Excerpts, Serials, and Out-of-Print

Röthgâr narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, until there was barely a dagger blade's width between them. "And do you believe you can do this?"

Medb gave him a cryptic smile. "Let us say they have well-placed confidence in my ability to accomplish these kinds of tasks."

Smiling coldly in return, Röthgâr said, "The fact that I was able to leave Ulthar, despite the number and severity of my exploits, should tell you that I will be difficult to get the better of." He reached up and ran the fingertips of his large and powerful hand along the line of her jaw. "Let me offer you an alternative. I shall be leaving in the morning. Come feast and drink with me today, then share my bed tonight. If you please me, I shall leave you a rich reward. You may then return to your friends and pay them off, and tell them any story you like." As he spoke, he dropped his hand down to her large, well-rounded bosom and grasped one of her breasts, squeezing the firm flesh.

Grinning, she said, "I am amused by your suggestion, for I intended to propose something similar. We shall have three challenges. If I win all three, you must accompany me back to Ulthar to make restitution. If, however, you win even just one, I shall let you have your way with me, and then I will return to Ulthar alone and make restitution in your stead. Is that agreeable?"

He returned her a predatory smile of his own. "It is. How shall we choose the contests?"

"You may select the first two, but I will choose the last."

Röthgâr bellowed with laughter. "Agreed, and for the first challenge I choose a drinking contest."

Gesturing with her free hand and nodding her head, Medb replied, "Lead the way." And the barbarian trotted off down the street.

Medb hung back to allow him to get ahead of her. "I don't like this, Mistress," Teehar remarked. He was a crested, long-tailed bird the size of a jay, with gaudy red, blue, green, and gold plumage, and sharp scarlet eyes.

"Did you think this would be as easy as catching birds?"

"Mistress, please!"

Medb chuckled. "My apologies."

"Teehar is justified in his worry, Lady," advised Conaed. He was only half the size of his race, but his verdigris-speckled bronze coat was darker, and his tarnished silver facial stripes brighter, than that of his brethren. His peat-brown eyes were huge compared to his face, and his nose was long and flexible, and festooned with wriggling pink tendrils at the tip. "Röthgâr has a reputation for being insatiable, whether it be food, drink, or women. Even with thy stamina, thou mayest not be able to best him."

"You should have more faith in my appetites, Runt," and she laughed.

"I have no doubts," Crème volunteered. He had a rangy stocky build, a bronze-striped, fawn-colored, short-hair coat, a salmon-pink nose, and dust-blue eyes. "But my people have an old saying: trust in Bast, but keep your mice caged. I have already spoken with the cats of the village. They will keep an eye on this barbarian, and should he try to slip away, they will hunt him down and subdue him."

"I appreciate your common-sense precautions, but by dawn tomorrow Röthgâr will be under my control."

Medb saw the barbarian vanish inside a tavern, so she hurried to catch up. She entered in time to see him greeting the proprietor with a bear hug and slaps on the back. Röthgâr then jumped onto a table.

"My friends!" he shouted, drowning out the hubbub of conversation, "you are in luck, for today this magnificent and generously endowed wench —" and he indicated Medb, who bowed to a chorus of cheers, catcalls, and lewd comments "— has challenged me to a series of contests. The first shall be one of indulgence, so clear away a table that we may begin. Landlord! Two tankards of your finest home brew."

In no time, a table was prepared by the boisterous patrons, and Röthgâr sat himself down in one of the chairs. Medb placed the Zoog in another and took a third opposite the barbarian as Teehar flitted to the back of Conaed's chair. Crème hopped into the fourth as a patron took charge of her spear and sword. Moments later the tavernkeeper reappeared, followed by two beefy serving wenches, each carrying a ceramic tankard nearly as large as a gallon barrel on a thick pewter tray.

The proprietor placed one in front of each contestant, then stepped back into the crowd. "In this contest," Röthgâr explained, "whichever one of us downs the contents of his tankard first is the winner."

"So simple?" Medb objected. "Then let us make it more interesting. Landlord, two swallows of your worst rotgut." When the barbarian gave her a quizzical look, she added, "Regardless of who finishes first, the winner will be she who can keep it down while drinking one last swallow."

