These people certainly loved bright colors! The chairs and stools had bright throws over them and some sort of rag rugs were strewn on the planked floor. The woman’s clothing appeared to be of good material and, though not designed with any great detail to design, was attractive and appeared comfortable. The man was dressed in a bright red tunic-style shirt, and trousers made out of some sort of durable wool or heavy linen. He was barefoot and, from the calluses on his feet, it appeared he went barefoot quite often. The woman wore lace-up sandals, somewhat comparable to what Fiona termed Roman style or a close facsimile. They were both tall and made an especially attractive couple.
Fiona felt grubby and messy compared to them, and she was embarrassed by her obvious bad odor. She was dressed in only a straight shift, and, by now, it was very dirty. She had no idea what had happened to her dress or her boots. She turned to the woman and made washing motions to her arms and face. From her quick scan of the room, there appeared to be no running water here either. The woman went over to another part of the room and brought a colorful wrap back. She helped Fiona put it on and then she retrieved a basket full of small clay pots from a shelf in the kitchen area. She reached her hand out for Fiona and led her out the door.
Fiona took one step into the sunlight and gasped. In full light of day, the view before her was unlike anything she had expected to see. Dusty children, Caucasian as well as children of mixed-heritage, raced around a central square edged by round dwellings with high conical roofs. Some sort of strange chickens pecked at the ground and a few scavenging dogs were in sight. It was overwhelming and her amazement grew. Tanith reached for her uninjured arm and led her out of the square and down an avenue lined by more of the round buildings.
Carts drawn by teams of oxen and loaded with goods of every type appeared to be the only vehicles on the streets. There wasn’t one motorized vehicle in sight! The streets themselves were simple dirt roads. Most of the people were on foot and most were carrying large bundles either on their backs or balanced on their heads. It looked like a scene from an old Viking movie, except there weren’t any old Vikings around these days. Every piece of clothing was bright and mixed with every color of the rainbow, and plaids were definitely the style here. She felt as though she had stepped back in time.
Fiona saw no signs anywhere of telephone poles or electrical wires lining the sky—none whatsoever—and the plumbing was either nonexistent or totally primitive by her standards. Tanith continued to lead her slowly down the street and then down a small hill, to a slow moving river. A large hut balanced on the edge, and when they entered, she could see that it housed a hot spring emptying into a huge pool and then drained into the river. Steam rose from the pool and the inside of the hut was warm and cloudy. Several women were already there, talking and laughing, and either bathing or washing clothes in the runoff. They looked up curiously as Tanith and Fiona entered, and all smiled and appeared excited to see Tanith.
“Who’s that with you?” an older woman, Engai, inquired curiously. “I don’t recognize her.”
Tanith considered how she should respond. To say that Fiona was a servant would lower Fiona’s status, and Tanith was unwilling to name her such. “She belongs to Kellach.” Astonished silence gripped the room for a few moments and then chattering exploded. Unable to understand any of the conversation, Fiona was reminded of a flock of squawking chickens.
“Kellach’s woman!” “When did he take a woman?” “What’s her name?” “Where’s she from?” “Did he take her to wife or is she his bedmate?” The questions came fast and furious. Kellach taking a woman was big news, and there were many who would be most unhappy in the hearing.
Tanith hesitated before answering. “He found her on the journey.”
“Is she a slave?”
“No, at least, not that we can tell. She’s much too delicate to have labored hard and her clothing is far above a slave’s lot.”
“Is she from one of the eastern settlements then?”
“She doesn’t speak our language, so we haven’t been able to figure out who she is or where she comes from, other than her name is Fiona.”
The women nodded as though that made a difference. Tanith undressed and then helped Fiona to discard her nightgown. Fiona was embarrassed by the appraising looks of the women and her own nudity. Even though she couldn’t understand what they were saying, she got the distinct impression that she was not measuring up.
Tanith and Fiona stepped down into the hot pool and sat on stone seats fashioned on the sides. Fiona sighed as the water closed over her. She slipped down until only her nose was above the water. It had been too long since she had bathed all over. Tanith reached behind them and scooped some gel-like liquid out of one of the pots and rubbed it in Fiona’s hair. It smelled of flowers and she imagined it must be some sort of shampoo. Tanith washed and rinsed her hair a few times and then rubbed some other concoction into her hair as well. She then calmly went about bathing Fiona, and although Fiona was flushed with embarrassment, Tanith took no notice and quickly finished the bath.
After she had Fiona cleaned to her satisfaction, she washed herself as well and then shampooed her own hair. Tanith’s hair had been unbraided since soon after arriving home and she wore it either hanging free or tied back with a length of cloth or a leather thong. Her unbraided dark blonde hair shone with red highlights and curled naturally down her back. She used no cosmetics that Fiona was aware of and her face always had that clean scrubbed look. Her teeth were good and she smiled easily. Fiona envied her. It was clear that Tanith was sure of herself as a woman and a mother, and her place here was uncontested. It must be nice, she thought, to be so appreciated by so many.
