Page 26 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Where Dean had communicated to Ingrid in a measured manner, moving at her pace and allowing for bumps and asides, Tyla instead imparted her teachings at a much faster speed with no breaks, no time for questions, and no time for hand-holding.

The nurturing, soft-spoken woman from early that morning was nowhere in sight, and this new, warrior version of Tyla began her lesson.

She explained the simple process of using the viseer stones to scare off Wranes first. “Point and fucking pray. As long as it’s deriving power from the Viator holding it, it’ll create a beam of energy they can’t withstand.

” Then she explained the more defensive aspects of the stone.

“When placed in tandem with other stones around a small area, they’ll act as a barrier warding off Wranes. ”

“Just Wranes? What about Sha?—”

“Shades too,” Tyla interrupted. “Now, we already have a barrier around the property. But if you ever need to set a protective parameter yourself, you only need to close the circle. There’s no set distance.

We haven’t tested it that closely. To be safe, we keep it within 60 meters.

” She froze, as if just now realizing her geographical location.

“Oh, umm. You’re American, duh—about two hundred feet . ”

Ingrid flashed a sheepish smile, feeling ignorant in an entirely different way than she had been those last twenty-four hours.

In the short pause Tyla allowed, Ingrid asked, “What about Sylan? Will the stones keep him away, too?”

“No,” Tyla declared stiffly. “That relies on the machinery Gianna placed around the property.” Another realization hit her.

“Dean’s mother,” she said, “Her name was Gianna. She was a physics professor before all of this dominated her time. Made all kinds of gadgets and weapons with the materials Karis provided her. A bloody genius, really. A bit of a bore, but genius.”

Ingrid hummed, looking around at all the computer parts and antique technology in the fortress. “Dean’s mom built all those?”

“Charming, right? If you look hard enough, you’d find dozens of odd little toys lying around this place.”

Ingrid tried momentarily to do so, locking onto a few mismatched, homemade pieces, but Tyla’s demanding voice broke her concentration again.

“In conclusion, if we place the stones further apart than two hundred feet, it’s possible they won’t engage with each other’s energy. The power works like a mirror reflecting off each other. A solitary stone will sputter out, but not if it’s supplemented by others.”

Instinctively, Ingrid reached for her father’s necklace. Since last night, she’d found solace in the act of rubbing her thumb over the flat, plated surface in the back when she was anxious. Just like she was doing now.

Tyla’s eyes drifted to Ingrid’s neck. “Did someone close to you give you that?” she asked.

“My father.” Ingrid said it without thinking, that naturally comforting aura of Tyla’s making it so easy to speak freely. “It was the only thing he left me. And I thought, I don’t know, that maybe it was his way of protecting me?”

“It’s possible,” Tyla said optimistically. “There are old stories. That Oracles and Magi used stones like backup reserves. A bank vault, of sorts. Storing some of their power into the stone and using it when they’re in need.”

“So this one,” Ingrid held the stone up higher. “It might have some of him, or I mean, some of his power inside?”

“Could be.” Tyla was hardly confident, and made sure that was clear once she saw the effect it had on Ingrid. “But I can’t promise anything. They’re just old stories.”

Old stories or not, Ingrid wondered at it.

If her father only sought to be rid of his parental duties, then he would’ve taken off with every tool at his disposal.

He would’ve been selfish. He would’ve taken the stone for his own protection.

But he hadn’t. He’d left it for her. Which meant if the stone she wore around her neck had possessed some of her father’s power all these years, just sitting there, waiting to help her, to protect her…

Ingrid didn’t let herself go further. It wasn’t going to lead to anything anyway. Not yet, at least.

When Ingrid pulled herself from her daydream, she saw that Tyla had moved further into the darkness of the basement, standing adjacent to a row of metal roll-up doors.

They’d been there all along, yet Ingrid had only just noticed how large they were—easily nine feet tall, ribbed and thick like most of the other protective walls in the fortress, with metal handles and ropes at the bottom for closing and opening.

With the surrounding chaos of wires, machinery, and weapons lying about as casually as tissue boxes, they’d gotten lost somehow.

But now Ingrid was paying attention.

“Now comes the fun part,” Tyla said, bending down to yank one of the handles upward.

It took both her hands, and a considerably explosive motion for Tyla to get it up in one fluid motion.

