Arriving after dusk in Gorzam, Gina led her horse down a small alley, before hitching it to post outside a beaten tavern. The red-haired giant strode into the inn reeking of foul odors and cheap wine. The air was heavy with smoke from rush lamps hanging on the walls. Clusters of men hung around the tables, drinking, tossing dice or consorting with the whores who worked there.
There was a slender woman sitting alone at a nearby bench, whose scanty clothes left little to imagine. Gina walked her way, while the light of the lamps flickered and danced over her face.
Glancing upward, the woman on the bench watched Gina as she approached, and raised a mug to her lips. There was a spark of interest in her deep blue eyes as she motioned toward Gina, inviting her to join her. The barbarian seated herself upon a stool at the woman’s side, giving her a full view of her muscular frame, her long steel sword, battle helmet, and her thick leather boots
“Looking for something to do?”
“Only if something worthwhile presents itself,” said Gina. Her hands crept toward the woman, who made no move to push them away.
“From where do you come barbarian, and by what are you called?” Gina said nothing; she leaned in and smothered the other woman’s lips with her mouth as she pulled her closer. Without struggle she gave in and wound her soft arms around Gina’s shoulders, as Gina fondled her breasts.
“You make love well wench,” said Gina, and she reached for the wine her companion had been drinking.
A foot kicked the bottle from her hands, sending wine across the floor like blood.
“Remove yourself Sirrah, she’s with me.” It was a soldier, too far into his cups to consider what he was getting into.
Gina lithely bounded from the startled female, his face lit up to an ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral blaze toward the swaying soldier.
“To hell with you!” bellowed the angered Ecordian, as she reached for her weapon.
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel of his dangling sword, but before his hands even touched the hilt a silvered flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews of the savage’s lashing right arm bulged from the glistening bronzed hide as his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck, lopping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.
With a nauseating thud the soldier’s head fell to the floor, followed by the rest of the body. In the confusion the soldier’s fellows confronted Gina with unsheathed cutlasses.
“He should have picked his fight more carefully,” Gina said, and she wiped her blade on the prostrate body before returning it to its scabbard.
“The fool should have shown more prudence,” said one the dead man’s comrades. “But you shall rue your actions while you rot in the pits. Let go of your sword, barbarian, or you shall find a foot of steel in your gut.”
Gina’s first instinct was to fight, but she hesitated. She was hopelessly outnumbered, and trying to fight her way out of this was certain death. She dropped her sword arm to her side.
“I will go without a struggle,” she said.
“Your decision is a wise one, yet perhaps you would have been better off had you forced death.” The soldier smirked knowingly as he prodded Gina onward with his sword point.
After an indiscriminate period of marching the procession confronted a massive palace surrounded by an iron grating, with a lush garden upon all sides. Gina was led along a stone pathway bordered by plush vegetation Upon reaching the palace the group was granted entrance, and after several minutes of explanation, led through to a richly draped chamber.
Confronting the group was a short stocky man seated upon a golden throne. Tapestries of richly draped regal blue silk covered all walls of the chamber, while the steps leading to the throne were plated with sparkling white ivory. The man upon the throne had a naked wench seated at each of his arms, and a trusted advisor seated in back of him. At each corner of the chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes supported in their hands, golden chain mail adorning their torsos and barred helmets with scarlet plumes on their heads. The man rose from his throne to the dais surrounding it. His plush turquoise robe dangled loosely from his chunky frame.
The soldiers surrounding Gina fell to their knees with heads bowed to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity to their sovereign, liege.
“Explain the purpose of this intrusion!”
“Your serenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we have brought this yokel before you –” the soldier gestured toward Gina — “for the redress or your all-knowing wisdom in judgment regarding her fate.”
“Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your sovereign!” The pudgy noble demanded.
“By the surly beard of Mrifk, Gina kneels to no man!”
“You dare to deal this act to me? You are indeed brave, stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness.”
“I find you to be the only fool, sitting on your throne, enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of your elaborate luxury and…” The soldier standing at Gina’s side struck her heavily in the face.
The king’s face flushed suddenly and his lips trembled with rage.
“Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery, and be sure that her agonies are long and drawn out before death can release her.”
“As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded immediately,” answered the soldier on the right of Gina.
The advisor seated in the back of the noble slowly rose and advanced to the side of his master, motioning the wenches seated at his sides to remove themselves. He lowered his head and whispered to the noble.
“Eminence, the punishment you have decreed will cause much misery to this scum, yet it will last only a short time, then release her to a land beyond the sufferings of the human body. Why not mellow her in one of the subterranean vaults for a few days, then send him to life labor in one of your buried mines? To one such as she, a life spent in the pits will be an far more appropriate and lasting torture.”
“As always Agafnd, you speak with great wisdom,” said the king. He turned toward Gina with a shimmer in his eyes. “The prisoner shall be removed to one of the palace’s underground vaults. There she shall stay until I have decided that she has sufficiently suffered, whereupon she is to spend the remainder of her days in one of my mines.”
Gina realized that her fate would be far less merciful than death to one such as she, used to roaming the countryside at will. A life of confinement would be more than his body and mind could stand up to. This would be worse than death.
“I shall never understand the ways of your civilization. I simply defend my honor and am condemned by a pig,” said Gina.
“Enough of this! Away with the slut before I loose my control!”
Seeing the peril of her position, Gina cast prudence to the wind, and plowed into the soldier at her left. Taking hold of his sword, she leapt to the dais supporting the prince before the startled guards could regain their composure. Agafnd leaped toward Gina and his sire, but found a sword blade buried between his ribs before he could loose his weapon.
The councilor slumped to his knees, dead, as Gina drew back her blade. The fat prince quivered in fear.
“Where are your wisdom and power now, your majesty?” asked Gina.
The prince went rigid as Gina saw him gazing over her shoulder. She swiveled, prepared to unleash a vicious parry, but fell short as the haft of a steel pike struck her in the head, and she fell into darkness.
Vortoj de la Maradanto 