The serpent's head slumped to the floor, scarlet blood gushing from its severed neck. The rest of the body stood for a second longer before collapsing into a writhing heap on the smooth, black basalt. Heidr snorted, spitting a few drops of blood from his mouth. He never quite got used to the metallic tang. He wiped his sword on the tattered remains of his tunic, tossing the fabric aside and striding forward in little more than blood, sweat and a loincloth. His thick mane of blond hair stuck to his neck. His skin glistened in the light of the strange red torches, strong muscles rippling under tanned brown skin.
It had been a long climb. And one full of peril.
The enormous snake he'd encountered in this shrine -with its pillars of black and gold encircling a colossal jewel-encrusted statue of some profane deity- had not been the first danger. There had been the lions at the gates of the outer wall, the half-human ape things that roamed the courtyards and, of course, the demonic guardian of the tower doors. All had met similar ends at Heidr's hands and longsword. No mere plunderer could ever conceive of trying to raid the Black Keep, and yet here he was in the belly of it. But he couldn't stop and loot; not until he knew for sure that the sorceress who ruled here was dead. Magic users had an annoying habit of holding grudges, you see.
Heidr kicked his sandals away, padding quietly across cold stone floors and hefting his sword in two hands. There was something in the air that had his skin erupting in goose-bumps; a tingle, a spark of life. Magic, most likely, coupled with the growing smell of spiced incense. He was getting closer to her chambers. He climbed a spiral staircase that seemed to cover the whole circumference of the enormous tower, creeping inch by inch, tapping with his foot for pressure plates and tripwires. Nothing. Either she did not expect anyone to make it this far -an understandable assumption for any other mortal man- or she was confident enough in her abilities.
And if she were confident, Heidr would have to be quick in slaying her.
At last, the basalt stairs brought him to a door. Solid mahogany, set with vast squares of obsidian and gold filigree depicting acts both macabre and lewd. He pressed his ear to it and heard nothing. That set his nerves on edge. He took a few steps back, squared his shoulders, and charged. The door swung open easily, and it was only his experience in battle that stopped him from tumbling to the hard floor. Instead, he slowed, brandishing his sword and searching for immediate danger.
The room was large and circular, with the same ring of black and gold pillars as the shrine below. But where below there was a statue to some serpentine abomination, here there was a broad, raised dais covered in large pillows and exotic furs. Figures lounged amongst them; women of many shades but one shape, namely petite and willowy. And at the centre of the dozen or so slender girls stood a tall, imposing figure with a predatory smile.
Her skin and statuesque beauty made her look as if she had been carved from the same basalt as her keep, but she was so full of warmth and life that she seemed to be a fire amongst black ice. Like the stone, she too was adorned with gold and jewels, in the form of bangles on her arms and feet, chains and pendants dangling between full breasts, and a bright girdle that hung on her ample hips. Not a scrap of cloth to provide her voluptuous frame with any sort of modesty. Her body was void of hair, including on her head, and everything shone as if she were oiled. Her smile and slow, deliberate movements gave her all the grace and power of a big cat as she stood, staring down at the barbarian.
"Welcome, brave Heidr," She purred, "I am Yomela, and I have been expecting you."
Heidr grunted, readying his sword.
"Oh? Not a word for your gracious host?" Yomela smirked, "And after I went through such trouble to provide you with entertainment."
"Perhaps you should have found me something more challenging," Heidr said bluntly.
"And exhaust you too soon? You're not the only one who enjoys a good struggle."
"Then we could have met alone. Or do you need your tricks and traps to fight?"
"I need no defences. My wiles alone disarm my foes." She dragged her hands down her curves, the bangles and chains tinkling.
"Your wiles won't save y-" Heidr started, before something between a gust of wind and an enormous fist slammed into his stomach, sending him hurtling through the air and onto the hard floor with a sickening crack. He pushed himself onto his knees, struggling for breath before another slammed into his back from above.
"I didn't say my wiles were all I had, barbarian," Yomela chuckled. She flicked her hand up, and the invisible hand threw Heidr into the air, crashing him into the ceiling before he collapsed into a heap at the steps of the dais. "Come now, kneeling so soon? I expected more from you."
Heidr snarled, whirling on one foot and swinging the massive sword at the sorceress' unprotected neck. He felt the blade stop in something, and for a second, he smiled until he noticed that his arms had stopped as well. Everything had stopped as if hundreds of invisible hands were holding him in place. The sword's blade quivered a mere inch away from Yomela's neck, and one inch more away from her frightening smile.
"A noble attempt," She said. Yomela pushed the blade down and out of Heidr's hands with two fingers, stepping down the dais and passing behind him. "But a foolish one. Do you know how many like you have tried the same trick?"
"I will be the first to succeed." Heidr shook as he tried to pull himself free from whatever spell was holding him fast.
"They all said the same. Didn't you, slaves?"
It was only then that Heidr noticed something about the figures that had lounged on the dais; not one of them had breasts. They were slender and girlish, with long hair and soft faces, but their hips were also small and their chests completely flat. They were nearly naked, dressed in just a silk loincloth and identical chokers, each with a single smooth, white gem dangling from it. One of them shifted their legs, and the loincloth fell away. Heidr's eyes widened; they were not women at all. They were -or perhaps had been- men.
"What curse have you wrought on them, witch?" Heidr hissed, struggling against the invisible bindings.
"Curse? Ha!" Yomela's bark of laughter was like the tolling of an ominous bell, "I have freed them from the curse they were born with. A curse you share."
"What are you babbling about?"
"Oh, you think you're so mighty, don't you? Cleaving your way through every problem, thinking only about the next thing you can kill, or eat, or fuck," Yomela cupped his chin with her hand, "It's so... pathetic. Like you have something you need to prove. Some desperate need to show the world 'I am a man!' Tell me, barbarian; who are you proving yourself to?"
"Stop speaking in riddles, witch!" Heidr snarled.
"Maybe you don't know yourself. Or maybe... the person you are trying to prove your might to is yourself. Because deep down in that thick head of yours..." She leant in close, whispering in his ear, "You know you're not a real man at all."
"Your words and tricks will not sway me!"
"They do not need to. My actions will speak far louder." Yomela pushed his head back. He felt like he would fall for half a second before his body seemed to float in the air as if he were suspended in water. Or perhaps something thicker, like oil. Regardless, Yomela could move him as though he were paper. She floated him away from the dais, pushing his limbs until he was prone. With a little smirk, she yanked his loincloth away. Her eyebrow cocked, and she smiled at him, tracing a finger along his exposed shaft. "My, it's almost a shame to waste this."
"Is that all you have sought? Someone to lie with?" Heidr scoffed.
"I have lain with many. And will lay with many more. But this thing of yours will never get to enjoy me, barbarian."
