara didn’t move, but listened as the woman continued to talk to her about Gothman. From what Patha had told her about these people, Tara wondered why Reena didn’t have a man around. Gothman women didn’t have a say over who claimed them.
“I’m sure I’v e an extra nightgown for you. We need to get you out of those Runner clothes immediately. I’ve many visitors and to be certain we’ll have to come up with a story to explain your presen
ce. The women around here use me for a midwife and the Gothman like to reproduce. I stay quite busy.” Reena retreated down a hall and into a dark room, her voice trailing off as she moved.
“Let’s see.” She returned a minute later holding up a long paisley nightgown with white ruffles around the collar. “This is modest enough, and I think it might fit. I’m thinking I’ll have to wash some clothes for you to wear during the day. Not to worry, I’ll provide you with a decent wardrobe. Go change into this. We’ll figure out the rest in the morning.”
Tara took the nightgown to the bathroom and slowly disrobed. She felt as if she were shedding her Runner heritage as she changed. Along with her clothes she was leaving behind the ways of the Runner. So far on her Age Of Searching, when she came across a different culture they knew her as a Runner. People kept their distances. They knew and respected who she was. It wouldn’t be that way in Gothman. Runners were shot on site here. From this point forward
outwardly void of
she would be a Gothman woman,
any rights, passive and submissive. Somehow she had to pull off the role, or be killed. Her thoughts drifted back to her first encounter with the Gothman in the forest. She hadn’t planned on making such close contact with the brutal race so soon. They knew a Runner was here. It didn’t make sense that she’d managed to get this far without more Gothman warriors looking for her. Considering the close range when they used the bang sticks, she should be wounded or captured, if not killed. Gothman warriors had to have better skills than what she saw on her way here. Someone knocked on Reena’s door. Tara shoved her worries away, grabbed her laser, and hurried out of the bathroom.
CHAPTER TWO
TARA HURRIED down the hallway but then stopped in
her tracks. What happened to being submissive? Here she was, ready to protect the old lady who had been so hospitable toward her by barging in to the living room with her laser. And giving herself away in the process.
Nuworld: Claiming Tara Page 2