The Thorian Sagas. 1. The Trader.

This had been an evening filled with many strange lessons, but Monique could not let it just die away.

There were other opportunities here, and she must grasp them.

Monique reached across and touched him on the hand as he stared dreamily into the fire, startling him out of his momentary reverie.

He was regretting; yet not regretting anything. He could not undo what had happened this evening; what they had seen and learned about him.

He rationalized it.

He had been challenged. She had challenged him and set this in motion. He could not have refused that challenge. The rest of it had followed on from that.

He would be denied entry to their city after this when they thought about it. That was the only possible outcome.

She did not hesitate to ask something he could not possibly have expected.

“There is so much we do not know about… so many things. Would you, teach us what we need to know about combat? As though we would be going into battle for our lives?”

He looked at them, not entirely sure what he was hearing, but soon waking up to it. Was this not why he was here, why he had done this? It was, though it had gone in a slightly different direction than he had intended.

It seemed that his position here, was not about to be taken away.

He could do as they requested, even if it was against so many of their rules. Who would know? He could teach them how to defend themselves properly against the upcoming revolution.

That would be one way to upset the old order of things, though the final consequences could not be foreseen.

It was not so unthinkable. Why should women not know how to fight properly, and take on whatever was thrown at them?

He would teach them. It could not harm.

“If that is what you want, I will, and I will add to it each time I come if you promise to follow faithfully what I tell you, and say nothing of me, or what you have learned about me, tonight, to anyone else in the City.”

“We promise. We will say nothing.” She looked at her companions in the light of the flickering fire and saw their eager responses.

They all agreed.

They’d never had such a skilled wrestler, or a warrior like this one anywhere near them, so why would they want to lose him now?

Women warriors had taught them… but the interest; the necessity, the urgency for anything truly violent had not been there. Now, they could have a proper teacher. One who had defeated the legendary Thorians in wrestling, and in combat, and knew about war, and facing death each day. What better teacher could they have? It had taken them three years, and a ‘challenge’, to learn that he was not a Yunk, but a man, and he had not harmed any of them in that time, so it would not happen now.

Monique, added to her list of needs, wondering how much she dared ask of him.

“We need weapons training, too.”

He knew they did. The future ramifications of what they were asking him to help them with could not be known… but the system that had survived for millennia; punctuated by episodes of rebellion and short-lived war, needed to be changed. He just hoped he would be doing the right thing.

“I can teach you all that a proper warrior from that outside world should know, already knows, and with proper weapons; the weapons of men. But first, we will start easily, working on your strength, and stamina.”

He did not need to think about it. It was already part of his everyday life outside of Fenn, and he was already familiar with their city… much more than they would ever know.

“We begin in the morning before I go back to Golden. If I go. You… we… will run along the top of the wall around the city each morning that I am here. We will do that at first light before others are stirring, and you will do that each morning too, when I am not here.

“You can split into two groups to do that, so that you are not seen to neglect your gate duty.”

She nodded and promised.

“I shall go with you first thing in the morning if it is safe for me to do so.”

He looked around at the faces he could see.

“Understand, that I shall not ask you to do anything that I would not do, myself.”

They knew that too.

“You shall wear a pack, to hold your usual weapons, and shall carry a supply of food and water for two days. It should never be far from you, except when you sleep. You need to get used to that burden. It may one day, save your life.”

They had never considered such things before.

“Nothing in battle is easy, so training should not be easy, either. You shall add more weight to that pack with each week that passes.”

She listened carefully to everything he was saying.

“There is still that bell tower in the center of the city. 'That', rises to a hundred feet, and it goes a hundred feet under the ground to your water supply, with its many steps from bottom to top.”

How did he know about that? He could not have been down there! It was under constant guard!

They would have been surprised to learn that Stoker knew more about their own city than anyone who lived in it.

“Each day, before the city awakes, or after it sleeps, or when you can, you will run up and down those stairs for one hour, no matter how tired you get, and no matter how much your muscles will scream at you to stop and let them rest.”

He repeated himself, telling her what he had learned many times for himself.

“There is no rest in battle or going up against an animal that seeks only to kill you. To stop fighting to live, is to die.

“I shall climb that with you too, before the well-minders come. When I come again, in another week, then, we shall work on your strength, and add to it from there, once I see what you are capable of.

“When I finish with you, in another year, if I am still here, you might not be able to take on a Thorian in combat, but if you do it right, you would surprise him, pleasantly, and we can start that training now. We begin first thing in the morning.

“But first… there is a small box, so big”—he indicated its size— “under the seat of my wagon, if one of you would bring it to me, we shall begin this on a proper footing.”

He saw one of them scurry off to his cart, not far away, and to where his horses were still busy eating.

When that box was brought to him, he opened it and gave each of the twenty women a necklace with a single bear claw on it.

“I have a single claw on a necklace for each of you. These claws, unlike those I wear, were taken from dead bears that had been killed by others, or that succumbed to age; which happens to very few bears in nature.

“I shall trade that hair you cut off, for a single claw for each of you. That, is permitted. Hair as long as this, is useful in many ways, and can be traded.

“This claw shall also mark this contract that now exists between us. A contract of obligation… and of secrecy.” He looked around again.

“No one should learn of what we are doing.” He let that sink in.

“Next time I come I shall bring proper weapons of war for each of you to train with, but sized more for you. They are heavy but will not break or let you down. You should learn to use them. You must also keep them out of sight when you are not training with them, or others will ask questions.

“If you can learn to use them properly, you can take on any enemy. Certainly, a Frex, and perhaps even a Mountain Bear, though I would not recommend it.”

He must be joking. They would never willingly choose to do that; but a Frex? They sensed a feeling of excitement creeping over them.

“Each time I come, you shall challenge me to combat, as you did, and you shall risk losing nothing more than another of these bracelets each time.

“Who knows, one day you may actually be able to win that other necklace from me.”