The Thorian Sagas. 2. Insurrection.

The swirling sand wall slowed down, dropping away from them as the wind fell, presumably as the Sand Serpent withdrew.

Smaller shrubs carried upward by the circling air began to drop back to the ground with the sand, as the women kept their heads lowered, suddenly relieved of the stinging particles against their legs, arms, and faces.

The sun beat in upon them once more and they could see the city walls clearly.

They had been caught up in their own mini tornado; frightening at first, until Monique realized what was happening and what was causing it.

They shook the sand from their clothes and hair and wiped over their faces.

Between them and the sun, and partially buried in the heaps of brush arranged in a circle around them, there was a glinting of metal, reflecting the sun. All around them were suggestions of other metallic objects, brightly colored, visible, even if dusted with sand.

Monique threw back the displaced bushes to reveal first one shield and then another; an ax, then an arm and a foot and then a complete body of a man. Not just any man, but the body of a Thorian. No mistaking that!

There were ten of them, and they seemed to be stunned, even unconscious. They were still alive, but comatose.

This had just happened.

As that Zephyr had swirled ever closer around them, these others must have approached to see what this Sand Serpent was tormenting.

Could this be what Monique and her friends had inadvertently lunged at with these sticks; felling—not the Sand Serpent—but these Thorians?

Monique felt sick.

Why else would they be lying here, unconscious?

“Who were they?”

It was too obvious who they were with those shields and those weapons.

It was death to attack a Thorian, or to resist one. And they had attacked them. All ten of them.

This should not have happened.

They were horrified, never before having attacked any ‘man’, even if they thought they were dealing with a Sand Serpent. Who would believe them…that they had encountered a Sand Serpent, when no one in the city even knew what a Sand serpent was?

Had this desert creature done this deliberately? Out of mischief? Why?

Monique walked among them, checking them, her mind in confused indecision. She knew what they had done; how it would be seen. Now, they had to decide how to go forward without making this any worse for themselves.

She reached out mentally again to Liam.

He was there, this time; answering almost immediately, communicating with all of them.

‘You seem upset, little one. What is it?’ She moved past his familiar term of address.

Monique tried to explain, but her thoughts were jumbled, flashing from the swirling Zephyrs disturbing the desert’s face, to this one, circling them; closing in, sending sand into their eyes, mouths, ears, and hair, and then them lunging out to discourage it with those sticks, only to discover this.

‘Slow down, little one. I see what you are trying to tell me.’

He laughed.

How could he laugh over this?

‘Aye, this is the way a Sand Serpent plays with those in the desert, especially the first time. This troop of fellow Thorians was coming in to help you.’

He explained further.

‘There are many such groups of us wandering the wastelands, as well as around every city to keep those things that would harm them, well back from their walls.’

Except for Frexes, which seemed immune to the efforts of any Thorian to beat them back. They, just kept coming back for more.

‘But when will they recover? And what retribution will they ask of us when they do? What can we do to correct this?’

The fear and concern in her mind and in those of her friends was easily felt.

He could reassure them.

’When they revive, I think they will be more angry at the Sand Serpent and with themselves, than with you. The Sand Serpent, they can do nothing about. They will know you did not intend to harm them. I know that, and so will they.

‘But to answer your question… I do not know when they will recover. None of us has ever been touched by those Keltic sticks before to experience this. It might be minutes. Or longer. Some animals feel only a momentary discomfort; others are felled for hours at a time.’

They did not like to hear that.

Monique checked the body next to her, going onto one knee beside him. She should feel for a pulse. She was hesitant to touch him, but suddenly felt him reach out to hold her ankle, while reaching up with his other hand to her neck, as though to take hold of her throat and strangle her. She could not pull away or rise to her feet. However, he was only touching her on the shoulder to hold her there, finding that necklace, before he laid back again, in the grip of that comatose state.

She had seen an image of, ‘Stoker’, flash into his mind for just a second before it was gone again.

He knew, Stoker, and knew that this was Stoker’s necklace. Had he thought she was Stoker?

Had that saved her life?

He had still been partially conscious but was certainly not conscious now.

He was breathing steadily as though in a deep asleep. The others were the same, when her colleagues checked them over too, and then looked up at each other, shaking their heads. None of these Thorians had responded to them as this one had with Monique.

He was still holding her ankle, not letting her go.

‘They do not seem to be waking, but are sinking deeper into sleep. What are we to do?’

Liam was silent for only a while.

‘The pebbles that the Kelts gave you as they entered the city… do you have them with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then use one of them. You can call up a Kelt. They are always somewhere close. I cannot respond at this time. They will be able to advise you as to what to do. They may even have an antidote for this toxin.’

Monique fumbled at her belt, delving into the small cloth bag she had there, taking out one of those pebbles. She held it firmly in the palm of her right hand and concentrated.

She could only have been like that for a few seconds.

The pebble had gone, and one of the small people was with them, looking around, seeing the bodies lying around, and then seeing these bemused women not sure what had happened or what to do.

She recognized him. He was Boril, the leader of those that had entered the city that previous evening.

He also found the situation amusing, just as Liam had.

He and Liam seemed to be having a conversation that Monique could not keep up with, as various thoughts flashed quickly through their minds; ’…beginning insurrection… ships setting out from Dorian (their sister city), war… Fenn. This was why this had to be done now. … into the city’.

