Page 97 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Did you take any kind of martial arts back home?” Tyla asked, catching her breath.
Ingrid placed her hands on her hips, unsure if Tyla was goading her. “I was a black-belt in eighty-sixing assholes from my bar. Does that count?”
Tyla laughed, then fixed herself in a serious pose. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand that.”
“What do you mean you?—”
“Accent!”
Part of Ingrid’s training included speaking more like a true Viator, flair and pomp and all. Tyla insisted they only use theaccent and vernacular when training, so that it would be learned almost subconsciously. While the flurry of attacks and physical exhaustion took precedence in Ingrid’s mind, the foreign pronunciation would become second nature.
Or, at least that was the hope.
Ingrid cleared her throat. “Right. Apologies. What I meant to say was, I was well-versed in tavern security.”
“Much better.” Tyla placed her hands on her hips, furrowing her brow. “But I wouldn’t do that face.”
“What face?” Ingrid was genuinely horrified. “Am I doing a face!?”
Puffing her chest, then contorting her eyebrows in her best rendition of what her student looked like to her, she said, “Yes. You are doing a face.”
“Mother, help me,” Ingrid said mockingly. It was nearly impossible to hide her embarrassment any other way. “Do I really look like that?”
Tyla nodded.
“Bullshit!”
An exhausted sigh escaped Tyla. “Sorry, didn’t catch that. I think you meant to say…what in Mother’s name.”
Ingrid started to correct herself, but shook her head once something occurred to her. “Wait, they knowballsbut notbullshit!? They have bulls here, don’t they?”
“They do.” Tyla hooked a thumb on the collar of her training vest. “Pretty sure the word bullshit has nothing to do with cattle, though.”
“Whatever. Can we just focus on actual fighting for now? You know, that thing that you were just complimenting me on? Remember?”
“Ahh,” Tyla tossed her weapon from one hand to the other, switching to her dominant hand. The sun beamed in fromthe enormous window, glinting off her sweaty forehead as she stalked forward. “So you want to fight? To really fight, then?”
Ingrid stiffened up. She’d only sparred once with Tyla using her true sword hand. It had been a spurt of cockiness on Ingrid’s part, a mistake that ended with a dislocated finger. The student had quickly learned her lesson and, looking at a possible repeat of that spectacle, all the confidence drained from her in seconds.
“Right, that’s what I thought. What I was saying was, you’re anticipating my moves no matter how often I alter my approach. That reeks of some experience in defensive martial arts. Or maybe just indicative of—and don’t get a big head about this—a sign of your power manifesting.”
“I’m in no danger of getting a big head,” Ingrid said, gesturing to Tyla’s dominant hand. “I know you’ve been holding back.”
“I wouldn’t say that I’m holding back. Levelling the playing field, yes. But holding back?” She grinned mischievously. “It’s not in my nature.”
It tracked. Ingrid had the bruises to prove Tyla was anything but a forgiving instructor. Welts the size of sword hilts littered her forearms and thighs. More than once, she’d ended a session tasting blood from a busted lip she’d incurred.
Though, shewasgetting better. She’d gotten comfortable enough in the basics to let her mind go blank and her body take the reins. As a result, she’d tapped into some primal instinct that alerted her to where her opponent would strike next. It wasn’t a perfect premonition. Tyla still won most of the sparring bouts. But that fighting intuition was sharpening.
The sweat-drenched pair took their stances on the training floor. Tyla struck first, just like she’d taught Ingrid to elicit. Ingrid quickly parried, spinning to her right and pushing off the blocked attack so hard that Tyla nearly lost her balance.
Still, the apprentice waited as her master realigned, circling her like a tigress. Tyla slid to a knee for a low strike, missed, parried a quick thrust from Ingrid, then immediately came back at her student with an upward riposte.
Ingrid evaded, shuffling backwards on her heels.
“Almost had you,” Tyla snarled.
“Did you?” Ingrid was already back to center, balanced and ready.
