Red Sonja Outmatched Ch. 02

Let them come, Sonja thought with icy resolve. Let them pit their finest warriors against her, this brazen woman who dared step out of her place. She would cut them all down, one by one, until there were none left standing to question her worth. These men may rule the world, but they could not rule Red Sonja.

And then it sounded; the thunderous cheers of the crowd reverberated through the cramped preparation vault as the announcer's voice boomed out,

"Red Sonja!"

At the call of her name, Sonja straightened from her casual lean and moved to stand before the heavy wooden gate barring her path. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The arena's seductive thrill coursed through her veins, setting every sense alight. Beyond, she could hear the crowd's bloodthirsty roar rising to a fever pitch in anticipation of her entrance. Sonja inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar battle-calm settle over her core. She flexed her fingers, limbering her neck from side to side. Then she lifted her chin, rolled her shoulders, and strode with long-legged grace through the widening gap of the gate as it groaned open before her.

The deafening noise hit her first--screaming, shouting, stomping and clapping cascading down from the packed stands hewn directly into the surrounding rock. Smoke and torchlight filled the air above the central pit, creating an otherworldly haze. The smells of humans and beasts, iron and leather and sweat mingled into a pungent stench. This was the raw, chaotic energy that fueled the arena crowd's lust for violence.

As Sonja moved out onto the sands to come into full view of the audience, the noise rose to a deafening volume in a cacophony of stamping feet and clamoring voices. The din was primal chaos, the crowds drunk on violence, hungry for more grisly spectacle. Sonja soaked in their admiration nonetheless, letting it feed her battle lust. Her piercing eyes scanned the surroundings as she emerged, taking in every detail with tactical precision. The arena was relatively modest, able to hold perhaps two or three hundred spectators at capacity. Still, their combined energy charged the smoky air to a fever pitch. Heat shimmered above the blood-soaked sands, carrying the iron tang of freshly spilled carnage. The crowd surrounded the oval pit on all sides, effectively hemming the combatants in. Many held overflowing skins of ale or chewed mouthfuls of charred meat as they shouted down at her. She read their faces, seeing lust and fascination mingled with lingering uncertainty. But recognition was slowly dawning in many eyes. Excited murmurs of 'She-Devil' and 'Red Sonja' rippled through the stands.

Sonja walked with poise, a sensual sway to her hips, broadsword glinting ominously over one shoulder. Her gleaming chainmail molded to every curve, leaving no doubt that a lethal beauty graced the sands this night. The polished steel links contoured smoothly to the flare of her hips and cinched waist. Intricate etchings accentuated the sensual lines, glinting silver in the smoky torchlight. The metal cups barely contained the full swells of her breasts, cleavage glistening with a sheen of fragrant oils. Fiery red hair spilled freely over her shoulders in an elaborate series of braids laced with silver thread.

Sonja kept her piercing gaze fixed straight ahead as she crossed the blood-dampened sands, the raucous shouts fading to background noise. She inhaled deeply, centering her focus amid the chaos. This was her element, the heady thrill of violence and admiration alike. After endless months of wandering dusty roads and nameless campsites, the intoxication of the arena pulsed through her veins once more.

From their rough-hewn seats, the masses gaped in awe at the lethal warrioress striding with predatory elegance below. She was power and grace embodied, sleek muscles honed for battle. Men looked on her lush curves with lust, women with envy, all struck dumb by her bold sensuality. None had witnessed her equal here before. Legends of the peerless Red Sonja resounded across all Hyboria, but to see her formidable physique and beauty in the flesh was breathtaking.

As Sonja reached the arena's center, she halted and turned a slow circle, giving the audience a full view of her magnificence. She squared her shoulders, standing tall and proud. One hand rested on her cocked hip, the other loosely gripped her broadsword's bejeweled hilt sticking up over one shoulder, the pose accentuating her oiled and swelling bicep. For a lingering moment she paused, surveying the crowds as if they were her supplicants and she their empress. Her face was upturned to bask in their rapturous cheers and crude scowls alike, red mane cascading down her broad back. A hint of a smirk curled her full lips. She had missed this part.

Gradually, the baying crowds fell into awed murmurs at the splendid sight of Hyrkania's infamous warrior-maiden standing imperious before them. None here could know the true depths of her skills, but her sensual, deadly aura transcended mere reputation. Their awe and reluctant admiration aroused Sonja's battle lust, every sense heightened for the violence to come.

