Red Sonja: the Sorceress' Tale (Part 2)

“I had these made just for you, by my finest goldsmiths,” I purred to her, “Since then, they’ve waited in my treasure vault for you to arrive.”

I gave the plush shapes beneath her loin cloth a pat, feeling them ripple slightly beneath my hand.

“Let’s see how they look on you…”

My handmaidens filed around the dais of my throne and approached like religious procession, heads bowed and quiet, walking in step. On reaching us, the one in the lead stopped and the others pealed away to either side, fanning out into a single row. Each girl stopped shoulder to shoulder with another, waiting for all of them to take their positions. Once the procession was complete, they all curtsied, dipping down and rising up in unison. Perfect, synchronized dolls.

I gave Sonja’s rump another gentle pat, then stepped aside, letting my hand slip out from under her skirts.

“Very good, girls,” I smiled, placing a hand on my hip, “Now dress the savage in her shackles. She’s roamed freely for far too long.”

The handmaidens smiled back, delighted at the praise, and curtsied once more.

“Yes, your grace!” they chimed as one, even sounding excited, “As you wish, your grace!”

As my girls grinned and swished forward in their sheer clothing, eager to begin their work, I took a moment to focus my attention elsewhere. My arm and shoulder were still throbbing from the touch of Sonja’s blade, my city was still under attack, and there was still an all-out rebellion to crush.

As pleasing as it was to properly saddle the she-devil, she wasn’t my only concern. Such was the burden of rule.

Sighing, I waved my hand at my seeing orb. The image inside grew misty then reshaped into crowds of peasants battling my black armored soldiers. It was from a bird’s eye view, so it was difficult to see the precise condition of my troops, but their lines were thinner, beginning to stretch and bow in places, threatening to break. I shifted the view to see my reinforcements racing towards the city gates, but the men guarding my keep would not hold before they arrived.

I rolled my eyes. If I wasn’t directly involved, everything fell apart.

“Guards!” I snapped.

My two elites double-timed towards me then stopped at attention.

“You,” I pointed my sword at one of them, “Go to the front and tell the captain to commit his reserves, including the wounded. He must hold until reinforcements arrive.”

The soldier bowed crisply then double-timed to the doors.

To the other I held out my sword. He bowed low, taking it in both hands, then backed away. He would sheathe it and see it placed back where it belonged.

I didn’t bother to watch him leave, instead turning my attention back to my seeing orb. Despite my orders, I doubted the guards would hold. My reinforcements were on the way, but they might be too late and I couldn’t count on them not being held up by some trap Sonja and her companions had prepared. This would have to be resolved in a manner different than I’d planned.

Frowning, I tapped my chin and thought, considering my options.

Seeing the struggle was over, Lithis slithered his massive body over my throne and down the dais. He coiled around my feet and lifted his head to look up at me, flicking his tongue, expectant.

I ignored him for the moment. I’d spoiled him and he could be such a needy python.

Honestly, I wasn’t truly worried. With my magic, I could easily escape and link up with my reinforcements, even taken Sonja and my handmaidens with me. But it would be a waste of energy and not my favorite option, as it would mean all my soldiers in the lower levels would die. Again, loyal stormtroopers didn’t grow on trees.

Not seeing an alternative right away, I turned on my heel and looked away from my viewing orb. Setting my gaze on something else often helped change my perspective, allowed new ideas to surface.

My eyes were immediately drawn to my handmaidens, fitting Sonja with her new accessories. The sight smoothed my frown away and made me smile.

Part of me had been slightly concerned about having my girls handle such a rough, powerful creature. They were all unique, from different cultures and races, but they were all small, delicate, and soft, trained to be beautiful and charming rather than rugged. Even with her mind in my thrall, I feared that a reflexive swing of an arm from the mighty Red Sonja would send one of them sprawling, in tears.

I needn’t have worried. My girls had her well in hand.

Surrounding her, the six slender figures doted on the warrior woman like hens, each doing their part. Her leather boots and gloves had already been removed and they continued to handle her gingerly, directing her with light touches. While one of them knelt at Sonja’s feet, slipping golden shackles around her ankles, another took Sonja’s hands and placed them together in front of her, preparing to fit them into matching bracers.

