The Fine Art Of Being Beaten By A Girl (Short)

The Fine Art Of Being Beaten By A Girl

She had been found out at last. For the last five years she'd been Tam, the youngest son of Lord Rand, who'd sent his 'son' to court to train to become a knight. She'd passed the first four years as a page relatively unnoticed, but had grown close to some of the other boys going through the same training. Through the last year she'd let down her guard and it appeared this would be her downfall.

There hadn't been a female knight for the better part of four centuries. Whether it was too dangerous or everyone just thought that a woman would never be able to beat a man in a fair fight, Tamara would never know. She did know that because of these reasons it was considered dishonourable for a noble's daughter, or any woman, to do anything other than become a proper household lady. But that life just wasn't for Tamara. Not only did she want to do something important, but she couldn't embroider to save her life.

However, the shocked look on her opponent's face told her that she may have to reconsider that dream.

"Tam, what's ...?" Corey, son of Duke James, was gaping at the vicious slash where he had cut through both her shirt and the bandage Tamara had been using to cover her chest.

"Corey, you have to listen to me," she floundered.

"No! You're not Tam. Who are you?" He was gradually advancing towards her, practice sword in attack position.

"I'm Tam!" She shifted into a defensive stance.

"You're lying. You're a girl! You can't be Tam." He had cornered Tamara against one of the fences with his sword less than an inch away from her heart. There was no one else around.

Tamara suddenly had an idea.

"Wait, you're right. I'm a girl, and as such I could never be this Tam you're speaking of. Now, if you would let me leave," she hinted.

Corey took a step back, lowering his sword. But not a second after it had been down, he raised it up to Tamara's throat.

"If you're not Tam then why would you be here? How would you know what to do with that blade?" he pointed to the slightly blunted rapier in her hands.

"Fine, we'll duel, and if you win then I can leave, but if you win then I have to answer your questions. The first to draw blood wins."

He nodded.

"Good, just let me fix my shirt, if you please." She slipped by Corey as he lowered the blade and, while turning away, began to rearrange her shirt so nothing indecent showed.

"Ready?" Corey was waiting in the beginning stance.

Tamara's only response was to face him and get into the same position.

They began simultaneously. Corey's sword swung in a wide arc, aiming for Tamara's side. She barely blocked it in time. He advanced again and again, forcing Tamara to stay in the defensive, scarcely keeping up to his consistently changing patterns. Corey must've thought he could win easily because keeping Tamara on the defensive was just helping her. Attacking was the only way that you won, but it also tired you out faster, and it was showing as his swings became increasingly slower. A confused look appeared on Corey's face, but was immediately replaced by one of annoyance.

Tamara suddenly saw her chance. She angled her sword so Corey's blade glanced off and then continued her downward block, sweeping back up to begin an attack. Corey stumbled back in surprise, giving Tamara enough time to begin another pattern.

Tamara's determination grew: back swing and crescent, followed by a lunge. She wasn't looking to place a fatal blow; she just needed to hit him. A downwards arc, a left feint, and Corey raised his sword to where he thought Tamara's would be, but instead felt a prick in his left shoulder. Quickly that slight discomfort spread down his arm. He was bleeding.

Tamara stepped back.

"I won." She turned to leave but Corey grabbed her shoulder.

"What's your name?" The curiosity in his eyes was like being burned.

"I don't have to answer any of your questions." She yanked her shoulder away and carefully backed away from him, "Goodbye."

Corey watched her walk away, making no move to stop her. As she disappeared into the armoury, he spoke, "You may have won, and you may not have answered my questions, but I'll never forget that a girl beat me."

A/N: This story was published through Polar Publishing in the short story compilation Formation in 2010