Found and Forged

by Ivy Asher

  “Of course, Getta, I apologize for misspeaking,” Tawv offers as he bows in supplication. I watch the two of them, a little confused.

  “Is this the lost one?” Getta asks, and the giant carrying her dips her down so she can get a good look at me.

  Her cloudy gaze runs all over my face. She studies me in a way that feels both intriguing and unsettling simultaneously. She reaches out a twig thin arm, her bony hand palm up and expectant. I stare at it for a moment before placing my hand in hers. I think that’s what she wants anyway. She gives a satisfied hum and closes her eyes. She flips my hand over and strokes it with skeletal fingers I’m afraid might break and turn to dust at any moment.

  She traces the rune on my palm and sighs. “Hello, old friend,” she greets shakily, nodding her head like my rune is suddenly talking to her.

  I look to the guys, my eyes asking what the fuck. Knox smiles and shrugs. Valen makes the universal sign for crazy by circling his pointer finger at his temple. Getta slaps the palm of my hand with more strength than I expect, and I snap my head back in her direction.

  “You carry all the right signs, girl. Ones lost to time and greed bloom like a flower on you. Your glow rivals that of the sun, but none of that tells me if you’re worthy.”

  With that, Getta slaps the massive protruding pec of the male carrying her, and he pulls her away from me. He moves toward the back of the house, and I once again take in the two scars on his back.

  “Don’t just stand there, girl. Follow his fine ass and come with me.”

  My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline in shock. Knox and Bastien both bark out laughs that they promptly turn into coughs. I look at Tawv, wondering if this lady is for real, but he just does as Getta says and walks toward the back of the house. I fall into step behind him, not sure exactly what’s going on or who the hell this lady even is.

  The back of the house is packed dirt and a single water trough set just to the side. I don’t see any animals hanging about, so I’m not sure what the trough is for. The stoic, scarred giant sets Getta down in the middle of the round packed dirt yard, and she looks even more slight and decrepit than she did in the massive male’s arms. She pinches his ass as he walks away, and I see the male roll his eyes and his chest vibrate with laughter even though no sound accompanies it.

  “Come here, girl, and stop staring at Issak; he’s taken.”

  I immediately avert my eyes and scramble to join Skeletor granny on the hard packed ground. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare at your...Chosen.” My apology comes out more like a question because I’m not sure how this match worked out, and I don’t see runes on either one of them.

  “Oh, he’s not mine. I’m just keeping him warm until the right one chooses her path and comes to claim him.”

  The massive male snorts, and she narrows her eyes at him. “You know I’m right, and you better start doing what needs to be done so you can be worthy of her,” Getta snarls at him.

  “I see,” I reply simply, trying really hard not to picture exactly what she could mean by keeping him warm.

  “Now, girl, answer my question,” Getta demands, and I look at her, confused.

  She doesn’t say anything else, and I have no idea what question she’s talking about. I turn to the guys hoping somehow they caught it, but they all shrug uselessly. Something raps me hard on the shoulder, and I yelp and turn. There’s nothing there, and I search for whatever the fuck just tried to give me a dead arm.

  “Are you going to answer me or not?” Getta asks again, her fragile shaky voice laced with irritation.

  “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

  “Are you worthy?”

  “Worthy of what?” I ask even more perplexed.

  “Wrong answer,” she replies, and then a staff appears in her hand, and she whacks me with it. She hits the exact same spot she just hit on my arm, and I jump back away from her with a squeak.

  “What the fuck?” I ask incredulously as I rub my arm.

  Knox is laughing so hard I think he’s crying, which is no fucking help to me.

  “Wrong answer,” she parrots again, and faster than this old bag of bones should be able to move, she whacks me hard on the thigh.

  Motherfucker!

  “Listen, I don’t know what you’re asking. A little context would be super helpful,” I tell her, and the sneaky bitch whacks me again.

  “Are you worthy, girl?” she demands again, and I’m starting to get really fucking frustrated with all this cryptic shit.

  “I don’t know, lady, you tell me,” I snap at her, and this time when she tries to hit me, I block it with my own staff.

