BAR
Chapter One
Two Years Later
One, two, three, and kick…and one, two, three, and stamp…and turn around ... and back again ... Red Sonja was learning a new dance.
Red Sonja, she-devil of the Hyrkanian steppes, was a woman of simple tastes. Good ale, food that was wholesome and plentiful, a dry place to sleep, and an open road in the morning; that was what she wanted in life. That and company, from time to time. Company on her terms, that is. Though she'd spent her life as a solitary and friendless wanderer, she was no hermit. She did not shun human contact; just so long as it didn't try to come too close. She was drawn to taverns where the fire was warm, and the chatter was loud, and the songs louder still. And dancing? Why not? Not the sort of dancing where your partner held you close, and was generally a precursor to something sordid in the hay-loft. Never that. A vigorous communal dance, on the other hand; one with much whooping and stamping and clapping; one that took all your energies to perform and drove the dark thoughts from you mind for a space – that was a different matter.
The hali-huk was such a dance. It was danced by the men in the Goblin's Head – a tavern in a nameless hamlet in the middle of a tract of country so desolate that even those who lived there called it The Empty Lands.
The hali-huk was an ancient dance. So ancient, she was assured, that no-one for fifty generations had even known what the name signified, though the steps were remembered. It was also, everyone maintained, unique in one special way.
"What's that?" she'd asked, her curiosity aroused.
"Well you see," said a scrawny, toothless man somewhere past seventy, who was allowed the status of spokesman for the populace, "it cannot be danced sober." There was a general laugh at this – it was obviously a well-worn joke that was served up to all passing strangers.
Red Sonja smiled too. "In that case," she said, "Landlord! More ale! Make it strong!"
A stoneware tankard was placed before her. She blew into the froth then raised it on high. "To all the Gods!" Then she put her lips to it and drank deep. Long and deep. A dozen pairs of eyes stared at the tankard as she tipped it higher and higher, until she suddenly tilted her head right back and up-ended it completely. There was a cheer as she thumped it back down onto the table. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and let out a most un-ladylike belch.
"Right. Show me this dance."
Honoured and ancient the hali-huk might've been, but it was also simple and wildly energetic. Just the sort of dance she liked. The whole room joined in, with gusto. Red Sonja was no fool; she was perfectly well aware that the locals' enjoyment of their dance was heightened by the fact that they were being joined by a tall and shapely flame-haired woman, who didn't seem to know what an inhibition was. But that didn't bother her. It never had. Just so long as no-one tried to go too far. Unfortunately, someone did.
Red Sonja didn't know his name; though if it was true that the hali-huk was a drunkards' dance, he'd clearly prepared for it with great dedication.
"C'mon, Red-hair," he slurred, "gimme a kiss." Sonja put one gloved hand on his face and pushed. Staggering backwards, the man tripped over a stool and sprawled inelegantly on the floor, to general mirth.
The man didn't see the humour in the situation. He hauled himself to his feet and advanced on Sonja. "You know what you need, you inhospitable bitch?"
"What?"
"A lesson in manners."
"Really? Go on, then."
"What?"
"Teach me manners."
There was a burst of laughter. The man looked around, confused. Some small part of his brain seemed to be telling him he was getting into a situation that didn't promise a happy ending. On the other hand, he was being made to look a fool before his peers.
"Why you -" He balled a fist and swung it at Sonja's jaw.
It never landed. Before it was half-way through its arc, Red Sonja stepped forwards, put up one hand to block her would-be tutor's blow; then jerked her head. There was an audible crack, and the man went down again, blood gushing from his shattered nose.
More laughter – which was suddenly stilled as the man rose again and drew a knife. The drink he had taken and the damage to his face made his next words unintelligible, though their meaning was clear enough. The room fell silent, waiting. The door opened, making several people jump, but the new arrival obviously took in the scene at a glance and stood as still as everyone else.
Red Sonja didn't move. She looked at her challenger with her head slightly on one side and a look of pitying scorn on her face. The man gestured extravagantly with his blade. Sonja didn't move a muscle. The man lunged.
A blink of an eye later he was face-down on a table, with his arm twisted behind his back, and his knife being prised from his grasp. There were murmurs of appreciation around the room. Then Sonja flipped the man onto his back, and raised the knife on high. She paused for a heart-beat; gave the man a mirthless smile, and struck.
Absolute silence fell. Sonja turned and faced the room. She had been in situations like this before. She knew there'd be at least one man present who was toying with the idea of exacting revenge for his fallen neighbour. She was confident that she'd be able to meet the challenge if it came, though she preferred to face it down if she could.
She looked into each pair of eyes. None held her gaze. So far so good; except that everyone was looking sidelong at the new arrival – the man who'd opened the door a few moments previously.
Sonja looked at him as well. A well-made, wide-shouldered man, with eyes like flints that stared back at her. He stepped into the room, two huge dogs at his heels. From the way that others made room for him, he was clearly a man of some influence. Sonja raised her eyebrows – a question rather than a challenge.
He acknowledged her with a smirk. "Bravo," he said.