Sonja the Barbarian
by Seldom (seldomlasts@yahoo.com)
A giant sword-wielding barbarian redhead in a fantasy world? Quite brutal.


***** AUTHOR'S NOTE *****

I like to think of this as a tribute to that gorgeous comic book heroine, though other 
than her name and occupation, this Sonja is not Red Sonja.

I love hearing from you. I really do. Please e-mail me if you like this story, and even if 
you don't, tell me what you didn't like. Let me know if you'd like me to continue to write 
about Sonja, and if so, what should she do? Warning: This story is brutal, violent, and 
sexual.

* * * * *

Her eyes scanned what remained of the village.

The scene was one of absolute destruction and carnage. Men hung from the roofs of gutted 
houses, their stomachs split open, their insides long ago drained to lie in rotting gory 
clumps underneath the corpses. More than a few women, clothing torn, lay dead in the 
streets, their bodies horribly violated. They had screamed for a long time before they 
died, brutally raped while their husbands were forced to watch. Children and babies were 
among the dead, skulls crushed, small bodies mangled. All told, several hundred corpses 
littered the streets and surrounding crop fields. The few people normally needed to keep 
peace, the lord's garrison, seemed to have taken the longest to die. Several body parts 
were missing altogether.

Her grip tightened slightly on the hilt of her sword and her eyes narrowed. She walked 
over to investigate a small whimpering sound. A teenage girl lay huddled under a pile of 
blankets, sobbing quietly to herself. She would have been quite pretty were it not for her 
blood-soaked skin. The blankets tried to hide the tell-tale signs of rape. She had been 
violated multiple times.

Sonja clamped her huge hand on the girl's slender arm and rolled her over. The girl gasped 
and shook in terror when she saw Sonja. The enormous redhead simply waited for the girl to 
calm down, which she did when she realized Sonja was not going to hurt her. Sonja extended 
one finger to stroke the girl's soft cheek.

The girl wept, clutching Sonja's hand tightly. Her small, slender fingers disappeared in 
Sonja's grasp. Eventually she passed out from blood loss, pain, and terror. Sonja tenderly 
picked up the teenager, the girl's weight nothing in Sonja's thickly muscled arms.

She seemed to be the only survivor. Sonja searched for others, sloshing through the bloody 
streets, but found none. She carried the girl to another town, long strides easily eating 
the distance. She found a doctor and lay the girl where he directed. He peeled off the 
bloody blankets under Sonja's silent gaze. After examining her he looked at Sonja. Her 
massive, bulky frame towered over him.

"She's in bad shape, but she'll live. I'll need to keep her here for awhile." Sonja 
nodded. "You're Sonja, aren't you, the amazon warrior from Palmyra?" She nodded again. "I 
had no idea you were so big, or so beautiful...Are you here to save us?" She didn't 
respond.

He shook himself and continued, "Thank you for bringing this girl to me. She would have 
died soon without attention." The doctor cleaned and dressed the victim's wounds, 
concentrating on the girl's big, soft, cut-up breasts and bloody genitals, which had 
received the most damage. When he finally looked up, Sonja was gone.

* * * * *

Rex's Raiders only accepted the foulest and most brutal men from all over the known world. 
Rape, torture, multiple murders were minimum entry requirements. They did as they pleased, 
terrorizing Larin. The girl's village was an extreme example of their handiwork. Larin was 
a poor agricultural country and didn't have the resources to stop their brutality, nor the 
economic leverage to buy an army. Thus Larin's villages were raped and slaughtered at 
will, the king frustrated and helpless to stop them.

The perfect place for Sonja to have a little fun.

She watched the camp. The men were drunk and partying until they dropped. The sound of 
women's, and, in some cases, boys' screams mixed with the music and harsh laughter.

The guard she had grabbed and forced to eat her had expired in her pussy long ago. She 
grunted and threw his corpse aside. She drew herself up to her full formidable height, her 
monstrously large muscles flexing and expanding. It was time to join the party.

The men at the first camp fire she walked up to scrabbled away in fear as the pale 
redheaded goddess stepped into the fire light. The glow flickered over her gigantic form, 
highlighting every bulging muscle in full relief. Without expression she simply kicked the 
nearest man. Her foot rammed right through his head, exploding his skull and splattering 
his brains over her foot and some of the other men. The others started yelling for help. 
Sonja smiled.

