Red Sonja Outmatched

Sonja stood in the center of the bloodied arena, chest heaving as she basked in the crowd’s raucous adulation. Their combined voices and stomping feet cascaded over her in waves, an endless roar of celebration and approval for her bloody victory. She blinked sweat from her eyes, gradually coming back to herself. Glancing about the blood-slick sands, she saw the two panther carcasses sprawled, their lives ended by her flashing steel. Her own blood mingled with theirs, dripping from myriad wounds onto the thirsty arena floor. She had survived, but the coordinated ferocity of the panthers’ attack gave her pause. Three against one were bad odds even in the unfairness of the arena, and she could not help but feel a swell of satisfaction deep within. This backwater town clearly respected her legend enough to send real opposition instead of some easy meat. By conquering three prime predators at once, she had proven herself no fraud. Her triumph would only solidify her mythic status across all Hyboria.

But as the surge of battle-fueled euphoria began to fade, an uneasy sensation nagged at Sonja’s awareness, subtle but persistent. She blinked hard, trying to bring the scene around her into clearer focus. The flickering torchlight overhead, combined with the hazy clouds of dust and smoke swirling through the air, made everything appear distorted—people and objects blurring at the edges like a fever dream. Sonja shook her mane of fiery red hair, droplets of sweat scattering the sand at her feet, then winced as the motion set the arena spinning around her.

Something was wrong. Her usual crystalline clarity of mind felt fractured, her senses dulled and muddled. Details she should grasp sharply eluded her like half-remembered dreams upon waking. This was no ordinary fatigue brought on by exertion and battle fury. She had known those sensations intimately across the many pits and arenas she had fought in over the years.

Frowning, Sonja blinked hard several times, trying to bring the hazy surroundings into sharper focus. The sconced torches seemed too bright, the cacophony of cheers gratingly loud in her ears. She inhaled deeply, seeking to steady her whirling thoughts amid the chaotic din. The heavy scents clinging inside her nose and throat should be familiar—smoke, spilled blood, rancid animal fur, the metallic bite of fear-laced sweat. Yet now they seemed magnified, cloying, threatening to smother her if she drew too deep a breath. Sonja resisted the urge to gag, clenching her jaw against the sudden swell of nausea.

She looked down at herself, seeing smears of blood from her own wounds mixing with the deeper red splashed across her skin by the mauled panthers. The vital fluid coated her limbs in tacky swaths, flaking off in places as it began to dry. She curled her sword hand experimentally, feeling the bite of torn flesh and bruised muscle beneath her wrist guard’s ruined leather. The multiple abrasions she had suffered burned sharply now that battle fury no longer numbed the pain. Her thighs ached where claws had raked through chainmail links or across bare skin to gouge tender flesh below.

Yet those injuries alone could not account for this pervasive sense of weakness, this loss of focus. Sonja had endured far worse physical punishment and never felt so sapped of strength. It was as if some malicious force was leaching away her vigor from within. She racked her memory for clues, some thread to explain her current plight. Had she been poisoned? Drugged?

Sonja cast her mind back, trying to pinpoint if she had ingested any tainted food or drink before the fight. But nothing came to mind. She rarely touched ale or meat in preparation for bouts, knowing strong senses during battle could mean the difference between life and death. And no refreshments had passed her lips since arriving at the arena. Sonja had been on spectacular highs before; mushrooms, mysterious drugs from faraway lands, Stygian black lotus orgies. But this creeping malaise settling upon her was something different...something darker.

Perhaps one of the panthers had venom tainting its claws or teeth, she mused. Though she knew of no poisonous traits among their species, nature was ever mysterious in its mutating whims. Those fangs and claws had landed more than a few solid blows upon her hide—was some toxic substance now invading her blood?

Sonja lifted her right arm, inspecting the leather bracer covering her forearm. It bore clear punctures from the panther’s jaws clamping down earlier in a bid to crush the limb. Now congealing blood crusted the damaged leather, flecked with traces of spittle. She touched a fingertip to the sticky fluids and brought it to her nose, but was unable to detect any distinct tang or sharpness indicative of venom or contagion.

Sonja frowned, wiping the flakes of half-dried gore from her fingers. If not poison, what else could explain this illness? The cuts and bruises sustained were minor compared to countless other injuries she had shrugged off over the years. She was in her prime, kept honed and hardy through endless months roaming the harsh lands of Hyboria. Her body had endured snow and sandstorm, scorching sun and lashing rains. Frost in mountains high and fevered jungles below had failed to sap her vigor over long years on the move. What devilish agent was at work here?