Among the masses crowded onto the rough-hewn benches, Sonja's keen gaze spotted Deija seated several rows up, the clever minx having secured herself an ideal viewing angle overlooking the bloody sands. Their eyes locked across the smoky distance, blue ice meeting flashing amber. Sonja's full lips curled into a knowing grin meant only for her enthusiastic companion. In return, Deija's painted mouth curved subtly, the hint of a smug smirk creasing her exotic features. She blew an exaggerated kiss down toward the fiery warrioress commanding the sands.

Sonja did not return the flirtatious gesture, keeping her focus honed amid the chaos. Such frivolous shows of romantic weakness had no place in the harsh crucible of the arena. Her piercing eyes instead flicked to the shadowed figure seated beside Deija, broad hat obscuring his face. There was something off about the man, an instinctive tingle of unease slithering up Sonja's spine as she lingered on his shaded visage. But she brushed the concern aside--this was her stage, her time to shine. Let them all gaze on in awe.

With deliberation she turned and knelt on one leg to draw her broadsword from its scabbard in an elegant sweep of her arm. The distinctive rasp of the blade leaving its sheath drew fresh cheers from the throngs above. Sonja raised the sword high in theatrical challenge. She held it aloft a moment, muscles flexing, letting the crowd's anticipation crest. Then with a sharp yell that cut through the din, she swept the blade down and out in a silvery arc before transitioning smoothly into a series of warm-up swings, thrusts, and slashes designed to impress with their speed and precision. The sword whistled sharply as it sliced through smoky air, extensions of her deadly will. Sonja pivoted and spun, imaginary enemies cut down on all sides by her razor swings.

The crowd answered her flourishing display with raucous cheers and screams, stomping their approval. Any lingering doubts about her identity were swiftly fading. Female or not, their champion had arrived to slake their bloodthirst. Excitement surged through the throng of a show above and beyond anything previously witnessed.

Sonja flowed through one last series of moves before halting in a ready pose, brow dotted with perspiration, breasts heaving. The rapid exertion combined with the sweltering torchlight overhead had brought a light sheen to her bare skin. A purposeful choice on her part--the gleam of oil and sweat only enhanced her curves, and the rise and fall of her chest kept all eyes fixed attentively. She knew well how to play the crowds as surely as her blade.

As the cheers rolled over her, Sonja allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. No arena could contain her energy for long. She had proven herself in far greater battles across all of Hyboria. But she would gift this backwater town a taste of true sword mastery before she moved on.

Abruptly the thunderous applause died down as all heads turned toward the far tunnel. The creaking of wood and iron signaled the opening of another gateway. Sonja tensed, sword at the ready.

A lone figure emerged--a swarthy man clad in a black leather hood, loincloth, and heavy boots, chest bare, oiled skin gleaming. In his gloved hands he held a trio of thick leather leashes, each connected to a straining mountain cat--lean, muscular beasts nearly the size of dire wolves, with brindled fur and massive clawed paws. Sonja's eyes narrowed, reading their agitated body language. Khitani hill panthers, most likely captured from the nearby mountain forests. Northern cousins of the great sabertooths, though just as deadly.

The panthers' handler barked a quick command and unhooked their leashes. And just like that, the fight was on. Goaded by shouts from above, the beasts fanned out to encircle Sonja, intent on attacking from all sides. Low snarls rumbled from their throats, slitted eyes gleaming with predatory focus. Sonja tensed, boots pivoting in the sand as she tracked the circling animals. Unlike most cats, hill panthers were intelligent pack hunters, capable of coordinated strikes. She would need to be mindful of all three at once. The beasts were surely ravenous, their captivity only amplifying their lethal edge. Killing came as naturally to them as breathing. They would show no mercy to cornered prey. But Sonja was no easy meat. She intended to remind them why she was as much alpha predator as any beast stalking the wild lands of Hyboria.

With pounding hearts, the crowd watched the standoff, every eye locked on the solitary figure ringed in by stalking death. Only madmen and heroes fought panthers in open combat. Was Red Sonja's mettle real, or merely legends exaggerated beyond truth? They were poised to witness the reality firsthand.

