The Thorian Sagas. 1. The Trader.

They were still not yet ready to sleep, with this feeling of anticipation and excitement; this contract; this promise… so Monique continued with her questions as she hugged her knees up close to her, as a child would.

“Is it permitted for you to tell us anything more about the Thorians?

They were interested, of course. All women were.

It was only natural that they would be curious, never having dared ask about them before.

“Provided it goes no farther than this fire, how would anyone know what we discuss here?”

They had many secrets between them now. What did it matter if they shared others?

They listened as he relaxed with them around the warmth and comfort of their fire.

“There are several distinct tribes of Thorians who live in different regions. They trade and travel easily and freely between regions. They are all warriors, trained in battle.

“Despite what you may have heard, they do not fight with each other to do injury, but they do meet and hold contests, fight in ways that others could easily assume indicates war.”

He seemed to know a lot about what went on in that society, but he did come from Saltash where there were many Thorians, so he had said.

The Thorians were there because of the river which ran between the mountains and the inland sea, linking both of those places where Thorians lived.

“You said that a Thorian, killed a Mountain bear for this hide and those claws?”

He shook his head.

“I should not have stated it that way. He usually kills that bear for another reason and then collects the hide and claws after, to prove what he did, and he distributes the meat, even down to Saltash, where it is traded for metals, or arms.

“Sometimes he has no choice about taking on a bear, as when a bear attacks him. A Thorian warrior may kill several bears in his lifetime.

“There are many bears.

“You have eaten some of that meat yourself, in that stew we had tonight. It is stronger-tasting, and is darker than most other meats. I bring some of that meat with me each time I come. It is only for us, to eat. I do not trade it.”

They had not known that, but they had enjoyed whatever meat he brought.

“It is said that those who eat that meat, form a special linkage with the community of bears (as well as with Thorians, but he could not tell them that latter point) and it is believed that if there were no bears, there would be no Thorians.”

Monique continued with her questions.

“So, he kills the bear for the meat?”

They still did not understand.

He corrected her again.

“No. He kills it to stop it killing him. However, if it is his first bear kill, then it serves as a rite-of-passage to manhood, no matter his age.”

He saw the surprise written across their faces. They had seen the size of that hide.

Who, in his right mind, and so young, would choose to go up against a Mountain Bear just to show he was a man? Those Thorians must be very brave, or recklessly stupid.

He continued.

“When a Thorian, gets to the age of eighteen and has been trained in all of the nuances of war—in which a few of them die getting there (something else they didn’t know)—there is nothing gentle about that training—he goes out into the mountains to find his bear; or for his bear to find him.”

That linkage again.

It all sounded so strange. They had never heard of such an interconnection before…‘to find 'his' bear, or for 'his' bear to find him’.

“He is required to kill it, single-handedly, using a spear, his ax, or his sword--whatever-- and bring meat from it, as much as he can carry, and its hide and claws, to show that he is now to be seen as a man.

“That, is the first transition age in his life. The second, is when he reaches the age of thirty, and having survived many more difficulties, as all Thorians do, he wins the right to take… to take his place in Thorian society, and to sit on its council.”

He did not elaborate any further on that.

Stoker shook his head. “Sometimes; too often, it does not work out that way. The bear prevails and kills and eats the youth.”

They had never heard of such violent and unthinkable things happening outside of their walls.

They were thankful to be protected in their cities if that was what it was like out there.

“That happens almost half of the time. Then, a monster is born. A bear that has once eaten a man, has an appetite for that flesh alone, and hunts men down to kill again, and again, and it grows even stronger, bigger, and more ferocious than any bear you would ever want to see with each kill it makes. They are called, ‘Rogues’. Sometimes, they leave the mountains and approach some of the settlements between the cities.”

He fingered the claws at his neck.

“These claws, and that hide, are from one of those bears.

“That is when a small group of Thorian Warriors is called upon to kill that particular bear as soon as possible. They always respond to that call for help and are trusted to kill it. No others would choose to take on that task.”

They were listening to every word he said.

“That select group are called, Alpha Thorians.”

“That animal is always easily found. It usually finds them… is drawn to them, just as they are drawn to it. They hunt each other just as soon as they come within range of each other.”

He did not elaborate on that either. There were some things it was better they did not know.

“It is still, one-on-one combat. If the bear prevails, it will be let go for another complete day, and then the hunt begins again.”

He had them all sitting in the palm of his hand, listening. Thought of sleep had been put aside. In truth, they might not be able to sleep at all, tonight.

“That, is a contest that few have ever been privileged to see.”

He spoke as if he had actually seen it; closing his eyes and shaking his head as though to banish that memory from his mind.

It was a vision they could all see for just an instant in time and then it was closed off from them again as though he had momentarily lost control of his thoughts.

The claw that each of them carried, tingled against their flesh, and even felt warm.

“They have never failed to bring that bear down. If that warrior falls, another one must step up and finish what the first one started, but on the next day. Failure to kill that bear is never an option, or it will continue to become ever more of a challenge.

“However, no Alpha Thorian has ever failed in that task. None. But it is just a matter of time.”

Stoker’s voice broke with the intense feeling of what he was experiencing, remembering that.

“If that bear encounters another Thorian before the Alphas deal with it, then no matter his age, the Thorian has to take it on. He is given no choice. Few Thorians who are not Alphas, ever survive that encounter.”

He was describing a hideously dangerous… dog-eat-dog… kind of society, where life was so uncertain. They were glad they did not live out there.

The gates of their city no longer seemed to be quite so protective for them, nor their cities appear to be so much confining, as 'protective'.

The wine had a way of loosening Stoker’s thoughts and his tongue. Perhaps they fermented it that way with one of those herbs that induced too free a conversation.

No. It was just good wine.