“These are going to look so lovely on you…” she said gently.

“Such an honor to wear our mistress’s emblem,” another whispered, stroking her hair, “You will be envied by all the slaves.”

The chain that connected the ankle and wrist shackles was deliberately short to keep the wearer bent, their head bowed. For Sonja’s wrists to reach her shackles, two of the placed their hands on her back and slowly guided her to bow, bending forward.

“There we are…” one of them said sweetly, “Bow down…”

Another tittered, “Like before the great lord Set! That’s it…”

Those two bent her forward until the girl in front could fit her wrists into the shackles. While the others clicked the shackles closed and locked them into place, they continued to touch her and stroke her, seeming to keep her company. They brushed her hair away from her eyes, leaned close to whisper pleasant things into her ear, and even massaged her shoulders.

Sonja herself looked slightly livelier but was still in a haze. Her eyes had opened enough to show the green irises, but they were still lidded and unfocussed, blinking slowly with her mouth ajar, like she was either deeply inebriated or had taken a hard blow to the head. No longer swaying now that the girls were controlling her posture, she made no attempt to resist how they moved and manipulated her body.

After the shackles clicked into place, the girls grinned at each other and at Sonja in girlish delight. There was no taunt at the warrior’s expense; they were genuinely happy to be helping her in such a way. It was as if they were preparing a beloved friend for her wedding day, covering her with beautiful things and pleased to see the fruits of their work.

“Look, now!” one of them hissed, “The collar! The collar!”

The girls tittered with excitement and brushed Sonja’s hair back, gathering it into a bunch so they could slip the golden circlet around her pale throat.

As I watched them, a feeling of calm certainty flowed through me. Red Sonja, the nightmare of all tyrants, had been brought to my heel. My handmaidens fawned over her like a new kitten, and she wearily accepted it; she would bow to my will even easier. And without the she-devil, this little peasant army was less than nothing.

While I mused, one of the girls moved the last accessory towards Sonja’s mouth: a shining, golden horse bit I’d had adjusted to fit a more human mouth. The bit itself had belonged to the prize mare of a princess from a conquered kingdom, but I had more use for the princess than the mare.

“The last thing…” the girl cooed, taking Sonja’s chin, “Now open…”

The she-devil’s jaw was slack but not open wide enough to allow the golden rod inside. This was an easy fix; the girl pressed the bit to Sonja’s lips, then pulled down just enough on her chin so the metal could slip between. When she pushed the bit in deeper, the warrior’s jaw was forced wider, a hollow, rattling sound coming from her mouth as the metal bar clicked against her teeth.

“Careful,” another chided, “We don’t want to chip her teeth!”

“I’m being careful,” the girl protested before speaking to Sonja, “This might not taste very good, but look how shiny it is… even your mouth will be filled with gold…”

She gently buckled the bit behind the heroine’s head.

“Unnh…” Sonja moaned, her brow furrowing with a hint of discomfort.

“Ohhh, I know,” the girl cooed sympathetically, “But think how pretty you’ll look… like a shiny pony…”

A bit of cooing and petting seemed to settle the mighty swordswoman. She chewed slightly at her bit, but relaxed, lowering her head.

My grin must have been as wide as my face. I had everything I needed to end this revolt, and in the most satisfying way. In fact, with the right timing and pomp, I could probably stave off any other foolish insurrections for centuries.

Yes. This would be beautiful.

With their task finished, and realizing I was watching them, my handmaidens ceased their touching, whispering, and giggling. A few glanced at me and lowered their heads, solemn and even somewhat chastened. They were meant to be doing their duty and despite my grin, they weren’t sure if enjoying themselves would be disrespectful. That was the last thing they wanted, not for fear of punishment, but because they truly wanted to please me.

They had succeeded more than they knew.

Gathering the cushions they had used to carry the shackles, my handmaidens reformed their single row with Sonja in the middle. The girl on other side of her took the she-devil’s arms and together they advanced towards me, Sonja the only one not in-step, her shackles jingling and rattling.

A few paces away the girls stopped, bowing their heads and curtsying once more.

“The slave has been dressed in her shackles, your grace,” one of them said for the rest.

