Prologue

The young five-year-old stared in awe as her daddy gently laid the gleaming silver sword into her hands. The metal glinted in the afternoon son, and she could see her face reflected in the blade.

"This is for you," her father began. "It's a light-weight sword that I made myself; that means it will be easier for you to handle. I'm going to teach you how to use it, just like Master Wong taught how to use mine all those years ago."

The girl's eyes shone with mirth, "you mean it Daddy? You really mean it?"

"Yes dear, but I want you to promise me that you will not use that sword unless I am with you, until you are ready to wield it alone I must always be by your side, got it?"

"Yes Daddy."

"That's my girl, come on I'll start by showing you the sword's layout."

He took the sword from his daughter and laid it on the ground, afterwards he beckoned her to come and sit beside him.

Her father pointed at the swords handle. "This part is known as the hilt, it consists of the guard, the grip and the pommel. The pommel is the counterweight on top of the handle. It provides a balance that is necessary to the wielder, making it easier to handle, understand?"

The little girl slowly nodded.

"This part," her father continued, pointing at the handle itself, "is called the grip..."

"Because you grip it?" His daughter guessed.

"That's right," he smiled at her. "We'll have you sword fighting in no time. The grip was usually made of wood or metal- this one's made of metal, and it was sometimes covered in shagreen leather or shark skin."

"What's shagreen?"

"It's a rough type of leather," he explained, made from a horse's back, or sometimes a wild ass, and typically died green."

The little girl nodded, "is this shagreen?"

"No this is rubber," her father explained, "it's more popular. But whatever material covered the grip; it is usually glued on and held with wire wrapped around it in a spiral shape."

"Ok, Daddy," the girl was trying hard to take in what her dad was explaining to her.

Finally he pointed at the last part of the handle. "This part is known as the guard, it protects your hands from the sword of your enemy, so that you don't get your hands injured. The guard didn't exist in older swords, and then it became just a straight crossbar. Now then, let's see if you've been listening. What's that part called? "

"The pommel," his daughter replied promptly.

"And what does it do?"

"It provides a balance," the young girl echoed her father's earlier words. "It makes it easier to handle, it's the c-c-counterweight."

"Well done," he pointed to another part of the weapon, "what's this known as?"

The girl grinned; she knew the answer to this one. "That's the grip; it's called that because you have to grip it."

"Excellent, and what was it usually made out of?"

The girl stared at her own sword. "Er, metal..."

"Right and…"

"Sorry Daddy, I can't remember."

"That's ok sweetheart; it's your first lesson. What's your rocking horse made out of?"

"Wood," she replied, slightly perplexed by this question. It suddenly dawned on her. "Oh, wood! The grips are sometimes made of wood!"

"Brilliant, your learning. Now then, what's this called?"

"That's the guard; it guards the person's hand from being cut by the other person's sword."

"Correct. Now tell me, did they have guards in older swords?"

"Yes-I mean no! No they didn't, but they did in later swords, it was called the crossbar-like in football."

Her father chuckled at his daughter's comparison. "Well done, ok, lesson number two. This part of the sword," he pointed the gleaming metal, "Is called the blade."

The little girl stared down at the sword blade and nodded, "yes Daddy."

"See that groove on the flat side of the blade? That's called the fuller. In the nineteenth century- before even you grandma was born, people called them "blood grooves", but it actually lightens the blade, rather than allowing the blood to flow from a wound, understand?"

"I think so Daddy," she wasn't so sure.

"Don't worry; you'll get it as time goes on. Anyway, this part of the sword is called the edge-I think it's easy to see why."

"Because it's the edge," the five-year-old-stated.

"Correct," he indicated another part of the blade that seemed to be joined to the fuller, "this part is the central ridge. It is sometimes the part used to inflict many defensive and offensive actions."

The little girl ran her fingers slowly along the central ridge. The blade was, understandably, extremely smooth.

"The last part of the blade section is this," he pointed at the tip of the sword, it's called the point."

"Yes, Daddy," she nodded her head in understanding. "What is it used for?"

"It's usually used for actions such as stabbing."

"Is it the most important part of the blade then, Daddy?"

Her father shook his head. "No, sweetheart, all parts of a sword are crucial because they each do an important job. Take the central ridge for example. Like I said, it's used for defensive actions as well as offensive. Imagine being in a sword fight where you can't defend yourself from getting hurt-or killed-from your enemy's sword, understand what I'm saying?"

"All parts of a sword are important, Daddy," his daughter answered. "You might need the sword to protect you as well as using it to hurt your enemy."

The man smiled at his young daughter's intelligence. She had inherited it from her mother. It was sad that she never got the chance to see that she had passed it on to their only child.

Once again her father tested her on naming the parts of the blade. Occasionally he would point to parts of the hilt, to see if she still remembered the names of those. He was glad to see that she hadn't forgotten.

"Ok, now you know the lay-out of a typical sword. Let's see how well you can use it, don't worry I'll help you this time. Afterwards, we'll see if you can do it yourself."

"Ok, Daddy," the little girl picked up her sword and followed her father. She carried the sword the same way she had often seen her dad carrying his, - with the blade pointing downwards.

She reached her dad, who was positioned next to an old tree stump. He pulled an apple from his pocket and placed it on the stump. "Let's see if you can chop this apple perfectly in half, I'll guide you the first few times."

He squatted down next to his daughter, and placed his hands on top of hers on the grip. Together they lifted the sword into the air and the man counted to three. Finally they brought the sword down, slicing it through the apple with ease.

"I did it!" The girl grinned in excitement, not really caring that her father had helped her.

"Well done," once again her dad congratulated his daughter's achievements. "Ok, let's do it again."

For the next ten or more times, he guided his daughter's hands. Occasionally the sword would miss the apple, but he reassured her that that happened to all beginners.

Finally he brought out the last apple. "I want to see if you can slice this one yourself." He placed it on the tree stump. "Don't worry I'll be watching you."

The girl stood in front of the tree stump, and lifted her sword. She stood there for a few seconds, to try and perfect her target.

Finally she brought the sword down. It whistled through the air, and sliced straight into the ripe fruit.

Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds then. Finally the apple split apart, equally in two. The five-year-old dropped her sword and jumped up and down in excitement. "I did it, Daddy! I did it!"

The man laughed at his daughters expected excitement. "Yes you did it, now let's see if you can do it again."