A troubling thought occurred to her then. Perhaps this fog shrouding her senses was not born of any natural cause at all. As she scanned the excited crowds still thundering applause down upon her, Sonja’s unease only grew. The masses surrounding her were almost entirely unknown—a remote town full of strangers, any one of whom could wish ill upon a wandering swordswoman. For one with as fearsome a reputation as Red Sonja, jealousies and rivalries simmered in every settlement she passed through. Most were too cowardly to confront her directly. But what easier way to bring down a lioness than poison her unawares?

Sonja’s sharp eyes narrowed, flicking over the sea of unfamiliar faces gazing down at her, searching for any sign of deceit or ulterior motives. Who among these crowds might have desired to see the legendary She-Devil weakened and vulnerable for their amusement? She knew well the darkness that lurked in men’s hearts, the bitterness her skills and gender both elicited from petty, resentful souls. Perhaps one or more had conspired to drug her drink last night in the tavern, somehow slipped some slow-acting potion into her meal. Or worse...cast some sinister spell on her through dark sorcery. Foul cheaters... had they no honor?

The thought sparked a flare of anger within her chest. How dare anyone attempt to cripple her skills and cheat her of an honorable victory! She, Red Sonja, who had battled champions and horrors across all Hyboria! Her fists tightened on her broadsword’s leather-wrapped hilt at the insult. When she discovered the culprits behind this vile ploy, she would feed them their own entrails.

But such vengeance must wait. Right now she must regain control and continue the contest. The baying crowds still shouted for spectacle. She sensed their mood shifting, impatience rising at her lengthy pause. Their fickle adulation could turn upon her in an instant if she showed further weakness or reluctance.

Before she could ponder further, a booming voice resonated from above, though she could not make out the words over the crowd’s din. Sonja lifted her gaze to the announcer’s platform, where a broad man in gaudy robes stood gesturing theatrically, whipping the crowds into greater frenzy.

Meanwhile, the gate behind her remained barred, preventing any refuge. With dismay, she realized they were summoning her to fight again, denying her any rest to recover her strength or solve this unsettling ailment seeping through her veins. There was no escape from this vicious crucible save victory, or death. Her only path forward was through the next adversary, and the next, until her final collapse or bloody triumph.

With effort, Sonja shook off her reeling senses and straightened her weary shoulders. She mustered her will and raised chin and sword high once more. To the ravenous crowds, her victory over the deadly panthers was but an appetizer. They lusted for more violence, more of her prowess. She forced her cracked lips into a bold smile, squaring her stance in readiness. Whatever sinister substance worked upon her, she was still Red Sonja, and she would never yield. This accursed arena had not seen the best of her yet. She swore to meet each challenge ahead with piercing steel until her last breath.

Abruptly the arena fell eerily silent around her. Then the far iron gate began to grind upward, releasing the next challenger onto the bloody sands. Sonja tensed, gripping her sword in hands gone strangely numb. As the iron portal yawned wider, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows beneath—the brawny Aesir giantess who had so brutally crushed the lithe Kushite beauty earlier for the crowd’s delight.

Of course, Sonja thought grimly. They would pit the day’s winners against each other and let blood decide who would stand supreme at the end of this night. Such was the perverse law of the sands—no rest, no mercy. Fresh outrage simmered in Sonja’s chest. Mere moments ago she had carved her way through a deadly triple threat through sheer ferocity and skill. Never mind her injuries or exhaustion. Now the sadistic crowds bayed for more, eager to watch her clash with some over-muscled northborn wench.

In the Aesir’s case, she had emerged relatively unscathed from her own fight, and had ample time to refresh herself while Sonja grappled tooth and claw. This mismatch was a ridicule of supposed justice, but the rabble cared not. Their only desire was to see more gore spilled, more lives rent violently asunder.

Rather than hammer and shield, the giantess now gripped a massive double-headed war axe with a haft nearly as long as Sonja was tall. The crescent-shaped axe heads gleamed razor-sharp on either end of the sturdy wooden pole, reflecting the flickering torches lining the pit. Sonja eyed the weapon warily as the blonde colossus hefted its imposing weight with ease. Even with all her legendary speed, getting inside the killing radius of that axe’s sweeping arc would be treacherous. Wrestling the larger woman in close quarters was equally risky, the barbarian’s bulky frame harboring reserves of strength to rival any bull.

This would be a daunting contest even were Sonja at her peak. But with inexplicable exhaustion creeping through her veins, victory seemed distant indeed. Yet the choice was not hers to make. The crowd’s fever pitch as the Aesir strode out confirmed the Arena Master’s intentions—the two champions would be made to battle, whether ready or not. Such was the harsh law of the sands.

