Found and Forged

by Ivy Asher

  Their glow is blinding, and I try to turn away from it and shield my eyes, but I can’t move. I strain against the magic filling me, and just when things are bordering on painful, the magic explodes in a brutal flash like a bomb just went off. My scream is lost to the thundering sound of magic pouring out of everything that I am. It doesn’t ripple out like it did at Lachlan’s barrier, but blasts straight up until it slams into the dome of the barrier above us and then umbrellas out.

  I feel like I’m watching my soul, my essence, drain out with it, but I don’t have enough time to be scared by that when magic simultaneously blazes out of each of my Chosen. Their magic doesn’t join mine to feed the barrier surrounding us, but slams directly into me instead. I can’t see what’s happened to Sorik, my dad, or my Shields. I’m blinded by the light that my Chosen are feeding into me and that I’m subsequently feeding into the barrier.

  The wrongness, the missing piece, I felt before when it came to the magic in the barrier slowly changes, and what felt incomplete and off, now feels healed and right. Contentment settles in my chest, and just like that, my magic blinks out.

  I take a moment to catch my breath. I’m just about to internally start high-fiving myself for not feeling like I’m going to pass out—which is how I felt last time this happened—when my Chosen crumble to the dirt. Panic zaps through me. Reality violently yanks me away from the pride and peace I was just fist bumping. I scramble to Sabin who was the closest to me when he fell, and pull his limp body into my lap.

  Fear hammers in my chest when I realize that I can’t get to all of them at once. Sabin’s chest moves slowly against mine. That feeling is the only thing that holds me to the here and now and keeps me from completely losing my shit.

  They’re okay, Vinna. They’re just unconscious. They’re alive.

  I repeat this over and over again to myself, wrapping the words around me like the tether they are. I ass-scoot with Sabin in my arms, slowly moving so that I can pull them all to me. I notice absently that the circle of diamonds that recently showed up on my palm is still glowing, but I ignore it as the need to touch each of my guys and physically make sure they are okay overpowers everything else in my mind.

  “What in the name of Close Encounters of the Third Kind just fucking happened?” Kallan asks, his eyes trained on the ceiling of the barrier. Light pulses and flickers through it, punctuating his question.

  “Well, if there is anyone here, they know they have company now thanks to that light show,” Becket announces, and I don’t miss the irritation in his tone.

  “Everyone okay?” Nash asks as he rushes over to check on each of my Chosen.

  He methodically checks each of them, while the rest of his coven and Sorik sound off with their yeses, and I try to stop freaking the fuck out. I welcome the numbness that starts to take over as I chant they’ll wake up, they’re fine over and over to myself. I work to compartmentalize my worry and panic, because Becket is right. I just fucking light showed a honey, I’m home to anyone who does live within these magical walls.

  Fucking annoying unpredictable magic!

  “We need to move. If anyone is here, it’s possible Becket might get the parade he’s been dreaming about, but there’s also a chance that they may want to fuck us up too,” I tell them.

  “Kallan, you see any good defensible positions?” Enoch asks.

  Kallan immediately starts scanning everything around us with a more critical eye. “We can move higher, see if there’s anything good up there that makes us less sitting duck-ish.”

  I nod in agreement and arrange Sabin flat on his back. “Each of us needs to carry one of my Chosen. Let’s go!” I shout out, and then I grab Sabin’s leg, roll on top of him and use the momentum to get him up on my shoulders into a fireman carry.

  “Dad, we’re placing Ryker on your shoulders. You will carry him and make sure no harm comes to him,” I order.

  There’s no reaction to my direction, but when Enoch and Kallan place Ryker on Vaughn’s shoulders, he holds him there. At this point, I’ll take it. I call on my runes and shove magic into all of my limbs to help support Sabin’s weight. He’s taller than me and has more muscle, but I didn’t realize he would feel this heavy. Maybe it’s the weeks of walking or the drain on my magic, but I feel shaky as I hold him.

  Enoch and Kallan get Siah on Sorik’s shoulders, Bastien on Nash’s shoulders, and Valen on Becket’s shoulders. Then they both execute the same roll I just used. Kallan picks up Torrez, and Enoch picks up Knox.

