Chapter 1
Dark Temptations
The interior of the Boar's Head tavern and inn was a hornet's nest of noise and chaos; a cramped, smoke-filled den where the air was thick with the stench of stale ale, unwashed bodies, and the charred remnants of meat. The clamor was a living thing, a beast that roared with the laughter, shouting, and the rhythmic clatter of mugs on wooden tables. Looming shadows danced in the flickering firelight, and the riotous patrons filled the room to bursting.
In the midst of all this, Red Sonja sat, solitary and aloof, at a corner table. Her fiery red hair was a beacon in the gloom, and her bright blue eyes surveyed the crowd with a mixture of indifference and mild amusement. Her arm, leanly muscular and scarred from many a fierce and glorious battle, rested on the table, victor of yet another arm-wrestling match. The defeated challenger, a burly blacksmith with a long beard, had slunk away with his manly ego in tatters, and Sonja was left nursing her drink, a half-empty mug of the tavern's questionable 'best ale'.
Around her, the boisterous crowd surged, a sea of rough men and women, each one eager to challenge the legendary warrior to a bout. They jostled, shouted, and laughed, their voices a cacophonous symphony in the smoky air. Sonja dismissed their challenges with a wave of her hand, a bored expression on her attractive face. Yet, their persistence was as relentless as the tide, driven by a potent mix of alcohol-fueled bravado and the tantalizing allure of besting the infamous She-Devil.
Then, amid the rabble, a man stepped forward--taller, broader, and with an air of confidence that separated him from the others. He slammed a small pile of gleaming silver coins onto the table, a challenge issued in the universal language of wager and pride. His dark eyes met Sonja's cool blue gaze, a silent dare hanging between them. The fiery-haired champion's eyebrow arched, her interest piqued, but she remained noncommittal, her lips curling into a smirk around the rim of her mug.
The noise in the tavern seemed to swell, the raucous laughter and shouting growing louder as the onlookers turned their attention to Sonja's table. The stench of sweat and ale grew stronger, and the smoke hung heavier in the air, suffused with anticipation. The land of Hyrkania, once her home and birthplace, was harsh and brutal, and in this cramped, smoky tavern, Red Sonja, the fierce and headstrong warrior, was about to remind them all why she was a legend.
Sonja leaned back in her chair, eyeing the confident challenger with amusement dancing in her bright blue eyes.
"Well, well," she purred, her resonant voice carrying over the din. "Aren't you a strapping fellow. And so sure of yourself too."
The man grinned broadly. "I'm Borus the Bull, strongest man in Kusan. No woman has ever beaten me, in wrestling, drinking, or fucking." He flexed his thick arms, eliciting cheers from the crowd.
Sonja's smirk only widened. She took another slow sip of her drink before responding. "Funny, I was about to say I've never lost to a man."
The onlookers oohed at the bold proclamation. Borus scowled briefly before regaining his swagger.
"There's a first time for everything. I'll try not to humiliate you too badly, lass."
At this, Sonja threw back her head and laughed, her lustrous mane of red hair cascading down her back. The sound cut sharply through the tavern's clamor. Leaning forward, her eyes glinted with predatory delight.
"The only one who'll be humiliated here is you. But if you're in such a hurry to lose your coins, far be it from me to deny these good people their entertainment."
Sonja placed her elbow on the table with a solid thud and beckoned with her fingers. The crowd cheered in a deafening roar. Borus grabbed her hand, his rough grip tightening on hers.
"Just don't go crying when you lose, girl."
Sonja's lip curled. "The only thing getting smashed here is your ego. It's too big for your ugly head--both of them."
The two locked eyes over their joined hands, tension thrumming. With a roar, Borus exerted the full force of his brawn against her sinewy arm. The contest had begun.
The tavern swelled with eager tension as Sonja and Borus strained, taut muscles and sweat-gleaming skin on display, their elbows planted firmly on the scarred wooden table. Sonja's slender yet steely arm met Borus' meaty trunk, veins bulging under scarred skin. A wide ring of onlookers formed around them, the crowd jostling for a view of the bout. The cacophony rose to a fever pitch--patrons bellowing encouragement, laying bets, and shouting curses at their chosen opponent.
Borus strained, every thick muscle and corded vein standing out as he sought to smash his female rival's arm down. But her slender limb didn't budge, deceptively mighty.