They kept their heads lowered, eyes on the floor, each pretty face slightly downcast.

Forced to stoop by her shackles, hunched like a cavewoman, Red Sonja somewhat matched them. Her head drooped, red hair dangling down past her face, her bare hands even locked in front of her in a mirror of how the handmaidens clasped theirs in their laps. She was less steady than them, swaying wearily, but otherwise she was a slightly larger, more muscular, loin cloth-dressed pea in their pod.

Oh, yes. I was very, very pleased.

“Well done, girls,” I told them with a nod.

The handmaidens brightened and curtsied deeper than before, unable to resist smiling at the praise.

“Thank you, your grace!” they chimed as one.

Smiling, letting them know how pleased I was, I stepped forward and pressed a kiss to the cheek of the girl on the far left. She shivered with delight, and I patted her head before moving to the girl to the right of her and doing the same. I moved from one to the next, rewarding each with a gentle kiss and receiving eager smiles in return.

Once they’d all received their rewards, the group was squirming with barely restrained ecstasy. They couldn’t hold back their grins, their heads still lowered in respect, but occasionally glancing at each other and beaming. They wouldn’t have been happier if I’d given them the keys to the kingdom.

That’s how you can tell truly well-trained slaves. They’d rather you were pleased with them than be free. Sometimes, I even envied them that.

I had no doubt about the disposition of my handmaidens; Red Sonja was another matter. Her head was still hanging so I cupped her chin and tilted it up, looking into her eyes.

The gaze that looked back at me was lidded and glassy, her chin heavy in my hand, allowing me to support it entirely. Her jaw was forced open by her bit, giving her a silly gape. Curls and loose locks of red hair hung in front of her eyes and mouth in a mess, her being unable to brush them away. A hint of consciousness was returning to her, enough that she was making eye contact, but behind her eyes there was none of her usual fire. It was mostly exhaustion, her spirit utterly spent, mixed in with a glint of sadness.

That filled me with immense pleasure. Even while her mind was reeling from the violent imposition of my will, some small, vulnerable part of Red Sonja knew she had failed. Knew and despaired.

I purred deep in my throat. I reached up to smooth my hand over her face and brow, wiping that pesky red hair out of the way.

“Attach her leash,” I said to my handmaidens, “The she-devil is going for a little walk.”

While one of my handmaidens produced the golden leash, I let Sonja hang her head once more and stroked my chin thoughtfully. This next part would all be a matter of presentation, getting their attention and giving the crowd the right display. Every detail needed to be quickly and precisely attended.

Stepping away from the shackled swordswoman and my girls, I reached a hand towards my throne. My obsidian cloak fluttered to me on command, crossing the room like some giant bat, before landing on my shoulder and clasping itself under my throat. Calling on the power of Set once more, letting it fill my palm with a golden glow, I touched my wounds one by one. My black blood seeped up, reentering my opened skin until the cuts themselves closed, leaving my body smooth and unmarked.

Turning to a nearby mirror, I quickly checked over my appearance. I straightened myself slightly and pulled back my shoulders with a crooked grin.

I was ready.

A gesture of my hand made the girls scurry out of my way, then I marched past them towards the door.

“Come.” I said without turning.

The girls followed in their usual procession. I didn’t need to look; I heard their little feet marching in pace behind me. Red Sonja staggered between them, bent low, her chains rattling, bare feet patting the marble floor.

Perfect.

“Now then,” I said to no one in particular, “Let’s see about this little uprising.”

I stalked down the steps of my tower, the clacks of my heels ringing off the stone, while my pets and prisoner pattered in my wake.

* * *

Stepping out onto one of my lower balconies wasn’t as pleasant as it usually was. Instead of being able to enjoy the quiet of my servants and slaves diligently working away, there were the screams and clashes of battle. A hole had been blown in the inner wall of my keep, fires lit up the stone walls of the barracks and my keep entrance, signs of some kind of incendiary oil. It stank, discordant noises rang through the air, and it was generally unpleasant to look upon.

I curled my lip in disgust.