She loved to kill. She hadn't even unsheathed her sword yet; she enjoyed crushing these 
men with her bare hands too much. She enjoyed slowly bringing her thighs together, 
splattering the skulls of men who happened to be between them. She grabbed men left and 
right, easily squashing their chests flat between her unstoppable arms. The slaughter she 
unleashed on these men was equally if not more brutal than anything they had meted out. 
She was not a nice woman, and she satisfied her blood-lust on these scum.

Sonja walked through the camp dispensing carnage left and right. She raped men at will, 
then crunched their pelvises in her iron grip. None were spared in her violent appetite. 
Dozens died during her earth-shaking orgasms. The only noises heard were her animal growls 
and the screams of men she encountered. She did not discriminate between the members of 
the camp and their victims; she gleefully killed all she encountered. Men were rended limb 
from limb; gory bits of what once were humans were splattered all over the camp. The 
terrifying banshee was unhindered by anything in her way, human or animal, flesh and blood 
or steel. She crushed boulders between her thighs to show off to her victims before slowly 
tearing them apart.

All too quickly (for her) it was over. She came down from her last gut-wrenching orgasm 
still shaking and grinning.

There was one problem: she hadn't found Rex.

She saw one last unbroken man cowering before her. She stalked over to him. There was a 
man alive on the ground between them. She had torn open his stomach with her fingers and 
his guts were leaking onto the ground.

Sonja looked at the shaking man in front of her and slowly brought her foot down on the 
skull of the man between them, sighing contentedly as she felt his skull crack and his wet 
brains slither around her foot. She wiggled her toes, the gore making disgusting squishing 
noises. The last man alive threw up.

She lifted him up with one bruising hand engulfing his puny shoulder. He shook 
uncontrollably. Her expression grew serious. She was eerily beautiful in the flickering of 
the dying camp fires. She raised her right arm and drew it back, then stopped. The man 
squirmed in her grasp, no more than a child next to her awesome strength and stature. He 
knew one blow from her and his head would be no more than a fine bloody mist. He pissed 
himself. Sonja wrinkled her nose and slowly brought her fist forward, looking at the man 
questioningly.

He caught on. "N-n-no, p-please don't kill me!" he howled. "Rex is at cards! He's in the 
village not ten miles east of here! Please, Sonja, please spare me!"

She seemed to consider it. She toyed with his body held aloft in her arms. He began to 
have hope she would let him live.

Sonja's reputation for quick yet sickeningly brutal results was not unfounded, though. She 
grasped one of his arms in each hand and slowly pulled. She looked into his eyes, enjoying 
the terror she found there. Agonizingly slowly yet inexorably she pulled, listening to the 
pops and crackles of his muscles and ligaments being torn apart. He howled in pain, adding 
to her sadistic delight.

His bones pulled out of their sockets. His skin tore. He fell to the ground before Sonja, 
unconscious but alive, the stumps where his arms used to be pumping blood and gore onto 
the ground. Sonja tossed his arms aside. She knew he would die of blood loss within 
fifteen minutes, but that was not good enough.

She slapped the man until he was awake, each powerful blow shattering something in his 
jaw. She wanted him conscious for her final sickening act.

She pulled up her battle skirt, revealing her furry, large, moist crotch. "No, please God 
no," the man between her thighs pleaded. She spread her large labia and let them drip over 
his face, the juices hot and stinging. Her pussy was large even for her immense size. She 
let her pussy lips drape over his head, her powerful vaginal muscles easily pulling his 
whole head inside her. Normally she simply let men suffocate in her, but that was not a 
painful and brutal enough end for a member of Rex's ex-Raiders. She clamped down with her 
pussy, sucking in more and more of him. Her soft labia chewed gently at his shoulders 
until eventually his whole upper body was trapped in her huge pussy. She fingered her 
large erect clit, getting off on his weakening struggles.

His end was as short as it was painful. Her orgasm hit with even deadlier force than 
before. She stood and flexed every muscle in her unbelievably powerful body, grinding his 
lower body to gory paste between her long thick thighs. His skull and torso were squashed 
into a bloody tube in the powerful contractions of her vagina. His flattened body was 
washed out in a flood of her juices. Her fatal orgasm killed the last member of Rex's 
Raiders. The last except for Rex himself.

She toweled the blood and gore off herself and surveyed the remains of the camp. The 
devastation was even more complete than what they had done to the village. Body parts and 
bits of skull and brain littered the dirt and rocks. Satisfied, she went off in search of 
the leader.