Baffled, the crowd buzzed with speculation, but Röthgâr grinned and shouted, "Agreed!" as he gave the table a hearty slap. The two then lifted their tankards with both hands, clacked them together in salute, and began to drink. Medb could see that the barbarian's strategy was to chugalug, so that he could consume large quantities at a time. However, she also noticed that each time he was forced to rest for some moments before taking another drink. As such, she decided to take frequent sips, so that while she consumed less, she drank more frequently and needed no rest.

Conaed coordinated the betting, as Teehar collected the coins and delivered them to Crème, who watched over the growing pile, being a cat and therefore a trusted neutral party. Eventually, however, it became apparent who would win. Though Röthgâr's tankard decreased the most early on, the time between draughts increased and the amount he swallowed grew less, so that his tankard drained more slowly over time. Meanwhile, Medb increased the frequency and size of her sips, until her tankard's level first met, then passed his.

At almost the last second, however, a patron stumbled into the barbarian and jostled his arm. The last of his tankard spilled onto the floor just as Medb drained hers. Cries of "Tie!" and "Foul, cheat!" filled the air, but Medb silenced them by pounding her fist on the table. "I accept the tie," she declared, which brought about a round of boos and hurrahs. Silencing the crowd again, she announced, "Now for the final swallow!"

The tavernkeeper came out of the crowd, carrying a shot glass in each hand. He set them in front of Medb and Röthgâr as another round of betting commenced. "We drink simultaneously," Medb said; "landlord, give the command." And she and the barbarian picked up their glasses. The crowd grew silent as they raised the liquor to their lips, keeping an eye on each other. When they had brought the glasses to their mouths, the tavernkeeper shouted, "Drink!" At the same instant, both contestants snapped back their heads, poured the liquid into their mouths, and swallowed.

Everyone held their breath as Medb and Röthgâr froze. The former queen hiccupped once, twice, then burped loudly. After a short pause, she slammed the glass down onto the table with a resounding thud, her face beaming in triumph.

The barbarian, however, turned a vivid shade of pea-green, grabbed his empty tankard, and vomited up the ale.

Dead silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of Röthgâr retching. Conaed, Crème, and Teehar gave the crowd nervous looks, expecting trouble, but then the tavernkeeper stepped forward and raised Medb's hand over her head as some members of the crowd cheered. Even those who had bet on Röthgâr acknowledged her victory, if in a somewhat sullen fashion.

Conaed paid off the bets, after deducting a small commission, while Medb waited for Röthgâr to recover. Fortunately, far more people had bet on the barbarian than the former queen, so the Zoog was able to pay even the exorbitant odds he had offered and still make a killing.

Röthgâr gave Medb an evil look. "You were lucky," he said, to which she merely shrugged, "but I shall prevail in the next test. I choose single combat."

Unperturbed, Medb agreed, then inquired, "What are the rules?"

"We each choose a weapon, but no knives or daggers. The first to land three blows or make three cuts or knock the other off his or her feet three times, or any combination of three such strikes, shall be the winner."

"Agreed. Which weapon will you choose?"

In reply, Röthgâr stood and removed his belt. He then pulled out his sword before handing the belt to the landlord. The weapon was shorter than Medb's own, but thicker and heavier, with a keen edge on both sides of the blade and a sharp point. The tip was also slightly wider than the base. Medb heard a few of the patrons gasped when they saw it, but she understood why; it was designed to chop as well as slash and stab.

"I choose my sleg," Medb replied as she stood and took her spear back from the man who held it. It stood eight feet tall, tipped by a foot-long, leaf-shaped blade with a serrated edge. A new wave of betting got underway as the contestants headed out into the street.

"How are we goin' to know when one of yous been hit or cut?" a voice from the crowd called out, and his was seconded by many more.

Shouting above the tumult, Röthgâr declared, "We will fight naked to the waist." Turning to Medb he asked, "If you agree?"

Medb did not hesitate, but removed her cloak, then her belt and shoes. Finally she reached up and untied the lacings at her shoulders, letting her long-sleeved, ankle-length gown fall to her feet. The crowd gasped again, this time at the sight of naked body. Whereas she had been magnificent dressed, she was now breathtaking.

The landlord collected her clothes as she headed out into the street. A few snickers and obscene comments followed her, but all she had to do was pause and look back at the crowd to silence the hecklers. Erotic she may have appeared, but the sight of her muscular, powerful frame, her look of cold disdain, and the presence of that wicked-bladed spear put off even the most lecherous cretin. Meanwhile, Röthgâr removed his fur tunic, followed by his leather byrnie, leaving only his tied leggings, before following the former queen into the middle of the avenue.