The giantess stomped toward the arena’s center with thunderous steps, pale braids swaying behind her broad shoulders. Her head swiveled slowly from side to side as she scanned the surroundings like a predator sniffing out prey, though her icy gaze kept returning to fixate on Sonja. When the Aesir halted before her intended target, the arena fell into taut silence.

The warrioresses eyed each other up and down, taking stock of their opponent. Up close, the stark disparity between the two women’s builds was even more pronounced. The northern behemoth stood a full head taller even than Sonja’s impressive height, her hulking physique all thick slabs of brawn and sinew needed to survive the harsh ice-lands from which she heralded. Stark white scars crisscrossed the exposed swells of her breasts and broad shoulders, speaking of past brutal contests survived. The jagged lines only enhanced her intimidating visage—high granite cheekbones, sun-bleached hair, flinty eyes the shade of ancient glaciers nestling beneath a craggy brow. Sizable steel rings lined her ears, glinting silver against the corded muscles of her neck, and down her hefty arms swirled intricate patterns of rune-like blue tattoos of some mysterious origin. Her flaxen braids evoked images of sun-kissed snowfields amid far northern mountains, yet there was no warmth in her icy orbs; only merciless intent lay behind the wintry glare.

This mountain of a woman could likely snap Sonja’s spine over one knee as easily as a dry twig. Even on her best days, Sonja preferred to avoid direct tests of brute strength against such overpowering mass. Her advantages lay in speed, agility and technique honed over decades of training and real battle experience. But now, with mysterious toxins flowing through her veins, she feared her edge was dulled. This fight would push Sonja to her limits and beyond.

Up in the crowded stands, sounds of eager anticipation rose as the audience sensed the coming contest would be one for the ages. Two conquering titans of the arena pitted against each other, with only room for one to emerge victorious. Coin purses vigorously exchanged hands as wagers were placed on the improbable outcome. But to Sonja’s ears their excited bellows sounded muted and distorted, as if her head was submerged.

“Let’s make battle to remember, little red witch,” the Aesir rumbled in guttural tones meant to intimidate. Her wintry blue eyes raked down Sonja’s disheveled and blood-spattered form dismissively before rising back to her face.

“No worry, Cruga will make quick smash. Arena no place for little witch.”

Despite her patronizing words, the giantess’ craggy features remained stoic and cold. She had dispensed with any showmanship or posturing, speaking only promises of straightforward violence. In the Aesir’s glacier-blue eyes, Sonja read only icy contempt and bored confidence in her own superiority. This far-north scion—Cruga, was it?—considered Sonja barely worth the effort of raising her axe.

That casual disdain ignited Sonja’s anger, burning away some of the insidious fog muddling her thoughts. She anchored herself in that rising fury, drawing on its heat to cleanse the chilling confusion from her mind. She may be physically weakened, but she would never yield, least of all to this arrogant brute.

Sonja tightened her grip on her broadsword and widened her stance, boots digging into the blood-soaked sand. She raised her chin and leveled a piercing glare at the looming wild woman before replying in a voice loud enough to carry.

“We shall see who walks off these sands with honor intact, and who leaves dragged by the heels at battle’s end.”

With that cold statement, Sonja fluidly raised her blade in salute. The Aesir’s eyes narrowed slightly at the bold retort, perhaps reassessing her chances. With a snort, she hefted her axe and circled sideways in preparation to attack, pale braids sweeping behind her.

Keeping her eyes on her opponent’s every move, Sonja twirled her broadsword through whistling arcs, reawakening her battle-weary muscles. The familiar rasping song of the blade sliding through smoky air soothed her spirit, even as it sent a spark racing through the cheering spectators. To them, her flourish appeared a cocky display of arrogant confidence. None could see past the bold facade to discern the fear taking root beneath.

The silent impasse stretched taut for several heartbeats. Then, without warning, the Aesir charged forth with savage abandon, a bellowing war cry erupting from her broad chest. Heavy boots pounded the sandy floor, each thudding footfall sending tremors through the packed earth, whip-like braids streaming behind like a banner. The very arena seemed to quake beneath the giantess’ thundering onslaught.

The hulking woman moved with startling speed belying her size, whirling and slicing the massive axe in tight circles around her, bladed edges whistling dangerously. Sonja just managed to get her sword up in time to deflect the crushing overhand blow aimed at her skull. Steel rang explosively against steel, sending a shower of sparks cascading through smoky air. The force of it rattled Sonja to the marrow, driving her boots backward through the sandy muck. Before she could fully recover, the axe swept low, seeking to cleave her legs out from under her. With a startled gasp, Sonja sucked in her gut and twisted away. The wicked axe-blade only grazed her thigh, but even that glancing hit felt like being struck by a boulder. Clearly, the giantess wielded an enormous amount of power behind each strike.