He had seen into their minds, while closing his own to them, except for a brief moment or two. Sharing that bear-meat as they had for so long, had done wondrous things.

“If any Thorian kills a Rogue, he can then claim the privilege of becoming known as an Alpha, regardless of his age.

“About one in a hundred Thorians is an Alpha, and they have several privileges to go along with that standing.”

He seemed to know a lot about that; them; and their privileges and rituals.

He did not elaborate any further than that.

They had never heard of Alpha Thorians until that evening. They did not even know that there were any distinctions in that society, believing that they were all warlike, primitive, difficult; even, unprincipled.

Just look at the rules the Thorians had imposed upon their city!

Yet that treaty and those rules which, among other things confined them to their city, and living as they had, did not expose them to the dangers of that outside world that he faced, and of which they had ample evidence each time he came. And now they knew something about bears!

He continued.

He had their interest now, never having lost it.

“Can you tell us more about them? Is it permitted... ? These Alpha Thorians?”

He thought for a little longer as he stared into the fire, and then looked around the circle at each of them, weighing up how much he should say.“I can tell you a little more, without breaking any rules.”

He considered for a further few moments.

“Physically, they are superficially like any other Thorian, except for the decorations on their shields which indicate who they are; their standing, according to the number of Rogues they have killed.

“Each shield shows how many rogue bears he has dispatched. That rank is noted, by a small circular mark for each one, down the very left side of his shield. You may have seen one or other of those particular Thorians at a distance, patrolling the wastelands behind your city.”

They knew that others wandered that wasteland at a distance, but had never given in to any curiosity about them.

“The shape and color of their shields proclaim them. They are bright yellow at the top; red and black below that.”

There were other distinctions too, but he would not go into those. He’d got started, so he would go on.

He picked up a smoking stick from the edge of the fire and drew the outline of an Alpha-Thorian shield in the ashes at the edge of the dying fire, showing the various characteristic markings on them; telling them again what they meant… and telling them that the name of the warrior was also in the special markings there, as he pointed them out.

He did not tell them the key to determining that name or tell them other things that he knew.

“And, women. Are there Thorian women?”

He nodded.

“Yes. They have women, but the men must reach full manhood, and serve like you, as a warrior for twelve full years before they may take a wife.”

The society he described was the opposite of their own. Breeding was encouraged from the earliest age in their own society, but it was not something anyone chose to do. The only way to avoid that unappealing prospect was by choosing to become a warrior.

“Are there Thorian children?” Of course, there would have to be.

“Yes.”

He continued beyond the interruptions. “They; the Alphas, are the ones who live in the mountains directly behind this city of yours. You may have seen them at a distance, patrolling the far wastelands. A few others of their clan are spread through all of Thorium, though there are few Rogue bears outside of this area between Sinden, and Fenn.”

He saw the look of shocked surprise on their faces.

They lived so close to these Alpha Thorians?

“And you didn’t even know that?”

“Not until now.”

He laughed at their surprise.

But how could they know that? Who would have told them?

“They are the ones I trade with, using your goods, and your wine, as well as other merchandise from you, especially your cotton goods which they value highly. You are the reason they get to Saltash to meet with me, when I bring my goods to them. You are well known to them.”

They were unaware of any of that.

“They are also the ones; the only ones allowed to collect the tributes from this, and the other three cities at the end of each month for me to bring here under the terms of that treaty.”

He sensed a sudden surge of emotions that they had difficulty controlling.

“Surely, you know of that.”

But they did not seem to know that, though they knew of the tributes being sent out from their city.

“Have you never read that treaty? It is all explained in there. The treaty should be posted in the city for all to see.”

They seemed not to know anything about it.

“If it is not posted, how do you know what is in it? It is supposed to be posted for all to see.”

Clearly, they didn’t know what was in that treaty.

Monique explained.

“The Council tells us what we need to know. They tell us what it says. Warn us.”

He fell silent.

They did not seem to know that, because of their council, they were already in violation of the treaty by not letting everyone see it and to understand what it said.

No wonder rebellions were beginning to stir.

The councils of all of the cities had a lot to answer for.

He should say nothing more about that.

He had drunk just a little too much wine—but it was very good wine—and he had told them more than he should have, so soon. He should also sleep before they asked any more questions and drew even more out of him.

Most of them were already asleep so, fortunately they would not remember much of what he’d said.

He stood up, ending the conversation, walked over to see to his horses for the night, and then bedded down beside the fire. He was well aware that many of those women would not sleep as long as he was here, after what they had learned about him, and would keep a close eye on him.

And on each other.

He had seen that look in their eyes, sensed it in their thoughts.

Had he been alone with any one of them, he knew they would soon have cast their vows aside for him, and he could not risk that.

The young woman who had been sent to look under his cart seat for those necklaces in that box, had seen a shield, in that dim light, that resembled the one he’d drawn, with its colors, with markings on it that she could now put a meaning to. She had seen other weapons too, of the kind he had described to them, with similar markings on them. Thorian markings. Alpha Thorian markings!

His other weapons; the ones he had openly brought into their city with him, were like them, but did not have those particular markings that he had drawn for them. He had two sets of weapons!

If she dared, she would take Monique to one side and tell her of that, and about the tattoo he had on his inner arm that she had seen when she had helped him undress earlier. That tattoo, matched markings she had also seen on that same shield.

If she dared.

This man, Stoker, might even be a Thorian. Maybe even an Alpha Thorian!

There would be no sleep for her tonight with her heart thumping the way it was!

His dog came across to Stoker and snuggled close into him as he fondled its head.

I know. I know. I got off lightly. You were right to warn me, but it went as it should at the end. I will get them ready for the invasion when it comes, if it comes. Now we have to get them to lose their fear of the wastelands, but that will still be some time away.