The Thorian Sagas. 1. The Trader.
A Challenge.

“You said that the necklace could not be traded, but could be won?” Monique would not let it go.

He nodded, knowing where this questioning was likely to lead; counting on it.

“How?” Her interest was obvious.

He looked at her.

“By a direct challenge.”

He smiled, seeing her consuming interest in gaining that necklace for herself. A necklace like that one, always commanded attention. As it should.

He would get little rest tonight until she had her way. He would have liked to have rested, or had more of that wine, but what did it matter?

“How?”

He explained. “You challenge me to a contest. We agree on the stakes. In my case, this necklace that you want. You need to decide what you would be prepared to lose, to possess it, or agree to what I decide I would like to have, if you lose.”

He warned her of other things.

“However, if you challenge me, then I get to choose the contest. If you agree, then we decide the rules and what we will complete for, and then we compete. The winner gets what has been agreed upon.”

Now, she was interested.

“So, I could win it from you that way?”

“You could. But remember what you might have to lose.”

She was, thinking about that.

“If I challenge you, what contest would you suggest? I am thought to be a good archer.”

He came back at her.

“That would not be fair.”

Was he that good an archer?

Probably.

She had seen a massive longbow inside his wagon, and arrows that would tear a hole through even the massive gates of their city.

“The only contest I am skilled in, that you could participate in with me, and stand a chance of surv... winning, without weapons; is wrestling, but that would not be fair either.”

She would not let it rest now. She did not dwell on that word he had glissaded over... ‘surviving’. Surely, it would not be that kind of a contest, but he seemed to use those words ‘contest’ and ‘combat’ interchangeably.

“If I challenge you, is that not my decision? Fair or not?” She wondered if she knew what she was getting into. Males and women of their city did not wrestle together. The males would always lose.

He nodded. “If you dare to challenge me.”

He looked at her, seeing her determination, but she still did not know what lay ahead of her.

“What rules would there be if we wrestle?”

Did she really need to ask? Did she know so little of combat? The rules were almost the same, except that both contestants would walk away, even if battered, bruised, and usually bloodied. Except she was nothing like the men he usually fought. He would have to set rules that would give her at least a chance, and also would not leave her injured.

“When men wrestle, there are no rules as you might know them. When we grapple with each other, it is as though we were in a fight to the death together. It can never be anything less, though we always stop short of injuring the other. There is no other way to train, that prepares us for what lies out there.” He nodded to the gates and what lay beyond them.

They saw evidence of what lay beyond their gates each time he came. Violence, bodies, and blood, running from, and dripping from his cart! Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“But we, you and I, will hold short of that act that would kill or injure the other.

"I have never fought a woman, and we will need to learn about each other slowly. I shall not throw you so hard… or force you into submission.”

She was relieved to hear that. She had never played by absence of rules before, or ‘to the death’, even if it did not get that far, but she was determined.

“However.” He caused her to pause. “If you and I wrestle, there would need to be some basic rules that we both agree upon.”

She needed to hear those.

She knew how to wrestle but had done so only with her fellow warriors each day they trained. She was good at it, the best wrestler in the city, but she had gone up only against women like herself; only half of his bodyweight and they did not take it so seriously as to think of it as combat. Nonetheless, she would challenge him.

He would not mislead her.

“I should warn you that I have been wrestling all of my life, since I was a mere boy.”

Those words were a challenge in themselves, but he could not easily refuse to fight her against a direct challenge, no matter how unequal the contest; but he could set the rules as much in her favor as he could.

He continued.

“Word of any such contest may not pass out of this facility; this room, even, or we would both face disciplinary charges.” Or worse.

Especially her.

She reassured him.

“No one will say anything. Everyone here is loyal to me. We have already broken many rules by allowing you to stay.”

She indicated that the doors to where they were, should be barred, even though the city was already asleep.

Others moved to do that, curious to see how this would unfold, and checking to see that their weapons were in reach in case it got out of hand. Never before had any of them wrestled a Yunk.

He was an unknown, in combat, but they had seen the results of what he did to survive, each time he came.

Outsiders were unpredictable. This one was obviously capable of great violence to survive out there. If he did not control himself…?

