Apocalyptic fiction; Regression (Civilization) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Sex role -- Fiction; United States -- Fiction; War stories
"You have animal cunning, priestess of a barbarian race," spat the
Japcan commander. "I erred in believing you docile. Henceforth your
taming will be that of the scourge and the chain."
Meg said nothing. But she noticed, her head lifting proudly, that
some of the little man's confidence had deserted him, and that as he
spoke he moved his stiff neck gingerly from side to side. There was
throttling strength in the crook of Meg's elbow.
Leekno, his sallow face rebellious, was at Grensu's side.
"What is your command, O Grensu? Shall we destroy the white-limbed one?"
Leadership and desire met in conflict on Grensu's swart features. "The
woman pleases me--" he growled.
"She slew," reminded the lesser officer, "Togi, Ras and Yinga. Two
others lie wounded. It is written in the Law 'Death shall be punished
with death--'"
"I know the Law!" snapped Grensu. "But now we are not in Mayco. Here,
_I_ am the Law. And I am minded to--" A hesitation halted his words. Of
Meg he demanded, "Make your plea, Woman. Grensu listens."
* * * * *
There was a coursing pain in Meg's arm that began at her fingertips,
sped through forearm and upper arm, spread even to the rest of her
body, turning her stomach with nausea. Her heart was sick with
disappointment. Almost had she succeeded. But "almost" was a bitter
draught from the waters of might-have-been.
This day, which had dawned so fair and with such great hopes, had
become a leaden weight to her heart. There was nothing, now, worth
living for. Daiv, her mate, in combat had proven a coward. The beloved
Mother of her Clan lay dying. A score of her sisters were pellets of
death, heaped in a pile of rubble. Her last, desperate attempt at
freedom had failed.
"I make no plea, yellow man," she said haughtily.
The Japcan warriors muttered amongst themselves. Grensu's ripe lips
pursed irately.
"You do not understand, ivory one. I offer you one last opportunity.
Pledge fealty to me at even this late moment and your life will be
spared. Your wounds will be soothed by our healers, and, yes, even now
Grensu will permit you the great honor of becoming his mate." His slant
eyes probed hers. "Well, Woman? What is your answer?"
A laugh of sheer hysteria; a laugh that was half a sob, broke from
Meg's throat. She stepped toward the little yellow commander.
"This is my answer!"
And she spat squarely in the dwarfling's face!
Grensu turned livid. Beneath his yellow skin the blood surged
unhealthily, turning him to a sallow parody of a man. Fat fingers shook
as he wiped his face, screamed viciously, "Seize her! Put her to the
sword, Leekno! No--wait!"
Flames of pure hatred danced from his eyes. "Who defiles the haughty
blood of Japcan shall not die thus painlessly. Her death shall be a
slow one; one in which, shrieking for mercy, she shall have time to
remember this moment!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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