Sonja scrambled backward, parrying what strikes she could and dodging the rest. But the long axe’s reach kept her on the defensive, unable to break inside its killing perimeter. Each ringing impact sent jolts through her weary bones, the sheer force threatening to jar her blade from numbed fingers. She knew she could not withstand this punishing onslaught for long. Sooner or later, one of those sweeping arcs would find its mark. She needed to act swiftly, before loss of blood and the unknown toxins sapped the last of her waning strength.

***

Up in the stands, Deija nibbled her bottom lip anxiously, sharp white teeth pressing into the painted flesh until she tasted blood. She perched tensely on the edge of the rough-hewn stone bench, unable to tear her gaze from the violent spectacle unfolding below. All around her the crowds were in a frenzy, bellowing and stomping their approval as the two female gladiators squared off. The giant flaxen-haired Aesir towered over Sonja, massive double-headed axe gleaming thirstily in the flickering torchlight. Fresh from her bloody victory, the pale colossus looked eager to add the fiery-maned contender to her tally of dead.

Deija’s chest constricted, her pulse racing with more than just the arena’s charged energy. Already Sonja was being forced back under a punishing rain of axe blows, the Aesir’s corded arms wielding the massive weapon as though it were a willow switch. Much more of this brutal onslaught and the legendary swordswoman could end up a mangled husk bleeding out on the sand like so much discarded meat.

The crowds certainly hungered for such a grisly finale. All around Deija they were on their feet screaming for carnage, voices raw, faces ruddy and contorted. They pressed against the crude wooden railings lining each row, so tightly packed together they seemed a single seething mass united in bloodlust. If the towering Aesir split Red Sonja’s skull open before their eyes, they would celebrate it for weeks on end. Already Deija heard shouted speculation that this backwater arena could claim the feat of being the infamous She-Devil’s final resting place.

Those premature boasts infuriated her, though she could not deny their validity. She craned her neck, sharp eyes tracking Sonja’s deteriorating condition. It was evident now that the jurra oil was finally taking insidious effect, the fiery swordswoman’s reactions slowing, her blows lacking their usual devastating force. Dark crimson stained the links of Sonja’s scant chainmail armor in spreading patches, her movements growing more weary and desperate.

Meanwhile, the blonde behemoth was clearly not adhering to the strategy Deija had meticulously orchestrated. This was meant to be a controlled bout, coordinated between the fighters and Arena Master to slowly exhaust the weakened Sonja without causing lasting harm, carefully cracking open the facade of her legend. Instead, the walnut-brained Aesir seemed determined to shatter it with excessive brutality, unleashing the full fury of her lethal skills upon the smaller woman, seeking to maim or kill.

Such an outcome could prove devastating, Deija realized with cold dread. If the giantess succeeded in slaying Hyboria’s infamous warrior maiden before the gathered crowds, it would make a mockery of her carefully laid plans. All her effort and patience seducing Sonja with a guise of admiration, gaining her trust, rendering her vulnerable—it would come to naught. More importantly, the Master had been explicit in his orders—Sonja must survive this arena. She was to endure a slow humiliation here, her defeat witnessed by all. Only then could the next phase of the great scheme unfold. A premature death would spoil those grand designs. Worse, if Red Sonja perished here under Deija’s watch, her own punishment would be severe. Perhaps even fatal, depending on the Master’s mood.

The dire implications of failure made Deija’s heart clench. She quickly unstuck her gaze from the riveting duel below to glance sideways at her client, the mysterious governor whose face remained obscured beneath that silly wide-brimmed hat. His hunched form radiated impatience, leather-gloved hands gripping the stone bench. Clearly, he too could sense something amiss in this supposedly arranged fight’s proceedings.

Swallowing tightly, Deija averted her eyes before he noticed her attention. With no reassurances to offer him, it was not a conversation she was keen on having right now. They both knew the Master’s edict and the consequences of failure. No more needed to be said.

Again, Deija mentally cursed the dumb northern brute and her lack of discipline. Clearly the promise of bloodshed and glory in the sands had overridden what little sense she possessed. The giant woman was a rabid beast who needed to be put down before she ruined everything. But any direct interference now would draw suspicion upon Deija and her shadowy benefactor. For the moment, her hands were bound.

