She was aware of Gowsky watching her as she dug a shallow hole in the sandy soil.
“Why do you care so much for this beast?”
“She took care of me, more than once.”
“She was ready to attack me. I defended myself.”
Tara turned and gave Gowsky a long hard look. She studied the handsome face and the onyx eyes. “Do you realize who you’ve killed?”
Gowsky looked at the dead animal and then back at Tara. His look was blank, but she thought she noticed trepidation lurking in his eyes. He held a cloth over his shoulder and got back out of the jeep, then walked over 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 a Guardian. And you are a fool. She helped me more than once since I’ve been in your nation. She provided this camp, food, and the tools to tune 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 she’d caused him to wince. “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 a good source of fuel, and your land is full of oil. You shunned me and then you kidnapped me. Your people shall suffer for that.”
Gowsky’s body stiffened as 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 secured the bandage to his shoulder. Then reaching down, he lifted the dead animal and placed it in the grave. He squatted next to the shallow hole and stared at Tara as she crouched on the opposite side. She scooped the dirt over the dog with the same pot she’d used to dig the grave.
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 then what would he do?
Dimly, he heard her say, “I’m leaving, Gowsky. Go home to your people.”
He paused next to his jeep as she continued to cover the animal with sandy soil. 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 the gun and squatted next to the jeep aiming the gun at Tara.
She didn’t budge from her ritual.
He watched as she remained bent over the grave. After several minutes, 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 could 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 could fight! He jumped back into the jeep.
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 the jeep approaching at high speed—straight for her.
Jumping on her bike, Tara skidded out of the way just as he ran through the center of the small camp, sending pots rolling from either side of the jeep as he ran over them. Twenty yards or so past the camp he slammed on the brakes and turned the jeep around, preparing for a return drive-by.
She aimed her laser and shot out the back tire. She accelerated toward the jeep and then slammed on her brakes, skidding to a stop within a few feet of Gowsky.
Aiming her laser at his head, she said, “I told you to leave.”
This time, Gowsky was prepared. He yanked the 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 jeep.
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 bullet? Crator protects Neurians—not Runners!”
“I’m not insulting Crator, Gowsky. But I am protected from your gun. A Runner’s outfit is bulletproof.” Her deep blue eyes shot daggers.
Gowsky raised his gun toward her.
She jumped into the air, kicking him straight in the chest,
He fell backward, and she pushed him to the ground.
This time, she was on top of him. She grabbed the laser with one hand, while her other hand leaned on his chest. Raising the laser to his face, she snarled, “I could kill you out of spite, and it would be completely justified.”
“I can’t just let you walk away.”
She shoved the laser into his nose. “Then you’ll die.”
He looked at her eyes and could tell she meant it. “We’re not prepared to be at war again.”
She jumped off him. “Are you going to let me go?”
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 jeep, and you have a gun pointed at me.” He gave her one of his charming smiles which didn’t faze her a bit. “Tara, I wish we could have known each other under different circumstances.”
She backed off, but kept the laser pointed at him. She walked through the campsite backwards, looking at what was left, continuously glancing at Gowsky to make sure he didn’t try to stop her again. The tent poles were bent and broken. Most of the food was smashed and scattered. She reached down, maintaining her watch on him, and picked up the grate that had been over the fire and one lone pot that had been on the grate.
Securing the grate and pot to her motorcycle, she straddled it and started the engine. Tara moved 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 out of his face and aimed his gun at her, firing several shots. To no avail. Her motorcycle soon disappeared from sight as he stood at the ruined campsite with a disabled jeep and an injured shoulder.
* * * * *
Tara continued to drive at high speed for several hours. She mentally tried to calculate the distance she would have to travel to reach Gothman. Yes, she would go directly to Gothman. Her children were there, she was sure of that. Patha would not oppose Darius in raising his own children, especially if Patha thought their mama was dead.
It had taken her a day and a half to drive to Semore in much slower transportation. However, she didn’t know the best way to drive north. As she tried to determine her route, Tara’s mind flickered to her children, Patha, Reena, Hilda, Torgo and Syra. And Darius.
She wondered if he’d claimed another woman. It was a recurring thought she’d had ever since Gowsky had told her how long she’d been unconscious. Night fell and Tara continued to drive, lost in her thoughts.