Sonja turned with the cats, sword at the ready. Her piercing gaze remained calm, breaths measured. When the largest panther's haunches bunched to attack, she was prepared. It sprang at her back, but Sonja was already pivoting away from those raking claws. Her sword whistled in a lateral cut, finding purchase in the beast's shoulder even as it landed and skidded past her.

Hot crimson sprayed the sand and a roar ripped from the panther's maw. The tang of freshly spilled blood hit Sonja's senses along with the excited shouts from the crowd above. But she had no time to savor the first blow. The other two cats immediately seized the advantage of her shifted stance, rushing in concert from either flank.

With a feral yell, Sonja swung her blade around and met their combined assault head on. She ducked the swipe of one claw-tipped paw while parrying the other panther's fangs with the flat of her sword. The impact sent jolts down her arms. For a heartbeat the three figures were locked together, woman and beasts straining sinew against sinew. Then Sonja pushed the furred predators aside with a mighty roar and rolled away across the sand to come up in a battle-ready stance anew, eyes blazing.

Sonja held them both at bay through sheer diligence, her flashing sword cutting sinuous patterns in the smoky air before her, preventing further advance. The injured panther had withdrawn several paces, red-stained fur bristling as it limped and snarled. But the other two prowled hungrily, seeking any lapse in her defense.

With feline swiftness, the larger of the two feinted left then dove right, seeking to flank Sonja's sword side. But she spun to meet it, broadsword whistling. The cat twisted lithely at the last second, dodging a disemboweling slash. Sonja's blade only grazed its hindquarters, drawing a fresh line of red in the brindled fur. The panther hissed in fury and pain but did not retreat. These beasts would keep coming relentlessly until one or both combatants were dead.

Seeing a momentary opening, the other panther charged straight on at Sonja's exposed back. Sonja just managed to pivot and get her sword up to parry wicked claws aimed at her throat. The impact jarred her arm to the shoulder. Hot breath gusted across her face, reeking of old meat. For a heartbeat she stared into the predator's cold yellow eyes from inches away, black lips peeled back from two-inch fangs that dripped with hunger for her tender flesh.

With a snarl of her own, Sonja shoved hard and sent the heavy cat skidding sideways. It nearly lost its footing on the treacherous sand. But the cunning beast quickly recovered, circling back to look for the next opportunity to strike.

Sonja's chest heaved, fat drops of sweat beading on her brow and dripping down between her breasts half-confined in gleaming steel. The sweltering arena air was a miasma of smoke, blood, and rancid fur that clung inside her throat with each harsh breath. Her ears rang from the ceaseless screams and shouts cascading down from the bloodthirsty onlookers surrounding her.

This was the razor's edge she thrived upon, the exhilaration of a true fight for survival. Nothing else compared to the savage joy of steel singing in your hand while death circled on all sides. Three ruthless predators sought to end her, but Sonja was in her element. She bared her teeth in a fierce grin, sword ready to paint more red lines in fur and flesh.

The panthers seemed to sense her rising battle lust and hesitated, feline gazes calculating. The smallest shifted sideways, trying to draw Sonja's attention. But she kept her focus centered, tracking all three beasts at once. The injured one was tiring, a red stain spreading through the dusty fur of its shoulder, but the other two remained lethally quick. She had damaged but not disabled them.

* * *

Above the Arena's smoky haze, Deija watched closely, keen eyes assessing the scene below. This fight should have been over swiftly, yet somehow Sonja still held her ground against the deadly beasts. Something was clearly amiss. The effects of the poisoned oil should be apparent by now, slowing Sonja's reactions, dulling her formidable battle skills. Yet, if anything, she seemed more ferocious and focused than ever.

Deija gripped the stone bench until her knuckles whitened. This was not how events were meant to unfold. The Master's plan hinged upon Sonja being humbled before the rabble, her legend cracked open to reveal frailty beneath. Instead, she was carving up these beasts as if they were mere kittens.

Had the apothecary given faulty draughts? Had she herself somehow erred in administering the dosage? Deija's thoughts raced, but outwardly she kept her composure. There was still time to adjust the strategy. Sonja's downfall was foretold. This was but a stumble in the path.

* * *

In the arena below, the panthers seemed to confer silently. Then as one they rushed Sonja in coordinated formation, seeking to overwhelm her through sheer force of numbers. Sonja's eyes narrowed, reading their intent. Her sword whistled high and low, meeting slashing claws and snapping fangs from all sides. The beasts sought to hem her in, deny her any room to maneuver. She backpedaled swiftly, boots sliding through the blood-dampened sand. If she allowed them to pin her against the arena's edge, their combined mass would swiftly bear her down and tear her apart.