Below in the pit, Sonja’s fiery mane of hair and its intricate silver inlays had come loose, whipping wildly with each evasion. The throat of her chainmail brassier gaped open, baring the smooth inner swells of her breasts, heaving and slick with sweat and grime. All over her body, rivulets of crimson trickled down her muscular limbs. Her nimble footwork was growing more clumsy, boots sliding unevenly across sand now turned muddy with churned blood. The She-Devil was being backed steadily into a corner, the arena’s edge looming dangerously close behind her. Once pinned there, she would be trapped, just like the unfortunate Kushite before her.

The confident smirk on Sonja’s lips had long since vanished. Even from this distance, Deija could see her piercing blue eyes were overly bright with what had to be the creeping jurra poison, clouding her vision and responses. It was clear now the effects were indeed there, simply delayed rather than negated. But the timing could not have been worse. Deija bit her lip harder. Sonja was slipping, her reactions a half-second too slow. It would only take one mistake, one missed step on the treacherous sands, and that wicked axe would cleave her lean body in two.

Around them, the arena spectators bellowed encouragement, doubling the bets placed on the giantess to emerge victorious. In their eyes Sonja was already finished, her waning strength visible for all to see. Like starving jackals they pressed against the railings, waiting to see the She-Devil laid low by one final devastating blow.

With each cracking impact, Deija winced. A trickle of blood seeped from where her teeth had punctured her bottom lip. The sharp tang flooded her mouth but was swallowed by a throat gone dry as dust. All she could do was watch helplessly as Sonja battled for her life on the blood-soaked sands below.

***

Down in the grim arena, the Aesir pressed her attack relentlessly, massive double-headed axe flashing with deadly force. Sonja scrambled backward under the punishing blows, boots sliding across the loose sand. The arena’s wooden palisade loomed ever closer behind her, steadily hemming her in. Soon she would be trapped against its unforgiving barricade, with no avenue to escape the killing radius of that whirling axe.

Around her, people screamed for Red Sonja’s demise, their voices raw and contorted in the ecstasy of violence. They pressed against the railings, waiting to see the She-Devil laid low by one final devastating blow.

The giant blonde warrior certainly seemed intent on granting their vulgar wish. Her frosty expression remained emotionless, but her mighty arms bulged with cords of muscle as she put the full fury of her monstrous strength behind each whistling swing. Clearly, this far-north daughter considered Sonja barely worth the effort. In those glacial blue eyes lay only bored contempt and the impatient desire to swiftly be done with this nuisance challenging her reign in the sands.

For Sonja, just staying alive was taking every ounce of speed and agility she could muster. The mysterious toxins and blood loss were taking an insidious toll, her reactions slowing, sword thrusts lacking their usual precision. She could feel hot blood from myriad wounds soaking her tattered chainmail armor and dripping down her limbs. The sweltering arena air was thick with smoke and the tang of freshly spilled carnage, choking her with each ragged breath. All around, flickering torchlight swam nauseatingly, the cheers and screams of the encircling mob muted in her ears. She was unraveling, the strange malaise leaching away her legendary prowess bit by bit.

The massive barbarian kept pressing the attack, whipping her long axe around in great looping arcs. Again and again, Sonja used her superior dexterity to slip past the axe’s killing arc by mere inches. Yet her ripostes could find no weakness in the Aesir’s whirling defenses. Frustration mounted along with fatigue. It was taking all her focus just to keep that deadly axe from splitting her head or removing a limb. Already her lungs labored, chest heaving beneath the confining steel links of her chainmail. Even her blazing battle fury seemed dimmed, her reactions a half-beat slower than they should be.

But the defensive strategy could not last forever. The Aesir seemed tireless, wide sweeps keeping Sonja’s broadsword at bay while steering her inevitably backward. Soon her heels met the wooden barricade rimming the arena, corralling her with nowhere left to flee. Desperation ignited Sonja’s battle instincts once more. She would not be slaughtered so easily like trapped prey! Red Sonja would make her stand here, cornered like a snarling lioness brought to bay. If this was to be her end, she would sell her life dearly.

Through gritted teeth she peered up at the feral giantess, close enough now to see the pale frosting covering her weathered cheeks and the thin sheen of sweat dampening her brow. The Aesir’s craggy features remained stoic despite her exertions, only the pulsing of a vein at her temple betraying any strain. Icy blue eyes narrowed, sensing inevitable triumph within grasp. She tensed corded arms to wrench her axe blade back, lining up another devastating chop.

Sonja shoved down the swelling nausea and faced her towering opponent. Her time was short, strength rapidly waning. She must end this contest soon through any means necessary, or fall to the barbarian’s unchecked savagery. With conscious effort, she quieted her hammering heart and mind, marshaling her focus. Her body may fail her, but she still possessed cunning enough to outwit this simple brute.

