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Shan felt the kneeling humans collectively tense with dread. He had seen Onja play this sport before. She enjoyed making the humans squirm. No matter how full centuries of tribute made the vaults of Jingten, Onja always wanted more.

Fear bulged in Telender’s eyes. “Forgive my hasty speech, Great Queen,” Telender said. “It is my sincerest wish that you be satisfied by the tribute of the Zenglawa.”

“Indeed it is,” Onja said. “What else have you brought to us?”

Telender proceeded to detail the rest of his tribute that had been delivered to storehouses in the city. He spoke with enthusiasm, hoping that his gifts would suffice. Six dozen well-fattened steers had been brought along with seven wagons laden with seven grains. A great variety of foodstuffs and herbs had been provided as well, and one hundred bolts of wool and linen cloth now added to rys stores.

“Did I not command you to bring more than last year?” Onja reminded. “Your stinginess angered me and I gave you this single chance to restore my confidence in your faith.”

 “I did bring more, my Queen,” he insisted but his head cringed into his fur collar.

Shan knew from experience that the King would be begging soon.

“You have not brought enough,” Onja announced.

Aghast, Telender clasped his hands together. “My great Queen, famine threatens the land. This was the third year with poor crops. This year was the worst. The spring was cold and wet. Seeds rotted in the ground. After we replanted, drought came.”

Sincerity gushed from the King in guileless urgency.

Onja was unimpressed. “Your excuses are pitiful, Telender. Do you think I shall be moved to use my power to favor the Zenglawa if you are cheap with your offerings?” she asked.

Telender replied that his tribe had brought as much tribute as it could—more than it could spare. Hardship pressed upon the people and they prayed for the intervention of their Goddess.

“If next year is good, I shall double our tribute, my Queen; I swear it,” Telender added although he truly had no idea how he might fulfill such an unwieldy promise.

“You will pay now,” Onja declared, and the enchanted fires locked within the orbs mounted in the corners of the room flared with agreement for her greed. She scanned the bowed heads of the Zenglawa entourage. “Rise and look at me, Telender,” she commanded.

Convinced that he would be stricken dead and his soul snared by Onja’s will and cast into the Wilderness to serve with her damned servants, the undying Deamedron, Telender came to his feet. When he looked upon his Queen, blue light sizzled in her eyes and a faint aura sparkled around her white hair like winter sun on snowdrifts.

“You have held back, Telender,” Onja said. “But you shall still pay me my due today. You will show your faith by an act of great value.”

Onja let her statement hang in the silence. Shan felt the hearts of the humans thud with anxiety. Shan also felt Onja’s excitement. She loved ruling them.

The Queen’s words came into Shan’s mind now. “See how I own them? I command them more surely than a horse with a tight bit.”

“What lesson is there in this?” Shan asked mentally. He had seen her games often enough. This was not imparting some great gem of knowledge.

“Observe,” the Queen replied, and her ominous snicker in Shan’s mind concerned him suddenly.

Aloud, Onja said, “Telender, your warriors are strong, brave, and loyal, worthy of their King and much to be proud of. Select one and kill him. Kill him for me right now.”

Startled, Shan almost protested, but he knew better.

Telender froze, locked in a moment of horrific shock. Perhaps if he did not move or speak, then Onja’s awful command would fade into illusion.

The miserable agony radiating from the man touched Shan. It was easy to see into his heart. He loved his men.

Telender said, “Great Queen, how can I do such a thing to a warrior who has done so much for me? Perhaps a servant—”

“You deny me this!?” Onja shouted. “You deny me my due to my face?”

Telender shook his head rapidly, regretting already his attempt to deflect the command of his Queen onto a lesser member of society.

One of his wives screamed in pain and fell forward onto the floor. She started gasping. The sound was futile and ugly.

Telender shouted her name and scrambled to her side. He rolled her over. She smacked at the cold floor and clutched her chest where the coils of Onja’s magic squeezed air from her lungs.

The emotional crisis of Telender scalded Shan’s heart, and the rys saw Telender’s memory images of him making love to the woman, sharing a laugh, granting a favor. The King’s compassion for her suffering was a beautiful pain.

Telender lurched to his feet and drew his sword. The blade flashed in the quadruple glow of the crystal orbs.

“I’ll kill a warrior! I will. Release her, great Queen. I’ll kill two!” he declared.

Onja said nothing. She waited for action not words. The Zenglawa woman shook and her co-wives went to her sides. They held her arms and fanned her.

The twelve warriors with Telender had all lifted their heads. Seeing the madness in the eyes of their King, three men started to get to their feet.

Telender struck quickly at one of the standing warriors, who lifted only his hands in sad resistance. His open mouth and wild eyes told the story of rotten fate.

True to his word, Telender cut down another warrior. This man had stayed on his knees.

Spittle leaked from the slackening mouth of Telender’s wife, who still drew no breath, and her throes softened.

Telender collapsed. His sword slipped from his hands and the spreading blood on the floor soaked into his robe. Prostrate before his Queen, he tried to beg mercy for his wife but he could only moan and sob. The murders he had just committed ruined his soul.

Magic light glowed from Onja’s eyes, and a snarl of a smile exposed her pearly top teeth. She delighted in the carnage and unfolding tragedy, but Shan was appalled.

“Onja!” he said sharply. His boldness shocked him, but when the Queen did not react, his magic revealed his dismay. Without thinking, Shan cast a spell that broke Onja’s lethal grip on the woman.

The human female gasped and began to breathe and cough. Telender got his knees beneath him and gave his thanks, praising Onja for her wise mercy.

But the rys Queen did not listen to the servile words, and she could not appreciate the horror she had sown. The trembling bodies, wide tearful eyes, quaking helpless rage, and hot death around her were shoved aside by her displeasure with Shan. Onja looked down her dais at Shan. His head hung and he did not look at her. NEXT PAGE >>>