Tara imagined Andru and Ana walking. Her pudgy infants would now have legs strong enough to stand on. Which one had taken their first step? Tara imagined Ana would have taken the first step—she was the one who appeared more daring, putting everything in her mouth. But Andru would run first, she guessed, because he had to be fast to take everything from Ana and inspect it. Her heart constricted with pain at how much she had missed in her children’s lives. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe from the pain. With a deep inhalation, she told herself she would see them in the next day or two, and then work to make them know her again.
And what of Darius? If he had another woman in his life, perhaps she had attempted to make the children her own. Tara scowled at the thought. She would not allow someone else to raise her children. Not even Darius would be able to prevent her from being with her children, no matter the current circumstances.
She set up a makeshift camp when it grew too dark to drive safely, tore it down the next day, and drove through the wilderness without being disturbed by man or beast. Late that afternoon, she was riding along a high prairie trying to remember if she had been this way before. The hills and trees appeared in more abundance the farther north she drove, but after traveling for hours, all hills and trees appeared the same. She worried she had somehow altered course, although she still drove north.
Then she saw it. Ahead in the distance, several trails of smoke filtered slowly up to the sky.
Tara slowed her bike, her senses alert to the oncoming situation. Her body stiffened as instincts kicked in. The smells around her became more apparent. Any movement to the right or left caught her eye immediately. She heard every bird sing, every rock pop under the wheels of her tires.
She wasn’t familiar with people living this far south of Gothman in Freelander territory. This land had always been uninhabited. There was no reason she would be considered an enemy unless these people knew of Runners and feared them. Still, caution was in order. Tara veered out of the prairie and decided to approach the camp through the trees bordering nearby hills.
She was ecstatic when she realized the camp was a Runner clan, though she didn’t recognize the clan flag flying high from the center trailer. The black outfits of the men and women walking through camp were a welcome sight.
Several Runners noticed her approach and pulled their lasers. She knew they were skeptical because their equipment would not have acknowledged her as a Runner without her landlink.
“Hold it right there,” the closest Runner approached her motorcycle as she slowed within yards of them.
Tara stopped her bike and held her hands out to show she came in peace but did not speak until questioned. She knew the routine.
“Runner, where is your landlink?”
“I’ve been to Southland. It was stolen. I’m lucky to be alive.” She dismounted to show her non-warrior intentions as was customary. “I’m glad to see a Runner clan.”
“You’re welcome to hear the stories at the fire.” This was the usual greeting offered to a visiting Runner, and Tara smiled her appreciation.
“I’ve got much to catch up on. I’ve been traveling for awhile.”
“Come back for the test, have you?” They were walking now, and the two Runners led.
Tara pushed her bike. “The test?”
“Well, you have been out of circulation for awhile. No landlink, too. You navigate well.”
“I wasn’t sure I was, to be honest. What test?”
“The Test of Wills.”
Tara stopped walking and stared at the Runner who had just spoken. The Test of Wills was given when the leader of a clan died or stepped down and had no heir.
“We will be continuing north in the morning. Most clans are headed that way, I’m sure. You’re more than welcome to travel with us. We’ll take you to Rolko, but I’m sure he’ll give consent.”
As Tara walked, her mind raced with questions. Why was the Test of Wills being offered? What happened to Patha? She decided to remain silent. If she made her presence known after the Test of Wills had been issued, it would stir up a commotion among the clans. Tara hoped she would learn more when she listened to the stories around the fire, later that evening.
She was accepted into the Four-Circle clan as a traveling warrior. This meant she could sleep by the main fire, use their water supplies, probably be fed, and if she still had her landlink, use their main board to transmit. To refuse their acceptance of her as a traveling warrior would dishonor the clan, especially since they were going in the same direction. So even though she would arrive at Gothman much sooner if she traveled alone, she graciously thanked Rolko for his hospitality.
Tara was left alone to move through the campsite after leaving Rolko’s trailer. She decided to go immediately to the main fire, hoping for food and, if she was lucky, the offer by a compassionate soul to let her take a shower.
“Hey, wait up!” The voice came from behind Tara. “I’m Male, Rolko’s daughter.” A girl several winters younger than Tara hurried up. “Papa asked me to come get you and offer my hospitality. My trailer’s over here if you’d like to clean up or anything.”
Male’s trailer was simple. The floors were bare; a wooden tile covered the kitchen and living area. The countertops were spotless, and two overstuffed matching chairs with a rectangular oak table between them, provided all the furniture for the small living area. A folding table extended from the wall of the kitchen and a shelf mounted on the free wall of the living area housed her landlink.