Red Sonja Outmatched

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.

"Quite a show you put on in there."

Sonja turned to see a slender, black-haired woman leaning against a wooden beam, a pair of almond-shaped, golden brown eyes appraising her with interest. She was striking, with delicate silver filigree adorning the curve of her ears and a lithe leather-clad figure that stirred Sonja's gaze. Zamorian, most likely, judging by that smooth ebony skin and sharp-featured, oval face. Her thick lips were a deep shade of burgundy, and a delicate silver chain adorned her neck, bearing an intricate pendant that glinted in the dim torchlight.

"I do try to entertain," Sonja replied, keeping her voice low and throaty.

"Entertain you did. Not many can best Borus in a test of strength." The woman pushed off from the beam and took a step closer. She began circling slowly around Sonja, who stood firmly in place, tall and implacable. Sonja's eyes tracked the swaying hips, the predatory grace of the mysterious newcomer. A smile teased the corners of the full, luscious lips on her dusky face.

"Though it seems your talents extend beyond the mere...physical." The words were practically purred.

Sonja raised an eyebrow, filtering through possible replies, but the woman continued on.

"Such confidence... such power in that taut frame of yours... yet a hint of something more complex beneath." Her voice dropped to a murmur as she leaned in close. "Makes a girl eager to unravel all your mysteries."

Sonja felt her pulse quicken at the proximity, inhaling a trace of heady musk. But she wasn't that easily played.

"And you would know my talents how?" Sonja volleyed back, holding the intelligent amber-eyed gaze. The woman giggled, a melodic, disarming sound.

"Let's just say I'm a keen observer of people." Her eyes wandered the length and breadth of Sonja's body, taking in the poorly hidden curves. "Especially fascinating ones like you."

Sonja laughed throatily. "Well, keep observing, I promise not to disappoint."

"I'd be disappointed if our encounter ended so quickly," the woman shot back, trailing a hand up Sonja's arm. "The night's still young. Perhaps I could get to know your talents more...intimately."

Intrigue warred with caution in Sonja's mind as they exchanged provocative banter. This beauty was clever and bold, stirring her interest even as she kept her wits about her. She gently grasped the teasing hand and lifted it away.

"Another time, perhaps. For now, the night air calls me." Sonja brushed past the girl, adding over her shoulder, "Don't miss me too much."

The cool night air was a welcome relief on Sonja's flushed skin as she stepped away from the crowded tavern and strolled toward the stables. Her encounter with the flirtatious stranger had left her feeling unsettled, though in an intriguing way. She breathed deep, centering herself.

It was only after a few paces that she realized the heavy purse of coins won from her arm wrestling victory was no longer swinging from her belt. She grasped at her hip, finding only empty space where the pouch should have been.

"No...she didn't," Sonja growled through gritted teeth. "Blood and bone!" That cunning minx's sensual banter had merely been a pleasant distraction, keeping Sonja's attention while deft fingers had lifted her prize. Well, it did make some sense. They said Zamorians made the best thieves after all.

Furious, Sonja spun on her heel and marched back toward the tavern entrance. Her boots pounded the worn wooden boards as she shoved the door open with a bang. Patrons glanced up in surprise at her sudden reappearance. Sonja scanned the room intently, looking for any sign of the raven-haired beauty. But the thief had vanished as quickly as she first materialized. The tavern was rapidly emptying out, with no trace of her. Cursing under her breath, Sonja wove between the tables and remaining drunken stragglers. She checked every shadowed corner, questioned the wary barmaids. But it was no use. The minx had disappeared like smoke, along with Sonja's hard-won earnings.

With a frustrated sigh, Sonja leaned against the pitted bar counter. She couldn't help but smile ruefully, even as her purse hung lighter. No one had ever robbed her so brazenly before. And, though she'd never admit it aloud, a small part of her admired the woman's audacity and skill. Whenever they met again, Sonja looked forward to having words with the vexing thief--no, she would have more than words with her... and this time, she wouldn't underestimate those quick hands and clever words. One way or another, that little thief would find out she had messed with the wrong woman. Yes, the more she thought about it, the more she relished the challenge. This night was proving to be anything but boring.

