The Thorian Sagas. 1. The Trader.

Monique saw the flush upon his face but did not understand it.

She had not seen everything that the others had seen.

He turned his back on them as he continued speaking to Monique, on the ground, except they had all seen too much.

She, Monique, could too easily inflame a man; any of these women could, and set him on fire, but that must not happen.

She had even smelled like a woman when he had been so close to her. It was a scent he had not noticed for many years, being mostly in the company of sweaty men. Fighting men, like himself.

His body should not be responding like this. That time for him, should be a full year away; but she... they... were getting through to him in a way that should not have been possible.

“We will stop there.” He picked up his belt, seeing the woman who had been helping him; staring, mesmerized, breathless, as he quickly covered himself with his hand, struggling to get his belt on, and then followed that with more of his clothing.

She dared not help him now.

His instincts had been right. This had been a mistake.

He told himself that, over and over, but it was too late now.

They stared.

And this, was a man! A proper man. Something... someone... they had never seen before.

They all knew what they had seen.

He did not give in to his embarrassment… which had been a strange and foreign feeling for him.

He continued to try to get their interest back to where it should be, while saying nothing of the other; the damage had already been done.

“Do not take it badly that you did not succeed. You lost this time, but you will get better when you think about it, as you will.”

He ignored those watching him silently with wide eyes, and shrugged into the rest of his clothes, watching Monique and her changing expression as she sat up, feeling well-beaten, maybe even shamed, but he hoped not.

He would need to be more careful the next time and have better control of his body. They had all seen too much.

There were so many warring, and conflicting feelings floating in that small space. Too many to think about.

She would challenge him again when he next came. He would make sure of that. So, this... yes... even this, with his body, if he was not careful, would be often repeated, but with a gradually changing outcome... as far as the wrestling went.

He would have to deal with his bodily responses each time, and not let them be seen.

These women were dangerous for him. He had not expected that. But he was also dangerous for them.

He would not fight naked again, as he usually did, but would wear that belt (or something even better), and he would need to provide her with one, and some other covering for her breasts, using some excuse about ‘protection’, and starting their training with one or two advantages for them, though not for him.

They could use his belt to grapple with him, but he could not use theirs.

Monique had been beaten easily, and might feel humiliated in front of her friends, yet he could see that she would not give in to that feeling. She had the right instincts.

A defeat, was to learn from.

He felt relieved about that.

Now he had to find some way to let her down easily, to accept that inevitable defeat.

She was confused, as they all were, but he saw also, a changing expression on her face as she sat there and went over in her mind all that they had done in combat-- brief as it had been-- and what he had said; what she had learned, and what she was still learning.

She looked up at him.

“You made it seem so easy.”

It had been. But at least he had not totally destroyed her.

“It was, easy (he would not lie to them). But you were up against far more than you could possibly know. No one has ever beaten me in wrestling, or in combat of any kind anywhere on the interval lands, not even a Thorian when they come into Saltash.”

That was the second or third time he’d mentioned Thorians.

And he’d even wrestled with them? And had beaten them?

There was much more to this ‘trader’ than met the eye. For one thing, he was not a Yunk. He was definitely not a Yunk, but he was, definitely, a man. A man like this one should not be turned loose in their city! He should not even be here. It was surely against the treaty.

He held his hand out to her, gratified that she took it, as he drew her to her feet without effort, and then passed her tunic over to her to put back on, hiding her body away from him.

He was thankful for that.

It had pleased him to see her without clothes; stirring other feelings and memories. Those other, primitive feelings that a man had, had not been entirely submerged within him.

Monique was trying to find some explanation for her inability to touch him, but they also had a bigger problem they would soon need to deal with. Him!

“We train each day. We practice for hours, and with our weapons too, and yet… this.”

He came back at her gently.

“But you have never fought for your lives, as I do almost all of the time.”

Even on his way here, against those Frexes. Some of them had many bones broken; necks, backbone, ribs; throats torn away. Others had not a mark on them, as though he had used his bare hands on them in a different way.

He must be terrible in combat!

What would they not give to see him do any of that?

But they were forbidden to leave the city.

“You are protected in this city, and have grown complacent and overconfident with never being challenged.”

He spoke the truth.

“We will never be able to match your strength, Stoker.”

They needed to be lifted up, and shown what they were capable of, if they put their minds to it.

