Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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superior weapons and armor, and were proving murderously quick and skilled at foot combat as well.
Knots of them drew together, back-to-back, hacked their way toward the woods and flowed together to
make bigger groups, locking shield to shield. Light-armed Hyeme were thrown back from shieldwalls and
long swords.
It would cost too heavily to overwhelm them, and she had accomplished the mission; neither the Arkan
skirmishers nor these lancers were going to support the pike-phalanx in the gap. Her trumpeter was still
mounted. "Soundretreat-and-rally ," she told him, thumping him on the shoulder to emphasize it.
The melee was a mess, twisting stamping horses, threshing swords above it, dust and bits of grass rising
up and wounded humans and horses threshing or crawling on the ground, and Hotblood's unearthly
squeal over it all, as he grabbed a wounded Arkan by the back of the neck and shook him like a rat;
Shkai'ra could feel the quasi-sexual rush of pleasure he felt as the bone snap. No one was obeying fast
enough. "Retreat, Zaikdammit!" she screamed. Bukangkt was there, a cut across one cheek of his
half-Lakan face; between them they got the others to pull back.
The Hyeme went loping among the Slaughterers, some with enough energy left to whoop and leap,
others hanging grimly onto stirrup-leathers or lowered hands. The wounded came draped over cavalry
horses, some on spare Arkan mounts if a friend had had time to grab the reins; the Hyerne carried some
on chair-hands, running despite their burdens. Anyone too badly hurt to get up or call for help was just
out of luck. Suddenly there was time to notice the dryness in her mouth, the way her armor squeezed at
her ribs… she forced her breathing slow and deep, hawked and spat.
The remnants of the Imperial horse were pulling back too, but she could see light infantry moving in the
bush, sun twinkling on their barbed javelins. Sova and her Yeoli were too far back, a wounded rider
between them, his feet dragging and their swordhands under his armpits. She reined in, swearing.Good
riding, though . They handed him over to someone with an extra horse—and wheeled back for the
bloodied field.
Shit…! It looked safe, the Arkan cavalry were all gone; some friend of Sneeze-name was lying on the
field, no doubt.Nobody knows the difference between courage and stupidity at that age . She stood
in the stirrups and shouted at them—too far. Though not too far to hear the trumpeter blowing "retreat"; it
wasn't just stupidity, but disobedience in the face of the enemy. Cold anger grew in her.
"Rally them a hundred meters further back," she said to Bukangkt, then spurred toward the two. Sova
was going to hug the post for this, and Sneeze-name beside her… if they lived.Zaik and Baiwun hear
me , she thought.I'll keep her alive, if I have to kill her myself to do it .
The pair had another body slung over Sova's horse, and cantered back towards the Alliance cavalry,
glancing over their shoulders now and then,zteafakaz casual. Shkai'ra shouted and waved, seeing what
they hadn't: the barbed javelin arching high from the woods, plunging down.
A horse sacrifice to you, Victory-Begetter, she prayed, helpless, as she rocked into a gallop toward
them. "Heads up,heads up !" Zaik, or Glitch, godlet of mischance, heard her even if they didn't; the
weapon plunged over Sova's shoulder and into Sneeze-name's horse, just behind the saddle. It gave a
huge buck; he was thrown, landed badly, lay still.
And Sova actually started to dismount.
"Keep moving—I'll get him!" Shkai'ra shouted, close enough now to clout the girl on the side of the
helmet. She passed at a gallop, down with one foot out of the stirrups, snatched the Yeoli's collar.