At the stairs leading to my tower, my onyx-armored guards field the entry and formed a phalanx against a sea of dirty, roaring peasants. They were generally larger, all better equipped and kept formation in a narrow gap that kept them from being surrounded, but the weight of the throng thrown into them was causing their line to strain. Once their line was pierced, the peasants would flow through, and my defenses would dissolve as my guards were swarmed and brought down.

You might think I could call down a lightning bolt or perhaps redirect the oil fires that had attached themselves to my walls and wipe this rabble away, but that wasn’t my skill as a sorceress. If I had that level of power and control, I wouldn’t have crossed swords with the likes of Red Sonja. I could have created fire, perhaps even enough to drive the “people’s army” away, but it would be an inelegant solution. I like things tidy and I don’t like waste.

One of the peasants below, probably one of Sonja’s companions, saw me and yelled. His cry drew attention from others and caused a scattering of rocks and wooden javelins to be hurled up at me.

I ignored the rocks and only one of the javelins managed to reach me. I leaned aside to avoid it, letting the crude weapon clatter off the stones behind me, then let the power of Set fill me once more. My eyes glowed, pupils turning to slits, even my features narrowing and shining with scales, becoming more snake-like. I was calling on more power than I had to simply entrance a savage warrior woman.

I reached towards the sky, curling my fingers into claws, and as I did the sun overhead began to dim. The sky darkened with it, fading from midday’s brightness to dusk, like dark clouds had suddenly blocked out the sun.

The peasants began to notice. Voices cried out no longer in rage but alarm, faces turning up towards the sky. First it was just one, then others joined in, the effect spreading. Surprised, bewildered, wondering.

The sun turned from a blazing ball of fire to a jaundiced yellow, the sky from blue to blood red. It was too angry a color for a sunset, no pleasant gradient of golds and oranges, just an ugly crimson, like light shining through a ruby. The heavens had become a glaring hellscape, dark and furious, like the world itself was ending.

Judging by the growing cries of terror among the “brave liberators” below me, that’s exactly what they thought it was. The sounds of battle ceased as the peasants turned from their fighting to gape instead at the sky, the lead rank retreating away from my men. I could feel the fear spreading through them in a wave, growing in strength, feeding off itself. They didn’t yet run, not knowing what to do, but I did have their undivided attention.

I narrowed my eyes, pointing to the sun then drawing a line slowly down with the tip of my nail.

Even the bravest among them began to cry out as a slit of utter blackness opened down the length of the sun. The great orb grew closer, bigger, looming over them like a distant god. It almost filled the sky itself, then it abruptly turned down on them, the slit widening as it focused, staring into the souls of every man.

The sun itself had become the eye of Set.

Peasants cried out in abject terror and simply crumpled to the ground, shivering and averting their eyes. Weapons fell from their hands, entirely forgotten, many curling up on the ground like children, the rest merely falling to their knees. Only a small number remained standing, mostly Sonja’s companions, but even they stood with their knees buckled, eyes wide, weapons slack in trembling hands.

I smirked, shaking my head. It took a good serving of power to compel so many to see such a thing, but in the end it was only an illusion. That’s all it takes to control the great masses: pinches of truth and a grand lie. Let no one tell you differently.

“You pitiful, weak-minded fools.”

I spoke calmly, with absolute earnestness, but my magic made my voice boom in the ears of the quivering mass below me, thunder from the mountaintops.

“Did you think I was blind to what you intended?” I sneered at them, “I see your hearts. So easily worked into a froth by legends and heroes, creating tales of your own hardships to feed your self-pity. Resentful, ungrateful, engorged on your own righteousness and victimhood. Coming here to tear down your queen and destroy this land because of your perceived slights.”

Occasional sobs drifted up from the ground below, a few wails of anguish. My words seemed to steel a few of them, making them bristle with rage, but they didn’t matter. Without the rest, they were merely ants.

And regardless, soon they would be broken as well.

“You thought your times had come, didn’t you?” I continued, “That your gods had sent to you a champion, who would strike me down and give you what you believed you deserved. Your gods give victory to the righteous, no?”

Without looking, I gestured to my small entourage, hidden behind me under the entryway to the balcony. My handmaidens and my remaining guard came forward, one of the girls leading another on a leash.