“As you wish. I hope you are ready for this?”

She was more than ready.

She looked him directly in the eyes, hoping she was doing the right thing, and took a deep breath.

“I challenge you for possession of that necklace.”

There. She had made a formal challenge.

Then, she thought about it and what it meant.

“But, what will you ask of me? What do I give up if I lose?”

He looked at her.

It was obvious that she had never done anything like this before, but nor had he.

“We will have to decide that, first.”

She would lose, but she had grit and was determined.

He thought for a moment, then pointed to her wrist.

“That bracelet that you wear.”

“And what else.”

That could not be all of it. Her simple bracelet against that necklace?

“Nothing else.” He was looking at her, easily seeing what was passing through her mind.

She was at a loss for words and did not understand.

“But this bracelet is practically worthless and is easily replaced; just a few shaped pieces of amethyst and agate, with other semi-precious stones. A mere trinket. Even a thousand of these could not purchase that necklace.”

He spoke softly.

“It is not worthless to me. It is what I want. That, is what I choose.”

She could not believe it. He could not be serious.

“And if I defeat you, I get that necklace?”

He smiled at her simple eagerness.

“Yes. But I should warn you, you shall not defeat me, so be sure you want this contest enough to lose the fight… as well as that bracelet.”

The bracelet meant nothing to her.

She could not lose with those terms. Her bracelet was worthless, and she stood a chance, however small, of winning that necklace. It would not be a serious loss. And win, or lose, no one else, outside of this room would learn of it.

“I still challenge you.”

He inclined his head to her. “Then I must, by law, accept your challenge, provided we agree on the rules.”

“What rules?”

He thought about it. “Rules for me, rather than for you.

“No direct blows to any part of the body. No kicks. I may not fall upon you, or render you unconscious, nor dislocate any part of you.”

She began to see frightening possibilities. If he deliberately dropped on her, or grabbed her by the throat with those large hands of his; as he seemed to have done with some of those Frexes as he’d ripped their throats out, or gripped any part of her…?

He said nothing more, but he would also abide by other rules that would affect only him.

“Agreed.”

She already fought under those rules. He may even have observed them on one of those times he’d been delayed in their midst when they’d been practising.

Did outsiders fight so differently? So seriously, as he’d suggested?

They touched hands in final agreement.

Both stood up from the fire. He reached down to his dog as it looked up into his face, sensing that his master needed to fight again, but this time, a different kind of fight. One with no real danger.

Others had listened to that conversation, soon coming awake to what was happening, and were already laying out the area where the two of them would wrestle, marking the bounds of their arena.

In size alone, Stoker had a significant advantage, as well as in strength, but they knew how skillful Monique was with her fast moves and supple contortions to get out of difficulty. Only his size and strength favored him, and she would make up for that in speed and suppleness.

He went to the corner he was to occupy, finding that he had a helper there already.

He began to disrobe, laying aside his tunic and that necklace that they could all see more clearly now, dropping the necklace over his dog’s head, looping it to sit there securely.

His helper would have handled it with some reverence, even sensing the bear that it had come from, but he’d given it to his dog to look after instead.

The bear from which those claws had been taken, must have been massive indeed.

They watched him with growing concern.

His clothing had hidden too much.

They continued to watch with apprehension and concern for Monique for having challenged him, seeing his massive muscular frame glistening with health in the firelight glow.

They knew he was strong, but in truth, he was surprisingly muscular. He also had scars across most of his body and upper arms as well as across his shoulders. They had not been visible until now. Where he’d showered had been too dark.

Those on his body and head had NOT come from hunting pigs!

Those, matched other scars they had noticed on his head, extending into the hair line. Thin strips of pale scar tissue that stood out upon his darker, wind-blown face. He'd got most of those when he was just sixteen, but he could not tell them of those, or what he had done to get them.

They represented what had once been hideous wounds, but he was not disfigured in any way. His smile was still pleasant, and he was pleasing to look at.

He was not shy to reveal them, any more than he was shy to show more of his body. There was no room for shyness in combat or contest, even with a woman warrior, though this was a first, for both of them.

Maybe he should re-think this. Except he had no choice now.

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