“You don’t have to. And that is the first thing that you should learn. I am not invincible. One day I will be defeated and brought low and to my knees. Maybe even by one of you.”

Unbelievable!

But it was a thought to hang onto.

Yet also inevitable!

“The way you fight someone like me, is to use my own strength against me, and you start with this.” He tapped his head… “and these” … he pointed to his eyes. “You think; and you observe. Every person, every man, has a weakness.”

“How?”

“Come. I will show you. Your first real lesson.”

It was an easy transition to make; from combat opponent, to teacher, and would help to soften her defeat.

He stood her where she had been, as the others watched, more relaxed, now that he was dressed again, but leaving them with memories, and much to talk about later.

“When you first ran at me, I did not try to stop you. I was tempted to help you… to use your own momentum against you—as you must do with any enemy—but had I done so, you may have been injured when I turned with you, pulling, and threw you hard against the wall, or to the ground.”

The follow-through was usually to fall heavily upon that opponent and subdue him on the ground with a knife, or a strangle hold… something he could not do with the rules he now played by.

‘Ground-work’, would have to be separate from this contest, and would need to be carefully managed.

They listened.

They had already been taught this, but now it began to have some real meaning for them with a real teacher… one who had fought for his life, knew what he was saying, and could show them.

He continued.

“Do not resist your attacker. Do not fight him. Help him... in a way he does not expect and cannot anticipate. Deceive him.”

He looked around at them all, then spoke to Monique.

“Come at me slowly, and I will show you.”

He followed the motions of earlier, but instead of stepping clear of her, he stepped into her, took hold of her arm farthest from him, and pulled to accelerate her and lift her as he pivoted on the ball of his foot, swinging his other arm, hard under hers to turn her, leaving his leg for her to fall over, but easing her slowly to the ground, cushioning her fall.

He explained all that he was doing.

Damnation! She was still too lightly dressed!

“Change the dynamic. Use your opponent’s momentum against her, and even though you know all this, you must now rethink it against someone like me.”

He did not let her fall hard, but put her slowly to the ground again, as he deliberately followed through, lost his own balance and rolled away from her like a ball, to come back onto his feet again.

He was as light as a feather in everything he did. How could such a massive man be so light on his feet?

For a solidly built man he was surprisingly supple and even graceful.

And this is what a man should be like! Gentle. Powerful. Intimidating... yet helpful.

He smiled at them.

“Use your enemy’s own strength against him. Learn how to fall without injury, and how to roll to regain your feet as quickly as possible to continue fighting.”

None of this was new to them, though it was new to them, the way he taught it.

“I know that you already know all of this, but I will make you re-analyze what you think you know. Each opponent is very different from every other, just as you are, and you need to adjust accordingly.”

He looked at Monique.

“Now, try that on me as I come at you.”

He moved, in slow motion at her.

When she contacted him as he had shown her how to do, but with almost no force to it, he put his large hand upon her abdomen, and more forcefully pulled her hip hard into his body.

“Step in front of me. Throw your body weight, all of it, into me harder. Bend your legs to put your center of gravity low on me… the lower the better... grasp this leading arm and pull hard on this wrist as your other arm circles me. Grip my belt firmly, as you push yourself hard against me as low as you can and roll me over your hip as you continue pulling.”

He blocked her. “You are strong enough, even though you may not believe it.

“Try again. Pull harder; grip my wrist harder. Throw your body harder against mine and pull… pull… pull.”

After the fourth try, as she adjusted what she was doing and was learning, with his help... she got him off balance, and managed to throw him over her hip.

She was not fooled. He had let her do that. She had almost crumpled beneath his weight.

“The faster you move, the less you will notice my weight. Practice that together, over and over, when you next train. It will soon come to you.”

It had been a simple and effective lesson.

They had never been properly taught.

It was a good time to stop; after a success. Monique had thrown him, albeit with his help.

“We will break there. It is getting late. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?” It usually brought death to many animals, and brought others another day closer to death. ‘Death’ was the one ‘constant’ in life.

Stoker’s word had become law.

They also knew that he would never choose to hurt any of them.

The hierarchy in their tightly circumscribed little world had just been upended, and no one should ever find out!

Their vows suddenly began to feel more of an awkward encumbrance, than a desirable protection of any kind. A real man had that effect on them.

Tonight, they would feel safer and more secure than they had ever felt before, and that was something else to think about.