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 />
A long breath, in, out. Let pain flow out, let anger flow out, let fear flow out.<br />
"No one followed you, huh, Fren?" Cards slapped on the table, as Patappas dealt, the pack laid on the<br />
table for his one h<strong>and</strong> to deal from.<br />
"Followed me? Why in Hayel would you think anyone would follow me?"<br />
"Just asking."<br />
"Maybe a stray dog. Or a werewolf." Outside it was getting dark.<br />
Take up the death of your enemies.<br />
Another breath. Let the awareness of the body return; accept the weakness, pain, torn muscle,<br />
joint-ache of fever. Accept, let them pass through. The body has its own reserves, the last horded<br />
strength for extremity. The trained will can summon it. She did, <strong>and</strong> felt her pupils flare wide. Her skin<br />
chilled <strong>and</strong> roughened as the capillaries under it squeezed, forcing her blood back toward the heart. A<br />
trickle of slaver ran down from one corner of her mouth as the lips ridged. The darkness went lighter,<br />
sharp-edged but distant.<br />
Take up your own death.<br />
She rose, almost smoothly, <strong>and</strong> stripped off the hampering skirt. Ripped the tunic down, a moment's<br />
distraction might mean the difference between killing <strong>and</strong> dying.<br />
Killing <strong>and</strong> dying are one. Kill until you die.<br />
Gravel crunched under her feet, <strong>and</strong> the feral scent of flowers gone wild, overblown summer roses.<br />
Buckler <strong>and</strong> sword went behind her back. She halted before the door.<br />
"Helloin there," she called, st<strong>and</strong>ing two paces back.<br />
The peephole opened, throwing light into her eyes.<br />
"Go away, bitch," an Arkan voice said, halfway between anger <strong>and</strong> alarm. "No food, no shelter. Get<br />
lost."<br />
You are the sword. Steel does nothing; it is the hardheartthat kills .<br />
"Death," she muttered, unconscious of the action. The point of the longsword slotted through the<br />
peephole, <strong>and</strong> the impact ran back up the steel to her wrist. A crunching feeling as the point punched<br />
through just above the nose, then a thud as the body hit the door when she jerked back on the sword to<br />
free it. Her good leg swung up, kicking flat-footed next to the latch; old dry-rotted wood shattered with a<br />
crack <strong>and</strong> a puff of brown dust, <strong>and</strong> the door gave. The stab of pain up her injured leg was nothing,<br />
something happening to someone else far away; she stopped it from buckling under her with brisk<br />
impatience. Through the door, shouldering it aside <strong>and</strong> stepping over the body of a man, eyes still wide in<br />
final surprise. Others around a table. One clutching the arm of ablond boy whose eyes were kh'eeredo's