“Here is your champion,” I stepped to the side so they could see, “See how she fared.”

The figure the petite girl led out was bowed, eyes downcast, shuffling and bound. To the crowd below, unaware of the state of her mind, she would look spent in body and spirit, beaten down past the point of resistance. She was pulled along by a leash attached to her golden bit rather than her collar, each little tug making her thrust out her chin and crane her neck like a stubborn donkey being drawn out of her stable. Deliberately humiliated, gaudily displayed, she nevertheless didn’t resist, following where the smaller women led her, too tired or too downtrodden to even complain.

My girls led her beside me as I’d directed them, smiling to each other in smug satisfaction.

“Behold, Red Sonja!” I offered her to the men below with a wave of my hand, “She-devil with a sword! The Hyrkanian bane of tyrants! Chosen by her goddess, fire-haired, savage and unbreakable, bows before neither emperor nor god!”

Stopping her beside me, the girl with the leash punctuated my statement with a downward yank on the leash.

Red Sonja flopped to her knees with a thud, the impact bobbing her head and bouncing her breasts. No pride, no desire other than to rest, she bowed her head, her rump plopping onto her heels, her red hair falling and hiding her face.

I needed make no further comment, instead just looking down over the crowd. The image they saw spoke for itself.

Even the leaders, the true thinkers and warriors among the men below me, wilted at the sight.

It was often a dangerous ploy to show a captured leader to their followers. Sometimes the sight of their general in dire straits could lend fire to an army’s spirits, make them fight harder to save him or her.

Not so with the likes of Red Sonja. To the men below, the idea that she could be beaten was unthinkable. The ones that didn’t know her knew the tales of her, how she was unbeatable with a blade, had killed evil sorcerers, kings, even gods. Her companions had a more realistic view, marveled at her skill but knew she could be beaten with enough numbers or magic. Perhaps they even knew she could be killed if she was faced with an ill turn at the right moment.

However, I’d shown them not her head or bloody corpse, but their living legend kneeling in submission, defeated in her heart. Not a single one of them had thought that was possible.

To ensure none thought this was an illusion, to leave no doubt it was Red Sonja kneeling at my feet, I held out my hand and my guard placed the legendary Hyrkanian sword into it. I held the unmistakable weapon high, letting everyone see its flawless polish, gleaming like a mirror despite its recent use in battle. Unbreakable, one of a kind, no one could deny it was the mythic blade of the she-devil.

I tossed it off the balcony.

The gleaming weapon fell then clattered to the cobbled stones below, clanging and lying still.

Men nearby stared at it in horror and disbelief. Rather than snatch it up, they retreated, giving it a wide birth, like I had tossed a cobra into their midst.

I glared down my nose at them, genuinely disgusted.

“You silly, short-sighted, ill-fated sheep…”

Their spirits had been broken. Now it was time to send them on their way.

I raised my hand to the sky once more and with an ear-splitting crack, a red bolt of lightning struck the ground just in front of the sword, sending up chunks of broken rock.

It wasn’t particularly powerful lightning, perhaps enough to electrocute two grown men, but it was like a sudden snap of a twig near an already panicked herd of sheep. The ones nearest the sight turned and fled with cries of fright. As they did, others joined them.

I called to them again, but this time I used magic to alter my voice. It came as a monstrous roar, deep, warped, and inhuman.

“YOUR TIME HAS COME! THE POWER OF SET COMES FOR FOOLS AND INGRATES! YOU SHALL BE JUDGED!”

I shot off another bolt of lightning, striking one man a bit slower to run than the others. The man fell and others cried out in renewed terror, scrambling away from him, shoving into each other in their haste to escape. Men who had hesitantly stood now turned tail when they saw their comrades rushing towards them, in utter flight. Seeing that, yet more ran… and the dominos continued to fall.

“STAND YOUR GROUND, COWARDS!” I bellowed, “FACE THE POWER YOU HAVE UNLEASHED!”

That was all it took to finish that little rebellion.

In battle, it cannot be overstressed how much of a man’s bravery comes from the fact that he has other men standing beside him. Conversely if those men are screaming and fleeing, it deflates a warrior’s courage like an arrow through a wine skin. When enough men run, most of them will run. And when most of them run, they will all run.

