Nuworld: Claiming Tara (38 page)

Tara’s eyes burned. She hated crying. The tears felt like
fire, burning her face as they fell down her cheeks. She
tasted the salt in her mouth even though it was firmly shut
to keep her teeth from chattering. She struggled with the
tears as they persisted, fogging her vision.
Patha thought she was dead. Had he cried? She’d never
seen him cry before. He was a true warrior and strong
emotions would cloud judgment. Patha wouldn’t cry. It was
more likely he’d been angry—furious that he’d let her go to
Southland. He berate himself for not forcing her to stay
and tame Darius. Somehow she needed to let him know
she was alive and coming home.
Tara looked up at the sky, noticing the sun was moving
to the west. The desert would freeze once nightfall hit.
However, the farther north she drove, the colder it would
get. In spite of better clothes, she still wasn’t properly
dressed and would freeze to death without some form of
shelter, and the means to build a fire.
Looking ahead once again, she veered hard to avoid a
large animal directly in front of her. Her bike slid in the
sand, and for a moment she thought she would lose her
balance. Tara cursed the clothes she was wearing. If she
injured herself, she would only freeze faster. She slowed
the bike and regained control.
As she turned, Tara’s mouth fell open. The same old
woman sat next to a fire, stirring something in a pot that
hung over the flames.
Tara steered her bike up next to the woman and got off.
“We meet again.”
The woman didn’t look up. “It’s almost ready. Hurry and
change clothes.” The old woman pointed the wooden spoon
to something behind Tara.
A large tan tent was set up next to her bike. She was
shocked, afraid to move. Something akin to panic hit her.
She felt fear, and her shivering became uncontrollable. The
tent had not been there a second ago. There was no
question.
Tara was sure
of
it.
Was
she
somehow
experiencing delirium from the drug she’d been given over
the past six cycles? Maybe none of this was real.
She slowly turned to the woman who was still hunched
over the fire.
“You’ll freeze if you don’t change. Your clothes are
inside. I’ll make you a plate.”
Tara left the old woman and walked to the tent, touching
it gently, not completely convinced it was actually there.
The roughness of the animal skin stretched over wooden
poles scratched her fingertips. Tara pulled the flap covering
the entrance to one side and stepped inside. Immediately,
warmth engulfed her. Her eyes adjusted to the dim interior
and she saw a small folding canvas chair in the middle of
the tent. Her Runner clothing was folded neatly on top.
She stared at the folded pile of black woven silk and
smelled the crisp black leather before carefully touching
them and picking up the top piece of clothing. It was her
silk black undershirt! As she held the piece of material in
front of her, she inhaled the familiar scent of her clothes—
the sweet, fresh smell, as if they had just been washed.
None of this made sense. Her bike was outside. She’d
parked it there. This tent hadn’t been there when she’d
stopped her bike. She hadn’t been lost in thought and not
noticed it. This tent that she was standing in now, that
she’d touched with her fingers, had not been here a
moment before. Something more powerful than anything
she’d ever known, or anyone she’d ever gone up against in
battle, was at play here. The old woman was obviously not
how she appeared. Patha would advise learning everything
possible about this new being and bringing the information
back to the clan. Tara would do just that.
As she finished dressing and put on her black leather
jacket, Tara noticed her laser in her right pocket where she
always kept it. She left the tent, trying to decide what to
say to the old woman.
“Ah, that’s better. Here, sit.” The old lady gestured at her
with a plate of steaming food in her crooked, wrinkled
hand.
Tara took the plate and sat on the ground next to the old
woman’s feet. “How did you get my clothes?”
“Crator got them.”
“Who is Crator?”
Their eyes met and the old woman smiled. “You’ll know
when your heart is ready, I guess.” She nodded at the food.
“Eat up. It’s potato stew.”
“Potato stew?” Tara looked down at the steaming plate of
food. “This was my favorite meal when I was a child.” Did
the old woman already know that?
Tara hoped she hadn’t dishonored the old woman. Not
once while eating had she offered any stories as they sat by
the fire. She had devoured the stew without saying a word.
Tara stood and took her plate over to the fire. Her insides
were warm, and her body rejoiced at the comfort of her own
clothing. She picked up her headscarf and wrapped it
snugly around her head, securing it in the back. “You’ve
been very kind to me. I wish I could repay you, but I have
nothing.”
The old woman ignored her and started to clean the
dishes in a bucket of water on the ground.
“Let me clean up.” Tara squatted in front of the bucket
and picked up her dirty dish.
“Don’t worry, child.” The woman took the plate from
Tara. “You don’t need to repay me. I’m simply a Guardian.
You need to get that bike in order. You have a long trip
ahead of you.”
“What is a guardian?”
“I serve Crator and do as He says.”
“Where is he?” Tara hoped the old woman would give her
a different answer then she had when she’d first met her
with the children.
The old woman chuckled. “Crator is everywhere, my
dear.” She looked up at Tara and again pointed with the
wooden spoon in her hand. “You’ll find some tools behind
the tent, I think.” She sounded distracted, like an old
person who wasn’t sure where she’d left something.
