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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Generated <strong>by</strong> ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html<br />
No. Notover. You don't have me Zaik-damned yet,sheep-fuckers — Twosolas barred Shkai'ra's<br />
way. Fear vanished as combat-mind took over; the leg bore her weight, the blood was only a trickle, a<br />
muscle wound. She could force strength out of it, tearing the sliced fibers wider, maybe—worry about<br />
that later.<br />
Neither of them was armored; one was an older man, white-haired, holding a head-high staff as if he<br />
knew how to use it. The other was two meters of bad news; in his thirties <strong>and</strong> tanned brown, eyes slitted<br />
<strong>and</strong> cool, sapphires against the skin. There was a paler b<strong>and</strong> across his forehead, from the inner padding<br />
rim of a helmet, worn for years. Some sort of light dress sword in his h<strong>and</strong>,not what he used normally,<br />
but it was steel <strong>and</strong> sharp <strong>and</strong> had a point. The two Arkans looked at each other, at her, then spread out<br />
on either side, old man to her left, young to her right. It had been about a full minute since she killed the<br />
porter, enough time for most of the spectators to flee, notquite enough for help to arrive.<br />
Fast or nothing, she thought, her mind moving with crystalline speed. Feint left, toward the oldsolas .<br />
No fear in his face, only concentration; his shoulders looked thick enough to crack bones with the long<br />
oak staff. It hummed toward her, waist-high, as the younger man closed in on her right. She leaped; not<br />
straight up, that would have left her open to him when she l<strong>and</strong>ed. Forward, divingover it <strong>and</strong> to the old<br />
man's left. Jackknifing in mid-air, shoulder-high, l<strong>and</strong>ing on crossed, forearms, tucking her head <strong>and</strong><br />
curving her spine. Nothing for it but sheer speed, pulling her feet in to hasten the spin, coming up out of it<br />
<strong>and</strong> letting the point of the longsword draw her around in a blurring curve. The straight sword was less<br />
suited to the drawing slash than her saber, <strong>and</strong> she felt her h<strong>and</strong> adjust as at a distance, abstract.<br />
Soft drag of muscle against the steel, the brief hard pop of taut tendons. The oldsolas toppled backward<br />
with a cry of shock. Shkai'ra surged forward, ramming the dagger in her left h<strong>and</strong> under his ribs through<br />
the kidney, expelling her breath in ahunnhhh of effort as she tossed him off the blade <strong>and</strong> into the other<br />
man's arms.<br />
"Pah!" he screamed, face contorting.Father !<br />
Shkai'ra lunged longline, right foot advanced behind her point, left back. Long limbs <strong>and</strong> a long sword,<br />
the young man would have been spitted through the neck if he had not dropped the dying man <strong>and</strong><br />
whipped his blade around in a cross-parry. The longsword wentskringgg along the length of it <strong>and</strong> the<br />
hilts locked; she stabbed up with the dagger, felt his h<strong>and</strong> slap down on her wrist, blocking. Their feet<br />
stamped as they strained chest-to-chest, open mouths snarling. There was a glazed ferocity to his, a hint<br />
of madness. More than that in the unnatural strength that squeezed her weapons in towards her body.<br />
Her knees tensed, preparing to leap back, wrestling a strong man gone berserk with rage was abad idea.<br />
Then something locked around her thighs, iron-strong.<br />
The old man. Dying, but she would have to hammer in his skull or sever the limbs that gripped her.<br />
Instead she threw herself backward. The youngersolas came with her; she twisted as she fell on her<br />
back, but dodging the knee that would have driven the breath out of her body. His weight fell on her,<br />
pinning her arms, <strong>and</strong> she could feel him shift as their bodies grappled for advantage. Ready to shift his<br />
pinning grip to an elbow, freeing steel to kill her. There was a peculiar intimacy to the embrace, bodies<br />
seeking to make death rather than life.<br />
Only one thing to do, she thought, working her lips; the b<strong>and</strong>ages were thin there. She turned her head<br />
<strong>and</strong> thrust her mouth up onto his throat.<br />
Tough, was her first thought. Thick neck, muscles like woven cable. She bit, trying to drive the teeth in,<br />
<strong>and</strong> felt the windpipe slide outward a bit. A gasping grunt from the man above her, <strong>and</strong> she screamed