Not having to feign much weakness, Sonja sagged back as if barely able to lift her blade, letting her guard drop just enough to bait her rival in. As predicted, the blonde giantess gave pause, smelling easy victory. Her icy blue eyes were alight with the promise of violence, full lips peeled back to bare tombstone teeth in what looked like a triumphant grin. In her massive hands the double-headed axe raised higher for a mighty killing blow that would finish the fight, its gleaming crescent blades awaiting the taste of Sonja’s blood. Unperturbed by the threat, Sonja deftly flipped her broadsword into a reverse grip, the razor-sharp blade now running along the outside of her forearm in preparation for the next step.

Letting out a primal roar, the giantess unleashed a ferocious diagonal cut of her axe, channeling such force that it would have split her adversary in twain if it had met its mark. However, this excessive display of strength was precisely the miscalculation Sonja had bet on. Instead of dodging aside or trying to raise a blocking defense, she darted inside the strike, letting the axe head whistle past her cheek close enough to brush her ear and stir the strands of her red mane.

While her foe was overbalanced, she stomped down on the brute’s leading foot to pin it in place and rammed the heavy pommel of her sword up under the Aesir’s granite chin with all the strength left in her weary arm. Bone and cartilage crunched wetly as the big warrior’s head snapped back, strings of bloody drool spraying from her lips along with a guttural grunt. Axe dragging across the sand, the giantess reeled back, clutching her jaw, dark blood streaming through her thick fingers. Quick as a fox, Sonja pressed her advantage, spinning around behind her dazed opponent in a smooth pivot. With feline speed her sword licked out, slicing through the thick tendons at the back of the Aesir’s knee, laying open the vulnerable joint in a deep red gash.

The giantess bellowed in rage and agony, leg folding beneath her imposing bulk. But she kept grip of the axe haft and managed to pivot with the fall’s momentum, bringing the weapon around in a devastating riposte aimed at Sonja’s head.

Taken by surprise by the move, Sonja barely got her own blade up in time to deflect the blow, but it came at an awkward angle with her sword still in the weaker reverse grip. The axe’s crushing force batted her weapon aside effortlessly. In a silvery flash, Sonja’s legendary broadsword went flying from her grasp, spinning end over end through the smoky air to embed itself point-down some distance away where it stood quivering in the bloody sand.

Weaponless and overwhelmed, Sonja saw only one desperate path left. As the axe reversed its arc for the killing strike, she charged straight in before the blow could fall. Putting her shoulder down, she slammed into the Aesir’s midsection with all her might.

They collided brutally, Sonja’s momentum driving the larger warrior back a half pace. But the Aesir’s thick-muscled core was like ramming an oak tree. She barely budged, quickly anchoring her stance with her good leg. Still, the unexpected tackle had stopped her scything swing mid-motion, and in that brief window of opportunity, Sonja grappled and clung to the long haft.

The two women strained against each other, sweat-slick skin sliding. Sonja’s fatigued limbs trembled from the effort of arresting her larger foe’s momentum. The Aesir’s granite features screwed up in a ferocious grimace, corded muscles bulging beneath pale skin as she sought to wrench the axe haft back into position. For a handful of frantic heartbeats they struggled, woman against woman, Hyrkanian muscle pitted against Asgardian brawn. The power pulsating through the Aesir’s thick arms was astonishing, her grip viselike even in surprise. But Sonja refused to relent, tenacious as any wolverine. With a resounding crack, the sturdy oak haft finally broke in their hands under the immense pressure. The severed pieces fell to the ground, sinking into the thirsty sand.

Disarmed but not subdued, the blonde behemoth unleashed her fury. Before Sonja could twist away, a massive fist swung out in a punishing strike, connecting squarely between her heaving breasts. Knuckles like stone drove the breath from Sonja’s lungs in a painful gust and sent her flying backward straight into the wooden barricade. The entire wall shuddered under the impact as her back slammed its rugged structure. For an instant, Sonja’s world went white. Then she slid bonelessly down the rough timber and slumped at its base, dazed and gasping.

All around, the crowd’s bloodthirsty roar doubled in force, the arena shaking with their thunderous stamping. In their eyes the match was already decided, the She-Devil brought low by one devastating punch.

Sonja clung stubbornly to fraying consciousness, sucking air back into her paralyzed lungs. She willed leaden limbs to move, to push herself up from the sand now cushioning her fall. The giant fist had struck her chainmail brassier, imprinting the splintered links on her chest, the immense force bruising muscle and bone alike beneath the battered armor. Pain radiated through Sonja’s entire torso with each shallow breath, ribs and organs screaming protest. Her watering eyes struggled to focus through a haze of darkness creeping in at the edges.