* * * * *

The bar was instantly quiet. Every head turned to stare and gasp at the giant woman. Sonja 
paused in the doorway, her huge figure almost unable to fit, then saw five men gathered 
around a table playing cards. It took her only a moment to determine the largest and most 
nasty-looking was probably Rex.

She drew her sword, the material so heavy only she could even lift it. Everybody backed 
away from her. When Sonja drew her mighty blade someone died. She slowly walked to the 
card table, staring directly at Rex.

He knew these were the last seconds of his life. He tried to run away, but his frightened 
companions shoved him into Sonja's path.

A man to Sonja's left started towards them, looking like he might interfere. A frightened 
woman held him back, pleading with him to not get anywhere near the she-demon.

Rex drew his own sword. Sonja swatted at it and his steel shattered. He gaped at the 
broken blade in his pained hands. Wordlessly Sonja drew back her sword. With a sweep too 
quick for the eye to follow her arm moved and the sword was suddenly at her other 
shoulder.

Blood began to spurt out of his neck, the pressure eventually driving his decapitated head 
off his shoulders. It landed with a gruesome splatter on the floor. Sonja calmly grabbed a 
man by his shirt and tore it off of him, using it to clean her blade of Rex's blood. He 
was grateful all he lost was his shirt. She sheathed the shiny metal blade.

Sonja picked up Rex's body with one hand. His huge muscular corpse seemed laughably 
pathetic next to Sonja's intimidating physique. She tossed the headless body out the bar's 
door. Then she took the pile of money that had been in front of Rex. Nobody interfered.

The huge red-maned mercenary woman walked over to the bar. The bartender/innkeeper gulped 
but shakily stood his ground, wondering what Sonja was going to do. Her fierce temper and 
brutal nature were well-known, and they had just seen her casually destroy the most feared 
man in the country. She could just as easily decide to wipe all of them out with hardly a 
thought and no effort at all if they displeased her.

She threw a generous amount of money on the bar and pointed at the beer. She drank 
prodigiously, downing amounts that would stagger a man in one gulp and demanding more. The 
bar patrons returned to their normal activity, relieved that she was just there to drink. 
They cast furtive glances in her direction.

Sonja yawned and raised her eyebrows at the bartender. She spilled some more coins onto 
the bar.

"We have a room open in the back, if you care to stay here," the bartender stammered out. 
Sonja smiled, baring her teeth in a fearsome grin. She pointed toward the end of the bar 
and grunted. A slender, very pretty boy was wiping the bar and trying not to stare. The 
bartender gulped. Sonja shrugged and lay a bag of money on the counter.

"John, show our guest to her room," the bartender said. He breathed a sigh of relief when 
she followed his shaking body out the back. One servant-boy seemed a small price to pay 
for surviving an encounter with the frightening red devil.

* * * * *

John's teeth chattered as he led Sonja into her room. She closed the door behind her, 
making it clear that he was to stay. He moaned in terror. No man survived a night with 
Sonja.

She was even more impressive in person than the legends said. She was gigantic and proud, 
with shoulders broader than he was tall. Her bulging forearms were as thick around as his 
thighs, and her biceps were larger than his waist. She had more muscle in one arm than he 
had on his entire body. Her wavy red hair flowed down in a tangled fiery mane to her 
thickly muscled butt.

John found her extraordinarily beautiful, in spite of his fear. He was captivated by her 
emerald eyes, her high cheekbones, her thick lips and exaggerated figure. She was 
uncommonly pretty. She had huge impossibly firm breasts and wide hips, with a slight 
suggestion of an hourglass shape in spite of her thick muscular abdomen. Every inch of her 
bulged rock-solid muscles and unimaginable, frightening power.

Sonja stripped off her blood-soaked battle garments without hesitation. John turned away, 
color flooding into his cheeks. The musky aroma of her sweat filled the room. He was 
embarrassed at the erection which popped up at her scent, aroused even while terrified.

She turned toward him and he cowered back, whimpering in fear. She paused. "Please, ma'am, 
please," John choked out. "I don't want to die. I'm only thirteen. Please don't kill me!"

If Sonja had heard half the stories John had about her, she would have laughed. Twenty 
feet tall she was, and breathed fire. She devoured men for breakfast! All of these 
thoughts ran around and collided in John's confused, terrified mind.

