En Garde!

by Tumbleweed

Chapter 1

“Stand and deliver!”

Rarity d'Aubigny reined her horse to a halt. Raindrops streamed from the brim of her hat as she tilted it back to size up her would-be assailants. There were three of them blocking her way in the road, pistols drawn. With the three of them standing shoulder to shoulder, there was no room to move past them on the narrow ridge-road. The forest on Rarity's left was too dense and steep to traverse, and the drop to the right would have given her vertigo if she could have seen all the way to the bottom. She'd been riding for hours, too-- there was no way her poor, tired horse could simply charge through the bandits, or even outpace them if she turned to flee.

Rarity took some small consolation in the fact that, to judge by their muddied boots and rain-sodden cloaks, they were having just as miserable an evening as she was.

“Who sent you?” Rarity drew herself up taller in her saddle, letting her voice carry through the otherwise empty wood. “Was it the Marquis? The Cardinal? The Duchess? Or do I owe this pleasure to some hithero unknown antagonist?”

“Your money or your life?” One of the cloaked men stepped forward, brandishing his wheel-lock.

Rarity sighed.

“Please. Abandon this facade. 'Tis embarassing. You're no bandit-- I can see the cut of your silk doublet from here, and the only crime that pays that well is in finance. Furthermore, a proper brigand wouldn't bother with firearms in this weather. By now, your powder's probably as damp as your stockings.” Rarity swung out of her saddle with practiced ease, knee-high boots splashing in the mud. She tossed the edge of her cloak back, revealing the polished hilt of the rapier hanging from her left hip. “Now then, gentlemen (and I use the term loosely), you have a choice. You can either get out of my way, or ... well, I'm sure you know what happens next. I'd much prefer the former, as I have some quite pressing business to attend to.”

The leader of the bandits (or at least the one who had been doing the talking) leveled his gun and fired. Or at least, he tried to, as his pull of the trigger resulted in an empty metallic click, and nothing more. Frustrated, he threw the useless pistol to the ground, and his two comrades followed suit. Three swords snaked from their scabbards.

“Ah.” Rarity drew her own sword, its slim length glimmering needle-like in the evening gloom. “I expected as much.”

The bandits-- assassins ---whoever they were-- piled upon Rarity all at once. She snapped her blade up in a tight arc to catch all three points and push them aside. She retreated a step, giving her opponents just enough room to get in each other's way as they blundered forward. They tripped over themselves, almost merging into a single, lumbering creature with an overabundance of limbs and a scarcity of skill.

Steel rung on steel as Rarity parried one lunge, then another. The third almost took her through the belly, but she managed to sweep her cloak upwards with her free hand, tangling her opponent's blade. With surgical precision, she reached over the top of her cloak, angling her rapier down to sink a handspan of steel into her opponent's sword arm. The first of the bandits cried out in pain and dropped his sword into the muck of the rain-soaked road. The other two pressed their attack, ignoring their wounded comrade. Rarity set her jaw and met them head on-- she repeated her trick with her cloak to bind the first sword, then caught the second on the quillions of her rapier. Steel slid on steel as Rarity leaned in, running her own sword down the length of her foe's blade, getting in close enough to snap a savage kick into the fork of his legs. A dirty trick, perhaps, but that dark, muddy road was as about as far from a genteel fencing salle as one could get. The man made a choked, wheezing noise as he dropped his sword-- Rarity slammed the pommel of her sword into his jaw anyway, making sure he went down. Another dirty trick, which is to say a quite effective one.

The bandit still standing disengaged, backpedaling a few steps without taking his eyes off of Rarity. The swordswoman smiled a courtly smile, falling into a practiced, easy stance, just the way her father had shown her so many years ago. Rainwater dripped from the brim of her plumed hat, and droplets of blood did the same from the tip of her blade.

“You can still step aside, you know. Just tell whoever sent you that I was too much for you. Which, I might add, is quite true. You might've had a chance if there were, say, a dozen of you, but I rather doubt it.”

The bandit (or assassin, or whoever he was) fumed-- and with a great, enraged cry, he lunged.

Rarity smiled.

Her opponent was angry-- and therefore sloppy. It was a simple matter to beat his blade aside, then easier still to whip her own point into line--

--or at least it should have been.

As she stepped forward, Rarity's boot squelched deep into the mud of the road. She flailed, off balance-- and then cried out in pain as she felt the point of the bandit's sword punch through her doublet and pierce her side. By reflex, she whipped her sword in a loose backhand, slashing her assailant across the face. He fell back, swearing and clutching at his cheek-- but Rarity had no time to savor the satisfaction of her victory, as the wild, unaimed blow had thrown her off balance. She leaned precariously over the edge of the ridge-road-- until her boot finally came free with a wet 'pop!' Rarity tumbled backwards, hanging impossibly in the air before she hit the slope and started rolling. Branches cracked and broke as Rarity plunged down into the darkness.

She didn't know when she hit the bottom of the incline; the world spun around her one moment, then suddenly stopped the next. Dazed, Rarity pushed herself upwards, leaning her back against a tree. She tugged off one of her gloves with her teeth, then gingerly ran bare fingers over the wound in her side. The fresh jolt of pain forced her to bite down on the leather of her riding-glove. Even in the damp gloominess of the night, Rarity could still see the splash of red on her fingers and the dark spot spreading across the side of her navy blue doublet.

“Well, damn.” Rarity said to herself, dazed and giddy. “That's going to leave a stain.”

And then all went black.

Comments

[Neece]

I don't see a Twilight tag (Mono's disappointed in you. Severely disappointed.) nor a Rainbow or Sunset one, so I'm curious on just who will the romantic target be. Colour me intrigued.

Edit: did you post the first half of so in a blog last year? I could swear I've seen it before... It could be just the humongous amount of fanfiction I've read though, things do tend to mix.

[Bookeater_otaku]

Interesting beginning. Don't see a lot of swashbuckling on fimfic. I'll wait and see where this is going.

[RenegadetheUnicorn]

Ooh, Rarity as Julie d'Aubigny? Sign me up for this ride!

[B_Munro]

So do the Apples (or "Pommes" ) speak with a thick Occitan accent?

[RK_Striker_JK_5]

Okay, some good action so far. gee, I wonder who she's gonna romance here. :p

[FanOfMostEverything]

I see we're hitting the ground running. Unlike Rarity. Definitely looking forward to seeing where you go with this.

[ScisetShimmerEvan]

The leader of the bandits (or at least the one who had been doing the talking) leveled his gun and fired. Or at least, he tried to, as his pull of the trigger resulted in an empty metallic click, and nothing more. Frustrated, he threw the useless pistol to the ground, and his two comrades followed suit. Three swords snaked from their scabbards.

For a second I thought she was in the clear but nope it's a sword fight now!

As she stepped forward, Rarity's boot squelched deep into the mud of the road. She flailed, off balance-- and then cried out in pain as she felt the point of the bandit's sword punch through her doublet and pierce her side. By reflex, she whipped her sword in a loose backhand, slashing her assailant across the face. He fell back, swearing and clutching at his cheek-- but Rarity had no time to savor the satisfaction of her victory, as the wild, unaimed blow had thrown her off balance. She leaned precariously over the edge of the ridge-road-- until her boot finally came free with a wet 'pop!' Rarity tumbled backwards, hanging impossibly in the air before she hit the slope and started rolling. Branches cracked and broke as Rarity plunged down into the darkness.

That ain't good!