Vaguely Sonja heard the mob’s anticipatory howls rise to a fever pitch. They scented the end now, the sole remaining obstacle her will to rise. The Aesir loomed somewhere above, no doubt readying herself for the final dismembering stroke to claim her prize. But Sonja would grant neither of them that satisfaction.

With a groan, she rolled onto her stomach and began crawling across the blood-soaked sand on all fours like a beaten dog. The cowardly image she presented shamed her to her core, burning fiercer than any wound. But flight was the only option left to her now. She spotted her broadsword several yards away, half-buried point down like a grave marker. Its silvered blade reflected the wild torchlight in beckoning winks but may as well have been leagues distant. Still, if she could just reach it again, she might stand a chance, however slim. Her body cried out in protest, ribcage a molten mass of agony, but she drove herself onward with single-minded purpose. Survive first, worry about pain later.

Unarmed and unsteady, she was easy prey now for the hulking barbarian and her primal fury. Sonja’s nails dug into the sandy floor, knowing she lacked the speed to recover her lost blade or evade the advancing brute. Behind her, Sonja heard the Aesir struggling to rise, foreign curses dripping from her lips along with crimson spatters. She risked a look over her shoulder. The gash she carved across the back of Cruga’s knee had clearly hampered the blonde juggernaut’s mobility. But even hobbled, she presented a deadly threat.

Through the fog smothering her senses, Sonja discerned the hulking giantess turn and lumber toward her. Those icy blue eyes remained empty of emotion, seeing only the final stroke needed to end this nuisance who had dared challenge her supremacy.

Despair clawed at Sonja’s heart, even as outrage simmered in her chest. How had this supposed easy bout gone so horribly awry? She should never have agreed to enter this backwater arena, no matter Deija’s coaxing and flattery. What a fool she had been, letting smug pride override caution. And now the price would be her life, ended prematurely by an honorless brute in some insignificant pit, far from home or glory. She only prayed her death would come swiftly at this beastly woman’s hands. To be toyed with and dismembered piecemeal for the crowd’s amusement was a fate far worse than mere oblivion. That would be an unworthy end for the legendary Red Sonja.

Crawling haltingly toward her sword, Sonja felt the thumps of the giantess’ footsteps grow closer behind until suddenly a meaty hand clamped down on her neck. A tattooed, heavy-muscled arm hoisted her up like a doll, her slim throat clutched in a vise-like grip. Sonja’s boots dangled helplessly above the ground as she was smashed back against the rough wooden palisade. This time her already bruised body met the unforgiving timbers with bone-cracking force.

Vision darkening, Sonja clawed at the thick wrist, finding it unyielding as gnarled oak. The arena swam around her. The Aesir’s gleeful snorts mingled with the crowd’s frenzied howls, hungry for her death, whichever way it may come. Sonja growled soundlessly, summoning the last dregs of her wrath. She would not die on her knees before this savage! Her quest could not end here, so pitiful and lost.

The giantess leaned her considerable weight in, thick forearm crushing Sonja’s windpipe. “Not so bold now, are you, little witch?” the Aesir rumbled with grim satisfaction, pale braids falling around her craggy face. Up close, her wintry blue eyes were shot through with explosions of red, enraged veins standing out on her temples. Her breath reeked of old fish and burnt tar in a gagging melange.

Again, Sonja clawed frantically at the stony wrist cutting off her air, boots thrashing against the wall behind her. But her efforts were useless against the Aesir’s implacable mass. Darkness crept into Sonja’s vision, the arena’s cacophony fading to a dull roar. This was the end she had defied countless times before, but now her legendary luck had finally run out. The towering brute meant to slowly choke the life from her against this wall, too cowardly for an honorable final duel. After all her battles and triumphs, Sonja never imagined she would meet her end so ignobly, legs kicking feebly like a yowling kitten held by the scruff.

But if these were to be her final moments in the mortal realm, she refused to go meekly. She would leave a lasting mark on this arrogant bitch or die trying. Trapped against the barricade, her leg was hindered from a full swing, but she nevertheless spied a sliver of opportunity. Summoning up the last dregs of her waning strength, Sonja took aim and delivered a vicious kick to the gap between the Aesir’s parted thighs.

Her steel-reinforced boot toe shot underneath layers of fur pelts and slammed directly into the giantess’ vulnerable crotch with cunt-crushing force. It was a perfect hit. Sonja could feel the impact as her toe sunk deep into wet and spongy tissue. With a bellowing roar that almost sounded like a gravelly whimper, the blonde barbarian doubled over, releasing Sonja to instead clutch desperately at her groin.

