BAR

Chapter Eight

The distance from the bank of the river to Sonja's sword, where it stood hilt-uppermost, was eight paces. Sonja managed four of these; but when her heel came down for the fifth time, the mud seemed to melt away beneath her boot and she plunged knee-deep into it. Unbalanced, she pitched forward, putting her arms out in front of her to cushion her fall. They too vanished into the muck, almost to the top of her gauntlets.

Cursing, Red Sonja pulled her hands free and got her legs under herself; but the mud was mere liquid silt, and by the time she was upright it was up to her thighs, and rising. So; this was why Bar had looked cunning. She tried to turn round to face him, but couldn't. Instead, she sank a little deeper.

"Quicksand," she said evenly. "A mean trick."

"I've played meaner."

"No doubt." Sonja remained with her back to Bar, not turning her head. "And is this how you disposed of Nyla?"

"That was by chance; but yes, she lies below, hereabouts. There have been others since. She does not deserve to lie alone."

"And now I am to join the throng, I suppose." Sonja was working her legs, trying to break the grip of the mud. It was strong; she was trapped like a fly in amber. Her hips slid slowly below the surface.

"No. Not if you see sense."

"Sense?" Sonja asked, though she knew full well what Bar meant.

"Aye, sense. Your predicament gives you time to reflect. Not much time, but enough. You are sinking to your doom. There is none to aid you, save I – and I will do so, if you will only see reason. I have defeated you; the time of your oath has come to an end."

Sonja's head jerked round, her tone suddenly furious. "I have not been defeated. None can boast that they have defeated Red Sonja until they hear it from my own lips, or I breathe no more."

"By the Gods, woman. You're up to your waist already – and that armour will drag you down."

"It's not so heavy."

"In Nyla's river it doesn't have to be. Quick now; your only choices are me or death."

"Then it shall be death; I shall remain Red Sonja to the end."

Something seemed to snap inside Bar. He gave a great bellow of rage, hurled his sword aside, and strode towards Sonja.

"Then die. Sink to your death and be quick about it. See – let me help you on your way." He reached Sonja, put his great hands on her shoulders and began to push her deeper into the ooze.

"I cannot think what came over me," Bar raged. "I could've taken you, but I did not. I could have spitted you and left your entrails hanging from a tree, but I did not. No, I honoured you, and you offered insolence in return. I bit my tongue, and still you defied me. Well, I bite my tongue no more. You are an ungrateful woman, Red Sonja. I offered you the hand of friendship – of friendship and more than friendship. And what did you do? You refused. You did worse than refuse - you slapped my hand away and spat in my eye. I have never been treated so! I will never be treated so! Not by anyone, man or woman, save that they die by my hand. Die, Red Sonja, die!"

Sonja struggled. She kicked her legs furiously in the horrible ooze, but they could find no purchase. She twisted her body to and fro, trying to shake loose his grip, but she could not. Bar was behind her and above her; and he was both heavier than her, and stronger.

Deeper she sank. Her ribs vanished from sight and then her chest, the mud seeping with insolent slowness between the scales of her armour. Still she struggled, and kicked, and fought. She stretched for the knife that was in her boot, but it was beyond her reach. She tried to prise Bar's fingers away from her; to no avail. She raised a hand to claw at his face, but he avoided her clutch with ease. She drove her elbows into him; but the angle was all wrong and her blows had all the force of pastry.

Lower she sank, and still Bar cursed her. "Die, Red Sonja! Take your last breath and hold it til your lungs explode. Then go down and grovel before Nyla; tell her that I send you as a worthless offering – a plaything to do with as she will in whatever realm she now inhabits."

Sonja's mouth was dry, and her heart was like a siege-ram against her ribs. So this was her doom; a choking death in the stinking mud of an unknown river. Was this the destiny the Goddess had intended for her? No, how could it be? Which meant that she had no destiny – and that she'd kept her oath so long to no purpose.

Bar had almost forced her under now. Her tomb closed over her shoulders. Still she struggled. She did not fear death; indeed, now that she saw that her Goddess had been a mere phantom, oblivion was what she greatly desired – though she would've preferred a cleaner ending. Nevertheless, some stubborn streak within her insisted that she battle to the last.

She groped around under the mud. Every man has a vulnerable spot – but she could not reach up high enough behind her own back. The mud flowed upwards to cover her chin.

Then her hand brushed against something. A rock, suspended by some chance in a denser layer of the river-bed. She grabbed at it. It was large, and she feared she would be unable to grasp it firmly; but it was irregular in form; and there was a convenient indentation into which her thumb fitted well enough to give her a secure grip. With an effort, she dragged it upwards until it was just below the surface.

One chance. She tilted her head back and looked up at Bar. His face was directly over hers. There was madness in his eyes. The mud rose over her cheekbones.

"Bar - " she gasped. He didn't seem to hear her. There was spittle dropping from his mouth as he poured wordless curses on her.

"Bar!"

The downward pressure stopped, though Bar didn't relax his hold. The wild light in his eyes dimmed a fraction.

"Bar – I…"

"Die, Red So… What? Last words? Speak louder, woman."

"Bar – I'm…"

"Louder I said." Instinctively, Bar bent his head, the better to catch Sonja's words.

With all the strength she still had, she struck at him with the rock.