Phoenix Chosen #3 (The Phoenix Guardians #3)

5. Kalistratos

5

KALISTRATOS

T yler is snoring softly, curled up in the hay nest with the egg. I wave away a moth that’s flown in from the uncovered window and landed on his hair. I’m tired, but my nerves have kept me awake. There will be time for rest—but not yet.

I hear movement outside and carefully peer over the earthen sill into the dark street. It’s Zona. I quietly rise and go to the entrance room to meet her.

She pulls down the thick wool hood that was concealing her face. “You were right,” she says. “The dark market is filled with talk about a phoenix flying over the city. Seems like you have every hunter and slaver interested in finding your whereabouts.”

“Wonderful,” I say. “I was hoping to let Tyler get a full night’s rest, but we’d better not delay. There may already be eyes on this place.”

“You have a plan?”

“First, get to the city walls. Then, reach the hills. After that, I haven’t a clue. I’m a ‘figure things out along the way’ type of man.”

“And at what point will you figure out how to pay me what you owe?”

“Like I said, I’ll get you the money. Don’t worry. I just have things I need to take care of first.”

“I truly wonder what my master would’ve thought if she knew her clan’s future depended on a thief and a scoundrel.”

“I might be a thief, but I’m not a scoundrel. I mean… not really.”

“You are a scoundrel,” she says with a chuckle. “But as far as scoundrels go, you’ve always had a good heart. Maybe that’s why you never quite fit in with the dark market.”

“Maybe. So why do you do it? You’ve always been trustworthy.”

“You don’t need to be good-hearted to be trustworthy. I ply my craft on people worse than scoundrels and thieves, Kalistratos, and I do it without any qualms. That’s not what a good person does.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what a good person does. You heal everyone, without exception. Your master… Who was she?”

Zona’s eyes sparkle. “Her name was Iris. She was everything. Strong, wise, compassionate, and beautiful.”

The word seems to linger in the air for a moment. I’m eager to hear about another Phoenikos.

“It feels like a lifetime since she died,” Zona continues. “She gave herself during the Great Plague. She said that if there was a chance her body could indeed help the afflicted, then she would gladly make that sacrifice.” She shakes her head.

The Great Plague of Athenos happened before I was born. I’d heard it said that it was that event that sealed the fate of the dwindling Phoenikos clan. As people became desperate for ways to halt the scourge and heal the dying, we became targets for the presumed rejuvenating properties of our phoenix forms. Dark times. A blackening of the hearts of Circeana.

“Madness,” I say.

“That’s what I told her, but I couldn’t convince her otherwise. To her, the few she might save were worth the cost of leaving me behind for eternity. Iris was a truly good person. I’m merely trying to stumble along in her footsteps.” She pauses, deep in thought. The lines at the corners of her eyes deepen.

“Enough of the past,” she says matter-of-factly. “We speak of the future. A piece of the shell. That’s what I want.”

“What?”

“Once that egg hatches and you’ve taken care of all this destiny business, bring me a piece of the shell and consider your debt repaid. Deal?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in any of that phoenix essence shit?” I say with a facetious smile.

She wordlessly holds out her hand.

“Alright, fine,” I say, clasping her palm. “That’s a deal.”

“Good. Then you’d better get moving. The twins will help you. If they disguise themselves as a fleeing phoenix and his mate, perhaps they may be able to draw watchful eyes away from you.”

It’s a good plan. Aylourosi folk are well-known masters of deception.

I wake Tyler and tell him what’s going on, and we prepare to leave. He ties the egg to his chest, and Zona gives us hooded traveler’s robes to help conceal ourselves. The twins wear the same, and as they slip the hoods over their heads, they both change their posture and bearing to match Tyler’s and mine. It’s truly impressive.

Our departure is fast and without much more than a quick bow. Tyler thanks Zona, but nothing more needs to be said between her and I. Xanthos and Xanthe leave first from the main entrance, and then Zona ushers us out the back door into the dark alleyway.

“Gods guide you,” she whispers before shutting the door behind us.

