BAR

Chapter Two

Slowly, with a confident swagger, the man crossed the room towards Sonja. His appearance was unkempt, but that did not detract from the power of his physique or the magnetism of his bearing. Every eye in the room watched him; every tongue was silent. Sonja waited. The man halted in front of her. His dogs growled, but he snapped his fingers and they lay obediently on the floor. There was an expectant pause.

The blow was an expert one. It was delivered backhand, all the way from the waist, and with the speed of a striking cobra. It never landed. Reacting with equal speed, Red Sonja caught the man by the wrist and held him. The two antagonists tested each other's strength and stared into each other's eyes, silently measuring.

The man spoke first. "Why do you wear gloves?"

"So that I don't have to soil myself by actually touching creatures like you."

The man gave a grunt that might even have been of approval. He relaxed his arm, and Sonja relinquished her hold with the air of someone letting fall a fruit which they'd just discovered to be maggot-infested.

"Do you have a name?" the man asked.

"I am called Red Sonja."

"Red, eh? I'm Bar. If you think I need a colour to go with that name – well, my hair's yellow and my heart's black. Choose as you will." Sonja made no reply.

"I see you've met Ganak," Bar remarked.

"Was that his name? We were never formally introduced."

"Well you've missed your chance. How did he offend you?"

"He was attempting to teach me manners."

"It seems you were a poor pupil."

"Or he a poor teacher."

Bar gave a short laugh. "I think I might like you, Red Sonja; which is bad news for both of us. Guhla! More ale for this woman!"

"No, thank-you."

"What did you say?"

"I said no."

"You refuse me?"

"I prefer to buy my own drink. When I let men do so, they think it entitles them to a reward."

"And who's to deny it? Well, Red Sonja, Ganak was right about one thing. You do need a lesson."

"In manners?"

"Not exactly. You have killed."

"I have killed a man who came at me with a knife. I had the right to defend myself. If that is considered wrong here then your laws are strange. Are they strange?"

"No. But they are simple."

"In what way?"

"This: that the law is my word, and that my word is the law. If you take the law into your hands you take that which is mine. Here, it is I who decides who lives and who dies."

"And what of those who are forced to defend themselves before they have had time to ask your permission?"

"They must defend themselves anew."

There was a pause.

"I see." Sonja looked into Bar's eyes. He met her gaze levelly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Sonja asked him, quietly.

When Bar spoke next his voice was soft, almost regretful. "Yes. You know I must."

Sonja nodded; she did indeed know. It was a situation she'd met before. Bar was clearly the head man – the authority – in these parts. Whether this came about through accident of birth or force of personality mattered little, though she suspected the latter. Authority, however, came with a price; which was the need to reassert one's superiority whenever called upon to do so. She was standing on Bar's turf, defying him. If he let her challenge go unanswered then he would lose face before his subjects, and that would be the end for him; or at least the beginning of the end. Yes, she understood.

"In here or outside?" Bar asked her.

"I am indifferent."

"As am I – but you are the accused; the choice is yours."

Sonja said nothing, but reached instead to her waist and slowly drew her slim sword.

"That's your blade?" Bar asked her.

"It has served me well before now."

"As you wish. Give us space!" This last remark was directed to the room as a whole. In a trice, tables and chairs were cleared away against the walls. No-one left, however. Sonja glanced round. It was easy to read from the expressions of the spectators that they'd seen similar scenes before. Bar made a gesture, and his dogs trotted behind the counter.

A last look round. There was a puddle of Ganak's blood on the floor, which would probably be slippery. She noted its position. Then she studied Bar. The jerkin he wore was sleeveless; his arms were muscular and gleamed in the lamplight. His expression was dark and grim. Sonja moved to the centre of the room.

Bar positioned himself three paces in front of her, and drew his own sword. It was longer and heavier than Sonja's; though she noted one or two nicks in its edge.

"My, my," she said. "Well, you know what they say about men who feel the need to carry big swords."

Bar gave a bellow of rage and swung. Sonja parried and circled a little to her right. Bar swung a second time, and again Sonja parried. Well, he was certainly strong. Time to test his skill. She skipped one way and back the other; then flicked her blade at Bar's throat. He swatted it aside. Impressive. Big, strong, and proficient; but perhaps just a little slow. That was the problem with too much muscle – it acted as a drag. Now; what about the bit between his ears?

Sonja wrinkled her nose. "By all the Gods, when did you last take a bath?"

"I intend to bathe in your blood very soon."

"Well that would certainly improve the smell of you – but have you ever heard of something called soap?"

Bar grinned. "It won't work."

"Soap? No; probably too late."

"You know what I mean."

Sonja gave Bar a slight nod. He was telling her he was too smart to be goaded into anything rash. A worthy opponent. Maybe; just maybe….

Bar stepped up, and blades clashed again; three, four, five times in rapid succession. Sparks flew. His footwork was good, too; though somewhat heavy. He tended to stamp into a blow, which meant that it was signalled an instant before he delivered it. Nothing wrong with his defence though; and it was obvious that he was just as aware of the pool of blood as she. He was sweating – did he lack stamina?

Strange, too, that the watchers were so silent. One might've expected the odd cheer or cry of encouragement. No, perhaps not. It was clear that Bar was feared but not loved. His minions wanted her to win; though whilst the outcome of the duel was uncertain they didn't dare say so.

They drew apart. Then Bar's eyes flickered, as if he had suddenly noticed something behind her. An old trick, and not one she was about to fall for.

Except that he suddenly shouted "No!" Or at least, his mouth formed the word but she heard no sound. Then there was a sharp pain on the back of her head.