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

More documents

Recommendations

Info

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html pikeman by the face and he was whipping his head back and forth and itripped away and the man went running… Then they were wheeling and turning and driving both ways up and down the road. She followed Shkai'ra, drawing her sword. An Arkan drove a halberd at her from the side, and her arm came over with the sword point-down, training moving it without thought; her foot lashed out and the stirrup-iron hit him in the mouth; she stabbed and the point went in over his breastplate. That jerked up her wrist; she could see his blue eyes flare wide, his face not two years older than hers, as he fell away and the steel dragged free with a sucking reluctance. No enemy within reach. She didn't know what to do, and so followed Shkai'ra.How do commanders know what to do ? She tried to see it with an officer's eyes, orderly, spotting signs suggesting courses of action, saw nothing but chaos. "Don't let them rally!" Shkai'ra screamed. The Arkans were running away, out into the fields, up and down the road. "By platoons, pursuit!"Of course , Sova thought.Don't let them rally, what else ? She followed Shkai'ra as she spurred her horse out into the wheat; it was all trampled now, bodies lying or crawling, one right in their way with his hands over his head. Sova heard the hooves thumping into dirt and then into his body, a different sound. A knot of men beyond, an officer trying to get them to face about: he waited for Shkai'ra with his knees slightly bent, blade and shield up, eyes on her but mouth yelling for his soldiers. Hotblood twisted aside and her shield darted down to cover her calf; she stabbed over her mount's neck and the officer went down. The others ran, one right in front of Sova, then almost under her horse's nose, sobbing as he lumbered along, not even noticing her. His helmet was off and his okas crop was thin and white-blond. Sova raised the sword until the blade lay along her back. Milk the hilt. Shkai'ra's voice said in her head.Loose until it's three-quarters of the way along, think of the edge as a line you're drawing through the head from the crown to nose. Then clench your gut and push your feet into the stirrups. It's called the "pear-splitting cut." She did it, the movement exactly like the hundreds of times in training, the feeling as the sword struck different. Bone split, and blood and brains burst out in a great fan of red. Wet splashed across her face and into her open mouth; it tasted of salt and iron. She spat, wanted to wipe her mouth, couldn't, hands full.It worked . The body ran two steps before it fell under her mount's hooves.Gotthumml, did it work … Pursuit, the command rang again in her mind. She looked around, saw no Arkans who weren't down or going down or chased by someone else or on the other side of a mill, too far to chase. She looked around; all seemed confusion, and she didn't know what to do again. Then the trumpet sounded rally. She looked for the banner and rejoined Shkai'ra. The Kommanza's eyes scanned all around, a thin-lipped grin on her hawk-face. "That was easy," she drawled. "Very easy. They weren't expecting us." On the faces of her motley cavalry, shit-eating grins were suddenly wiped away, replaced by businesslike attention. "Help our wounded, gather our dead, strip theirs." Why is there cold on my face? The blood-tang in Sova's mouth reminded her. She pulled off a gauntlet, wiped the back of her hand across her chin; it came away soaked red. Her throat was parched, though she hadn't noticed it getting that way; by will she slowed her breathing, and rinsed out her mouth with a swig from her canteen. A flash of memory of theokas's head splitting, and suddenly her throat and the back of her mouth went tight and sour, watering, her stomach—No. I won't throw up. Not in front of everyone. Think of breathing. Now , she was afraid. In a little time the nausea eased, but it didn't go away completely. None of the wonderfully valuable Arkan breast-plates would fit her—a problem all