Quickly, we reach the street. The scent of the Athenos night air is invigorating. I can smell familiar spices wafting from a nearby kitchen and the warm aroma of baking bread in the communal ovens. We pass a statue to the god of fortune laden with wreaths of dried astragalos and hyacinths, withered but still pungent. The stone altar, now cooled, is black with soot from the day’s offerings. Quiet laughter rings from somewhere. Someone is playing the flute, and cricket song whirrs out from within the sagebrush and thyme growing along the base of the retaining wall that lines the street. Up above in the night sky, the hazy purple glow of the river Theoheles has begun to shine through the clouds.

No more kah beasts. No more relentless noise or the blinding chaos of Gaea’s stone cities. Circeana has welcomed me home, though I only have the span of a breath to acknowledge it. I must stay alert.

We ascend a sloped path that takes us out of the slum district to Athenos midtown, the busiest area of the city. This is the same district where Airos’s Library of Gnosis is located, where we’d been ambushed by the Erpetosi frogmen and the soul reaver that pulled Tyler and me to Gaea. I suddenly remember the librarian Melanion and his sacrifice attempting to defend us from the dark monster—and the way it’d stolen his face. A shiver goes through me. Damn reavers.

The west gate lies just past a wide plaza with a towering and triumphantly posed statue of the goddess of war gazing up at the hill where the city’s grand temple sits, twinkling with light from its internal lanterns. We hurry across the moonlit plaza. It’s still and empty. A lone owl perched on the roof of a nearby building spots a rat scurrying across the limestone ground and snatches it without making a sound. I can see the wall from here with the blue banners of the city hanging from the battlements.

My eyes are locked on the wall. We’re so close.

I lead Tyler down a stone staircase to a gravel road parallel to a small stream. We cross a wooden plank bridge and enter the Avenue of Generals, the walkway everyone entering or leaving through the west gate has to pass through, enclosed on both sides by plinths supporting four bronze statues of great warriors and leaders from the city’s past. Between each statue is an iron brazier burning with a heap of charcoal. Their light flickers across the stone paving, polished and shiny from the thousands of feet that step through this passage each day.

“The gates are shut,” Tyler points out. “How do we get through?”

“The main gates are closed at night,” I explain. “There’s a side passage we can use.”

I glance at the statues towering over us out of the corner of my eye, frozen in their stern poses like giants struck by a gorgon’s gaze.

“Do you feel that?” Tyler hisses under his breath. “Or am I just being paranoid?”

I do . It’s the feeling of being watched. It’s not because of the statues.

“Stay with me,” I say to him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” he replies, glancing around nervously.

I slow my pace and stop. Tyler stands close, his back against mine.

Then I see a dark figure moving at the base of one of the statues.

“You’ve been spotted,” I announce loudly. “Enough. Show yourself.”

Two more figures appear up on the plinths, standing beside the calves of the statues. Human? It’s difficult to tell in the dark, even with the firelight. Their silhouettes tell me they’re armed—a sword hilt on one, a small bow draped across the back of another.

Ahead of us, a cloaked figure emerges from behind the cover of the plinth and walks into the center of the path, blocking the way to the gate. They draw back their hood. Tall pointed ears, long snout, fur, and a pair of vicious yellow eyes glowing from the darkness. They’re one of the Hulaiosi wolf clan.

The others remove their cloaks. The one with the bow might be human. The other with the sword is also a wolf.

I touch my chest and curse under my breath when I remember I have no weapons.

The leader steps forward, and as the firelight falls across his shaggy gray fur, I realize I know who he is.

“Praxis Skotos,” I say angrily.

I feel a dark cloud passing over me, one I’ve not felt in many years. I thought I’d released this hatred.

Praxis sniffs the air, then laps his tongue along the side of his muzzle like a hungry dog. “I knew I recognized that scent,” he says, grinning to reveal a mouth full of ivory-yellow daggers.

I pull down my hood and show my face. “And I should’ve smelled that bad breath of yours from a stadion away, you scum.”

“You know this guy?” Tyler whispers.

“I wish I didn’t.”

“All this time, a Phoenikos,” Praxis growls. “ Gods , it pains me knowing I could’ve wrung you out for a sack of coin.”

“Surprise,” I call back. “You always bragged about being able to smell a profit. Perhaps that nose of yours is not so keen after all.”

