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Days passed and he felt the sun passing over him in the same way as his brother mountain felt the potent rays. Growing warmth and then fading warmth; all in a blessed cycle of power that invigorated and soothed.

When Shan opened his eyes, they blazed with blue light and his magic quickened inside him. He was much more powerful than he had previously guessed. Of course Onja wanted to control him. She desired him as a companion because she dreaded him as a competitor.

It was night and a full moon had risen. It hung watchfully over the valley like a proud mother checking on a sleeping child. Shan urged his blood to flow again and pumped vitality back into his stiff limbs. When he could move, he twitched his right cheek and cracked a frozen tear off his cold skin.

Now Shan had the courage to direct his mind to Jingten. The lifeforces of the rys in the city felt much as they had always felt to him. Nothing had changed for them. They lived their lives of ease, obedient to their Queen. He did not envy them though. Not with the potent fire of high magic inside him for comfort. Shan pushed onward with his awareness and dared to look into the Keep and find Onja.

But when he found the Queen, poignant suffering assailed Shan’s senses. The Zenglawa woman was sprawled on the dungeon floor. Onja stood over her. Agony rose from the woman’s flesh like smoke from a fire. Shan, although barely able to stand the ugliness, cast his mind over the woman and examined her. Onja had been torturing the woman the whole time. Ceaseless torments clung to the woman’s flesh that was beyond healing. Her begging for mercy had turned days ago to begging for death.

Onja finally granted the woman’s awful request now that she sensed that Shan was watching. With one more vindictive spell, Onja lashed the nerves of the human with her burning magic. The Zenglawa woman, who had been wife to a king, tossed again in ragged throes, screamed, and died.

“ONJA!” Shan shouted from the top of Curlenfindi.

He had never known such rage. Onja was disgusting, beyond cruel. There had been no reason for any of this. He would end it.

Shan descended the mountain in terrible haste. He relied recklessly on his magic as he slid down ice fields and bounded down cliffs and landed on ledges. He reached the high meadows and ran toward the tree line. Through the moonlit forest, he ran with his magic building inside him. Blue energy streaked behind his racing feet like a comet’s tail.

Even with such speed, daylight had come before Shan reached the city. The streets were empty. Shan slowed to a walk. He looked at Jingten and pondered the details. He noticed the shape of every cobble in the street and the curve of every tree branch. The burble of a fountain came slowly to his ears and he heard the musical clash of every drop in the lively waters. He stopped at the fountain and cupped his hands into the water. He drank several times, tasting the water and the nuances of its minerals.

Then he went to the Keep. The gates were open and Onja stood in the courtyard waiting for him. She wore a hooded cloak, and its red fabric draped her appropriately in the color of blood. Shan stopped a few paces from her.

“Shan, do not do this,” she said. “I will forgive you.” She extended a hand to him.

His lack of temptation encouraged him. Boldly, he said, “The rys are ruled by the strongest among them. It is our way.”

Onja cocked her head and lowered her hand. Her expression became severe. “You are being foolish,” she warned.

Shan began to circle her with slow steps, sizing her up. She followed him with her eyes but did not turn her head. He felt no fear from her but he was not afraid either.

“Onja, you are rotten and cruel. You have been Queen too long. Ind eed you have been alive too long,” Shan said.

She chuckled with contempt. “You don’t even have the nerve to kill a stupid human,” Onja criticized.

“Only those who deserve death should be killed,” Shan retorted, feeling righteousness growing inside him.

Amused by the drama, Onja said, “I think, Shan, that you will discover that judging who lives and dies is not a simple thing.” NEXT PAGE >>>