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html women warriors in the Alliance had—but she got a good pair of shoulder-guards that could be adjusted, and a new dagger. The rose glow of dawn had changed to the harsh gold of full day, showing with wordless clarity the sleepy country landscape littered with corpses, darkened with blood. "Word is, we've done our duty for the day," Shkai'ra told the unit, once she'd got Sova to read the letter of orders. "We get the battle off. And we're duly commended, signed Brigadier-General First Maka-unpronounceable." That brought a laugh, and shouted corrections from Yeolis in the unit. She'd vaguely been hoping for the signature to be Chevenga's, actually.That really would have smelled like promotion. I guess it's too much to expect for a mission of spearing fish in a barrel. Oh, well . Brigadier-General First, as the Yeolis called it, was the position Shkai'ra aspired to, being the highest she could hope for; it was directly under the First General First and meant membership in the privy Command Council. And a name in history, if she helped keep this war going as it was.Maybe, as time goes by and Gold-bottom gets more trustful of foreigners , she thought,I won't have to be a Yeoli to get it . "This doesn't meanyou get to relax," she said to Sova, once she'd dismissed the troop. "We're going to watch from the most convenient hilltop and see if you can't learn a thing or two about commanding from Gold-bottom himself?" On a rise over the plain, they settled, with a motley crowd of other watchers, walking wounded, camp followers and so forth. Reclining catlike on a blanket while Megan and Sova prepared the picnic, Shkai'ra scanned the field, where, wide and distant as a painting, the two armies were deployed. "Well, there you have it, apprentice. Plain ground, two armies straight on, everything wide open—a strategist's fight. You knowour number, or at least what the rumors say, since it keeps getting bigger." Sova had heard anything from sixty-five to seventy-two thousand in the last little while. "About sixty-odd on the field today, nine-thousand cavalry. What would you say, from a look, istheirs ?" Sova tried to estimate with a professional eye. "Uhhh… about the same? Maybe a little less?" "Look closer," Shkai'ra barked. "Ummm… less… uhhh…" The Kommanza's fingers drummed her knee significantly. "Oh, ya! Arkan close order isn't as close as ours, so it makes them look like more—fifty thousand." She tried to make it sound authoritative. "Would've been fifty-too thousand if it hadn't been for us this morning—heh, heh… ahem. Judging by the number of cavalry they have, too. Yep. Fifty-thousand. I think." "Good enough for our purposes," Shkai'ra sniffed. "All right. Tell me who's making the first mistake." Sova surveyed the field through Shkai'ra's far-lookers, then squinted without them. "Nobody's moved yet. I want to say the Arkans, but that's assuming. I don't think that the way he's got them ranked is that smart—" "Commanders say things clearly, girl. He who, Zh'ven'-gka or the strawhair?" "The strawhair. I'd say him anyway because his center can't really move without plowing over everyone else."
Page 1 and 2:
Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M.
Page 3 and 4:
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converte
Page 5 and 6:
Page 7 and 8:
Page 9 and 10:
Page 11 and 12:
Page 13 and 14: Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converte
Page 25 and 26: people around for camouflage, and t
Page 47 and 48: Und now I vind dose two—Celestial
Page 63: Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converte
Page 77 and 78: X Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conver
Page 105 and 106: wounded only in the carts on march,
Page 115 and 116:
Page 117 and 118:
Page 119 and 120:
Page 121 and 122:
Page 123 and 124:
Page 125 and 126:
Page 127 and 128:
Page 129 and 130:
Page 131 and 132:
Page 133 and 134:
Page 135 and 136:
Page 137 and 138:
Page 139 and 140:
Page 141 and 142:
Page 143 and 144:
Page 145 and 146:
Page 147 and 148:
Page 149 and 150:
Page 151 and 152:
Page 153 and 154:
Page 155 and 156:
Page 157 and 158:
Page 159 and 160:
Page 161 and 162:
Page 163 and 164:
Page 165 and 166:
Page 167 and 168:
Page 169 and 170:
Page 171 and 172:
Page 173 and 174:
Page 175 and 176:
Page 177 and 178:
Page 179 and 180:
Page 181 and 182:
Page 183 and 184:
Page 185 and 186:
Page 187 and 188:
Page 189 and 190:
Page 191 and 192:
— Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
Page 193 and 194:
Page 195 and 196:
Page 197 and 198:
Page 199 and 200:
Page 201 and 202:
Page 203 and 204:
Page 205 and 206:
Page 207 and 208:
Page 209 and 210:
Page 211 and 212:
Page 213 and 214:
Page 215 and 216:
Page 217 and 218:
Page 219 and 220:
Page 221 and 222:
Page 223 and 224:
Page 225 and 226:
Page 227 and 228:
Page 229 and 230:
Page 231 and 232:
Page 233 and 234:
Page 235 and 236:
Page 237 and 238:
show all

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

You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles

Delete template?

Save as template?