And With This Sword...

Valerie appeared in a princess gown. The clicking on the floor suggested she was wearing heels. Michael stared in consternation. “Does this mean you're skipping your lessons today?”

“No,” she said with relish and unsheathed her sword.

Michael quickly jumped back as she lunged. She moved well, even with the natural impediments. Michael had to dodge her sword tip several times before he managed to free his saber. He put his hand up for her to stop. “Wait. Think about this. If you're seriously going to fight in that dress, do it more intelligently. You will tire out far faster than I will with all that added bulk and, from what I can tell, you can't breathe very heavily in it.”

She was already making straining breaths and only nodded in response. He retracted his hand and exhaled, “En garde!”

He let her control the the flow for a minute and was pleased to find she was steering him towards obstacles and a wall, restricting his reactions. He counted strokes, then pressed, breaking her rhythm. The same restricted space that she had been using to control his actions, became a problem with his longer reach. He stroked low at her legs. The dress took a lot of rents. She wasn't giving much ground, but was having problems moving in. Finally, she kicked out, reaching Michael's ribs. She enhanced the kick. He could feel the magical touch. Impressed, he was flattened to the wall, unable to say so. He incanted himself to get out of the position.

He swept up at her beltline and she shot electricity at his face. He let a reflexive incant and his sword take it. The residual shock made him drop his sword. She lowered her blade to a neutral position. Rubbing his numb arm, he said proudly, “I don't think I have anything else to teach you. Now you just need a lot of practice.”

He wiped his brow with a pocket cloth. “And different sparring partners. Not everyone is going to fight the way I do, or as clumsily.”

“And they told me girls can't fight.” She sheated her blade, straining for deep breaths against the dress stays.

“I certainly never said that,” Michael smiled. “You've earned your name.”