John shut his eyes tight and waited for the terrible blow that would end his life, or the 
equally fatal horrific rape he was sure was coming. Instead he felt her thickly calloused 
finger caress his cheek. He hesitantly opened his eyes. Sonja was looking down at him 
with...what? Tenderness? John saw a softness in her eyes he would never have thought 
possible from this horrifyingly violent woman. He was still shaking, though. After all, he 
had seen her casually swipe off the head of the leader of Rex's Raiders!

He felt something soft and squishy press into his hand. He grasped it and realized she had 
just handed him a sponge. He almost cried in relief.

Sonja stood before him expectantly. He tried not to think too hard about the red streaks 
and bits of white he wiped off her huge body. He ran the sponge around her arms, her 
shoulders, down her broad, muscular back. He traced the deep furrows of muscle along her 
shoulders and upper back. He hesitantly moved to the front, wiping off her stomach. Her 
abs rippled with power, each muscle vibrant and alive.

He worshipped her.

She lowered herself down and closed her eyes, allowing him to sponge off her face and 
ears. The overpowering intoxicating scent of her sweat hypnotized him. He ran the sponge 
over her bull neck and under her shaved armpits, occasionally cleaning it in the water 
barrel. He stopped at her upper torso. She opened her eyes.

Her powerful hand, capable of easily crushing rocks and more fragile things, like human 
skulls, engulfed his hand and guided it gently but firmly to her chest. He marveled at her 
firm, huge breasts. They were dense but slightly springy to his touch. He had never seen 
naked breasts before but he imagined that these must be the most perfect pair in the 
world.

He slowly and lovingly sponged every part of her glorious breasts and the dense valley of 
muscle between. He stroked the undersides of the huge globes, cleaning away accumulated 
dirt and gore. Gore under her breasts? He tried not to think about how that got there.

The sponge grazed over her huge, erect nipples, each the size of John's thumb, mounted on 
brown aureola the size of saucers. She gasped as he touched her sensitive nipples. He 
looked up at her face and saw that she had her eyes closed and her beautiful red lips 
slightly parted. He slowly reached out and stroked her huge nipple with his fingers.

She stood. Sonja towered over John, her vast heavily muscled body in sharp contrast to his 
slender pretty frame. He continued the sponge-bath, lovingly cleaning her wondrous thighs, 
lingering over each huge flexed muscle. He traced the lines of her legs, the ridges and 
valleys, cleaning every inch in awe and respect. He moved around to her back and cleaned 
off her wide, powerful glutes. She relaxed her butt and allowed him to wash her crack, his 
hand and sponge almost lost among all that dense, powerful muscle. He shuddered as he 
thought about what would happen to his hand if she suddenly tensed.

Sonja lay down on the bed and parted her legs. John stared at her thick tangled fur, the 
large, pink, moist pussy lips, and the long erect clit. She waited patiently. He caressed 
her fur, cleaning her pussy. He almost came in his pants the wonderful scent from her 
aroused pussy was so strong. The blood and gore around her pussy kept him from climaxing. 
He reluctantly stopped cleaning her pussy once he had thoroughly gone over every part of 
her massive genitalia.

Working his way down the massive trunks of her legs, he couldn't help fondling and kissing 
the huge muscles. She didn't seem to mind. He tenderly washed and kissed her vast, rock-
hard calves. She pointed her toes and the ball of muscle sprung out at him, harder than 
steel.

He cleaned her feet, shuddering as he wiped the blood and gory splatters of brain from 
between her toes. He was reminded at every smooth curve just how deadly this muscular 
goddess was.

Sonja opened her eyes when she felt John insistently tugging her hand. She looked down 
curiously. "Please, mistress, I would like to wash your hair." She grinned and nodded. She 
allowed him to bend her over another barrel of clean water and moaned as he thoroughly 
washed her long flaming hair. His little fingers tugging on the strands of her hair, 
massaging her scalp, felt sooo good. She loved his tender touch, washing her ears, 
worshipfully attending every strand.

John towelled her hair, thoroughly drying the tangled mass. He took a brush and sat her on 
the bed. Even sitting she towered over him imposingly. He crawled up behind her and 
brushed the tangles out of her waist-length hair. Nobody had ever attended to her body 
with this much loving care, and she revelled in it. She let him brush her hair for more 
than an hour, enjoying every moment of the soft tugging on her scalp.

Finally he was done. He didn't want to leave. He was completely smitten by this mysterious 
flaming creature. He wanted to run his hands over her hard tanned skin, feeling her 
massive muscles flowing underneath, for the rest of his life.