Tanith helped her out of the pool and wrapped a large cloth around her. Fiona felt better than she had for more than a week and it was wonderful to have the dirt off. She had noticed in the bath that none of the women shaved their underarms or their legs and Fiona was somewhat surprised by that. Only the “granolas” or earth women went “au naturale.” If she didn’t get home soon, it wouldn’t be long before she looked just like them. Fortunately, her hair was almost white so even if it did grow out, it wouldn’t be as noticeable on her as it was on some of those women. Some of them had hairier legs than a lot of men she knew, and she didn’t even want to think about their underarms.
As they made their way back to Tanith’s residence, Tanith pointed across the square and said something like “Kellach,” and then something incomprehensible. The dwelling she pointed at was larger than Tanith’s, but she didn’t see anyone coming and going over there. Maybe “Kellach” meant it was a meeting hall or something like that. It was certainly big enough to be a town hall. She had no way to tell, but it was certainly impressive. She was beginning to tire and she needed to rest. Her face must have revealed how she felt as Tanith pushed her gently into the house and helped her to lie down again. By the time her head hit the pillow, she was fast asleep.
Nine
The days passed quickly and before long, Fiona’s face had healed. Her arm, although still somewhat sore and stiff, was sufficiently mended to allow her to help in the normal day-to-day activities, at least what was considered normal day-to-day activities here, and things that she could do with one hand. “Day-to-day” activities included helping with meals, hand washing clothing, feeding animals, and walking to the market to barter and trade for goods. Being able to only use one hand had its drawbacks, but she was learning to adjust. Her arm was still sore and her range of motion very limited. She spent several hours each day on her own blend of physical therapy and her arm was responding well. After some time, Tanith must have thought her progress was sufficiently improved, because she handed Fiona a large axe-type utensil and pointed out the door towards the chickens pecking in the yard. Ultimately, when Fiona was neither able to catch a chicken nor do whatever she was expected to do with the axe, Tanith made short work of one of the hens. She was quite surprised when Fiona sat down and cried. Tanith had not expect
ed her to try again.
The settlement grew up around an oasis nestled near a mountain range to the south. A vast desert covered a large area to the north. Using primitive methods of irrigation, the people had forced back the desert and farms were abundant. Flocks of strange sheep, herds of short legged cattle and small shaggy horses dotted the outlying areas. Bright clothing, and lots of it, seemed to signify wealth and standing in the tribe. Tanith’s own wardrobe rivaled Fiona’s at home, and with very few changes, Tanith could have appeared on the streets of the city and little notice would have been taken. Tanith was generous with her gifts and, as a result, Fiona was well dressed and able to wear fresh clothing daily. It was apparent that Tanith and her family were members of the upper class by the way the general public treated them as they moved about the town. A number of servants worked in and around Tanith’s household and they were well-treated and respectful.
She became Tanith’s shadow, keeping her eyes open and paying close attention to the comings and goings around her. The little imp, Machar, was a favorite with her and it was a treat to watch him for Tanith. Out of necessity, she was learning to speak the language and Tanith was unfailing in her willingness to help. Each day, she would point out new items, say the word and Fiona would repeat it until it was fixed solidly in her mind.
Fiona estimated that she had been in this place for perhaps three months, give or take a few weeks, and speculated that it was late June, at least she thought perhaps it was late June. She arrived at this date by calculating the approximate number of days that had passed since the car wreck. She had no way of knowing for sure, it seemed earlier in the year than June, the weather colder than it should have been for this late in the year.
Worry about her family was uppermost in her mind. They would have to be frantic by now. She missed both of them so much. Their phone calls had been a daily ritual and being out of contact for so long was wearing on her. Her many attempts to contact the outside world had met with failure. She tried to walk for a distance one day and was forced back by the tight-knit patrols. Through trial and error, she discovered that it was dangerous to venture outside the confines of the settlement alone and that the closest settlements, other than the friendly yellow tribe nearby, were far away.
Out of boredom and a need to find a niche for herself, Fiona had begun collecting the various plant life and herbs in order to start a small pharmacy of her own. She was able to identify some plant life, although the majority of the specimens were new to her. During her weekly visits from the yellow healer, she was able to expand her collection. Their meetings rested largely on gestures and facial expressions but usually she got her meaning across. At each such visit, he would cluck over her and either smile or scowl, depending upon what she imagined were the results of his examination. Tanith kept up a lively conversation with him and, before they left, he would provide Tanith with more medicinal pouches for future torture sessions on Fiona.
Fiona had been out early one day collecting samples and, deciding to take a small break, sat alone atop a small hillock just outside the perimeter of the settlement. From her vantage point, she could see most of the settlement, the river moving slowly by, and in the distance, the desert stretching as far as the eye could see. The oasis nestled near a mountain range west of the river and farmland stretched out beyond.
In the clearing directly below, men trained in warfare, either with bows and arrows, long swords or some sort of large club. Several of the men blew on large war horns, totally alien to anything she had ever seen before. Their shape reminded her of long necked dragons or serpents held upright, towering over the heads of the users. The sound issuing from them was intense and frightening, and it took little imagination to figure out that they were used for intimidation as well as delivering battle commands. On several previous occasions, she had witnessed this same scene but only that day did she really notice that, curiously enough, none of the men had guns of any sort. That was so very strange. Good grief, the sale of arms was big business and even the most primitive tribes had guns of some sort. But not these people. She mulled that over, combining it with the facts as she saw them.
