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

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"Aaaahhhhhghgh—"
The Arkan with the mace reeled away, face slashed across. Sova felt Shkai'ra's saber wobble slightly in
her hand. The Slaughterers had kept true to their name, here at the tunnel's inward end; it was
hand-to-hand now, but the dead from their archery stretched back scores of meters, where Arko's last
stand had been crushed from both sides. Yeolis and A-niah came laughing and leaping to meet them,
arms outstretched, the cry echoing through the tunnel: "Victory!"
Then came the impact on her thigh: so hard it didn't hurt at first, only made spots of grey form like clouds
before her eyes.The moment's slip of awareness … the Arkan with the mace had just been reeling, not
down, maybe blinded, but not weakened enough not to make one last blundering but death-throe-strong
blow. She looked at her leg, saw nothing—Zak chain-mail didn't dent—and wondered whether she'd
imagined it. Then the pain came, dizzying. Her leg wouldn't move. Someone cut the Arkan down.
She wiped and sheathed the sword, her hands shaking, taking a little time to find the scabbard.What do
I do? I'm wounded. This is what it feels like. I'm wounded, but it doesn't show. No one will believe
me. Where do I go ? Bukangkt was smiling, cold and unpleasant, as they rode out of the archway over a
carpet of Arkan bodies, some still moving; the horses placed their feet cautiously, the riders looked down
and stabbed with lance or swordpoint to make sure the Arkan dead stayed that way. The Lakan threw
his hands up and his head back in exultation as they came into the clear, sun so bright she had to
half-close her eyes. The inside gate was flanked by two marble wing-lions, each big as a house.
It was over; not just the battle, the whole war. Sova dragged off her helmet. Every instant of her horse's
lurching became agony. She swilled water around her mouth, spitting before she drank, felt sick as she
swallowed. The view ahead was breathtaking; from this angle at least, the huge marble-white mass of
Arko was beautiful, the most beautiful city she'd ever seen. But fires sprouted all over it; from here she
could see little figures ant-tiny with distance running through the streets.
Bukangkt turned in his saddle. "We won!" It was quiet here, compared to the tunnel, and his voice
carried to them all. "Here, the richest city in world, waiting for us with legs spread! Plunder and burn!
Forward !" Sova wanted to throw up.
Megan watched the battle on the plain push closer and closer to the cliff-edge; in spots the first climbers
had already reached it and were lowering ropes. The Arkans facing them had either fled sideways or
been forced over the edge.
She lowered the far-lookers and took a swig of water. Even if the battle were in effect over, it would still
be a while. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed more smoke starring to rise in the City. She peered
through the lookers.
Another thin column of smoke rose to join the first two, thickening black instead of thinning… then
panning she found a fourth in a wildly different spot. She pulled the glasses away from her face as if she
could see better without them; the scene shrank to flickers of light and ant-crawlings; she snapped them
up again. It made no difference, even these lenses couldn't look down into a city, through ground. More
smoke.
The City's on fire. The fish-gutted City's on fire. You were hiding that. Itwaswhat you were hiding,
damn you, Chevenga! If Lixand is there … She checked her pouch, felt the crinkling of her map.I've