Monique’s thoughts sensed too much of that fragmented conversation.

This, that had happened here, was it being looked at as provocation, or as an insurrection. And would that lead to war between Fenn and the Thorians? What did Dorian have to do with this?

Boril turned to her.

‘You will need my help.’ He saw what she was thinking.

‘It is not what you fear, Monique. You did not cause any of this or of that other, that you should not have glimpsed. There will be no war that needs to involve you.’

At least not too much.

That was a relief, but she had to ask.

‘When will these men come around? Recover?’

He walked around, looking at each of the ten bodies before he spoke.

‘Their minds are active enough, but they seem unable to communicate to each other even, or to anyone else as they usually do, so no one will know that they are here for the moment. They are certainly comatose. They may be a long time recovering.’

He looked back at Monique.

‘That toxin has never been used on a Thorian before, so I cannot easily answer that question about when they will recover. There was never a need for an antidote.’

She felt the panic beginning to surge again.

‘Then what are we to do? We cannot leave them here?’

He looked at her and considered.

‘No. They can’t be left here. Not with the Frexes coming back into the wasteland at dusk; just an hour or less, from now. The only safe place for them with them like this, is in the city.’

Monique could see her troubles mounting.

‘But… the treaty…?’ Her heart was thumping even faster and her mind almost refused to function.

He saw things differently.

’You should worry more about leaving them out here in this condition. The treaty is a minor concern compared to this, if the Frexes were to get them.

‘You would definitely not want that to happen.’

That was surely true.

He continued. ‘Who controls that smaller portal into the city at this time?’

‘My fellow warriors.’

‘Good. Then let’s get them into the city there, unseen, for tonight at least, and see what happens; how they progress. Get started on that now, before the sun goes down. I will stay here and stand guard over these others until you return.’

They’d all heard that mental conversation and moved to get things going, recognizing the urgency of it.

They pulled the shields out, placing them beside each of the bodies, then rolled each one, to push that shield under him.

Some of their packs could be used to support his head. The straps of those same packs could be used to secure his lower legs and hold him onto the shield.

Two warriors at the front and one at the back, and they could carry each of them to the city like that.

Between them they might be able to carry three of these men into the city, and then bring others out from the gate to help them with the rest, before the sun disappeared from the sky.

There was a sense of urgency now. The alternative to what they were doing was not something they wanted to consider.

They would have to live with the consequences, though neither Boril nor Liam seemed to think that it would be a life-threatening venture for them.

They didn’t know Bradshaw, or her vindictiveness when things did not go as she wanted.

Monique’s companions were already preparing them all to be moved. They could carry each of them, and their weapons on their large shields, or leave the weapons to be recovered another time.

Another trip, two trips at most, would see all ten Thorians safe into the city before sunset.

That would be when their troubles would really begin.

The day had already begun badly. Now, it had become a hundred times worse.

Monique would have to report to Bradshaw, of course, about that other failure; not recovering her niece. Bradshaw would be waiting for that report.

That would be bad enough, but then Monique would need to tell her about this too, that she had brought ten Thorians… victims of their carelessness, but not in a way Monique could explain… into the city.

Bradshaw would explode. There would be hell to pay!

Monique would not dare explain what had really happened, or tell Bradshaw anything to do with Sand Serpents, or Kelts, or Liam, or poisoned sticks, but would have to invent some cockamamy story about having been apprehended by Thorians, and then turning the tables on them; laying them out; all ten of them, with no injury to themselves!

No one in their right minds would believe such an unlikely story, but how else would she explain this?

Unless she could argue that she and her fellow warriors had stumbled across them like this in the wasteland, and with them already comatose. Maybe that would be more believable. Of course, she couldn’t just leave them lying out there in the desert to freeze to death, or to be eaten by wild animals. Having found them, she had responded to that greater obligation; to ensure their safety.

Bradshaw would not believe a word of it, no matter what Monique told her. Who could possibly believe any of it? Except the Thorians would be here, and inside the lower gate, laid out along the corridor. Unconscious.

No arguing with that. It might not be so bad, despite what it looked like.

Three Thorians were now secured to their shields and were ready to be carried.

Monique tried to move, but this Thorian had a firm grip on her ankle.

She looked to Boril for help.

He laughed, seeing her predicament.

‘He is laying claim to you, even while unconscious, after what you did to him. He is telling you that you will be the one to look after him, however long this goes on.’

What was Boril saying? Surely, they would soon recover, and leave the city.

‘Do not fear. This may work out better than you expect.’

He was a damned optimist when there was nothing of a redeeming nature to be seen in any of it!

‘Exchange necklaces with him, Monique, to show your agreement, and then he will let you go.’

She felt she had no choice, so did as Boril suggested, lifting her own necklace; that one given to her by Stoker, and exchanged it for the one he wore.

It seemed as if the accumulated burdens of the entire world had just been lifted from her shoulders as that necklace settled around her neck.

Boril had been right.

Everything would work out, no matter what was thrown at her.

And she was now responsible for this Thorian, whoever he was.

She felt as though she had just opened her mind to him, feeling him clambering around in there, yet his mind was closed to her.