THE THORIAN SAGAS: 1. THE TRADER. (Completed).

Setting out.

She watched him, peering out from the snug warmth of her own bearskin, seeing him carefully lay his sword beside him.

There was no real danger on this stretch of the road, but he trusted no one that was not his own kind. The only real danger would be on that stretch between Golden and Fenn, when they crossed the wasteland. He would not use this carriage for that, but his other, higher wagons.

She still did not know what to expect, but so far, everything had been an unexpected and pleasant kind of surprise. Nothing had prepared her for this.

The dog had even licked her hand as she'd scratched it behind its ears. She'd made one friend.

Just after that, the heavens opened as lightning crackled across the landscape and the thunder roared around them, making the horses nervous. They were high bred, always ready to be spooked, unlike his own Shires.

The first stage of this journey, to the hamlet of Coniston, was through dense woodland, with gigantic trees close to the road, sending large drops of water spattering upon everything, as they passed under them.

It was always this way; three hamlets strung out almost equidistant along the single road between each of the cities. The first stage out, in either direction from any of these three cities, was always dense woodland, as though denying the denizens of those cities any knowledge of what lay beyond their walls.

The exception was Fenn, which had the wasteland, instead of forest.

After Coniston—their first stop—the landscape would give way to lush agricultural farmland. That open landscape continued through the central and usually bigger, central hamlet; Crogary-More, in this case, where Thorians were most likely to be found; until Torver, the stage immediately before the next city. On those middle stages, one could see the inland sea to their left from some of the higher points on the road, though if this weather kept up, nothing would be visible.

At Torver, the Woodland would take over again, extending up close against the walls of the city of Weldon; shutting them in, confining them in their prison of a city, but that was still a day or two away.

They lost time even in the first hour as the road became ever more muddy. Water-filled ruts developed as the road became softer under the pounding rain. He had to slow down, with the mud flying from the horses' hooves and the wheels.

At least none of the many wooden bridges, crossing deep, thundering gorges, were out.

They would be staying in the first waystation of Coniston, for the night, rather than in Crogary-More, as he'd planned. He would speak for accommodation as well as food if this weather did not let up. They would try to make up the time, later, but that was unlikely. His schedule had already been tight. He would be a day late, getting to Weldon.

He felt something at his side and saw Erianne—her name engraved in his brain already—climbing to get onto the seat with him, and with his dog in her arms.

She had lost most of her fear of him.

The little dog was happy to be where he was.

The thunder and lightning had scared her.

Stoker helped her, opening his coat for her to snuggle beside him... lean into him, while she nursed his dog as he draped that other bearskin over them both, but mostly over her.

Her soft body was warm against him.

Stoker sensed the thoughts that both he and the dog shared, often bantering with each other, back and forth when they were alone.

Stoker was the one who tormented first.

'In your element now, my friend, in the lap of a beautiful girl.'

The dog came back at him.

'It's a lot better than being in that damned 'sieve', back there. If I was not as I am...? This one is different, Stoker. I know you saw it and sensed it.'

He had.

'Give her the claw. I know you gave her mother that other one. That was very considerate of you, Stoker. You didn't have to do that.'

'I had a spare, with there being only one tribute. I daren't give a claw to this one. The way I am, so close to that time, she might see into my mind. Her mother did, for a moment.'

His dog had no patience with that.

'This one should see into your mind, you fool. You know what happened, as well as I do. And you are at that age in your life, or soon will be.

'Think! Why was there only one tribute and not two? There is a reason behind everything, even if we don't see it. Look what happened to you and to me when that damned Rogue found me. We should both have been dead. I would have been but for you. You should not have taken it on at your age.

Stoker responded.

'I had no choice.'

The silence extended for another minute.

'I daren't give her that claw. I don't want to scare her any more than I already do.'

The dog came back at him again.

'From what I sense of this one, I think she would scare you. She's beginning to scare me too, but in a nice way. This one is very different. And you were wrong. She's not scared of you.'

Stoker felt Erianne stirring beside him.

"Who are you talking to?"

She had detected that exchange between him and the dog? It was not possible!

He had not been talking out loud.

"No-one, little one. Rest."

She could not possibly have detected that back and forth!

She liked the way he called her, 'little one'. He was proving to be a very different man than he had appeared back there, and she needed to understand that.

"Oh. I thought I heard you speaking to someone."

'See. I told you, Stoker. This one is different. She detected something. She's also warm, and she even smells good too. Like a grown woman should smell.'

Rather than respond to any more of that exchange, or to have to explain himself, Stoker urged the horses along.

'You can't shut me out, Stoker, just because it's getting to that time. I know you sensed that other group from Fenn, going into the wasteland the last three nights. And at that distance too! That should not have been possible either.

'They've grown powerful. I tried to warn you a year ago how this would be likely to go. Women and weapons... and bear meat do not mix, though they managed very well against those Frexes. I wonder how they will deal with Liam, out there. He will meet these tributes when they leave Fenn, but he is also planning something else.'

'You're a trouble-maker, Dog. Go to sleep.'

'Dog, is it now, and not my name? I'll remember that.'

With the weather the way it was and with strange things happening that he needed to think about, Stoker knew that it was pointless to try and get beyond the first waystation tonight.

He had never been late before, delivering any tributes to Fenn, but this time might be the exception if this weather kept up.

It would not matter.

Everything would be ready for the tributes no matter when they set out from Fenn.

Liam would be waiting for them. He already knew that they were approaching Coniston.

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