They took a moment to cross weapons in salute, then they began circling one another. It took Medb only a few moments to analyze Röthgâr's tactics. He expected her to use her spear as a long-distance stabbing weapon, so he planned to get inside her reach where she couldn't maneuver well, and then score his three hits. But she had fought this kind of attack before, and knew how to counter it. When he lunged forward, she wielded her spear like a staff, whirling it around as she twisted, spun, danced, kicked, and slashed. She was able to hold him at bay with the serrated blade even as she parried his sword thrusts and struck at him with the shaft. He simply couldn't get close to her, and she was gratified to see anger build on his face.

A moment's distraction on his part gave her the opportunity to ram the butt of the shaft into his stomach.

"That's one!" shouted the tavernkeeper.

Growling in frustration, Röthgâr renewed the battle with double intensity, but to no avail. Even after he managed to break her spear in half she fought on without hesitation, using one piece as a club and the other like a short sword. He pressed the attack with a thrusting slash, but she parried it with the blade, only to whack the wrist of his sword hand with the ersatz club. As the weapon dropped from his nerveless fingers, she whirled and hit him on the back of his neck, sending him sprawling on his face into the dirt.

"She won!" a disbelieving voice shouted from the crowd, which was answered by a number of cheers, but the landlord called out, "No, that counts as one blow!" Several angry voices disputed him, but Medb announced, "I accept the judgment!" and the threatening tumult died away as a wave of disgruntled grumbling.

"For your last blow," the tavernkeeper informed her, "you must throw him down again." That elicited a fresh burst of incensed objections, but Medb just smiled and nodded her head. She then took a moment to pick up Röthgâr's sword and toss it aside. Still stunned from her blow, he looked up at her, unable to object, but then she tossed the pieces of her spear after it. The crowd murmured its surprise at her inexplicable action, but she kept her eye on Röthgâr. As she expected, he seized the opportunity. Reinvigorated by hope, he pushed himself to his feet and charged her. She knew he would try to grapple her, bear her down, and pin her to the ground, but she used her agility to keep out of his grasp as she rained kicks and punches on him. Still, he proved tougher than she expected; he managed to avoid getting hit in a vital area and absorbed her blows as he waited for an opening.

It came sooner than either of them expected, when she tried to trip him. He managed to get one arm around her waist, and as she twisted away, he used her momentum to spin her around so that she faced him. He wrapped both arms around her chest and pinned her against him as he pressed a fist into her spine. He squeezed as hard as he dared, trying to cut off her breath without breaking her back. Rather than struggle, however, she relaxed, then expelled her breath. When she felt his arms slacken, she pulled hers free and boxed his ears in one rapid, fluid motion.

Crying out, he let go of her out of reflex, and as he held his ringing head she stepped up to him and rammed the heel of one hand up under his chin. The blow threw his head back and pitched him off his feet; he then crashed onto the ground with a resounding thud.

The blow knocked him unconscious. He was only out for a few seconds, but it was long enough to prove that he had been beaten. She stood over him as he came around. He stared at up at her in disbelief as she held out her hand. Then he gave her a glum frown and took it, and she helped him to his feet. He shook it, though, as a gesture of respect.

Yet he was quick to recover his good humor. "And now," he asked, "what contest do you choose?"

Medb made no spoken reply; she simply took him by the head and kissed him hard on the mouth. When she pulled back she said, "We fornicate until one of us is too exhausted to get out of bed."

Surprised by the unexpected challenge, Röthgâr nonetheless agreed, giving her a wide grin.

"How're we ta know who really wins?" another voice from the crowd called out, and again a chorus of additional voices seconded it.

"I am not adverse to an audience," Medb said, giving them all a wicked smile, but Röthgâr refused, embarrassed.

"I will be the witness," announced Crème, and the gamblers agreed that would be fair.

The landlord offered them the use of one of his rooms, and he led Medb and Röthgâr back into the tavern and up a flight of stairs, Crème following in their wake. A few minutes later he descended, then sat himself in a chair at the foot of the stairs to prevent, as he put it, any peeking. As such, the patrons had no choice but to settle in with their drinks and content themselves with listening to the moans and shrieks of agonized pleasure that seeped down through the ceiling.