Sonja lifted John into the air with one hand, setting him on her wide lap. She shredded 
his clothes without effort, tossing the rags to the floor. He looked up fearfully. "Are 
you going to kill me now?" he asked in a whisper.

She stroked his cheek, roaming her hand and eyes over his pretty body. He was just 
beginning to develop body hair. She ran her fingers over his erect cock. All men's cocks 
were equally tiny to her; she filled her pussy with men's bodies, not their dicks. Still, 
she liked playing with his cock, stroking it and squeezing it. She could easily smush it 
between her thumb and forefinger, instead she just pinched it teasingly.

"I don't want to die," he whimpered, tears falling down his cheeks. She placed one large 
finger over his lips to shush him. He looked at her, afraid. She shook her head and smiled 
gently. She was bad, not evil. He was young and pretty; she just wanted to play with him. 
He might survive.

He gulped and rested his head on her shoulder while she played with his body. He shuddered 
as she ran her fingers over his inner thighs, squirmed when she inserted a finger into his 
ass, giggled when she tickled his tummy and armpits. She laughed delightedly while she 
manipulated his puny body. She was totally uninhibited, and in her tender care he shed his 
own reservations.

He jerked in surprise when he felt her long wet tongue stroke his back. He relaxed in her 
powerful grasp, feeling her smooth dripping tongue coat him with her saliva, cleaning him. 
She ran it over his whole body, licking the dirt off in huge swaths. He moaned in pleasure 
as her warm mouth engulfed his genitals, rolling his balls gently over her tongue. She 
stuck her tongue out farther, cleaning his butt and licking his crack. Her strong 
insistent tongue was thorough, not allowing a single inch of him to remain uncoated. He 
giggled and squirmed as she tickled his feet and washed between his toes. He felt warm and 
safe in her arms, covered in her slime. He loved her tongue bath and wished it would never 
stop.

He lay in her arms when it was over, purring as she stroked him with her long, thick, 
powerful fingers. His head rested on her solid bicep. Her clit poked against his butt, the 
gentle pressure creating a warm glow of contentment in Sonja. She looked down at him, 
admiring how delicate and pretty he was. Hers to play with.

John pushed her arms away and hopped down from her lap. He pushed her back onto the bed. 
Surprised, she did as his gentle touch demanded. He rolled her over and left the room. 
"I'll be right back," he promised.

He returned twenty minutes later with a bowl of heated scented oils and a rag. She moaned 
in pleasure at the touch of the hot oil on her smooth tan skin. His small but amazingly 
strong fingers went to work on her back, massaging small knots in her muscles. The knots 
were bigger than his biceps, John saw. He worked her back for hours, letting his hands 
uncramp every half hour or so. His magic touch soothed her lethal muscles, warming her and 
giving her a peace she never thought possible. She fell asleep. He rose and fell with her 
gentle breathing, his knees braced on her broad muscular back.

He worked his way down her body, in no rush to finish the job. He smoothed the muscles in 
her arms and shoulders, her back, her glutes, her massive thighs (careful not to put his 
head between the columns of deadly muscle), her stone calves. He massaged her ankles, then 
moved his expert hands to her feet. He caressed and licked the calloused pads of her feet 
and toes. He ran his tongue between the strong digits, rubbed oil into the powerful 
muscles in her foot, compared his own scrawny body to the power contained just in her 
awesome feet. He knew these feet had crushed skulls and ground men's bodies into a gory 
mess. The thought excited him. Her power, her incredible exotic beauty, voluptuous figure, 
and impossible muscles turned him on more than he had ever been in his paltry thirteen 
years of existence.

* * * * *

Sonja awoke feeling more refreshed and alive than she had in ages. Her muscles, instead of 
being sore and knotted after her night of play, felt smooth, warm and limber. She moaned 
softly.

John jerked around. She smiled at him. He smiled back weakly and returned to what he was 
doing. After a moment she saw that he was cleaning her equipment, thoroughly washing her 
armor, sword, and clothing. He had to struggle to maneuver the heavy pieces of metal, 
putting his whole body into moving items of equipment she tossed around with one hand.

She was content to watch him. She had never known such a thorough, attentive and willing 
slave. She was a bit surprised that he was still alive. She must have fallen asleep early. 
Watching him work she was glad he survived.