"Come on, little girl," Borus grunted through gritted teeth, his coarse features turning purple, veins bulging as he strained. "Just give it up."
Sonja's smirk was razor sharp, fiery strands of hair sticking to her damp brow. "Not a chance...oaf," she shot back, iron grip unyielding. Her brow creased from the effort, but her smirk never wavered. She seemed to be toying with the burly man, allowing him to exhaust himself against her impenetrable defense.
The crowd grew more forward, urging their champions on, "Crush her, Borus!"... "Come on lass, send him flying!" Stomping feet shook the floorboards, spilled ale raining from overeager hands waving mugs up high.
Borus powered forward with a roar, corded neck standing out. Rivulets of sweat trailed down his straining temples. But the mighty Sonja held fast, her own sculpted arm bunching, calloused fingers white-knuckled. The table creaked alarmingly from the pressure. More ale sloshed as the crowd stamped and hollered.
"Had enough yet, boy?" Sonja managed through her rictus grin, her voice tight, fiery gaze fixed on Borus. He was stronger than she had expected, but she would not relent.
"In...your dreams," Borus panted.
The crowd's clamor doubled. Smoke hung low. Patrons pounded tankards in excitement, the wooden beams reverberating with the noise.
Sonja's eyes blazed with fiery determination, her teeth gritted in a feral grin. With a savage yell, she slammed Borus' arm down with enough force to split the oak table down the middle. For a moment, shocked silence reigned. Then the tavern exploded in an uproar of cheers and boos, winners collecting their earnings while losers cursed their misfortune.
Borus gaped at the wreckage as Sonja leaned back. Her sapphire eyes glinted with satisfaction, brows angled in a look of amused arrogance. Strands of fiery red hair clung to the sweat on her brow, but she paid them no mind, relishing her victory. Borus lifted his eyes to stare at her dumbfounded, his meaty features slack in disbelief. Sonja met his gaze and her grin widened, flashing straight white teeth. Her expression conveyed a mix of triumph, mockery, and casual indifference--as if putting this hulking brute in his place was merely a trifling amusement.
"What's wrong, Bull? You look like you've seen a ghost." Sonja's voice dripped with mocking sweetness. "I'd say better luck next time, but we both know there won't be one."
Borus worked his mouth but no sound came out. All he could do was stare back in stunned silence, his brain unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a clever retort. The shame of his defeat sat heavy and unfamiliar on his shoulders. For the first time ever, the boastful Bull had no words, rendered speechless by the redheaded warrior maiden.
Finding her drink spilled on the floor during their bout, Sonja shrugged and reached for her newly-won purse of coins. Her lips still bore that same self-satisfied smirk as she rose from the sundered table. The motion caused her mane of fiery red hair to cascade over her shoulders, whirling about her face. With feline grace, she turned and strode toward the tavern's entrance. The raucous crowd parted before her, their voices hushing in reverence before the legendary warrior.
Sonja kept her grin firmly in place, lips curled in smug amusement. Each step was slow and deliberate, shoulders rolled back to accentuate her assets, chin lifted high. She walked with the effortless confidence of a warrior goddess--proud, powerful and fully aware of her sensuality. One hand rested casually on the hilt of her sheathed sword, as if daring anyone to challenge her supremacy. The other hung loose at her side, subtly drawing the eye along her lean curves. Her hips swung with an arrogant strut, echoing the swaying motions of the mesmerized crowd. Her scant chain mail armor accentuated every womanly curve, its shiny metal embossed with ornate swirls along her flanks. It hugged her athletic frame, showcasing both femininity and formidability in equal measure. Unbound and wild, her mane of fiery red hair framed her face in feathery strands that rustled with each step. Bright blue eyes peered out from below her tousled bangs, their piercing gaze brimming with self-assurance.
As she passed the bar, she flicked a gold coin to the stunned innkeeper without missing a long-legged stride, and then stalked toward the door.
"Get yourself a stronger table," she quipped.
Exiting into the night, Sonja tossed her red mane and flashed a knowing grin over her shoulder. She was a woman who knew her own prowess, who knew she possessed lethal beauty, and wielded it as skillfully as any blade. This contest may be over, but her night was just beginning.
Outside, the tavern's din was replaced with a sudden stillness, and Sonja stopped to inhale a deep breath of crisp night air into her smoke-and-grime-filled lungs. As she turned to head for the stables and her trusty horse, a sultry voice stopped her in her tracks.