Once it was locked into place and tied up, Ingrid saw the very front of a large display rack lit by neon red lights, holding swords of various sizes and styles, knives, and bows mounted to the wall and extending a few rows into the deep alcove. It was enough to supply a small army.

But it didn’t end there. Taking another series of quick steps and lifting the other three doors open, Tyla revealed even more weapons, suits of full battle armor, leather vests and cloaks that Ingrid gleaned were to conceal the weapons, and an entire section of what appeared to be canning jars full of spices and herbs.

“These are all grown in Ealis,” Tyla said, jerking her head to the odd collection of vegetation. “Each of them has some very specific purpose, but you should really talk to Dean if you want the full textbook explanation on those.”

At the mention of him, Ingrid burned a hole between Tyla’s eyes with a glare.

“What’s that for?” Tyla asked. “What have I said now?”

Ingrid just kept staring.

“Oh. Right. The enamored comment. I’m sorry if I embarrassed?—”

“You did,” Ingrid said. “Made me feel like a silly little girl, honestly.”

Tyla lowered her head. “And truly, I’m sorry for that. But it had to be said. Ever since Dean started following you around, he’s become—how do I put this? Distracted. I just wanted to snap him out of it.”

“You think you succeeded at that?” The question fell from Ingrid’s lips before she had a chance to think about what it might’ve implied.

“Perfect.” Tyla exhaled deeply. “You’re smitten, too?”

“Not at all,” Ingrid shot back a little too quickly, too sharply.

“Good. Because I’ve known Dean for a long time, and he’s always struggled to find balance. He is very careful with what and who he wants. But if he does want something, he tends to obsess.”

Ingrid didn’t know how to respond to that. Her eyes drifted to her shoes, then the wall of weapons, then back to the floor.

“There I go again,” Tyla said, her green eyes blinking fast. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that either.

” She held her finger up, gesturing back to the weapons as if she was about to tell her a secret.

“Here, let me make it up to you. Go on, grab whichever one is calling to you. I promise you won’t feel silly after carrying one of these around for a while. ”

Ingrid didn’t need to be asked twice. She moved closer to the racks all lit by the flood of bright red light.

In her extensive reading on the Thirty Years War, the Renaissance, the history of in-fighting in Medieval England, she had developed an odd fascination with swords and daggers.

The biggest and most brutal-looking of the swords caught Ingrid’s eye first. It reminded her of the legendary long swords described by the historians, but it was thicker than her thigh and seemed to be as tall as her when standing on its pommel.

If not feeling silly was the goal, this was definitely not the sword for her.

She moved on to the smaller blades, eventually locking onto a black-hilted, thin but long sword in the very center of the display.

Her reflection gleamed in the shiny blade, and as she pulled it down with some effort, the tip nicked one of the lower shelves, almost knocking over the entire row. It was much heavier than it looked.

“Bad start,” Ingrid laughed self-consciously. “But I like the feel.” She raised the glinting steel in the air, waving it around slowly a few times. She removed one of her hands to really test out her strength, and to Ingrid’s amazement, it was feeling lighter already.

“Good choice,” Tyla said. “It was one of many that belonged to Karis. Won it in a duel, I think. Regardless, it suits you.”

Still testing the blade with a few small jabs and raises, Ingrid said, “Really? You think so?”

“Why so surprised?”

Ingrid cocked her head, holding the blade side down. “It’s not like I’ve had many opportunities to hold a sword. Besides, I’ve always been more of a gun-girl.”

“Oh.” Tyla winced, eyes glazing over. “Did no one tell you? Guns, they won’t?—”

“Won’t do much good,” Ingrid finished the sentence for her. “Dean mentioned that. During breaks in our torrid affair, I mean.”

“Suppose I deserved that. But I did mention I was sorry, right? We hardly?—”

“Have time for bickering?” Ingrid smiled widely, pleased with herself.

“You three made that abundantly clear with your little display over who would get to train me.” She straightened up, puffing out her chest to give her best impression of Raidinn.

“ Time is of the essence! Unless, you know, we need a little ego boost.”

Tyla rolled her eyes. “I see that temper Dean mentioned now,” she said, shifting her weight to one foot as she examined Ingrid. “But this is far more entertaining than how he described it. Go on. What else is bugging you?”