Of Pens and Swords by Rocford Rena

Author:Rocford, Rena [Rocford, Rena]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781620071618
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Published: 2016-03-20T04:00:00+00:00

he sweat trickled between my eyes to hang off the end of my nose. I puffed until the drop flew into my wire cage and waited for the ref to call the action. I hated tied matches. In epee, if you both scored, you both got a point. If you tied the match, it counted as a loss for both of you.

She pointed her weapon at my eyes. I held my form and waited. If we timed out, we’d both be exhausted for our next matches, but then our teammates would have a better shot.

But I wasn’t planning to run the clock down.

Her eyes flicked to mine. She was rattled. Two good shots to the head, and she didn’t want to get hit there again. She’d held her own and managed to sneak in a wrist pick on both of them. I was fencing like I held a foil instead of an epee. I needed to counterattack, not initiate. One touch stood between me and victory. I squared up my feet. Better footwork meant a better lunge, but also a better retreat.

Crab like, I scuttled away as she made a slight foray into my territory. I waited for her to show her hand, but she walked me down the strip, her weapon taking a bead on my eyes. I thrust my arm out, but we were too far to make contact. She skipped back, thrusting her arm to my head. I tried not to smile. We were done; she just didn’t know it yet.

We slipped again, coming closer together. I sank in my stance to give me every scrap of range I might need. My thighs burned, but that’s why I had a pair of legs better suited to speed skating than sun bathing.

She slammed her weapon into mine, springing off the rebound and lunging toward my face. With a tiny clench of my fingers, I drove the tip of my epee into her exposed wrist. Her hand caught up on my point, bending as she drove forward. Her hand never made it to her target somewhere between my eyes.

She threw her mask down on the strip with a muffled curse. With the barest hint of courtesy she held out her hand. I pushed my mask up onto my forehead and slipped my weapon under my right arm. I held out my gloved hand. Etiquette said we were supposed to shake with our ungloved hands, but I didn’t have one. She took my gloved hand with a sneer.

I decided to take her sneer to mean that she hated touching my glove with her non gloved hand—gloves stank.

The ref scowled at us but said nothing.

I caught Christine’s eye from the strip and lifted my eyebrows. Her face was the picture of scolding. I winked, but she just pursed her lips. She got up and helped me with the scoring system cords.

“You need to learn to beat them without emotion,” she whispered.

“Half of winning is getting under their skin.”

“Don’t play with your food.

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