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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man with a wide b<strong>and</strong>age that was turning freshly red on one leg, rear up lifting a cot, <strong>and</strong> fling it at an<br />
Arkan, unhorsing him. But soon he was run down. She saw another Arkan scan all around, javelin<br />
cocked in his h<strong>and</strong>, find a fleeing Haian, aim <strong>and</strong> throw…They're going after them. They're going<br />
after Haians .<br />
"Echerry!" Get in front of him. He was still fighting her, the closest Arkan within two horse-lengths.<br />
That one twisted in the saddle, while his horse's legs knocked over the bed two beds down with a crash,<br />
tearing a saline drip loose from an arm. The weight of armor that had bowed Sova's shoulders a moment<br />
before seemed weightless. She drew her sword; it caught in the tent-rigging over her head. The plated<br />
arm, scarlet-lacquered, whipped forward; she began to move, no time, the edge of the spear banged off<br />
the shoulder of her hauberk <strong>and</strong> stunned her shield-arm—Echerry—she couldn't look backward, just<br />
struck at the Arkan's thigh. He was moving too fast past her along the row, gone.<br />
I'll cut through the tent-wall, she thought, dragging Echera-e <strong>by</strong> the wrist. He staggered, fell to<br />
kneeling, retching.I'll carry him … An Arkantoo close ! jumped his horse over a bedstruck at Echerry<br />
with a sword blood-spurtstriking at me she parried the blowgo for his legs but he parriedSunborn<br />
Elite oh Gotthummi then was past <strong>and</strong> gone.<br />
"Echerry! Echerry!" He was lying across a bed, trying feebly to pull himself up, his right foot from the<br />
upper calf down…gone. Just gone . Blood spurted out in rhythm. She grabbed him around the waist,<br />
clasping the wrist of her sword-h<strong>and</strong> with her shield-h<strong>and</strong>, dragged him back towards the tent-wall; he<br />
went rigid in her arms <strong>and</strong> yelped, then bit it back, bloodying his lips.The cutoff part of his leg, on the<br />
ground … She heaved him up higher.I'm stronger than usual . She knew it with a strange calm.<br />
"Sova." It was a weeping whisper. "Sova, I love you."Smoke —at the other end the roof of the tent <strong>and</strong><br />
beds were in flames. No Arkans came at her,thank you, Gotthummi , she was at the tent-wall. "Hold<br />
on, I haf to put you down, I haf to put you down, love." She struck a long slit through the canvas, bent to<br />
take him over her bade. He swore in Yeoli. "Kyash, kyash, kyash, I hahve to…"<br />
Outside Alliance warriors were running in, faces full of rage <strong>and</strong> naked weapons shining in firelight,<br />
pushing past her, towards a roiling fight outside.Get him away from here . Darkness between two tents.<br />
I need light . First aid lessons crowded back into her mind.Get his feet high. Tourniquet . Then<br />
someone was helping her, telling her in some strange accent to bring him in here, h<strong>and</strong>s guiding her<br />
shoulders, leading her into a tent with a soft glow of lamplight.<br />
"He's got dysentery," she breathed, <strong>and</strong> heard how quivery <strong>and</strong> tearful her own voice was. "I sorrhy, I<br />
sorrr-rny," he was moaning, "Need bed pahn, sorrhy, please…"<br />
They had to clean him with cloths, then they tightened a strap around his leg-stump just under the knee<br />
until the blood slowed to a trickle, propped his legs high <strong>and</strong> covered him with blankets.<br />
She slid close to him, took his head in her arms. "You'll be all right," she whispered. "You'll be well,<br />
you'll be fine…"Maybe he knows I'm just reassuring him because that's what you're supposed to do<br />
to keep someone from going into shock , she thought,<strong>and</strong> he won't believe me . She kept reassuring.<br />
Outside the battlecries were fading. She watched Echera-e's face contort as the pain hit him. He set his<br />
teeth, but grunting moans forced their way out of him; it made no difference how hard she held him, how<br />
much she said, "I love you." There was no painkiller here, only in the infirmary.<br />
His foot's gone, she thought then.His foot's gone. He'll be on crutches, or a peg-leg, the rest of his<br />
life. He can't be a warrior anymore. And he just became one. Azaila… I don't like it. I hate it. I<br />
hate it .