Cut down

Lianne faced down the knight on his horse, her sheathed sword held in her left hand just above the hilt, a thumb ready to push it just out of the sheath, and her right hand on the handle. The knight grinned at her, his lance held loftily by his horse's flank. "Well, girl," he called out mockingly, "it seems to me that you must have the advantage. Such a short range range weapon against a mounted and trained knight? Clearly, I can not win."

Lianne's eyebrows pinched together, but her voice betrayed none of her frustration. "I would tend to agree," she responded. "I suggest you go about your way."

The knight did not have her composure. "Get out of my way before I skewer you like the dog you are," he barked. His fist clenched tight around the wooden shaft of his lance, flicking the tip in her direction. His intentions were clear. He did not have the chivalry that was so touted about the knights of Crestin. "You don't stand a chance. Even if you managed to deflect my blow, my horse would trample you in an instant."

Lianne didn't move. "If you're so confident about that, then feel free to test me. Just remember who cut you down when you arrive at the gates of hell."

The knight bellowed as he kicked his horse into a charge. There was a good ten yards between them. That gave Lianne perhaps fifteen seconds to act.

She spent the first ten seconds waiting patiently.

The horse was only a few paces away when she acted. She slipped forward, ducking just under the spearing head of the lance. She flicked her thumb forward, pushing the sword out of its sheath just enough so it would no longer be steadfast, allowing her to pull it smoothly and quickly out with her dominant hand. It slashed wide, hard and fast, cutting not at the knight, but at the back of the knee of his horse.

The horse cried out in pain and toppled forward, the cut taking out the muscle that supported the structure of its leg. The knight, already shifting his weight forward to strike with the lance, lost his balance and was catapulted out of his seat, slamming his face hard into the ground. By the time he got up, Lianne was facing him, sword already back in its sheath, looking as though she hadn't even moved.

"How?" he asked.

"Like I said," Lianne replied. "Remember who cut you down at the gates of hell."

He saw her thumb flick the sword forward before his head hit the ground.