Conaed kept the bidding going all night, with the tavernkeeper holding the money. The odds fluctuated back and forth, often as a result of changing speculation over which of the two contestants made the most noise, but shortly before dawn they stabilized at even money not long after the sounds ceased altogether. For another hour the patrons waited, their anxiety growing. Some suggested they go up and see what was happening, and it wasn't long before more insistent demands were made. The landlord continued his stubborn vigil, but as time dragged on even his resolve began to weaken. Yet when he finally decided to check up on the contestants himself, everyone heard the door open upstairs. A minute later, Crème appeared on the landing. In his loudest caterwaul he announced, "The contest has ended; all hail the champion." And as he descended, Medb, now fully dressed and appearing quite rested, followed him down.

+ + + + +

Röthgâr slept until noon, when he awoke, dressed, and ate a huge lunch. He and Medb started back to Ulthar soon after. Her purse and a couple of other bags bulged almost to bursting with her winnings and the Zoog's commission. For his part, Conaed rode on her shoulder while the cat and the bird scouted ahead.

The barbarian and the former queen walked in silence for some time before they tried to strike up a conversation. "I was surprised I did not have to come looking for you when I was ready to leave," she remarked, trying to sound casual.

He shrugged and said, "I had given you my word; besides, it strikes me that you are a woman worth getting to know better."

Medb smiled out of pride. "I would have thought you found out all there was to know last night."

He waved her comment off. "That was mere physical investigation; I want to know what you are like as a person, not just as a woman."

"Such as?"

"Such as, why did you suggest a series of contests instead of simply taking me by force?"

"It would have been easier for me, as well as yourself, if you agreed to return to Ulthar of your own free will, and I decided that the best way to accomplish this would be to appeal to your honor. Also, I wanted to find out what kind of man you are; as such, they were tests of character as well as strength, endurance, and skill, and you won the final, unspoken challenge when you did not run away. Besides, as much as possible I prefer to mix pleasure with business."

"But how were you able to win so easily?"

Medb laughed in genuine amusement. "Well, as to that, I am afraid you were beaten before we began."

"How so?" he asked, sounding incredulous.

"I have certain special talents and abilities that I have acquired throughout my life, as well as natural abilities I was born with. For example, I cannot become drunk, I am invulnerable to any weapon made by the hand of man, and I can draw power from the earth, so my strength and vitality are inexhaustible. Nor can I be harmed by disease, injury, or drinking hard liquor on top of rich, heady ale. And I can rob men of their strength simply by being near them. Also, despite my appearance, I am quite old, older than you would probably believe. As such, I have forgotten far more about armed and unarmed combat than you could ever learn."

"So you cheated," he said, but without reproof.

"No," she corrected, "I fought fairly and without resorting to any tricks or magic, but you were outclassed."

"All that I can accept without rancor, but what really hurt was when we had sex; you exhausted me after only a short time, while you were able to continue on until dawn. I need three good women to satisfy me, so I cannot understand how you used me up so quickly."

Medb laughed again. "Actually, that is very simple: I need seven men to satisfy me."

"Oh, well, in that case, it all makes sense. I never had a chance, did I?"

"No."

Röthgâr fell silent for some minutes afterwards, but then he started to laugh. "That's a great relief!" And when Medb gave him a quizzical look he added, "I was afraid I was loosing my amateur standing."

"I do not understand."

Looking rather sheepish, he explained, "I'm not actually a barbarian, I just play one here. In the Waking World, I'm an accountant."

She halted abruptly, turning towards him. "An accountant," she repeated, in an incredulous tone of voice.

"Yes, that's someone who —"

"I now what an accountant is," she snapped. "I just find it hard to believe you were able to hold your own against me as well as you did. Not to mention somewhat humiliating. But why the masquerade?"

Röthgâr chuckled. "Pure escapism. What with a million dollar mortgage, a wife who likes living beyond our means, three teenage kids who think I'm an ATM machine, and a dead-end job at a loser firm with a martinet of a boss, this is all that keeps me sane."

"But why a barbarian?" she asked mystified; "that seems so at odds with your normal life."

He gave her a frank stare. "Have you any idea how many people in my time dream of being a mighty, uncivilized, half-naked, sword-wielding warrior, who can drink, wench, slay, and destroy with inexhaustible impunity? But I guess that's not enough. I'll never be half the barbarian you are."

Medb looked at him for a moment or two, then gave him a warm smile. "That has to be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." Taking hold of his arm as she resumed walking, she added, "Stay with me, and I will be pleased to teach you everything you need to know."