Hitting the ground in a limp heap, Sonja gasped raggedly for breath around her near-crushed throat. But she gave herself no time to recover. Lurching forward, she rolled between the giantess’ buckling legs, coming up behind her off-balance foe. From there, Sonja leapt onto her broad back, clawed fingers hooking into the Aesir’s crude fur garment as she scrabbled upward. Her legs cinched around the giantess’ thick waist, ankles crossing to lock together. Clinging to her back like a leech, Sonja snaked one sinewy arm up and around the broad column of neck, nestling the crook of her elbow beneath the square chin, cinched tight across her windpipe. With her other hand she grasped her own wrist, locking her merciless chokehold in place and heaved backward with all her remaining might.

The Aesir bucked and spun at this new threat, bruised groin temporarily forgotten. She flailed big hands blindly at her attacker’s face and began violently shaking her upper body, seeking to fling aside this bothersome pest clinging to her back. But Sonja locked her legs tighter around the massive torso and hung on like a burr in a bear’s pelt.

As the ever fickle arena crowds cheered wildly at this unexpected turn of events, Sonja stretched every fiber of her being, exerting every last ounce of her famous strength. Her cheek ground painfully into the base of the giantess’ rock-hard skull as she struggled for grip on the thrashing body. The stench of rancid sweat and fur flooded her senses, and her head swam with dizziness. Still she clung on with desperate tenacity.

Slowly, inevitably, the frenetic struggles weakened until the Aesir wavered, her wounded leg finally giving out under their combined weight. She toppled forward, massive body slamming down knee-first into the bloodied sand. But her fall only amplified the devastating pressure on her throat. Face purpling, the blonde colossus bucked and thrashed, plait-woven braids flying wildly. Her corded neck muscles bulged as she strained to peel Hyrkanian arms from her throat. But Sonja clung on with ferocious tenacity, her lithe yet powerful legs anchoring the choke.

“Feel...my...wrath...” Sonja spat through gritted teeth in the Aesir’s ear, punctuating each rasped word with another brutal wrench of her bulging bicep. The giantess’ struggles grew progressively weaker as her airway was ruthlessly crushed. Her massive frame pitched and shuddered, plowing zig-zag furrows in the sand beneath their combined weight. A fat tongue protruded obscenely from blue-tinged lips. The icy glare in those pale eyes gradually dimmed, rolling back to show only bloodshot whites.

Roaring fury, Sonja kept one leanly-muscled arm wrapped around the Aesir’s corded neck, grabbing her stony jaw with the other hand. Releasing her leg wrap to brace a knee in the crease of the giantess’ shoulder blades, Sonja wrenched with savage force, face contorted from the monumental effort. Vertebrae cracked audibly beneath her straining muscles. With a final savage twist, she wrenched the Aesir’s head past its natural limit. A resounding crack echoed through the arena, seeming louder than any of their weapons clashing. Instantly the blonde titan went limp, her huge body plowing face-first into the bloodied sand.

Sonja stumbled clear of the collapsing mass and crouched there a moment, gasping raggedly as sensation returned to her limbs. Every labored breath was fire in her lungs as she pushed shakily upright and staggered back. She blinked repeatedly, vision doubling. By sheer will she remained standing over her conquered foe, refusing to topple over and shame herself further.

As feeling crept back into her limbs, Sonja became aware of the arena’s eerie silence. The crowds sat stunned, gripped by the death throes they had just witnessed. Then a roar went up from the stands that seemed to shake dust from the rafters overhead. Just like that, shock gave way to adulation.

Sonja wiped spatters of the Aesir’s blood and sweat from her lips with the back of one trembling hand. She barely heard the explosions of cheers and stamping feet from above. It took all her focus just to remain upright, swaying drunkenly.

The mighty Aesir sprawled unmoving, face down in the churned earth, a tangle of dirt-caked blonde braids splaying around her hidden features. Sonja staggered over and nudged the misaligned head over with a push of her foot, revealing the craggy face. The northern barbarian’s eyes were frozen wide in death, tongue black and swollen protruding from bluish lips. Sonja’s chokehold had crushed the life from her after all. She grunted in satisfaction despite the screaming pain of her own injuries. She yet lived, and that was victory enough for now.

Her legs threatened to fold, so she lurched toward her sword, still jutting upright from the bloody sands where she had lost it earlier. Her numb fingers closed on the familiar leather-wrapped hilt, leaning heavily on it like a crutch. And then the world seemed to lurch over as the ground rose to meet her.