There was a hesitant knock on the door. Sonja growled loudly, the sound deep and menacing. 
John shrank away from her. The knocking stopped.

"Miss Sonja," came the voice of the owner. "So sorry to bother you, but the king's men are 
here. They wish to take you to see the king."

Sonja grunted. The owner walked away from her closed door.

The huge redhead stood, seeming to fill the entire space of the small room. She allowed 
John to struggle with the equipment for a while before impatiently tossing him aside and 
putting her armor on herself. John cowered in fear and shame. Sonja growled at him and 
motioned that he was to follow her.

Sonja emerged into the bar where two soldiers stood waiting. The bar's owner gaped in 
surprise when John followed her in. John shrugged sheepishly and stood by Sonja. The owner 
wisely didn't say anything; Sonja had paid more than a fair price for the life of one 
young inexperienced servant-boy.

"The king wants to see you. Follow us," the bigger of the two soldiers grunted to Sonja. 
She followed them. John had trouble keeping up with their long strides. Sonja simply 
lifted him onto her shoulders and let him ride above her head. She slowed her pace to 
remain between the two soldiers.

The larger soldier, the head of the king's personal army, kept glaring over at Sonja. It 
was obvious he didn't like her. He felt challenged by her size and strength. Her 
reputation for brutality and quick results threatened him. He was clearly resentful of 
her. Sonja pretended she didn't notice his rude and imprudent glances.

They arrived at the castle. Sonja was unimpressed. It was smaller than some duke's castles 
she had seen. There wasn't even a moat. She grunted her disapproval and followed the 
soldiers in. She swung John down from his perch, firmly planting him several steps behind 
her. They entered the king's chambers.

Trumpets called and the king entered. "All kneel before King Harold, mighty ruler of 
Larin," called out the court herald. The lesser dignitaries all bowed. Only the king, the 
king's guard, Sonja, and John remained standing. John glanced uncertainly from his new 
master to the aggressive soldier, caught between his loyalty to Sonja and the necessity of 
bowing before the king.

He paused too long. "On your knees before the king, boy!" growled the head of Larin's 
small army, shoving John roughly. Since he couldn't shove Sonja, shoving her weak little 
slave was the next best thing. John stumbled to his knees, tears of humiliation forming in 
his eyes.

The head of the army felt himself lifted high into the air. He struggled as he felt one 
huge hand close around his shoulders and another around his waist. The strong steel 
yielded like putty to Sonja's powerful grip. She squeezed, crushing the steel into the 
arrogant soldier's body. Ribs snapped. Without changing expression she drew her hands 
apart. The man's armor shrieked horribly, nearly as loud and terrifying as the man's own 
scream. Sonja dropped the two gory halves of the corpse to the floor.

The soldiers, king, and various other people in the room stood in shock. Sonja had just 
executed the king's favorite for his poor judgement. She stood boldly before the king, not 
bowing her head even an inch in respect.

Slowly the king collected himself. He motioned for the corpse to be disposed of. His face 
was ashen as he stared at Sonja in fear and anger. "I, I suppose he deserved that," the 
king stuttered out. "Thank you for ridding my kingdom of the scourge of Rex's Raiders. We 
are a poor country so we cannot thank you enough. Please accept the hospitality of any 
home in the land as gratitude, and this modest tribute as payment." A well-dressed 
trembling young man offered a bag of gold to Sonja. She took it.

Sonja bared her teeth at the room in a fearsome grin, turned, and walked out. John hurried 
after her.

Abrams, now head of the king's army and personal guard, shook in rage. "Sir, the, the, the 
arrogance! She killed George! Why did you let her leave alive? She must pay!"

The king laughed bitterly. "Perhaps some day she will, Abrams. But George paid for his 
stupidity with his life. Look at her. All of our men together couldn't challenge Rex's 
Raiders, and she wiped them out for fun. We never asked for her, we could never have 
afforded her services had she charged us. The token we gave her really was a token, though 
it strains the limits of what we can afford." The king's look darkened. "Perhaps she will 
meet a foe who will best her and that devil will meet the fate she deserves. But it will 
not be today, and it will not be us." He raised his voice. "No man is to challenge Sonja! 
I do not need more dead soldiers. Let the general's fate be a lesson for us all."

Abrams stood at the castle's gates and glared after Sonja and that pathetic little figure 
following her, that weak poor excuse for a boy who was the reason for his superior's 
death. Pure hatred burned in his eyes.


End of sonja1