Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...
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Sadsaddon'tshownowhimpersneak, Shkai'ra thought back. Aloud: "I will, my heart. You also. Go well,<br />
both of you."<br />
"This I don't like,kras ," Bukangkt said, as the column halted in the shade of the great trees. It had<br />
probably been some ArkanAitzas's hunting preserve until recently, looked too manicured for wild wood.<br />
"I think I can take care of myself for an hour or so, centurion," she said. Promotions had come thick <strong>and</strong><br />
fast among Shkai'ra's Slaughterers, this past month; five hundred lances were under her comm<strong>and</strong> now,<br />
<strong>and</strong> doing well enough some regulars from allied contingents had tried slipping in as mercenaries. She<br />
waved to indicate their surroundings. "I want that ravine about two klicks west checked thoroughly,<br />
though."<br />
The battalion Shkai'ra was comm<strong>and</strong>ing were on outrider screen today; the Arkans were backing again,<br />
through an area that was mostly rolling plain. The wheat had been reaped <strong>and</strong> carted but there were big<br />
cornfields just tasseling out, <strong>and</strong> occasional copses of oak <strong>and</strong> beech like this, many hectares in extent.<br />
Deceptive country, you thought you could see as far as on a steppe, but there was enough cover to hide<br />
substantial bodies of troops. They had just passed a village; the locals were mostly slaves <strong>and</strong> eager<br />
enough to help—the Alliance army was trailing an enormous rabble of them now, armed with whatever<br />
<strong>and</strong> making up for lack of training in bloodthirsty enthusiasm—but here they'd known nothing useful<br />
except that a column of Imperial cavalry had passed through a day before, burning or stealing the grain<br />
harvest. The local l<strong>and</strong>owners had left a month ago.<br />
"You comm<strong>and</strong>," Bukangkt said, saluting in Yeoli style. His company fell in to the trumpet <strong>and</strong> formed<br />
column of fours, trotting off into the waves of yellow stubble.<br />
That left Shkai'ra with her st<strong>and</strong>ardbearer <strong>and</strong> a few messengers; she spent the next several hours finding<br />
tasks for them. Afternoon in high summer was no joke here in the southl<strong>and</strong>s, <strong>and</strong> the woman with the<br />
Slaughterer's banner—a fanged skull impaled on a sword; Shkai'ra thought it rather fetching, <strong>and</strong> had<br />
been surprised at the odd looks—was an Aenir from the Brezhan, unaccustomed to such weather. Also<br />
unaccustomed to Arkan steel sheet-armor, such as the whole unit was wearing now; her round pink face<br />
shone <strong>and</strong> sweat dripped out of the sodden sponge lining of her helmet, falling on the breastplate with a<br />
plink… plink sound.<br />
"Here," Shkai'ra said, offering one of the canteens at her saddlebow; experienced troops always carried<br />
extra. "Don't want you passing out from the heat."<br />
"Tenk you,kras ," the trooper replied, surprised. She had gotten the coveted position of st<strong>and</strong>ardbearer<br />
for conspicuous bravery. Her nickname of "Mad Cow" had been earned more recently, for a studied<br />
indifference to discipline remarkable even in one of her race, <strong>and</strong> she had been expecting to be broken to<br />
the ranks for weeks now.<br />
Another half hour, <strong>and</strong> the Aenir woman was yawning <strong>and</strong> nodding, bringing her head up with a jerk<br />
every time the chin-guard wentclink on the gorget.<br />
"Unsaddle <strong>and</strong> sack out for a while," Shkai'ra said.<br />
Mad Cow Zoltanova was probably the only soldier in the Slaughterers who would have obeyed that<br />
order with quite so much unthinking eagerness. Her comm<strong>and</strong>er took the banner, waiting until Zoltanova<br />
was snoring before kissing the victory ribbons <strong>and</strong> leaning the staff reverently against a tree. Then she<br />
took the leading reins of her two spare horses <strong>and</strong> cut the trooper's beast loose, half-grinning down at the<br />
sleeping form.