  “On me,” Kallan directs, and we all follow him, single file, toward the densely packed trees. Adrenaline and panic fortify my tired muscles, and I focus on keeping Sabin safe on my shoulders. I debate if I should use any of my other runes to try and ensure nothing can sneak up on us, but I worry what will happen if I burn myself out from trying to do too much.

  Fuck it.

  I’m not sure what we’re walking into, and we’re seven people down. We need all the help we can get. I activate every rune on my body that isn’t a weapon, feeding magic into every mark on me that could give us the tactical advantage. My hearing increases. Color fades away and everything becomes more detailed as my eyesight changes. I breathe deeply, the familiar scent of trees, dirt, foliage, and the people I’m with filling my nose.

  It’s as if threads from my body sink into the mountain with each step, helping me identify movement in and on the soil and navigate the terrain. Well, that’s new. With each step I take, I feel better, stronger, more rejuvenated. I file that away to be looked at later; I don’t know what it is, but I’ll take it.

  We hike for about twenty minutes, burrowing deeper into the thick forest, when I feel it. We’re being watched.

  9

  I feel eyes on me. But regardless of every magic fueled ability that I have activated right now, I can’t tell where. I stop midstep, goosebumps rising on my arms. I open my mouth to say something to the others, when something drops from the sky and slams into the earth fifteen feet away. Dirt, rocks, and other forest floor debris go flying up all around us. Alarmed shouts are about all we can get out as more mystery things start dropping from the sky. I spot limbs and feathers on one projectile before my vision is blurred by the dirt cloud that forms as it slams into the ground.

  My Shields, Sorik, and I all work quickly, dropping my Chosen to the ground and forming a protective circle around them. I try to scream for Vaughn to get in the middle too, but he can’t hear me above all the chaos that’s going on around us. Sorik darts for him though and yells a command in his ear. Relief fills me when Vaughn sets Ryker down gently and then lies on top of him.

  My throat tightens at the sight of my father protecting one of my Chosen with his life. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to any of them, and a part of me wants to lie on my dad to protect him too. I drop kick all concern and worry away, and armor myself instead with the vicious need to protect them all. Once again I tap into my baser self, the one that screams for blood and demands that you don’t fuck with what’s mine.

  I call on my long sword and clap the hilt to force it to replicate. I can feel Enoch doing the same behind me. Becket calls on his maces. Kallan palms his throwing knives, and Nash twirls both of his short swords in his hands. Short swords materialize in Sorik’s hands, and I summon a bright yellow-orange defensive barrier around where my Chosen lie unconscious. I chase away the fleeting thought that they’re going to be pissed they missed the action. I call on an offensive barrier, the magenta protection strengthening the yellow-orange barrier protecting them.

  People step through the thick dirt-clouded air, and we all realize quickly that we’re surrounded. A couple of them have wings, but the rest look just like us. From what I can make out through the clouds of debris now slowly floating back to the floor of the mountain, I catch various shades of men, with a couple of women interspersed. They all wear a type of black armor, but it looks leather-like as opposed to metal. They appear to be slowly closing in on us, and I
can make out through the hazy air, glowing orbs floating in the hands of some and weapons clutched in the hands of others.

  Sentinels.

  I spot black markings like mine on some of them, and I can’t help the awe that surges through me.

  I really am not the last.

  I scour every inch of them that I can see, hungry to know more, but painfully aware that this situation does not feel friendly.

  They can motherfucking fly.

  I fangirl to myself and then work to calm the fuck down. Excitement tries to fuck up my game face, but I hammer it into submission.

  Not the fucking time or place, Vinna.

  They don’t say a word as they slowly move to close around us. There’s an unmistakable arrogance wafting out with their presence and the way they carry themselves. These people know they are the top of the food chain. They saunter through the cloud of dirt their landings created, like gods expecting worship. Warning pulses up my spine, and I know I can’t let my awe get the better of me. I quickly glance at my Shields and Sorik; we are all that stands between them and my Chosen.

