Instant Princess

Bite Me

"Again," Liam said, as I slammed my fist into his hand. We were both covered with sweat. After five minutes I had given up on trying to hold my sleeves back, and had just tied them behind my back. It slightly restricted my movement when I punched him.

According to Liam, the first rule of knife fighting is: "Don't rely on your knife." Which was why he was forcing me to learn how to throw a punch. And I was failing miserably.

It wasn't like I'd never punched anyone before. I had... never mind, I had never punched someone before. My oldest brother had once tried to teach me, a protection in case I got caught in any large bar fights. Luckily, I never had, so my failure to throw punches wasn't a problem. Until now.

"Come on, M'lady. You have to mean it."

I jabbed my fist at him, swinging with my body the way he had shown me. The fist hit his hand with a soft noise.

"I do mean it!" I cried, exasperated.

Liam put his hand down and stepped away. "No, you are acting like you are afraid to hurt me. How on earth did you get so good at archery if you didn't mean it?"

"I do mean it! It's just that hitting a target is different from hitting a person!"

"Alix. We are in the middle of a war. If you don't feel like hurting anyone, go home. Do some needle point. Apparently it's the only thing ladies are good for."

"You bastard." My fist came flying out and clipped his chin. Not too hard, but harder than I had ever hit anyone before.

"Good." He said, reaching up to rub his jaw. I stepped backwards, immediately feeling guilty. "But next time work on using your entire body." He looked happy I had punched him.

"You manipulative bastard!" I swung at him again. That time he blocked me, catching my fist and pulling me against him, rendering my limbs useless. "Let go!" He was holding both of my wrists so that my back was to him and my arms were crossed across my chest. I couldn't help but notice how warm he was.

"Maybe we should take a break now," he suggested. He released me and quickly backed up out of my reach. "How about you teach me about your little knives?"

I waited until my breathing was normal again, then nodded. I looked around the area we had found to train in. It was an outside courtyard, but mostly hidden from the sun and prying eyes. It was in a part of the castle that was abandoned by everyone except stray cats. Vines covered the walls and most of the stone ground.

In the corner I noticed a wooden barrel. "Help me move that away from the wall?"

Working together we rolled it until it was near the middle of the courtyard. Using my feet as a measurement I counted off roughly twenty feet. Liam watched me, amused.

"And why do you count the distance again?"

"Because," I explained, "Knife throwing is all about counting. You have to know the distance you are throwing your knife, in order to determine how fast you should throw it. How fast you throw it determines how many rotations it does. Rotations, as in the blade doing cartwheels-" He gave me a confused glance.  "Oh you know- it like, flips over the handle. That's how the knife builds up speed. If you don't count the rotations, you won't know if it's going to hit with the blade or the hilt."

"So, it isn't just as simple as throwing it?" He looked down at the tiny black knife dubiously. I smiled, in his large hand the knife was dwarfed. It slightly resembled one of those toothpicks shaped like swords.

"No. To start out, I know that at this distance I can give the knife two rotations." I demonstrated by lining of and hurling my knife at the target. It hit it hard enough to stick. "You will have to practise by finding where you need to stand to hit it at the proper angle."

"Oh, is that all it is then, practise?" He eyed the distance from him to the target.

"Well, and math. If I know how hard I have to throw to hit at twenty feet, than I can calculate for ten feet, or forty feet. And I also know how to throw the same distance with three rotations, so that I could throw at fifteen feet, or twenty-five. And then if you want to throw further you—"

"So I need to know how to count." Liam butted in. "But what if I calculate the distance wrong. If I'm standing at thirteen feet rather than fifteen, will I not hit?"

"Yes, well, you have to remember that the knife doesn't have to go in completely straight. You have about a 90 degree space of error. If it's a few degrees off it won't matter. But the better you calculate it, the better the hit."

"Ahh," he said, looking a bit confused. "At this point I should tell you that I have no idea what you mean by feet, or degrees."

I stared at him open mouthed. Teaching him to throw I had completely forgot about the world I was in. In my head I was back at summer camp, when I taught the younger kids all about throwing.

"Well, feet are like a measurement, by feet?"

"Your feet or my feet?" He asked.

"Well... not really anyone's feet. Bigger than anyone's feet I've ever seen. And ninety degrees is just a quarter of a pie."

"A pie, huh?" He smiled and turned back to the target. "Well, I guess I'll just give it a shot."

"Okay, hold it like this." I reached forward and folded his first two fingers over the tip of the knife blade.

"Like this?" He moved his fingers under my own, tightening his grip on the knife. He looked up at me, and I realized how close our heads were to each other.

"Yes, like that." Stepping away from him I tucked my hair behind my ears nervously. He narrowed his eyes at the target, then threw the knife as hard as he could. It hit into the barrel with a thick sound. Then it fell off and hit the ground.

"Oh well, I guess I need to practise more."

I moved closer to the barrel and ran my finger over the long scar he had left. "Yes, but... I've never seen anyone be able to hit with the blade their first time. Usually they just hit with the handle, or miss altogether. Don't worry about making it stick, that will come later." I felt the dent again. He had hit it with such force to take a chunk out of it. "Maybe we should get you some heavier blades. Oh!" I hit myself on the forehead. "I forgot all about the weight of the blade."

"I suppose that effects how you throw it also?"

"Yes," I sighed. "It might take you longer than you think to learn."

He grinned. "I don't mind. From the looks of before, it's going to take you just as long to learn knife-fighting."