  Getta giggles, and interest sparks in her cloudy gaze. “Now you’re talking,” she tells me, and she goes in for another hit.

  I block it again and stumble back away from her. She advances, and I’m floored at how quickly she moves. She can’t seriously want me to fight her, can she? I mean, she clearly has some tricks up those cobwebbed sleeves, but Getta the granny wouldn’t stand a chance in a real brawl. Fuck, I’m worried if I breathe too hard on her, it’ll break something.

  She swings for me again and misses.

  “Getta, I don’t know what your deal is, but if you keep swinging at me, I’m going to defend myself. I don’t want to hurt you,” I explain, looking at the others in hopes that they’ll help me convince this senile old bat to activate her chill. One minute she’s being carried around like a baby, and the next she’s going full Kung Fu Panda on me.

  The giant black haired male leans back against the house like none of this is a big deal. Tawv watches what’s going on with rapt attention. Ryker and Bastien have joined Knox’s giggle fest, and Valen just gives me a thumbs up like the worst soccer mom ever, just chilling on the sidelines.

  “What’s the matter, girl, afraid I’m going to kick your ass?” Getta taunts me, and I let loose an involuntary laugh.

  I reel back just in time, barely dodging a swing aimed for my head. I glare at Getta, my patience with her bullshit starting to run real fucking thin.

  “Fine. You want a fight? I’ll give you a fight. Don’t accuse me of elder abuse or say I didn’t warn you,” I growl between clenched teeth when Getta jabs at my stomach with her staff and nails me once.

  I feel awkward as fuck wanting to beat the shit out of this little old woman, but it’s clearly what she’s aiming for. I stop running around the packed dirt yard on the defensive and swing a couple offensive strikes out at Getta. She blocks them with an excited hoot that convinces me she really and truly has lost her damn mind and wants to fight.

  Is this going to be me when I’m a billion years old? Just taunting anyone who walks by because I’m itching for a good match?

  I’m equally amused and horrified by that thought. I can just picture my Chosen shouting at me from the house, telling me to bring my wrinkled ass back in and stop taunting the neighborhood kids.

  Fuck it. Let’s go, Wrinkle in Time.

  I stop pulling my hits and go balls to the wall at Getta. She screams with delight and meets me move for move. I’m not sure what to think about the fact that this woman, who is clearly older than time itself, is keeping up with me. I call on my runes and pick up the speed. I’m a blur as I spin, twirl, flip, slash, jab, and whack at Getta.

  And holy motherfucking shit, she’s also a blur as she dodges, parries, blocks, loops, and redirects my hits. I spin, punching out with one hand at the same time I bring my staff down toward her with another. She dodges my fist, but I just clip her with my weapon.

  I keep from celebrating my hit with an excited shout and feel kind of bad. I’m about to ask her if she’s okay, when she looks up and smiles at me. And then in a flash, Getta stops fucking around and shows me what she’s really made of.

  17

  In a haze of movement, Getta and I attack and defend like we’re in some epic fight scene in a martial arts movie. I’m all Crouching Tiger to her Hidden Dragon as we race all over the back yard, trying to beat the s
hit out of each other. I block a hit so hard that my arms vibrate from the force. I call on my runes for strength and deliver my own bone jarring hits, blow for blow. I don’t know how long we go at each other, streaks of movement in the morning light as the sound of our staffs smash together in a rhythmic soundtrack that accompanies our grunts and whoops and shit talking.

  I hear my guys cheering and commenting on the action, and it spurs me on. I gotta give it to the old coot, her game is on point. But I know she’ll start to lag and tire at any moment, and that’s when I’m going to fuck the old bitch up. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I bend, rotate, retreat, and then press forward.

  And just when I think I’m about to gain the upper hand, Getta shows me that she’s got more in the tank than I thought.

