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

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"So, these have been to school," Shkai'ra said musingly to herself. To Sova: "Take a look at the edge of
the woods, then that hillcrest. What do you see?"
"Well, there they are in the woods, without lances. They aren't going to have lances in the woods, get
caught on the branches. Infantry. A small rejin. And there's more waiting over the hill… cavalry?"
"Excellent. Understanding your opponent's mind is the key to success in command. It's easier than
understanding people generally, there's a… straightforwardness to it." She rapped her knuckles together.
"You always know what the enemy wants."
"All right, here's why they're set up like this. They want that phalanx to block the road, right? So if any of
us come up and engage, they've got light infantry in the woods—skirmishers, javelineers, those shitty
barbed fuckers they like to use. The light infantry moves out quick and takes us in the flank. When we're
nice and pinned, the lancers over the hillcrest come down through the woods—you can do that if you're
careful—and roll us up. Remember, they're trying to win time to get away from us; the longer it takes to
clear this roadblock, the better. Any questions?"
The girl stared at the scene for a time, scratching the quillons of her sword. "Uhhh… what do we do?"
Shkai'ra snorted. "That's the hard part. Take a note to Makalina Shae-Sorel,rigaryekrachaseye ,
Brigadier-General First." The Thane-girl pulled out a pad of paper sheets and licked the end of a writing
stick. "From me, to her, the usual saddlesoap courtesies and the situation as I've just explained it." Sova's
hand flew across the page. "Please send up,firstly , some good light foot to clear the forest, pikes, missile
infantry, field artillery. A company or so of Lakan horse would be welcome. With all that, I estimate we
could get this boy-buggering impediment off the road, many thanks, you'd better come up in person too,
signed me."
"It's a good thing I can write,khyd-hird ," Sova said amiably.
"Isn't it," Shkai'ra said, taking the pad and adding a sketch-map to the end. "Get it there, get an answer,
get back,fast. "
Shkai'ra pushed her helmet back by the nasal, whistling tunelessly as she waited at the center of the
three-rank formation of the Slaughterers. The sun was warm on her armor, this metal suit hotter than the
lacquered leather on fiberglass she was accustomed to, if lighter. Sweat ran down her face into her coif.
At the sound of footfalls in unison behind her, she turned in the saddle. Sova was riding with her Yeoli
boy at the head of the approaching column: three-hundred-odd women, dark chocolate brown, tall,
wire-slender and loping at an easy pace that kept up with the horses' canter. Each carried two six-foot
javelins with long iron heads in her left hand, along with a small wicker shield and another spear in her
right, but was lightly equipped otherwise: a leather kirtle and jerkin, metal-strapped leather helmet with an
ostrich-plume, long knife at the belt and one-handed axe across the backs. Warriors of the matriarchy of
Hyeme, they were.
Against Arkans, she understood, who had just been rotated forward and so weren't used to fighting
women yet; more prone to be shocked, insulted, ashamed or intimidated, and do stupid things, at least
for a short time, which would be long enough. She wondered if this was Chevenga's idea; it had his
stamp.