The Thorian Sagas. 2. Insurrection.

The tenth young woman was soon brought to them in the guard house, even as they arrived back from that other gate.

She was from the city, as they were, but Monique did not know her. Her name meant nothing… Fuller… Crystal Fuller.

Like the other tributes from Fenn, she was scared at first until Monique made her welcome and presented her with a single claw necklace and explained how the nine tributes before her had been sent out from the city just minutes earlier.

Monique focused on trying to assuage the young woman’s fears about what awaited her, but no one had explained anything to her other than that she had been selected, unexpectedly, as a tribute at the last minute. It would be any young woman's worst nightmare.

The authorities had descended upon her and had given her no choice in anything. She was to be sent out of the city that same morning to save the city from violating that treaty and calling down war, or worse, upon all of them.

Crystal knew what that meant. It was a death sentence to be chosen, and she could not escape it. The news of being selected to be a sacrificial lamb, would be a hell of a shock for anyone to hear.

She had not even had time to tell her mother or anyone else in her family before the bailiffs had swept her up earlier that morning as she’d gone about her business.

It was up to Monique to help her, knowing that she could help, if only the girl’s fear would subside enough to let her into her mind and to be able to speak to her.

Recalling the recommendation of the small people, less than an hour earlier, she exchanged that single-claw necklace, for her own, feeling an immediate change in the young woman.

Monique tried to calm her down, however she could, promising to let her family know what had happened to their daughter, though there would be nothing comforting in that for her, or for them to hear.

Crystal’s mind was in a turmoil, was still confused by the suddenness of it all.

“How did they find me? What has any of this to do with me? Why me? Was this my aunt’s doing?’ Was this my aunt’s way to be revenged upon my family for what happened between my mother and her.”

She was trying to find some reason for this happening to her.

“My aunt promised my mother, years ago, that I would never be on the list of prospective tributes with her being a Councilor, but I was.”

What Monique had briefly glimpsed in Simpson’s mind now made sense.

Crystal was referring to her aunt, Councilor Bradshaw.

Simpson was getting her revenge in a very dangerous way.

The rift between Bradshaw and her sister’s family would now be complete once this ultimate injury--one sister to another--was learned, but who would know the devious part that Councilor Simpson had played in it if she covered her tracks well enough, leaving Bradshaw to blame either the city Council, or others?

Maybe even Monique?

Simpson had taken a page from Bradshaw’s Machiavellian playbook.

Do not let anyone know what you plan until it is finished, and it is too late for anyone to do anything about it, or to learn how it was done.

Bradshaw might even assume that her niece had taken on this role for herself after the hateful conversation her aunt had had with her and with her mother, where many things had been said that all would regret after a little sober consideration, though that reflection would also take time.

There would be enough soul searching and uncertainty, that Simpson might just get away with it.

This rift had been over her niece in some way for whatever reason; an arranged marriage (which any young woman would fight against), or some discussion of her future that she also didn’t agree with.

Monique would never know, and was not interested.

The sister would assume that Bradshaw had done it out of revenge. And Simpson would watch and listen gleefully in the background, content to have played her vengeful part. She had indeed seen a way to be revenged upon her old tormentor... if she could get far enough away from being blamed.

The relatives of councilors were carefully screened from being on that list from which tributes could be drawn, but few others knew of that, or of any other of the devious workings of the council.

It was nothing to do with Monique, so she would say nothing, determined not to be caught up in it; except Simpson might try to foist blame on her, somehow. She had sensed that too, in Simpson’s open mind.

No tribute had ever been sent out alone, before.

Monique wondered what that treaty would say about eleven tributes going out, with her as that eleventh one, but it was just a fleeting thought.

This young woman did not deserve to be saddled with such relatives. Never in her wildest dreams had such a possibility as this ever disturbed her secure little world as it now had, and as unexciting and drab as that previous life had been. Though you had to be aware of a better future to be able to make that comparison.

How could she not be scared? She had heard the tales of the wasteland—as they all had—and of the dangers there, and here she was, about to be put out there by herself. Those fears would take some time to be displaced.

Monique would have to go out with her. She knew that she should not go out there in daylight, and armed, remembering Stoker’s cautions about that, but she also would not abandon this tribute to her fears, until she was told to stop, and to turn back.

What if she was not stopped? What if she didn’t turn back? That consideration did not disturb her as it once would have.

She sat with Crystal by their fire, seeing her nervousness, reaching out for her hands. She would take whatever time was needed to calm her down. There was no deadline for the tributes to go out at a certain time, and this one should not go out until her mind was in a better place. Monique would go with her.

She focused and thought of Liam. He must be somewhere close by, out there. He could help her.

He was ready for her to reach out, and responded quickly enough, able to see what she was thinking.

’Stay in the city, Monique. The tribute is safe where she is and will soon be with us. We know she is coming. Others will meet her as she leaves and will both calm her and escort her.’

Liam’s added intervention seemed to help, but it might not be possible to persuade Crystal that if she only knew about what awaited her out there in reality, and not as she’d been brought up to fear, she would be more than ready to take that step into this different, and actually kind, alternative existence away from family squabbles and the incessant in-fighting.

Such ties were hard to break.

As soon as the door opened onto the wasteland, Crystal changed, sensing that she would not be alone, and that another friend awaited her.

One of the small people, a woman, was waiting, ready to take her to join up with the others. She smiled at her and took her hand.

“I will take you to the others, my dear. Do not be afraid. This is not a step you need ever regret.”

Crystal now began to believe it for herself, sensing and feeling only friendship and kindness awaiting her, despite never having seen or being aware of these strange people.

The tribute paused, turned, and looked at Monique and back to the city as though saying goodbye to everything she knew, still loath to let everything go that had been her life up to that point. She exchanged necklaces again with Monique, thanking her for her help, then turned her back on everything she knew and walked out into the unknown; a brave new world, with the older woman leading the way.

All fear seemed to have gone by then as she more strongly connected with the other tributes... young women just like herself... and with others who were coming into her mind, now that she had left the city.

Monique could sense all of it, and envied her.