Tales of Red Sonja

Menagerie: Chapter One

In which Red Sonja regrets her lack of restraint.

If it hadn't been such a hot day, Red Sonja would've passed by Jharlen's village without ever realising it was there. If it hadn't been such a hot day she would never have heard of the Howling Tower, and the wizard Galud may well have been able to complete his researches, and unleash his creations on an unsuspecting world. If it hadn't been such a hot day – but on such small chances does the fate of the world often turn.

Red Sonja cursed the sun as it blazed down on her out of a cloudless sky. She was hot. She was also tired, footsore and thirsty, and her belly was as empty as her purse. And she was in a foul mood.

Two days earlier she'd been happy enough; purse and belly had both been full. The inn had been warm and welcoming, the ale good, and the company friendly. But the dice – the dice had not been kind.

Red Sonja, she-devil of the Hyrkanian steppes had never admitted defeat. She'd defied warriors and wizards, beasts and monsters, the very Gods themselves; and she refused to be vanquished by a run of bad luck at the gaming table. As her losses had mounted she'd grown reckless, staking ever higher. And when her purse had become empty she'd gone on to lose cloak, saddle and horse.

Then someone had offered to buy her sword for fifty pieces of silver so that she could continue playing. At that moment the spell had been broken and her veins had turned to ice. She'd rounded on the man who'd made the offer and given him such a look that he'd recoiled several paces. The air was thick with the threat of violence. But she'd still had her pride – and just enough self-control. Without saying a word, she'd turned on her heel, left the tavern and started walking. She'd been walking ever since, stopping only to briefly to sleep when the need was overwhelming; always rising again after an hour or two to continue her march. She had no idea where she was going, and didn't care either. She just walked.

The country through which she was passing was arid scrubland, devoid of both water and any sign of human habitation. Her stomach growled. She was more than capable of finding food in the wild – even in such uncompromising country as this. But to do so she would have to pause in her march, and she hadn't yet travelled far enough. Hadn't punished herself enough for her own stupidity.

The land ahead of her was rising now, a little more steeply with each stride. The muscles in her thighs ached as she forced her way uphill, but she didn't slacken her pace in the slightest. Indeed, she focussed on the pain, revelling in it.

A couple of furlongs ahead of her the land crested out. She could see nothing beyond it, but suddenly that crest was her aim. She broke into a trot, then a run; then finally she was sprinting uphill. Sweat gushed from every pore, the pain in her thighs intensified and spread to her back and her feet; her breath came in gasps and her lungs burned. She kept going by sheer force of will. Towards the summit the ground was so steep it would've given a goat pause, but Sonja didn't slacken her pace in the slightest. Legs pumping, jaw firmly set, she leapt up the last few yards to the top, where she let out a primeval howl of triumph before collapsing on her back, chest heaving, heart pumping so loud she could hear the echoes in her skull.

She knew what she'd done. She'd set herself a task and won a victory. Just a very small victory – but enough to give her back a measure of self-respect and make her ready to be Red Sonja again.

For a long time she lay there as her heart-rate gradually slowed and her breathing became easier. Then she sat up and took stock. For some reason the country was greener up here. The grass was lusher, and punctuated with small bushes and strange outcrops of bare rock. In front of her the land sloped gently downhill, and she could see a long way. Ahead and to her left a river snaked its way through a small wood. Ahead and to the right, she thought she could glimpse a road. A road meant habitation, people, the start of a new chapter in her life. She stood up and started towards it, but as she did so a drop of sweat fell from her sopping hair and made its way excruciatingly down her back to join the pool that was forming in her waistband. She took off one glove and wiped the sweat from her brow. She looked up at the sun, which was still burning mercilessly overhead. She looked at the road, then the river.

What the hell, she thought. Why not take the opportunity to cool off a bit first?