A claw tip raked down Sonja's thigh as she spun away, opening a bloody furrow through chainmail links. Pain flared but she ignored it, refusing to slow. The smallest cat seized the opportunity, lunging past her guard from the right flank. This time Sonja was a hair too slow bringing her sword around. Fangs clamped down on her wrist with lightning speed before she could wrench it back.

Sonja snarled a vicious curse as cracking pain lanced up her arm. Only the leather bracer saved her wrist from being crushed. Still, the panther clung tenaciously, jerking its head from side to side like a hound with a bone. Sonja staggered, nearly driven to her knees. Fresh blood ran hot over her fingers where claws pierced the leather, seeking purchase.

With a roar, she dropped her sword and slammed her fist between the panther's eyes with enough force to crack bone. It yowled and released its hold, skull reeling from the blow. Snatching her freed arm back, Sonja clamped a hand to her injured wrist, feeling the bite ache beneath damaged leather. Four deep punctures oozed blood, but she could still flex her fingers. No permanent damage done.

The punched panther slunk away, shaking its head, yellow eyes dazed. But the other two pressed their advantage, nearly shoulder to shoulder as they homed in for the kill. Flicking her sword into the air with a booted toe and snatching it mid-air, Sonja scrambled backward, boots sliding unevenly across the arena's floor. The wooden barrier loomed just paces behind, cornering her with nowhere left to retreat.

Desperation ignited Sonja's battle instincts. She would not be dragged down so easily, like prey brought to bay. With a savage cry, she launched herself forward, feigning a stumble. The panthers reacted instantly, claws raking inward to eviscerate their seemingly weakened quarry.

But at the last instant, Sonja dropped and rolled right between the pouncing duo. Their slashing claws barely missed, swiping past either shoulder close enough to tear strands of red hair fluttering in the wind of their passage. But Sonja's desperate gamble paid off. She tumbled clear of their closing fangs and surged upright, now behind them in a wide-legged stance, sword at the ready.

The panthers skidded in the bloody sand, carried past by their own momentum. Before they could whirl back, Sonja was upon them. With all her fury she hacked downward, steel blade cleaving deep into flesh and bone. Her razor-sharp broadsword nearly severed the head of the larger cat in one savage chop. It collapsed thrashing, gushing crimson across the arena floor. Sonja wrenched her blade free and turned upon the second panther, still orienting itself. Flashing steel opened its throat in a gaping red smile, dropping the beast to choke out its life twitching in the scarlet sand.

Sonja staggered back, gulping air. Her wrist blazed with pain, matching the burning in her thighs and shoulders. Sweat streamed down her face and neck, tracing paths between full breasts heaving underneath soaked leather and chainmail. The scent of blood--human and animal--filled her lungs with each ragged breath. She could feel hot trails dripping from multiple wounds, mingling with the grimy perspiration slicking her body. Iron and salt coated her tongue, simmering the fury within. This was the arena at its rawest. Kill or be killed, there was no third option. And Red Sonja would never yield.

The remaining panther limped a wide circuit around her, bleeding shoulder matting its brindled fur red where her first blow had struck true. They eyed each other with equal parts pain and hatred--two apex predators unwilling to submit. Sonja welcomed this final challenge. Her body rang with fatigue and injury, but she would end this contest on her feet. Let the pathetic beast throw itself upon her steel if it dared. She had already sent two of its brethren to the underworld's hunting grounds. This one would swiftly join them if it sought vengeance for their spilled blood.

As if sensing her indomitable will, the panther hesitated, torn by urges to flee and attack. Meanwhile, Sonja stood her ground, tall and impassive, sword lowered in clear invitation. All that remained was for one of them to blink first. The arena held its collective breath, spectating masses perched on the edges of their seats.

Then slowly, the panther began to back away, the low rumble in its throat almost seeming to convey reluctant submission. Sonja kept her blade pointed in its direction and expression fierce until the beast withdrew fully into the shadows of the tunnel from whence it emerged. As the iron gate slammed shut, locking it below, exhilaration surged through Sonja's veins. She barely registered the crowds' deafening cheers.