On the other side of the knoll, a flock of sheep grazed, tended by three young shepherdesses. Never idle, one girl walked around the flock, spinning onto a carved wooden spindle from a distaff full of wool. Another girl sat on the ground weaving, the far end of her long skinny warp threads looped around her big toe, pulled tight, one eye on the flock. Fiona watched the tranquil scene for a few minutes. Band weaving was a clever thing, easily transportable and quickly set up. Cloth was woven into long narrow strips and then sewn together to achieve the desired widths. Not having any experience with weaving in any form, Fiona was totally impressed by their ingenuity.
As she went through each piece of evidence, item by item, her stomach flip-flopped, her heart began to pound and she had trouble catching her breath, easily headed towards a major panic attack. Either she had gone stark raving crazy, or somehow, some way, she had been transported back in time. Hopefully, it was the former choice. She preferred to think she was having a psychotic episode, at least there was a chance that her caregiver would get her dosage right and she would eventually return to reality. The flip side was just too unbelievable. There wasn’t such a thing as time travel, and even if there was, she hadn’t climbed into some sort of time machine or stepped through to a parallel dimension. She had been in a car wreck. People were in car wrecks all the time and they woke up in a hospital. They didn’t wake up in another time and place. It was crazy to even think she had gone back through time. But what other explanation was there?
She dropped her face into her hands. Every contour of her face felt the same, her hands felt real, the fingertips roughened by work, so why did she feel like she was dreaming? You didn’t feel the sun on your face or the wind at your back in a dream. This was real and she was here. Bile rose to the back of her throat and she had to swallow hard to keep from throwing up. She didn’t want to be here, she wanted to be home with Mom and Dad and Sykes and eat pizza and chocolate and use a real toilet and toilet paper. She wanted to shave her legs and armpits and use deodorant and paint her fingernails and have a massage. She wanted her life back! But most of all, she wanted to hug Mom and Dad and tell them how much she loved them.
Ten
As the season grew warmer, the only road coming into and out of the settlement became increasingly busy as more and more caravans stopped at the oasis. It was a dazzling sight. Whenever one approached it reminded Fiona of stories about old-time circuses rolling into town. Elephants, camels and horses provided most of the transportation for the better class, servants and slaves walked behind. Teams of oxen hauled large wagons full of goods and, quite often, strange animals meant for trade or gifting to the Emperor in the east. In the distance, she could see yet another group of travelers who would soon converge upon the settlement. Very few of the travelers would leave the relative safety of the oasis during the hottest parts of the summer. Encampments could be seen in every direction, waiting for cooler temperatures before attempting to cross The Place of No Return. The road to the east through the desert was littered with the bodies of those foolish enough to embark before weather conditions permitted.
Fiona tested the weight of her bronze necklace and copper bracelets. Would it be enough? If I don’t try, I’ll never know! She’d attempted at various times earlier in the season to make contact with anyone in the caravans prepared to take her as a passenger, but none had been willing thus far. Someone must be eager for a few bucks! The encampments stretched out before her, disappearing into the distance. Which one to contact? Didn’t seem to make much difference. They all looked the same. She squared her shoulders and strode forward, determined to find passage to the east.
A surly looking guard watched her approach. As she drew nearer, he pulled what she could only describe as a scimitar from his waistband and rested the curved edge on the ground. He must be one of the Persians I’ve heard so mu
ch about. Swarthy-skinned with a trimmed black beard, his dark eyes sparked with suspicion. He looked very…intimidating.
Her short-lived bravado melted away. Anxiety reared its ugly head. “Excuse me...” she coughed.
He shouted a spate of angry sounding words and pointed to the village. The scimitar came up. The meaning behind his hostile gesture all too clear.
Women, other than the entertainers and prostitutes who visited the encampments at night, were not welcomed near any of the travelers’ tents.
“I just want to talk to someone in charge.” She tried adding a tentative smile.
His demeanor changed. The turbaned head tilted as he studied her. A purple tongue snaked from his mouth, licking the cruel lips. Lascivious interest flared in his heated gaze.
Oh shit! The women in the settlement were treated as equals by the populace and appeared to enjoy most of the same freedoms as did the men. The women traveling with the caravans, on the other hand, remained out of sight and, if they did emerge for some reason, were swathed from head to toe and contact with them was frowned upon.
A hand grabbed her arm and she was dragged roughly behind a tall figure. Siran!
The guard chattered a long line of gibberish and pointed at her. Siran shook his head almost snarling with fury. The foreign conversation raged back and forth.
More guards joined the first. To her astonishment, Siran drew his weapon, laughing like a maniac. He’s enjoying this! A horn sounded from the settlement and warriors surged out. It was enough! The Persians backed off, dipping their heads in submissive bows.
He marched her towards the village. When they were safely inside the confines, he whirled. “Stay here! Bad men out there. Make you slave!”
“I…I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tears clogged her throat. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set Page 7
