The Thorian Sagas. 2. Insurrection.

Fortunately, Bradshaw knew nothing of this collaboration between the guards in her city, and their ‘enemy’; the Thorians, as she tried to work through her own personal difficulties with her family. She was quite prepared to violate any treaty and to make any sacrifice to get what she wanted. Even if it meant that these City Guards would take the blame for what she planned, in her efforts to work around the treaty.

She had it already laid out in her mind.

Whether the guards succeeded or failed, there would be changes made to those guarding the city and the gate. They had become lax, to Bradshaw’s way of seeing it, and were slovenly and ill-disciplined; even insolent, as though challenging her authority, and strangely independent, and 'that', had nettled her.

If these ‘adventurers’ were discovered to be in violation of the treaty outside of the city, where none of them were supposed to be, then she could plausibly deny all knowledge of what they were doing, where 'they', couldn’t deny it. The full weight of consequences would be borne by them, and by them alone.

There was nothing in writing, and she had involved no one else; spoken to no one else about it.

They, and not she, would be the ones to pay the price when the Thorians apprehended them, whatever that price would be.

She could even... tearfully, and plausibly... plead that those warriors had gone out of their own volition to recover that last tribute in some act of foolish desperation; ignoring the treaty.

She could speculate that that particular tribute must have been known to several of them; a friend, and they’d objected to her being sent out, as unexpectedly as she had been, so they had gone after her. There was nothing clearly linking Bradshaw to that last one, or to this.

She would call the Old Guard 'in' again to guard the gate and the city, until she was able to put together a new cohort of guards that would abide by the code, and the rules of dress and behavior that these guards had clearly violated from what she had seen. They had grown too comfortable in some difficult ways.

As far as Monique was concerned, it was a good thing no one in the city knew of their last few nights of adventure as they’d gone out to explore the wastelands during the overnight hours. They had violated that treaty by doing so, so this new escapade was not anything that would frighten them. Especially not after meeting the Kelts, and because of her mental connection with Liam, letting her know what awaited them out there, and seemingly giving her permission to do what was needed.

There had been no outright ‘thou shalt not go out’, kind of caution, other than that warning about those Sand Serpents. Whatever they were. That; them; they, were true unknowns (Stoker had not mentioned them), but Monique knew what to expect now; 'sort of', and how to deal with them.

Monique and her team were given from the time they went out, until dusk, to retrieve that last tribute; Crystal, and to get back into the city. However, no tribute who left the city through that portal had ever returned before, and wouldn’t this time either, though Bradshaw did not know that; undoubtedly still holding out a forlorn hope.

She must surely know that her niece could not be recovered. Unless... she did know, but was being devious; intending to send the guards out into a danger from which they were unlikely to return. With luck.

Still, Monique knew that there was no point in butting heads with Bradshaw, so there was nothing for them to do, other than as they had been ordered.

They would go out, but would also take the opportunity to explore the wasteland in daylight at the same time.

They would at least make it seem as though they had done what they were instructed to do, remaining for hours outside of the city, waiting until dusk to return, empty handed.

At that time, she would go to Bradshaw and would admit to failure, and get the inevitable tongue lashing from a frustrated Bradshaw that would go with that.

'That', would only be the start of their problems. There would be much more than that. Monique had seen as much in Bradshaw’s unguarded mind with the older woman being so upset.

Bradshaw would have to solve her own problems and learn to live with her own mistakes.

Despite Bradshaw suggesting that all of them should go out and ‘comb’ the wasteland; Monique knew better than to do that. That gate could too easily be locked behind them and never opened again.

She made up her own mind what she would do, while assuring Bradshaw that they would do everything they could, but she would not discuss any of it with this councilor.

As Liam had suggested... ten of them, and only ten, would go out, while the others guarded the gate behind them, and the main gate, waiting for them to return, and ensuring that they could return.

Once outside of the city, they would do as Liam had suggested. They would lay their usual weapons beside the wall, and take up those small, opiate-tipped sticks that the Kelts had left for them.

Compared to the relative cool of the city with its fountains and running water, cooling the streets and roofs, as it washed them free of the orange dust that sometimes blew over the wall and settled onto everything, the dry heat outside of the city walls was like stepping into a furnace.

It was in sharp contrast to the cool of the evenings when they had gone out, which had been pleasant by comparison, except when it had dipped 'too cold' for comfort.

Fortunately, their training from Stoker had forced them to prepare, so they carried a good supply of water and food with them.

There was nothing to be seen in daylight of a truly threatening nature, nor did they expect to face anything like that. Liam had already reassured them of that. On the day when tributes left the city, the wastelands would somehow be cleared of Frexes and all other threats to them.

The other animals; the usual prey of the Frexes, also seemed to know that these hunters were gone, and were taking advantage of it; collecting and stocking their own larders without fear of meeting any of their most feared enemies.

Monique could see tracks everywhere and could hear small animals scurrying away from around them. However, the voices in her head were mostly quiet now.

They were on their own.

The sounds of the day were obvious; bees, thousands of them harvesting pollen; birds, rejoicing at the warmth, and eagerly collecting the bounty that kept them and their young fed. There were large, flying insects and grubs; almost a meal in themselves for the smaller birds; nectar from the large, brightly colored flowers on the cacti, and flesh from the fruits on those same plants, bursting forth after the rains of just days ago. Life went at an accelerated pace after the infrequent rains.

The few rough maps of the wasteland, that they had, did not extend very far out from the city; just to the first low line of hills that seemed to lie about two miles out from the city walls.

They strode out and headed for those, sensing that once they got there, they should not climb those hills to explore farther. That, truly would be foolhardy, but they would not waste time either. They would cover as much ground as they could.

The tributes were nowhere to be seen, but they had not expected to see any.

After exploring as far as they dared, learning so much, they returned to near the city and would hunker down into the sand, and wait there until dusk, having fulfilled what they were sent out to do. Almost.