The other two poachers jump down from their perch and move behind us, blocking the way back. We’re closed in, except…

I glance up.

“Don’t try it,” the archer warns. “I’ll pluck you out of the sky.”

Their irises flash in the light. They’re not human, they’re Aylourosi shifted into semi-human form. The cat folk can see perfectly in the dark.

It doesn’t matter. Even without the threat of a sharpshooter, I couldn’t risk flying us away. I’d be as conspicuous as a falling star. Every hunter out looking for us would come like moths chasing a flame.

“I’ll give you a chance to make this simple,” Praxis says. “Call it a token of our shared history. The omega. Give him to me, and I will let you live.”

I laugh. “Your nose truly is broken if you can’t smell he’s human. You’re looking to capture a phoenix. I’m right here.”

“You’re worth just a fragment of what is promised in exchange for him,” Praxis says.

“Who promised you?” I demand.

Who in this realm knows about Tyler’s significance? The only possible answer bubbles up from the pit of my stomach.

“A god of unlimited power,” Praxis says. “A god of the shadows.”

That’s all I need to hear. The nearby braziers flare up into the sky as their heat is pulled towards me, and phoenix fire ignites across my arms. I swing my hands out and hurtle bolts of flame at my three opponents like daggers. The swordsman careens back as one scorches his shoulder, setting his tunic on fire, and the archer dives out of the way, falling onto his stomach. The third bolt flies at Praxis’s face, but he makes no effort to dodge. He lifts his hand, and the bolt impacts into his palm—but instead of burning him, it fizzles away like a candle reaching the end of its wick. There’s a shadow wrapped around his hand, a dark void just like the shadow monsters we encountered in the Gaean realm.

“Fool,” I mutter. “What have you done, Praxis?”

He howls with laughter and examines his hand as the shadow burbles and boils around it. “So amusing. All of those years I was out on the streets doing the unspeakable to survive, I never stopped laying down offerings at the Great Wolf’s temple, praying for some kind of salvation. For some help . You know what I received? Nothing. Not even an acknowledgment. The priests told me he was listening. It seems I was making offerings to the wrong god.”

“Dammit, Praxis. You’ve gotten yourself mixed up into something that has nothing to do with you. You have no idea what’s on the line.”

“Oh, I understand very well. A world reborn for those existing in the shadows to finally thrive. A place where I can have everything I ever wanted. I will be Lord Umbrios’s first alpha. That is what I’ve been promised.”

“Are you serious ?” I exclaim.

It’s been so many years since I’ve last had the displeasure of interacting with Praxis, and yet this does make perfect sense. No one ever chose to be around him. He existed in the gang because he was good at what he did, not because he was liked. These two henchmen of his were almost certainly paid, either by him or by Umbrios. That was how it’d always been for him—companionship never came willingly.

Even those who seem to despise everyone else, who purposely push everyone away, wish deep down they could feel the comforting warmth of being wanted by another being. Of being loved.

Praxis advances towards us. Behind us, I hear the archer getting to their feet. I glance back and see them prepping their bow. Praxis raises his hand, signaling to stay their attack. The shadow expands in his palm like he’s holding up a flame of pure blackness.

Tyler grabs the back of my tunic. “Kalistratos…”

I don’t know how long I can maintain my abilities for three beings, but I have no choice.

I reach out to grasp the cord of time and feel my soul buckle under its incredible weight. I might’ve made a terrible mistake. Even with my powers at full strength, the burden of stopping its flow is monumental.

Tyler grabs my hand and pulls me after him. My legs feel like they’re pushing through mud. Then I see it. The shadow in Praxis’s hand. It’s moving.

It leaps towards us like a striking serpent, and I shove Tyler aside just in time. It returns to Praxis’s hand, and to my shock, he slowly turns his head and glares at me.

“I was told you would be able to do that,” he says. “You know, so much is starting to make sense. I always wondered how the hell you were able to pull off some of the heists you did.”

Praxis grits his fangs and strains to move his body to face me. He’s fighting to regain control of his body, to get outside of my hold on time. It should be impossible. Only another Phoenikos should have the potential to break through my ability.