  We’re creating a dust tornado as we speedily circle each other and look for an opening. Getta leaps at me like a fucking spring chicken, and then suddenly it feels like I’m Neo in Matrix Reloaded when he’s fighting a fuck-ton of Mr. Smiths. Getta is fucking everywhere. I haul ass to keep her from connecting a hit anywhere on my body, but it’s a pace I know I can’t keep up forever. Getta uses her staff to pole vault over me, and I swing for where her trajectory says she should be landing. In a move that defies gravity, she changes direction and kicks me square in the chest so hard I see stars.

  I’m thrown back and land hard in the trough, the cold water coating me in even more humiliation. The guys go silent, like the shock of what just happened has struck them completely mute. I stare at Getta, dumbfounded. How in the fuck did she do that? Mr. Smith is not supposed to kick Neo’s ass. She walks slowly over to me, as if each of her bones are suddenly feeling her age. I don’t blush, but I feel my body heat with embarrassment. I can’t believe that I just lost a fight to the Crypt Keeper. I haven’t fucking lost a fight in...I can’t even remember.

  My humiliation goes beyond my underestimation of Getta though. I needed to win in order to be worthy of whatever the fuck she could tell me. I’m once again so fucking close to the answers, but this time, I only have myself to blame for losing them. Getta stops just in front of me and leans on her staff. Her cloudy white eyes land on mine, and she stares at me like she can see right into my soul.

  “Are you worthy?” she asks me again.

  My eyes sting as I look away. “I guess not,” I admit, and I feel something in me crack at that admission.

  “As you say,” Getta agrees, and then she jerks her chin at Issak.

  He lumbers over and scoops her up like something that’s precious to him. Her staff disappears in her hands, and she rests her head back and closes her eyes. I watch Issak’s back as he carries Getta away, and I feel like the last of my hope goes with them.

  I pull myself out of the trough, ignoring the hand Valen steps forward and holds out for me to take. I can’t even look at him or any of the guys. I don’t even want to know what’s written on Tawv’s face right now. I had a shot to get myself and my Chosen some real answers, and I blew it. I wasn’t good enough. Water drips off my skin in rivulets, and I wish it could take my shame with it.

  Siah steps toward me, opening his mouth to say something, but Knox stops him and shakes his head. For a moment, all I want is to be wrapped up in a hug, but I shove that shit away. I fucked up. I don’t get to be coddled and ask for lies about how this is all going to be fine. None of this is fine.

  Tawv turns his back on me and moves away from the tiny cottage. I follow him. Maybe if I train harder, I can come back and try again. I can’t bring myself to ask him if that’s possible though. I just shutter everything up as Tawv leads us silently away. I don’t look back over my shoulder as we widen the distance between us and Getta’s house. That place will forever be burned in my brain, the mortification seared into my soul. There’s a good chance I might never be good enough to beat her, and then where does that leave us?

  My Chosen are all silent as we make our way back, and I’m simultaneously sad and grateful for that. The castle comes into view, and the restless itch just underneath my skin is almost overwhelming. I need to move. To run. To train. To beat this humiliation and loss out of me, and I need to do it right now. I hope these fuckers have a gym. I need to not feel less than, and that’s the only place I can do it.

  “Kings and Queens” by Thirty Seconds to Mars blares in my ears as I finish another round of the obstacle course and immediately drop to do one hundred push-ups. Thankfully, I had my phone on me when our little welcome party attacked us. I do the thing Enoch taught me on our hike here and send a zap of Elemental magic into my phone to keep the music going.

  They don’t have a traditional gym here, but they do have a training facility just outside the castle. The place cleared out when I showed up. There were a couple Sentinel stragglers here and there who wanted to see what I was about, but they’re long gone.

  I’ve been at this for hours.

  Ryker went back to the castle with Tawv to check on Sorik. And Bastien, Valen, Knox and Siah are all endeavoring to give me as much space as they can. They’re guarding the doors, but they’re out of sight, and I’m doing all I can to put them out of mind for a while.

  My heart beats steadily in my chest, the thump off beat from the drums of the song. It’s like it’s telling me there’s no running from it or what happened. Internally, I put my middle fingers up at it and run anyway, hoping if I can just be fast enough, all these emotions won’t catch up and drown me.