  “By order of Sovereign Finella, you are trespassing and have a dispatch order on your heads. Speak of your origins, or you will be destroyed,” a man directly in front of me announces, his grip tightening on the spear in his hands.

  I scan the surrounding Sentinels. “Did your Sovereign order you not to kill us if we tell you where we’re from?” I ask, unclear as to why they’d want to know where we’re from if they’ve been ordered to dispatch us.

  “Who are you and how did you get in here?” a female voice demands, ignoring my question. I can’t make out who said it, but it seems to come from my right.

  We stay quiet, assessing the situation.

  “We will not ask you again. Who are you, and how did you get in here?” the same female voice demands, a hard edge working to counteract the youth that rings in her tone.

  “We walked,” Sorik answers calmly and vaguely.

  Another Sentinel shouts out, “Impossible,” at the same time a humorless laugh fills the air. The laugher steps out of the dirt haze, and my eyes go wide despite my efforts to be calm, cool, and collected.

  He has fucking wings!

  The dude prowls forward looking like some GQ angel of death. I take in his flawless alabaster skin, black hair as long as mine, bright aubergine colored eyes, and a smirk that looks like it’s this dude’s favorite accessory. Well, aside from all the muscles that is. Massive gray and tan wings sit on his back, and I try not to stare at them as his amused gaze passes judgment on me.

  “You’d really like us to believe that you just walked through an impenetrable barrier?” he mocks, running his eyes over Sorik and my Shields dismissively.

  “Couldn’t have been that impenetrable, as we’re having this discussion right now,” I challenge. “It seemed pretty Sentinel friendly, so if that’s not what you wanted, you should really have it looked at,” I add.

  “There are no Sentinels outside of our borders,” another woman states snidely, and I turn to her.

  “Well, what the fuck do you call us then? If it’s marked like a Sentinel and fights like a Sentinel…” I trail off, giving my swords a little twirl to emphasize my point.

  Unease ripples through both sides as I finish speaking. That humorless laugh starts up again, and the male with the wings steps closer, the others with him mirroring his actions. “I see only one Sentinel surrounded by too much unworthy magic. What did you let them do to you, Kitten?”

  I bristle at his implication and the sneer his grin becomes. Titters pepper the Sentinels opposite me. I glare at them, my we come in peace attitude quickly morphing into a whole lot of fuck you. I tilt my head at him appraisingly and twirl both swords in my hands. “Now now, oh winged and douchey one. You should worry less about what they’ve done to me and more about what I’m going to do to you.”

  “We’re not going to ask again, how did you get in here?” a dirty blond male Sentinel demands again, and I’m officially done playing this game.

  “How the fuck do you think we got in here?” I snap at him. “You know how your barrier works and who it will and will not let through. Cut the bullshit. You can see what we are. If that doesn’t matter to you, and I suspect that it doesn’t, then shut the fuck up and make a move.”

  There’s a good chance I’m not the magical top dog amongst these Sentinels, but I’m ready to find out.

  The dirty blond male feeds magic into the white orb in his hand. “I can only imagine how quickly you’d spread your legs for pure light, given all that you’ve done to mark the filth you stand with. Don’t worry though, I’ll take care of them, and then I’ll take real good care of you,” he declares.

  Disgust, fury, and disappointment thunder through me.

  “Well, I’m about talked out, how about you, Vinna?” Becket asks me.

  I quickly take in the number of Sentinels surrounding us, the barriers over my Chosen and my dad, and nod my agreement with Becket. We charge without a word of warning, and for a quick second, I see surprise on their faces before it’s replaced with arrogant outrage. I run right for the winged asshole.

  Orbs of every color are lobbed at me as I attack. They seem to think if they can take me down first, the others will be easy pickings. I have no idea what we’re up against, but I know none of us will go down easy. My runes flash out shields that send the Sentinel’s attacking magic bouncing away from me. Panic flares in a few of my opponents’ eyes, and it spurs me on even more. I have no idea what any of these Sentinels can do, but the unknown is a two-way street that works in our favor too.