Sweat streaks down my forehead into my eyes. I’m not strong enough to hold this.

“How…?” I say.

“Another gift from Lord Umbrios,” he replies with an arrogant smirk.

The cord of time tears out of my grip. My energy is sapped. Praxis doesn’t hesitate, he lunges into an attack, shadow-wreathed claws poised to strike my face. I evade, but when I try to repost, I can barely summon more than a weak flame immediately consumed by his shadow gauntlet.

I will not back down.

He comes at me again and swings for a strike. I surround my arm in fiery plumage and block his attack. Praxis leans into it, pressing his forearm against mine. His breath is as foul as I remember.

My flames waver. Cold spreads across my skin, and I realize the shadow has begun to wrap around my arm.

“Get the fuck off of him, you son of a bitch! ” Tyler shouts.

A light as bright as the afternoon sun explodes out of him in a dazzling flash. Praxis stumbles back against the stone plinth, his arm held up across his eyes. The archer hisses and flees but runs flat into a wall, blinded by the sudden light.

Tyler blinks and stares at his hands. He looks just as bewildered as everyone else.

Praxis rubs angrily at his eyes, and I see that the shadow gauntlet has shrunk back, like a plant withering from the heat. With a furious snarl, he lumbers forward and swings again. I block him with both arms and shove him back. He attacks again and again. The shadow is already coming back, growing around his skin, and I can feel its icy grasp drawing the energy from my body.

“Do it again, Tyler!” I yell.

“I don’t know what I did! Uh, uh…” He stares at his hands. “Okay, uh… Get the fuck off of him, you son of a bitch! ”

But nothing happens this time. He stands there, palms out like he’s pressing an invisible wall.

Praxis’s claws swing down and catch Tyler’s cloak, shredding it across the front. The fabric hangs in tatters, revealing the egg bound securely against Tyler’s chest. Praxis stares at it, his eyes growing wide. Tyler quickly pulls the torn cloak closed.

“Oh-ho. This simplifies things,” Praxis says, grinning. “Give me the egg.”

Tyler raises his middle finger at him.

Then, a low tremor shakes the ground around us. Praxis cocks his head and looks around—and suddenly, he’s thrown into the air as the paving beneath him explodes upward like a huge stone fist. I throw myself over Tyler, shielding him from the rain of debris that peppers the ground around us.

“That wasn’t me,” he says, wide-eyed.

We look up. Someone new has arrived, striding out from the shadows of the city with a long staff held high. The stone pillar breaks apart and reforms around Praxis as he tries to get back to his feet. He lets out an enraged howl, and I catch a glimpse of his eye before the last stone whirls into place, sealing him inside a domed prison.

Our defender flings a final chunk of stone at the burnt swordsman, who was attempting to escape, and knocks him out cold. Then, he steps into the light.

“Airos!” Tyler shouts.

The phony monk’s stupidly perfect smile is like an oasis in the desert.

“By the Gods, I could kiss you,” I say.

“In front of your mate? You dog!”

Airos hurries over and helps us to our feet. His emerald green tunic is partially covered by a dirty burgundy cloak, torn and worn at the hem. He looks like he’s been living out of a hole in the ground.

He squeezes my shoulder and gives it a firm jerk like he’s making sure I’m real. He shakes his head in disbelief. “You were not the Phoenikos I expected to find. I can’t believe you’re both here.”

“How did you even find us?” Tyler says. “That was some timing.”

“I’ve been on the hunt ever since I heard about a phoenix flying over the city yesterday. It might’ve been impossible had you not used your powers just now. And that light… Kalistratos, that was you?”

I shake my head and point at Tyler. Airos raises an eyebrow.

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know how I did it.”

“There’s quite the story to tell,” I say. “You’ll never guess where we’ve been.”

I go to the downed swordsman and relieve him of his weapon. It feels good to be armed again.

“And here is not the place to tell it,” Airos says. “We need to leave, now.”

The cracks and crevices in the stone prison have turned a deep black and I can hear bits of it crumbling away from the inside. Praxis’s shadow weapon is working on breaking him free.

I grab Tyler’s hand, and the three of us make for the gate with haste.