Northworld By David Drake

The fellow was sparring with two of his own men. His suit was clearly a cut above the one Hansen wore, while two more of the Eastern warriors were almost as well equipped. The other four wore scrapings of the same general quality as Shill and Maharg—but there were four of them.

The leader paused. “You see, Lord Golsingh?” he boomed. “I claim the right of prowess to command your left wing!”

“Normal speech,” Hansen ordered his AI. His face prickled with sweat, as if this were real, not a game. They were three meters from the Eastern leader.

“I’d always heard that no Easterner had any balls!” he shouted. “I don’t think you seven can fight us three real men! Wanna try?”

“You—” the Eastern leader gasped in a choking voice. The arc bloomed from his hand.

“Strike!” shouted Hansen, and they struck, by god they did, all three together and the Easterner, off-balance with his pivot, toppled to the mud while Hansen cried, “Mark! Strike!”

Only Shill and Hansen that time, because Hansen had turned a hair to his right and blocked Maharg with his body, but the Easterner dropped, not one of the dangerous pair but he fell in front of one of those, tripping his fellow. Hansen struck into the tangled suits, no time to mark and command.

But his two fellows struck with him anyway, guided by the arc without a designator, as if Maharg could think and Shill could act—but they could, because he’d told them they could or because the gods were good or maybe because men like a leader to follow because it’s so much simpler than thinking.

Maharg took the arc of the remaining Eastern champion squarely on the crest of his helmet and dropped. Hansen stepped close and hacked at the man, but the Easterner was both fast and experienced, catching Hansen’s arc with his own.

Hansen’s right arm shuddered as if he’d grabbed a live AC line. He grabbed the Easterner’s wrist with his free hand. As he did so, a sickly arc snaked past his helmet—Shill striking from behind him with a skill born of practice.

The Easterner’s weapon dimmed as his AI drained power from it to boost the defenses against the fresh threat.

Hansen struck home and slung his opponent to the side as dead weight.

Two of the remaining Easterners made a convulsive rush at Shill, putting the old man between them and Hansen. Shill screamed momentarily; then his microphone shut down with the rest of his suit’s power.

Hansen chopped right, then left. The last Easterner stood like a statue six meters away, too surprised or frightened to take any action.

A kid who froze, or a man as old as Shill who’s forgotten this is only play. . . .

Hansen’s arc lengthened and took the warrior in the chest. The Easterner turned sluggishly to run. Hansen stepped forward until his weapon was close enough to overwhelm his opponent’s armor and drop him.

He stopped, panting heavily.

“You treacherous slimy bastard,” rasped the amplified voice of the Eastern leader, rising to his feet.

Now that his suit was reset, mud was coursing off the painted metal with almost the enthusiasm that it had from Krita’s armor under similar circumstances. “Now I’m going to kill you.”

The dense flux that shot from the leader’s right gauntlet wasn’t a practice weapon.

“Battle status,” Hansen ordered his AI, raising his arc in guard. He’d thought Krita might kill him, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that this fellow would take a defeat personally enough to commit murder in front of Golsingh himself.

Because it surely was murder, Hansen going one-on-one with a suit as good as this fellow’s. Maybe somebody would—

“Hey!” shouted the king. “Stop that! We need—”

The Easterner cut at Hansen’s head. Hansen blocked the blow. His display flickered with the strain, even though the arcs crossed two meters from the attacker’s gauntlet.

“Taddeusz! Stop them!” Golsingh ordered.

Hansen backpedaled, praying that he wouldn’t trip over a warrior sprawled on the ground behind him. His display would give him a 360deg. view if he wanted it, but he was afraid the distortion would be more dangerous than the chance of an obstacle.