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

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"Who do you think you are fighting?" he said, voice death-low. "When you are fighting me, you are
fighting all the world, and all its denizens."The timing couldn't be better , she thought,if we'd rehearsed
for a year . They stood as if his laughter, his words, had driven nails through the top of their heads, the
one supposedly helpless, holding four in terror. She felt a laugh inside and choked it back;later . Then,no
. She giggled, shrill in the night, one short, high chuckle that wouldn't let them pinpoint where she was.
Slowly, she cocked her next knife back. Ican't do anything difficult. Just nice, easy throws. Wait for
them, juggle all the bits of self, concentrating on everything, and nothing. Watch him, stay in
harmony with him. Save concentration for throwing . It was still four to two, and one of the good
side hung in a trap.
She floated in a sea of bits of herself, treading water, treading power, feeling it all around her. She could
only use it in trickles. She reached and the warmth flowed in to fill all the spaces that people could not
touch. She watched from a clear distance away in her mind, knew the next move would be perfect as if
practiced a thousand thousand times. Her hand trembled no longer. She was at center at last, drawing in,
drawing in to a tighter and tighter point, like the smooth scent of brandy, the calm of a shark swimming.
"Fuck it to Hayelf." One was brave. His voice sounded small and desperate against the hum, as against
sea-waves crashing in an endless roar. "We've got Snefenkas strung up for our taking! Think of the
reward we'd get!" Two went on staring out into the woods; the other two spun their spears around to
strike with the points, to kill.
"Come on, then." He grinned at them. "You'll have an easier time with me than with my… friends." One
faltered, hung back, then stepped forward, reluctantly. Megan's hum felt somehow outside of her too,
now, shaking the bones of her skull like the drone of a wasp caught and stinging in the eardrum.
Now they were stabbing, not clubbing, harder to turn for one without his feet on the ground.Hang on.
Hang on, Invincible, Immortal. Time, Koru, time… "Ya-a-a-ahai !" An Arkan triumph-cry, as
spear-head scraped across sword-edge,off-line, angle wrong shit shit shit , jabbed to a halt in flesh.
Hisleft arm, near the armpit . The dagger slipped out of Chevenga's fingers, to fall orange in the grass
and fade out like an ember spat out of a fire. "Hah? Ya-hah!" The Arkan twisted the spear in the wound,
hard, worked it back and forth a few times, then yanked it out tearing loose a spray of blood, and a gasp
from between Chevenga's bared teeth. His eyes still stared, but had turned pain-frenzied; she saw him
seize control of his breathing by will.Do something. NOW .
"See! He can bleed!" The Arkan spoke, turning, raising his head to look at his own bloodstained
weapon.His throat, clear —her dagger was there, glowing like a chip of sun. He went down, not dead,
but strangling around the metal in his throat, heels drumming with a dull, hollow sound. In the knife-glare
his blood was like lava, brighter than Arkan red armor.
Chevenga spoke Megan's thought, deathly-hoarse even as she thought it; this was like the harmony she
had with Shkai'ra, somehow. "Andyou can die." Despite his own blood half-coating his face, he smiled
again, beckoning with his sword, gold-teeth flashing through crimson, a sight out of a nightmare. The two
with torches stood, shifting, yearning to flee, afraid to flee; the third held his spear half-raised country-boy
Arkan face frozen in a flash-instant of terror. Her detachment was slipping, starting to tear like a
too-often washed shirt. She struggled to hold onto bits and pieces as they were sucked out of her with
the ebbing of themanrauq .
Chevenga's voice went on, a black gravelly droning in the soul, explaining as if to slow-witted children; in
her weakness it seemed unreal, a voice in a bad dream. "Half of you are dead, without even knowing
what you face. If all of you go, I get away. If one of you goes for help, he'll be alone in the dark woods.