Unarmored, I faced Soraina, the Dark Empress. In her left hand, en guarde, she held Swermornster, blade of the morning star. Its black blade blazed with red fire. Around us, soldiers of the Black Legion drew a wide circle in the dirt with their boots. A soldier in fancier black armor than the rest declaimed the rules for our duel. "The duel shall be ended by first touch, yielding, or one foot set outside the ring. The stakes are as follows: upon Prince Vel's victory, the army of the Dark Empire will withhold its attack for two days. Upon the Dark Empress's victory, Prince Vel will favor her with a kiss. Do the two duelists understand and accept the terms?"

  Soraina and I both nodded. "Ready yourselves and your swords for battle. Upon this cloth hitting the ground, commence."

  I now drew Swelfalster, blade of the fallen star. While I was right-handed, I had the strength and skill to use it in either hand or both. I opted to one-hand, since countering the incredible speed Soraina's blade imparted upon her would be a matter of reach, and drew it left-handed. I reasoned that Soraina had most likely dueled primarily left-handed versus right-handed, and might not know the theory for left-vs-left or right-vs-right as well. My reach and my likely-greater training were my two major advantages, and I would have to play them to the utmost.

  Blue fire blazed around Swelfalster's white blade as I held it before me, en guarde. The cloth was in the air before us, falling to the ground. I looked not at it, but kept my eyes on Soraina and her blade. As I heard the cloth touch the ground, Soraina went from standstill to moving herself and her sword faster than the eye could follow.

  Soraina danced just out of my engagement range, feinted upward, stepped back, slashed from the side to force a parry. I parried in prime and moved to quinte as she feinted at a cut towards my head, then went into a thrust. I gave ground. Now I had the initiative, and feinted at a diagonal slash, sidestepping into a slash from the other side. She parried in seconde and we went into a prise de fer. As my blade slid upon hers I noted that her sword granted her strength equal to a strong man's, but no stronger. My sword granted me strength much greater than an ordinary man, but I decided to hide this for now.

  Her blade out of place, I disengaged and stepped forward into an upward slash. Her thrust had been short—she seemed committed thus far to dancing just at the edge of my engagement range, and not coming in further—and I had to close the gap to use my initiative. She sidestepped faster than the eye could see, beat my blade, and aimed a cut towards my body. Again I gave ground.

  Now she went on the attack. Slash-slash-slash-slash to my parry-parry-parry-parry. From the edge of engagement range, she tested me with her speed. Her strokes were faster than mine, but struck with no greater force. Somehow, her blade made itself and her lighter, giving strikes with greater speed, but equal momentum.

  She essayed a fancy attack that I recognized from Bonetti, one of my brother Velwin's fencing masters. A beat, a feint in quarte, a feint in sixte, and a lunge veering off into an attack on my wrist. I guessed the mixup, stepped back, and responded with a textbook counter to her out of place sword. Her blade came up fast enough, and I tried an advanced mixup, also from Bonetti. She parried in quarte then in sixte, moved out of engagement range, then retook the initiative with a riposte. I could see her study of the blade had been at least a deep as mine. I could not lean on training to win, as in this she was my equal or greater.

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  She pressed the attack, taking my measure. She kept just out of engagement range, stepping forward briefly when my blade was out of line, forcing me to give ground. Her reflexes were no better than a normal human's, but her speed and knowledge were unparalleled. Gradually, she pushed me towards the edge of the ring. Soon there would be no more ground to give.

  Left hand versus left hand had not worked. Her grasp of the theory, and practice at the technique, was flawless. It was time to change things up.

  My defense to her attack now left us in a neutral situation—neither of our swords out of place, each of us waiting for the other to move, leaving a gap before we acted so as not to move with the predictable timing of coming in swinging at the first possible instant. I smiled.

  Soraina raised an eyebrow. "Why the smile? Anticipating our kiss when you lose?"

  "No. I'm smiling because I am not left handed."

  I brought my right hand to join my left to stand in chūdan-no-kamae, gathered my chi, and broke the moment of peace with a blistering two-handed attack. I slashed downward from the diagonal, pirouetted my blade to her parry, feinted from the other diagonal, then brought my blade down into a one-handed lunge, letting go with my left hand. She danced back with her speed, her footwork suddenly awkward, her swordplay uncertain. Now I came on right-handed, my slash-slash-slash to her parry-parry-parry, she giving ground to stay at the edge of the engagement range as I threatened a winning thrust. We fought back and forth. When she had the initiative, she made the best of it and forced me back a little, but now her swordplay was tentative and a tiny bit sloppy. Bit by bit I pushed her back with my combinations, she giving ground by dodging backwards with her speed rather than trying to outguess my mixups. Soon she was a few steps from the edge of the ring. As one of my attacks ended with a sidestepped thrust and I briefly pulled back into en guarde to defend the counterstroke I anticipated, she paused and smiled.

  "Why the smile?" I asked. "Not wanting that kiss after all?"

  "No. I'm smiling because I am not left handed either."

  With this she stepped back in a flash of speed, switched her blade to her right, and went on the attack. Now she was in her element, her strokes certain, her technique perfect. She came on fast with a beat-feint-feint-thrust. She parried my riposte and came back with great speed. I retreated as she came on, she no longer playing at the edge of my range, and now grinning like a cat playing with her food. She had taken my measure with her left, and found me wanting. Now she would finish it with her right.

  She feinted high, feinted left, and came in low line. I jumped back and tried to catch her with a stop thrust. She dodged and came in, closing the gap between us and keeping us within each other's sword reach. I retreated as I parried her blistering hail of slashes. My back foot was approaching the edge of the circle. I sidestepped, she counterstepped, and kept the rest of the ring cut off.

  Now we fought right versus right, a mirror image of our initial dance, but closer, more intimate, more deadly. Again she feinted upward then slashed from the side, drawing my parry in prime. She cut at my head and I parried in quinte, sidestepped and feinted at a diagonal slash into a slash from the other side. As she once more parried in seconde and accepted our prise de fere at close range, I knew she anticipated the disengage into a mixup we had both likely practiced with Bonetti. She didn't get it.

  In a flash my left came to join with my right. My sword close to the base of hers, I shoved her blade sideways with all my sword-enhanced strength. Suddenly there was a snap like a thundercrack. Her blade flew in one direction, she flew headfirst in the other, each to either side of the ring, as if an explosive energy had been released as the connection between her and her blade broke. As she slid through the dirt, not quite out of the ring, every crossbow in the house was drawn. All aimed straight towards me.

  Recurrence Break by neetcrayon. This is an epic, action-packed space opera with excellent art. From my (swapped) review of it:

  

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