* * *

The town of Kusan was a small but bustling settlement nestled in the foothills of the Talakma Mountains. Though remote, it sat along an important trade route, with merchants and travelers constantly passing through on their way through the mountain passages dividing Khitai and Hyrkania. The buildings were timber and stone, crowded together along narrow, winding streets. Raucous taverns, traders' stalls, and craftsmen's workshops lined the thoroughfares, where people from all walks of life mingled and did business. Even at this late hour, there were still people out and about, giving Sonja covert glances and dark scowls as she passed them by. No matter where you went in all of Hyboria, suspicion of strangers never faded, it seemed.

The moon shone bright as Sonja guided her stallion through the darkened streets, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. She had a hunch that cunning thief would be out tonight, looking for more marks to fleece around town. Sonja felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins--if she could catch the minx red-handed, retrieving her stolen coins would be a cinch.

Quiet as a wraith, she wove through alleys and down narrow side streets, peering into darkened windows and scanning every nook and cranny for any sign of the raven-haired beauty. But the hours passed by uneventfully, and Sonja returned to the inn stables disappointed. She'd have to come up with another plan to confront that vexing rogue.

As she dismounted and handed her reins off to the stable boy, something in the shadows behind the inn caught Sonja's keen eyes. She pressed her back against the rough wooden walls of the stable, slowly inching toward the back alley beyond. Peering around the corner, her breath caught in her throat--there in the soft glow of the moonlight sat the little vixen, bold as brass, perched on an overturned crate and counting out her pile of stolen coins with a look of smug satisfaction on her pretty face.

Sonja's pulse thundered in her ears. With catlike stealth, she crept down the alley toward her unsuspecting target. In one lightning-quick motion, she lunged forward and grabbed the thief's slender wrist in an iron grip, her other hand pressing the sharp edge of a dagger to her delicate throat.

"I'd say we have some unfinished business to settle. Did you really think you'd get away with it that easily?" Sonja said in a low hiss, lips so close they brushed the woman's ear. But despite the clear threat, the thief remained as cool and composed as ever. She flashed Sonja a disarming smile.

"Get away with what? I was just out for a nighttime stroll."

Sonja stared intently at the woman, their faces inches apart. The thief's slender throat rested against the cold steel, but her expression remained composed. She was a striking beauty--sharp cheekbones, full lips, and intelligent amber eyes that gazed back steadily. Sonja searched those dark pools but found no sign of fear or regret, only keen interest.

Most would quail being caught by the legendary warrior. Yet this raven-haired minx met Sonja's fiery glare with calm poise. Only the slight quickening of her breath betrayed any tension. Sonja picked up notes of her heady floral perfume, mingled with the scent of leather. Something about the woman's self-possession stirred her curiosity. There was more to this thief than greed or risk-taking. She carried herself with subtle confidence, as if walking a carefully laid path.

"Don't play games with me. I know you took my coins, you sly little fox," she pressed.

Trapped, the dusky girl held up her hands in mock surrender.

"Alright warrior, you caught me. I confess--I just couldn't resist testing my skills against someone as quick and captivating as you. But now that you've caught me, what are you going to do, I wonder?" she said in a calm, even tone. Again, Sonja was impressed by her unfaltering composure. Intrigued, she decided to play along for now. She lowered the dagger and gave the woman a wolfish grin.

"How about that drink you owe me?" And without waiting for a reply, she led the thief by the wrist back around the stables and into the Boar's Head. The game was on. And this time, Sonja wouldn't underestimate this cunning player.

The tavern was dim and nearly empty, the only sign of her earlier bout being the remnants of the split oaken table still littering the floor. Sonja gave it a smirk as she led them to a small corner table, pushing her captive into one of its wooden chairs. Taking the other for herself, she snapped her fingers at the sole lingering barmaid, ordering drinks; wine for the Zamorian, ale for herself. Sonja remained still until the mugs arrived, studying the mysterious woman in silence, all the while growing ever more captivated by her poise and beauty. She sat close, keenly aware of the thief's thigh pressing against hers beneath the weathered wood.

"So, do you have a name, little minx?" Sonja finally asked before taking a sip of ale.

"Deija," the woman replied, holding Sonja's gaze as she traced a slow finger around the rim of her goblet.

Their conversation was sparse, charged looks speaking volumes. When Deija's hand disappeared under the table to trail up Sonja's leg, the warrioress didn't pull away. Their faces drew closer, breath mingling.

"What else have those nimble fingers of yours stolen tonight?" Sonja murmured.