The Thorian Sagas. 2. Insurrection.

Monique knew exactly what she would do. They all did; having gained some strength from Monique as she had exchanged her own… Stoker’s necklace… for that of this unknown Thorian.

Following Boril’s recommendation, they each exchanged their own necklaces for those of their charges, establishing a comparably close bond with each of them, and by doing so, gaining even more strength to do what was right, and what was needed.

They were now a few steps more, removed from the influence of the city and of Bradshaw and the city council.

Soon, that break would be complete.

They… all twenty of the warriors this time… struggled to carry the last of them into the city just as the sun was ready to disappear below the horizon.

Monique put those earlier thoughts and feelings of uncertainty away from her, and directed their movement into the city as they carried them.

They were easy to see, and examine, as they were moved; pausing often to catch their breath.

These men were heavy, weighing at least half as much again as any of them, even without their arms and armor. The musculature on their arms rivaled that upon their own legs, strong as they were.

Monique was able to relax even more, and to examine each of them in closer detail before the door closed off that other danger, and before the light outside totally disappeared.

There were now lanterns along the corridor, illuminating everything. Others had made preparations, waiting for them to arrive.

This one, the Thorian that had singled her out, and the others that she could see, were all clean shaven, as though done just that morning. Their hair was cropped short, much as Stoker’s hair had been, and they were clean, as though they had bathed and even changed not so long before, yet there was no water for many miles outside of the city, that she was aware of.

Their tunics were clean and unstained, and the one she was attending to, even smelled interesting in a way she did not understand; a musty, musky kind of smell that rattled her senses and made her breath catch in her throat.

She did not even know his name, unable to decipher either the tattoo on his inner arm or the marking on his shield, though he was clearly a great warrior with many bear kills.

Everything about them suggested that, despite the earlier wounds upon them all, they took care of themselves, personally, their clothing, their armor, and their weapons.

Their weapons consisted of both a short and long sword as well as a spear and a heavy ax. Two of them carried cross bows and bolts. And those shields. She could decipher some information on them, thanks to Stoker’s tuition, but not an actual name.

She and her fellow warriors would need to refer to them by some other system. Perhaps by number.

They were perspiring in the heat of the day by the time they returned to the city for the second time with the last of the Thorians, feeling the welcome, cool, humidity hit them once more after being out on the Devil’s Anvil under that sun, even close to dusk; but this, lugging these giants into the city, was the hardest work they had ever been called upon to do.

The temperature would drop precipitously once the sun disappeared.

A few of them returned to the wasteland in the falling light; armed again with those lighter sticks, to retrieve those pieces of armor and whatever weapons had been left out there.

Now, they had ten, unconscious Thorian, alpha males to look after, no matter what the city council, or Bradshaw struggled to do with this new problem that was being thrust upon them.

They looked at each other.

“What are we to do with them? We can’t leave them here in this dank corridor?”

Boril knew. He suggested what was the wisest course of action. Obviously, he knew every inch of this city.

“The lower council chambers are not so far from here, and on this level. They were designed for use in a crisis, and I believe that this qualifies as a crisis. They are comfortable quarters, and they will be empty.”

They made that move in just two stages with most of them co-operating to do so.

Few of them had ever been in the council chambers.

These councilors spared themselves from all hardship, with private quarters; well appointed, comfortable. They were protected both from the heat of the sun, and from the cold of the desert nights, but without windows of any kind. Light was admitted from somewhere above by mirrored tubes which flooded each room with sunlight during the day. They had every comfort.

What Bradshaw would say of them taking over this area was of little concern to any of them at that moment.

There were twelve private rooms, and other, larger ones for meetings, as well as a store of preserved foods for a lengthy siege.

They carried one Thorian into each room, and occupied them in order, from one, to ten, with their guests. The hierarchy of who would care for whom, had already been established by that necklace exchange… all of it, and what it seemed to mean… strangely, and personally exciting to all of them.

The room numbers would be used to identify their guests for the moment, until they learned their names.

Monique was in charge of Thorian number four; the one who had taken hold of her ankle, almost stopping her heart.

It seemed strange to have to refer to these Thorians by numbers, but there was no other way to do it.

As Boril explained to them; only a Thorian can divulge his name to those close to him, and although Boril could decipher who each of these men was, by their personal markings on their forearms, and on their weapons, he was not at liberty to give them that information. Numbers would have to suffice.

Monique addressed those still outstanding items for their prolonged stay here.

“We need to bring all of our belongings and those other weapons from the main gate. We may be here for some time. We can leave a small contingency at that gate until the city can recall the old guard.”

She looked around their faces, sensing a determination to see this through to the end, no matter what happened. Their allegiances had changed. This was still their City and they would continue to protect it, but these Thorians were their first concern now, until they recovered and freed them of this obligation that they had willingly shouldered.

“That was what Bradshaw intended anyway—calling back the old guard—from what I saw in her mind when she demanded that we leave the city to search for her niece. Her longer-term plans for us did not involve us staying in the city after that, but now she will have no choice.”

They would take over this area and never mind what Bradshaw might say.

No doubt Bradshaw was already stewing about Monique not coming to see her before now, while secretly hoping that they might never return, if they did not come back with her niece.

Monique turned to Boril, satisfied with what they had achieved, and the way things were moving.

“Will you stay, Boril? You are welcome to do so.”

He inclined his head to her.

“Thank you. Yes, you will need my help. I must stay with them and monitor their condition until they revive. They are comfortably settled now and are not showing any signs of distress. We Kelts know how to look after them, even in this state, no matter how long it goes on, though we have never needed to do so before.”

Monique would need to go and find Bradshaw and give her the bad news about her niece (though she must already know what that news would be), and then… perhaps… the disastrous news about this other. But not yet.

It would be disastrous…even horrifying... for Bradshaw to learn that there were Thorians in the city, needing care and attention, but it would likely be something that would save Monique and her comrades from whatever retribution Bradshaw had planned for them.

The fellow warriors who came back from the guardhouse at the main gate reported that, as they’d left with the last of their belongings, they had seen the Old Guard coming in to take over their duties.

The transition had started already. Bradshaw had moved quickly.

She had already decided on those changes even before she’d sent Monique out, and she obviously would have other plans to make their lives uncomfortable; even to expel them from the city for what they had dared to do.

There were other things Monique could do to provoke Bradshaw to reveal more of her inner thoughts and emotions. That would be the only way they could defend themselves.

She would defy Bradshaw by going armed into her presence. That would be sure to inflame her even more. Monique no longer cared.

Liam was proving to be a bad influence on her, and this new necklace, from this strange Thorian she was even now bonded with, was making her even more reckless.

Monique found it amusing but it was also, confusing.