Steel struck steel, moving too fast for Jill to feel it much. Quickly - now she was the one in a panic - she scrambled back in a retreat and yanked her blade up to parry. When Jill circled her blade to avoid the parry, the other blade circled with her, blocking her intended target, knocking her out of the way - leaving Jill exposed. As she hoped, the Texas girl lifted her sword to parry, exposing her legs and the lower half of her torso - all targets waiting for a good, clean hit.īut the parry itself was a feint, and the Texan was ready for her. So Jill wanted to strike first, before her opponent had a chance to gather herself.Īrm outstretched, Jill feinted high, wagging her blade up in a move that looked like it would strike her opponent's mask, her footwork carrying her too fast to back out of the commitment. She'd plow Jill over if she could, sending her into a panic, and score the point before anyone could blink. Jill knew her opponent, a girl from Texas, was cautious, but when she finally committed herself she'd be strong. Épées raised, they approached, step by careful step. The official glanced between them, judging their readiness. Remember why she loved this: With a few flicks of her sword she would outwit her enemy, and even through the mesh of the mask, Jill would see the startled look on the girl's shadowed face when she scored a touch on her. Let her muscles do what they knew how to do. It was just another tournament, one of hundreds she'd fenced in. And Jill needed this win to qualify for the Junior World Fencing Championships. The loser, fourth place, and nothing else. The winner of this bout would get third place for the tournament. The air seemed to have gone out of the room, a cavernous gymnasium where two dozen fencing strips had held competitors fighting and winning and losing all day. Jill bounced in place, flicking her épée so it whipped against the air, as if she couldn't wait to start. Her face was a shadow behind the mesh of her mask.
It nestled into her hand like it had been molded there, the épée blade becoming an extension of her arm.Īcross from her, on a long, five-foot-wide strip of combat, stood her opponent, a tall, powerful-limbed girl in a bleach-white fencing jacket who seemed more like a linebacker than a fencer. Rearranged her hold on her weapon once again, curling gloved fingers around the grip. Carrie Vaughn: Steel Steel by Carrie Vaughn March 2011 Chapter 1
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