Page 20 of Stormbringer (Tracthesian Academy #1)

M arc was in a mood, and that mood was bordering on murderous. He had already decided they all needed to freshen up with their shielding, but Mrs. Riverson’s little visit drove that home like a punch in the gut.

Yash had coaxed the story out of Wayla during breakfast, and while hearing about her telling the asshole off had given him a partial hard-on, he still wanted to shake some sense into her. Irishen was heir apparent, and she was a storm spirit. They didn’t fight even on the same plane.

Jarred agreed that this took precedence over shielding against the Hell Moon. Besides, most of the principles could be transferred once she grasped them.

She wasn’t grasping them.

Marc gritted his teeth as Grant once again blasted her off her feet. He was being gentle, but Wayla’s teeth still cracked together when she landed. She needed to learn how to land without injuring herself.

He gave a cursory glance at the rest of the group sparring. He had mixed up all their usual patterns, and more than Wayla’s ass was making acquaintance with the training room’s floor. That made him flex his fingers in irritation. They had really become complacent.

Grant pushed and Wayla fell.

Marc stormed over. “You need to shield Wayla. This is not a game. Irishen is a grade-A asshole, and he’ll chew you up—”

“I’m trying ,” she snapped back, cutting him off.

“Try harder,” he growled right into her face.

Yes, he had noticed the rosy tint of her lips and accentuated lashes.

He had also noted how her top molded to her breasts and pants somehow made her legs look longer.

And he didn’t give a shit. “Maybe if you focused on what you are supposed to do, instead of trying to look pretty, you’d get this. ”

Something flashed in her eyes, but Marc couldn’t say if it was hurt or something else. He half expected her to blast him like last time, but Wayla just took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders, and turned to face Grant.

“Again.”

Grant gave Marc a warning look before squaring up against her. “Maybe we should try it the other way around. You attack me and I shield, so you can see how it’s done.”

Wayla shook her head. “I’m not very good at offense like that.”

“Maybe you should have thought about it before pissing off the heir fucking apparent,” Marc spat out.

“Marc!” Grant snapped at him.

Wayla didn’t even look at him, focused on Grant. She was standing too stiffly to roll with the push that was coming. Cursing, Marc moved to stand behind her. He grasped her hips and tugged her body tightly against his. Wayla stiffened even more, but he ignored it.

“Relax. You stand so stiffly that a breeze would topple you over and, believe me, what Grant is doing right now is equivalent to a tiny summer breeze fluffing your hair.” Said hair was tickling his nose when he leaned down to speak into her ear.

He tapped her lower stomach. “Your core muscles shouldn’t be crunching, just supporting. Limbs loose and ready, and remember to breathe. Now, Grant.”

Grant didn’t hesitate. He blasted Wayla with a wall of air, and this time, Marc guided her body down and rolled them over, pulling her with him back to her feet. Grant was ready and hit them again the moment she was upright.

Over and over, they rolled until Marc’s back was pressed against the wall. “You better shield now, sparkle. Nowhere to go.”

Grant hit them again, and Marc fully expected to be crushed against the wall for a moment.

What he didn’t expect was a wall of solid ice to form in front of them.

Before he could say or do anything, Wayla cursed, the wall shattered, chunks of ice flying to the floor, and she wrenched free of his hold.

“Fuck it,” she growled and stomped back where they had started. Grant followed her with comically wide eyes. “Again,” she snarled.

Grant shook his head and opened his mouth before Marc could. “What was that?”

Marc finally got his feet moving.

“External shield,” Wayla snapped, like it should be obvious. “We weren’t training on those. Again.”

“You can pull up an external shield just like that, but can’t grasp a simple internal shield?” Grant sounded disbelieving, echoing Marc’s own feelings.

Wayla shook out her hands and rolled her neck before reluctantly answering. “Your type of shielding is different from what I learned growing up.”

“Different how?” Marc moved to stand next to her and looked into her eyes. That definitely was irritation flashing in them now.

“Different,” she said, mulishly refusing to explain.

“Wayla, I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m dealing with,” Marc tried to keep his tone reasonable and coaxing. Wayla just shook her head.

“Just explain it to me again.”

Marc opened his mouth, but Grant stepped in. “All right. Let’s take it a step back. Basic form of shielding is generalized, right?”

Wayla nodded. “It provides some level of protection against any element of power. Broad, but very feeble protection. Specialized shields provide more protection, but only against the power they are attuned for.”

“Very good,” Grant nodded. Marc took a deep breath and tried to get himself under control as Grant continued. “The type of shielding we are looking for now is several steps up from that though.”

“How?” Wayla frowned. “It’s a layer pulled against me, right?”

Grant nodded. “Yes, but think about the normal shield as a fresh film. It’s thin, see-through, and tears easily.”

Wayla nodded, “Okay?”

“Instead of a single thin layer, think about the shield as a million small interlocking scales molding to you. It bends and spreads the impact to a broader area but doesn’t tear.”

“Oh!” Wayla’s eyes widened. “Like this?” She flicked her wrist, and a thin sheet of water hovered over her palm. As he watched, the see-through layer folded into itself and condensed, until it resembled a dragon’s hide and wasn’t see-through anymore.

“That’s the idea,” Grant nodded encouragingly. His eyes shouted some form of ‘what the fuck’ at Marc, who returned ‘hell if I know’, as they watched Wayla play with the water and try different formations.

Eventually, she seemed satisfied and formed it into a ball. A devious smile rose to her lips as she glanced around the room and then, with a flick of her wrist, sent the ball straight at Jarred’s head.

The man in question swore as the ball bounced from the back of his head. The ball, however, held form, and Wayla nodded, looking satisfied.

“I can see how that could be useful.”

“Damn it, Wayla!” Jarred shouted. Xuan took advantage of his distraction and put his ass on the ground. Right on top of the ball as it turned to plain water and splattered him. Wayla giggled before turning back to Grant.

“Okay, how do I make that into a shield?”

“Marc, you’re up,” Grant said easily. Marc sighed, tried to pull his head out of his ass, and explained it all again.