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

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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html His wooden sword quartered down from the left, neck-cut. Shield up like the wing of a soaring gull, around to stop the blow, her sword stabbing low. His shield locked against the guard of her sword, and they stood locked corps-a-corps for an instant, no open flesh to kick; he pushed, and his sword-hand and shield-hand were like the halves of a giant vise. She waited till her armsmust give way, part of a second, used his strength to throw herself back. She could hear the crowd behind, distant, half yelling for him, half good-naturedly, to her amazement, for her. They're so fucking confident, too, that they want to make it harder for him . She'd moved twenty yards back in three passages; that had to stop. The sun, out fully now, shone in his eyes but didn't slow his responses.If there were sand I might try to kick some into his face; but they were on thick sod. And it might do no good anyway. If you can't win, cheat. A trick she'd learned from a Senlaw street-bravo, impossible to block. She attacked hard, faster than she could maintain, pushing herself past the reserve against extremity; he defended, waiting for her last strength to wear out.Beautiful, beautiful, nothing wasted . All her strikes were high-line, advancing a series of running fleches to the throat, long-lunge. He parried against the tip of the sword, stopping her movement with the threat of running herself onto his point. Once she tried to hit his wrist, but the steel band of his wristlet glanced her point.Bad luck —but the exchange distracted him from her shield. She'd been working her arm out of the grips. One last high-line, the point stabbing down with the hilt above her head, and she snapped it at his shins, like a giant discus, threw herself forward on one hand, body level with the ground and sword extended. Impossible to block—but he quartered, out of the way, switching stance so fast she didn't see his feet move. The shield flew by him, and his came down to pin her blade. On the back of her neck, she felt a light tap, barely a touch, of wood. "Shit," she said. "That usually works." "I can see it would," Chevenga answered breathlessly, grinning, reaching out a hand to help her up. She could barely hear him for cheers and a rush of metal clankings, those wrist-sheaths being banged together, the Yeoli way of applauding. "I'm honored to spar you, thank you," he said, too sincerely to be a pure formality. "I may again soon, I hope? And all my Elite? And everyone else you've got time for? You have tricks I've never seen—from across the water, I guess?" "Ia, kras, what's mine is yours," she said. She felt her face flushed, with exhilaration as well as effort; his was the same. "It's been a long time since I met someone better than me with a sword. I needed to be stretched again, if I'm going to keep learning." "Well, I'm hardly going to pretendyou didn't stretchme ," he answered. "Or teach me." No harm in praise, either to swell a head or be taken as flattery, she thought,if it's spoken true. Besides he wouldn't take it wrong; by the harmony sparring could bring between two souls, she knew that. "The warrior's philosophy—skill uses least effort for greatest effect— I've rarely seen applied so well," she said. "I see why they call you Invincible." "Eh. Philosophy, shmilosophy," he answered. Somehow it was suddenly strange, almost unimaginable, that he spoke Enchian, not Kommanzanu like a child of the same kin-fast, and in fact didn't even know it, to think in it.Things of the body are deeper than language . "I just plaincan't ." He gestured to his scars. "Too much of this. Last summer I keeled over from exhaustion, and ever since then I'm sworn off
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html using more strength than I have to—healer's orders." A squire who looked like his little sister brought a flask of water. Shkai'ra took a sip; it was ice-cold. "I don't call myself Invincible. Though I hardly need say that to you." "The Warmasters who taught me always said you had to start replacing the physical with the mental if you wanted to live much past thirty," she said. He made the palm-up sign foryes , chuckling at something he did not say. Their eyes caught, understanding sparking between them again. IfI could tell you my joke , his said clearly,I know you'd get it . "Agh, my poor Akaznakir…" A Lakan name; the destrier. "I hope he'll forgive me. Well, what say we slake our thirst with something stronger?" She clapped him on the back. Hah. She got beaten, thought Sova.My unbeatable khyd-hirdgot beaten. Of course she'd probably say that it would all be different if it were real…still. Coming all this way would almost be worth it just for that . The journey had been uneventful; she'd made sure not to swagger down streets or through bars, worn her sword discretely, strapped her money to several different places on her body. The ship's crew had known whose daughter she was, and so—once she'd convinced them she was supposed to be there simply by making no excuses for it, along with an effective combination of superiority and cheery willingness to help—they'd asked no questions. The caravaneer she'd hired on with as able hand—for bed and board, all she wanted—had seemed a little crooked and furtive, but no more so than most; if anything, he'd avoided her. Now, as she lay in her little pup-tent beside Shkai'ra's, face-down, buttocks sore, she wondered why she'd done this. The obvious reasons didn't seem enough, for the compulsion she had felt, to be near, to see, Megan and Shkai'ra.So I was mad because they wouldn't let me; so what? That's happened before. Prove myself as a warrior? Sounds like the dumb things boys do. You'd think couldn't bear them being away , she thought.They'll probably think that themselves . WhydidI do this ? Stunned, she realized that she'd disobeyed her parents, borne the hardships of travel all the way down the Brezhan, risked, at least to some degree, her freedom and her life, all without truly knowing the reason.I just itched, that's all. I got all restless, I wanted something that I could only get here. I hadtocome. So I did . In time, she shrugged it off.Who cares why, now; I'm here . It would work itself out, she felt, vaguely. Besides, she couldn't exactly turn around and go back. They wouldn't let her, for one thing, but more importantly, she'd look like a complete idiot. VIII Shkai'ra looked over the bunch of scruffy hired killers she'd been assigned to whip into shape, a half-kylick away from the road, so that no one else could watch this mess of shambolic quasi-soldiery, yet.
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