“Do you live around here?”
“I go wherever I’m needed. Crator sends me.”
Tara sighed. She wanted to know more, but wasn’t sure
which questions to ask. “So Crator takes care of you?”
“Child, he takes care of you, too.” The old woman placed
the leftover stew in a bowl and put it into a travel bag.
“Your faith shall grow, child, don’t worry. You are young.”
“My mission here wasn’t too successful.” She paused,
studying the woman’s leathery face and searching for the
right words. “I’m glad I’ve learned of your Crator, though. I
wish we had something like him in Northland.”
The old lady slowly took her time standing. “You’ve
learned exactly what you were supposed to learn while you
were here.” She took Tara by the arm and, at a snail’s pace,
escorted her around the tent. “Child, Crator is everywhere.
He will provide for you as you know Him.” She let go of
Tara’s arm. “Now take care of your bike, child.”
Tara wasn’t completely surprised to see exactly what she
needed to tune up her motorcycle—all necessary tools and
a large metal can, which, after smelling its contents, Tara
realized was full of fuel.
As it grew dark, the bike was finally in prime condition,
ready for the long journey north. Tara cleaned the tools and
returned them to the place where she’d found them.
As she walked around the tent, she noticed two things at
once.
First, a large dog lay protectively next to the fire. Second,
a vehicle approached the small campsite.
Tara pulled out her laser, ready to fight for her life.

growled as the vehicle slowed just feet from the tent. Its
hackles rose and it lowered its head. Just as the animal
prepared to leap on the intruder, a piercing hum sliced
through the air.

A horrific scream violated the campsite, curdling Tara’s
blood. The ground shook under her feet when the large dog
collapsed to the ground.

“No!” Tara wailed
and leapt out from behind the tent,
firing her laser.
Gowsky stood next to his groundmobile, but his return
shot missed her completely as her laser shot sliced through
his right shoulder. This time the scream renting the night
air
belonged
to
Gowsky
as he
hit
the
side
of
his
groundmobile and crumbled to the ground.
“Try again and you die!” Tara ran straight over to
Gowsky and ripped the laser from his hand. She hurled it
into the night.
“Your clothes,” Gowsky struggled to speak while gripping
his blood-stained shoulder. “They were returned to your
family.”
Tara ignored him. She hurried to the lifeless animal and
collapsed to her knees. She stroked its bloody coat and
sobbed as she pressed her cheek so the side of its head. I
didn’t hear him coming. I’m so sorry.” She wept freely, and
her tears mixed with the blood on the animal’s coat.
Tara ignored Gowsky’s groans as she
murmured
apologies to the dead animal. “I never even knew your
name. I’ll give you a proper
death
ceremony,” she
whispered into the ear of the dead canine and looked up to
survey the
contents of
the
campsite. “You died an
honorable death and shall have an honorable ceremony.”
Gowsky crawled into his groundmobile, pulled out a
small first aid kit and began to treat his wound. Tara didn’t
give him any attention as she began building up the fire.
There was an exceptional amount of logs stacked by the
fire that Tara hadn’t paid attention to until now. She
squinted
through
her
tears
into
the
darkness. There
weren’t any trees around them.
“Did you know you were going to die?” she whispered.
Then with shock had a hard time stomaching her next
thought. “Is my life worth so much that you would die for
me?”
“Why do you care so much for that thing?”
“She took care of me, more than once.”
“It was going to attack me. I know you would have done
the same thing.”
Tara turned and gave Gowsky a long hard look. She
studied the handsome face and the onyx eyes. “Do you
have any idea who you’ve killed?”
Gowsky looked at the dead animal, then at Tara. His
expression was blank,
but
she
thought
she
noticed
trepidation lurking in his eyes. He pressed a cloth, already
blood-stained, against his shoulder as he climbed out of
the groundmobile. Gowsky walked up to look at the dog
lying still on the ground. Standing over the dead animal, he
said, “Obviously an animal you cared about.”
“She was one of your Guardians. And you are a fool.
She’s been helping me ever since I’ve arrived in your
nation. She provided this camp, food, and the tools to
ready up my bike. This entire setup was here when I
arrived, with an old lady attending it. When you pulled up,
she turned into a dog.”
She
watched
him look
around at the
campsite
in
wonder. Tara turned and yanked the cloth away from the
wound. “You’ll live,” she snarled and slapped the cloth
back over his shoulder, glad when he winced. “I came to
Semore to see if you’d be willing to start trading with us.”
She felt frustrated she hadn’t accomplished that task, but
now all she wanted to do was go home. “We need your oil.
But shunned me and kidnapped me. Your people shall
suffer for that.”
Tara watched him stiffened when she continued. “And
there’s nothing I can do about it. I could ask that you’re
given another chance to prove yourselves as allies, but I
fear your crimes are too serious. Crator will decide what to
do with you.”
Gowsky didn’t say anything when he walked to his
groundmobile. He secured a bandage to his shoulder. Then
returning, he lifted the dead animal and placed it on the
logs she’d piled. He watched as Tara started the fire.