The effect wasn’t immediate. Groups of men resisted as their comrades fled around them, like stones amid a fast-running river, but like in a river, the stones were inevitably worn away. Men from inside those groups joined the others in flight, breaking them apart and shrinking their numbers, and seeing that made others break away. Those groups of brave men dwindled, at first large and tightly packed, but in seconds reduced to mere pebbles in that river of terrified peasants.

Then, all at once, like the breaking of a dam, the heart of the army gave way. Knowing almost all were fleeing, that all hope was lost, those bunches of still-standing men turned and joined the rest. All was cursing, screaming, men shoving each other aside and trampling the slow in their haste, fighting to retreat as fast as possible. Here and there a man stood, calling out and trying to rally the others, but they were merely swept along, unable to stem the tide.

I fired another lightning bolt to hurry them on their way, but it was mostly just an afterthought. The grounds below me were emptying of rebels, leaving only their dead, wounded, and weapons, intermixed with those of my fallen guards. The swarm of men that had once been an army, crammed itself through the gates of my keep and scattered into the city beyond.

“Ants,” I said to myself, “Merely ants.”

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment, releasing some of my power. I would need some to maintain the illusion, to keep those men running, but it was much easier to control a frantic, emotional mind than a calm one. My features shifted back to a lovely woman, the scales melting back into creamy skin, the glow in my eyes dimming without going out altogether.

I placed my hand on Sonja’s head, curling my fingers in her hair.

“Have the captain bring in our wounded and check for survivors,” I ordered my guard, “Leave theirs where they lie.”

My guard bowed and turned away, marching back into my tower to obey my orders.

While his bootsteps faded away, I looked out over my city. At this height, I could barely see over the keep walls to where the peasants fled through the cobbled streets. Far beyond, past the city walls, I knew my campaigning army was on its way, yet many of the rebels would be able to hide or escape before they could be rounded up.

That was fine. I knew who the ringleaders were and would pick them off at my leisure. The rest could return to wherever they’d come from, tail between their legs, spreading word of what had happened when they dared to rebel against the sorceress queen Annaxus. They would be living reminders to any future malcontents, spreading the tale for generations.

That would be only one way I spread word of what happened, of course. I would commission a bard to immortalize these events in verse and song. The Taming of the She-Devil had a nice ring to it. Perhaps the Fall of Red Sonja. Regardless of the title, I would see to it that it became the most popular song of its time, spreading across my kingdom and into others. It would need some embellishment and flourishes, but that would be the bards’ prerogative; I would just make the necessary edits.

I smoothed down Sonja’s hair with my palm, running my fingers through her mane.

Yes, that would be a most entertaining project.

But before I even began on that, there were other, more immediate tasks, some of which would be even more entertaining.

“Girls, take poor Sonja to her cage, so that she may rest,” I patted the wilted woman’s head, “Then prepare the baths for her. She needs to be cleaned, groomed, and dressed in something soft and pretty. She’ll need to be presentable for a most important appointment…”

“Yes, your grace!” my girls chorused happily, “Right away, your grace!”

Two of them took Sonja by the arms and helped her to her feet. The warrior woman moaned faintly, uncomfortable at being made to rise, but the girls cooed to her and stroked, relaxing her once more.

“Shh…” one of them whispered, “It’s just a walk to your cage, then you can lie down, tired one…”

“A nice rest is what you need,” another brushed her hair, “You’ll feel much better…”

The pair turned the sluggish heroine around, supporting her and letting her slump into them. Once facing the entryway back into the tower, they guided her forward, like an invalid or someone very old, carefully and slowly.

“There we are…” one of the girls cooed to encourage her, “You’ll be there before you know it…”

As they led her along, the group circled around her and stayed close, all of them working together to whisper encouragement and touch her. I turned to look as one of them patted Sonja’s muscular bottom, then let it rest there to guide her along.

Before the group vanished back into the tower, Sonja sighed. She rested her head on the shoulder of one of the maidens holding her arm, letting herself drift away, enclosed in affection and warmth.

I grinned and turned my gaze back to the city.

My army would be here soon, then I could join in.

I should have got them faster horses…