Tales of Red Sonja

Sacrifice: Part Two

In which Red Sonja gets a man between her thighs, though possibly not in the manner he would have wished.

IV

Pelk was thankful that he didn't have too far to run. He'd expected a spirited pursuit, but the sheer animal fury of the she-devil made his blood tremble. He didn't dare look behind him, but from the expressions on the faces of those he passed during his flight, he could tell that the red-headed warrior was gaining on him – and that she was brandishing a very sharp blade.

Pelk skidded round a corner, experiencing a moment of extreme terror when he thought his feet were slipping from under him. He raced down a narrow alleyway, across a seedy and rubbish-strewn square, and through the open gate of the courtyard of a house that had once been respectable but had since suffered years of neglect.

Intent on her quarry, Red Sonja ran into the trap. As she sprinted through the gate her legs were taken from under her. Even as she crashed onto the hard stone surface of the courtyard she realised what had happened. A rope had been stretched across the gateway and raised at the last second to trip her up; and now she was at the mercy of whatever ambush lay within. Stupid, stupid.

Sonja rolled with the fall but even so her sword flew from her grasp. She tried to scrabble towards it on her hands and knees, but a boot kicked it away; then another thudded into her ribs. Then they were on top of her – three of them, raining blows upon her. No weapons were used, and try as she might she couldn't manage to draw the dagger she wore strapped to her thigh. Nevertheless she struggled and fought with maniacal fury. She gouged and bit, and once drove her heel into something satisfyingly soft. For a moment she thought she would have the strength to deal with her attackers; but she became aware of a fourth person present – a large man who did not immediately join the struggle, but who closed the gate firmly before picking up some sort of cudgel and striding over to Sonja's writhing form. He looked down at her for a moment, then struck once.

V

The first thing Red Sonja realised as consciousness slowly returned was that her head was throbbing like fury; the second thing was that her mouth was as dry as dust, and that she had a raging thirst. Neither of these things came as a great surprise to her. Neither did the discovery, when she gently tried to move her arms, that her wrists were tied together behind her back. There was something round her left ankle, too - a chain, possibly.

She kept her eyes closed. It was important to gather her wits whilst her captors thought she was still out cold. Think. Her body ached in more places that she could count, but she had long practice in ignoring such distractions. Think. She'd never been to this town before - Castria, wasn't it? - so she couldn't have any enemies here. Not unless you counted those burghers she'd upset earlier, but surely no-one would take so much trouble over a loaf of bread. On the other hand, she had been recognised and there were many whose paths she'd crossed over the years who would pay handsomely to be revenged on her. Somebody wanted her alive, in any case.

Think. She strained her other senses. She was lying face-down on some straw that was far from clean. She was indoors. There was a lamp burning dimly, so it was probably dark outside. There was someone in the room watching her, so the chances were that the door wasn't locked.

"You're awake, I know you are." The voice was thin and reedy. Sonja gave no sign of having heard it.

"I know you can hear me. No? Please yourself. Lets freshen you up." Sonja heard someone get up and walk over to her. A stream of water was poured over her face. She sat up, sputtering. She also managed to swallow a mouthful which moistened her throat and made her feel a fraction more alive. It was a start. She opened her eyes. A small, ferret-faced man was leering at her with one eye. The other was closed by a purple swelling she assumed she'd given him.