Gowsky watched her graceful movements and thought how
incredibly beautiful she was, and how deadly. With the
power she now possessed, she could eliminate the Neurian
race. Yet somehow, he felt she had no desire to do so.
He was worried. When Tara reappeared after six cycles,
plenty of questions would be asked. And what would the
council do?
Dimly, he heard her say, “I’m leaving, Gowsky. Go home
to your people.”
He paused next to his groundmobile as she continued
watching flames leap around the dead animal. After a
minute, he climbed into the vehicle, started it, and drove
toward Semore. Suddenly, he turned the vehicle around
and headed back to the gun lying on the ground. Skidding
to a stop, he jumped out, grabbed it and squatted next to
the groundmobile aiming at Tara.
She didn’t budge from her ritual.
He watched as she remained squatted by the fire. After a
short time, Tara stood and moved to the tent. She began to
disassemble
it.
The
Runner
had to
be
aware
of
his
presence, yet she completely ignored him. Not once did
Tara look up at him. How could he shoot a woman who
simply ignored him?
Gowsky decided she must think he posed no threat. She
must view Neurians as
a soft race
she
might
simply
dismiss. Tara was challenging his warrior abilities, and he
was furious.
After all, his pride was at stake. He couldn’t turn and
humbly leave as she suggested. Gowsky would show her
that Neurians knew how to fight! He jumped back into the
groundmobile.
Tara folded the tent and pulled the twine attached to its
outer side until it was a compact bundle. She secured it to
the back of her bike. As she reached for the tent poles, she
saw Gowsky approaching at high speed—straight for her.
Jumping on her bike, Tara skidded out of the way just
as he ran through the small camp, sending pots rolling
across the desert as he ran into them. Twenty yards or so
past the camp he slammed on the brakes and turned
around, preparing for a return drive-by.
She
aimed
her
laser
and shot
his
back tire.
Tara
accelerated toward the groundmobile and slammed on her
brakes, skidding to a stop within arm’s distance of Gowsky.
Aiming her laser at his head, she said, “I told you to
leave.”
This time, Gowsky was prepared. He grabbed her wrist
and yanked her
hand holding the
laser. His strength
overcame hers, and he pulled her forward off the front of
her bike.
Tara came at him full force. The two flipped out of the
other side of the groundmobile.
Gowsky twisted his body and landed on top of her. He
slammed her hand against the ground and the laser fell
free from her fingers. She completely relaxed her body
underneath his, which caused him to relax his grip on her,
although he watched her warily.
Instantly, Tara brought up her leg and kneed him hard
in the crotch. He lunged forward, fell to the side, and she
squirmed out from underneath him.
“You insult my fighting abilities and mock Crator,” he
snarled, doubled over on the ground from pain. “Do you
really think our Crator would protect a Runner from a
Neurian laser? Crator protects Neurians—not Runners!”
“I’m not insulting Crator, Gowsky. But I am protected
from your gun. A Runner’s outfit is laser proof.” Her blue
eyes were radiant with emotion.
Gowsky raised his laser at her.
Tara jumped, kicking him straight in the chest. He fell
backward, and she pushed him to the ground.
This time, she was on top of him. Tara grabbed the laser
and tossed it, while pressing her other hand against his
chest. Raising the laser to his face, she snarled, “I could
kill you right now, and it would be completely justified.”
“I can’t just let you walk away.”
She shoved the laser into his nose. “Then you die.”
He looked into her eyes and knew that she meant it.
“We’re not prepared to go to war again.”
Tara jumped off him. “You won’t try to stop me from
leaving again?”
Gowsky scrambled to his feet, staring at the laser in his
face. It was way too close for comfort. “I don’t have much of
a choice. You’ve disabled my groundmobile, and you have a
laser in my face.” He tried a reassuring smile but her
expression remained hard. “Tara, I wish we could have
known each other under different circumstances.”
Tara backed off, but kept the laser pointed at him. She
walked through the campsite, looking at what was left, but
continuously glanced at Gowsky to make sure he didn’t try
anything. The tent poles were bent and broken. The smell
of burning fur and flesh was as strong as the flames were
high. It made no sense to burn the dead animal. Maybe it
was a Runner ceremonial way to celebrate the death of
special people. Tara really believed that dead dog was a
Guardian. Guardians didn’t die. Not to mention, he knew
Crator. Crator wouldn’t care about Runners, or Gothman,
or anyone as Oldworld as they were. The Runners and
Gothman war against the Sea People had taken away the
Neurians largest buyer of opium. Crator would never send
a Guardian to help someone who had hurt his people.
Crator might have sent Tara to him. He hadn’t figured
out why though. Gowsky watched Tara’s profile waver from
the heat of the flames. She squinted in his direction before
returning to her bike.
She rode the bike slowly until she was next to Gowsky.
“Good luck with your Southland.”
Tara left him in a cloud of dust.
Gowsky brushed dirt off his face and scrambled for his
laser. He fired but to no avail. Her motorcycle disappeared
from sight as he stood at the ruined campsite, next to a
burning dog, with a disabled groundmobile and an injured
shoulder.