  I finish my push-ups and run to the padded poles that seem designed to take hits. It doesn’t move or sound like a punching bag, but the feel is close enough. I whale on one of them, one hit flowing seamlessly into another as I try to go numb and not picture everything that’s wrong in my world. Talon, Lachlan, Keegan, my dad, my mom, Laiken… There’s just so much loss, and I don’t know how to cope with any of it.

  I don’t fit with the humans. I don’t fit with the casters. And now I don’t fit with the fucking Sentinels either. There are too many secrets, too many unknowns, too many wrongs and injustices, and I just want to know why.

  I’m not normally that needy bitch who needs to point out how unfair it all is and figure out my place in it. Bad shit happens all the time, and life can always be worse. But for some reason, the mysterious why of it all is hammering at me. No matter how hard I push myself, I can’t escape what broke open when Getta broke what I thought I knew about myself.

  A booming crack fills the training facility, but I ignore it and continue to pummel the pads. One more hit. Two more hits. Three. Four. Five. Six. Wood splinters under the pad, and dagger-like slivers fly out from the now broken wood of the beam. I turn and shield my face, but I feel a few of them pierce the skin of my arm and back.

  When the wood chips and dust settle, I huff out an annoyed breath and turn to survey the damage. The thick pad covered pole is split in half, the top part angled down like it’s bowing to the ground. There are at least a dozen more poles like this one lined up, and just over an hour later, I look back down the line at each and every shattered one of them. I swipe sweat from my face and hope they’ll take a credit card for the damages.

  I don’t feel better.

  I jog back to the beginning of the obstacle course, gearing up to run it again, when Siah steps in front of me.

  “You’ve been going at this for five hours,” he states simply. He looks over to the destroyed combat poles and raises an eyebrow at me. “And you’re bleeding...” Siah’s nostrils flare slightly. “A lot,” he finishes.

  I’m surprised the others let him in here. They’re usually good about giving me space when I need it. So either they’re worried too, or he snuck past them. I shrug and move to step around Siah, but he just blocks my path again. A frustrated growl starts in my throat, and I look at him and silently scream for him to move. His bright blue eyes study me. Desperation and overwhelming sadness are all I feel slamming through me right now. They must be pouring out of me like I’m a sieve, because his eyes soften and he steps into me.


  “What can I do?” he asks softly, his knowing gaze reading me like I’m his favorite book.

  I don’t know how to respond to his question. I take stock of how I’m feeling, frustrated that I’m not able to run my problems down like I usually can. This is not working the way I need it to. My eyes flit back and forth between his, and I hold in the vulnerability that wants to spew out of my mouth.

  Siah lifts his hand and places it softly on the front of my neck. Something about his touch, the possessive yet supportive way he’s gripping me, shatters the walls I’m desperately trying to mortar together.

  “Just get me out of my head. I can’t fucking escape it,” I finally plea. Every cell in my body is begging for relief from the disappointment, pain, rejection, and loss pumping through my veins.

  Siah dips down until we’re at eye level, and he just watches me for a beat and then nods. I want his mouth to crash down to mine, for his touch and kisses to become as frenzied as I feel inside, but he just turns me slowly and pulls me back against him.

  Confusion bubbles up inside of me, and then I hiss in pain as Siah pulls a five inch long sliver from my back. He drops the fragmented wood piece to the ground unceremoniously and bends over and licks the wound. A shiver of pleasure rakes up my spine, and goose bumps crawl down my arms and legs.

  I bite back the hiss as Siah pulls another sliver and another from my body, and I ride the moan when his tongue and lips brand my back. He takes his time inflicting pain and then pleasure as he clears my skin of debris. His fangs scrape against the top of my shoulder, and I can feel his erection pressing at my ass as he brings his hand around to my front and grips my neck once more.

  His mouth moves up to my ear, and he just stands there breathing against the shell of my ear as he nuzzles me and pulls me back against him.

  “There, that’s better,” he finally whispers in my ear, his voice dripping with want and need. His other hand dips to the ties of my pants and slowly begins to unlace them.