  I clash with another Sentinel that steps in my way with an axe. He swings at me, and I lean back just in time to avoid having my head split open. My blade slices up his side. Pivoting around a downward slash, I slam a sword into his upper back. I release the magic for that sword and call another, but I’m intercepted by two more Sentinels before I finally reach the guy with the wings. Surprisingly, he’s just standing there waiting for me, excited anticipation radiating off of every inch of him.

  A battle soundtrack sounds off all around me; weapons clang and smash together, shouts and war cries rent the air. Bloodlust bubbles up in my chest, and I feel in every fiber of my being that it’s not just my life riding on the outcome of all of this, but the lives of everyone who is now connected to me.

  It’s Bastien’s face that flashes in my mind as I bring my sword down to clash with the claymore now gripped in the angel of death’s hands. Valen’s smile that lights up my insides as I spin and land an elbow in the winged man’s side. It’s Knox’s touch that fortifies me as I swing another blade down and draw first blood along the winged Sentinel’s thigh. I shake off a bone rattling hit to my right shoulder and focus on the acceptance that’s always waiting for me in Ryker’s blue eyes. I let go of the magic of my long sword and step in closer to my winged opponent.

  I force myself inside the reach of his sword and call on my throwing knives. Sabin’s voice as he speaks the words I love you plays over and over in my head as I become a tornado of movement, slashing, defending, and marking up the arrogant Sentinel I’m fighting. I get a blade up under his wing, and his pained cry is drowned out by the phantom feel of Torrez when he holds me and whispers mine in my ear.

  Pain flares in my stomach, and I look down to see the hilt of a long dagger sitting dead center in my stomach. I look up into the satisfied aubergine eyes of the winged asshole who just stabbed me, and I smile. He thinks he has me.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” I challenge as I call on a short sword and slice up the front of his arm. I can feel the ghost of Siah’s fingers in my hair, and it’s as if he’s pushing it to the side so he can kiss his mark on my shoulder. Each of them have put their trust and faith in me. They’ve accepted me for what I am and have worn my marks with honor, love, and devotion. I am theirs, and they are mine. And I will not fucking lose against this prick.

  The dagger is ri
pped from my stomach, and I bite back my cry of pain. I won’t give this fucker the satisfaction. I lift my leg to kick him away from me, but a shout behind me has my blood running cold.

  “Enoch, behind you!”

  Nash’s panicked warning goes off like a cannon shot behind me. I try to turn to see what’s going on, but I’m stopped when a flash of purple magic pulses through the fighting and I’m thrown backward. I fly through the air and slam hard to the ground. I land on something large and giving, but I’m too dazed to focus on what. I’m muddled from the hit and slow to get up. I try to shake the fogginess out of my mind and figure out what the fuck just happened. I blink sluggishly, trying to bring things into focus.

  Bodies litter the ground. No one is left standing. Terrified, I look to where my Chosen are. The barrier around them is still intact, and I let out a relieved breath. A groan sounds beneath me, and I look to see I’m wrapped up in wings and long black hair. I roll off of the guy I was just doing my best to kill and push up onto my feet.

  Dread starts to takeover, and I search for Enoch and the others frantically, fear whirlpooling inside of me. Sorik gets to his feet close to where my dad and my Chosen are. He runs a concerned gaze over me and seems to relax a little until his eyes land on my stomach. I look down to find blood soaking my shirt. I whip my shirt over my head and press it hard against my stomach. I ignore the pain as I scramble through the bodies still on the ground, looking for my Shields.

  I spot Enoch and run toward him. He groans and pushes onto his back, coughing as he does.

  “Fuck, are you okay?” I ask, skidding to my knees next to him.

  “Fine,” he croaks out, but my relieved sigh catches in my throat.

  “Enoch...what the hell?” I whisper, shocked.

  I lean forward to study the new marks that he has on his throat. Four of the marks I recognize. Enoch, Kallan, Nash and Becket have them lining their middle fingers, but the top rune is unfamiliar. It’s a crescent moon on its back with a smaller one directly underneath it. There’s a black vertical line through the middle of both the crescents and three dots at the bottom end. All of the runes run up the front of Enoch’s throat. He covers them with a hand as if he’s trying to protect them.