Phoenix Chosen #3 (The Phoenix Guardians #3)

11. Kalistratos

11

KALISTRATOS

H alfway to the top, I anchor my knee against a knob of rock and rest my hands. I’m up here because I need a moment to gather myself. My heart is still thumping from the attack, from seeing Tyler carried away.

Luck has been on my side so far, but I’ve allowed this to happen too many times. A single wrong step could’ve meant losing him forever. The soul reaver. The shadow beast. Praxis. Am I really fit to be Tyler’s guardian? To be his mate?

Am I fit to be a father?

I make the final climb and pull myself over the lip of the ledge. The wind tugs at my robes, carrying with it the sweet scent of the harpyia’s lure. I follow the scent trail. To my left, far in the distance beneath the sinking sun, glints the river Delos from between the rocky hills protecting it. Further south, a trail of smoke is visible over the trees. Our destination—Aelonos.

The nest is surrounded by the scattered remains of the harpyia’s prey. Bleached and stripped bones, but also gear. I pause to inspect the treasure. Tyler needs a weapon, and there’s another material here for another sling. And…

“Hm, exellent,” I mutter, extracting a finely crafted dagger from beneath an Aylourosi skull. It has a slender fluted blade with a small pommel, like a very short xiphos. Perfect for throwing, and an excellent companion to my new short sword, which I’ve grown fond of.

I climb the twisted branches and peek into the nest. As I hoped, there’s a single egg sitting in its center, its grayish shell mottled with red marks.

“Sorry, friend,” I say to a nearby skeleton as I pull off a satchel tied around its shoulder. I dump the contents—some desiccated fruits and petrified bread, put the egg inside, and make my way back down the tower.

“I think we should continue,” Airos says. “We’d be testing our fortune by staying here for the night. I know of a village less than three schoenus from here. We may be able to find shelter there.”

“I have no problem with leaving,” Tyler says, “but are you really good to keep moving, Airos?”

“I’m fine,” he says, though I can see how weary he is. He smiles at me. “Kalistratos can carry me.”

“No,” I say flatly.

“Then, perhaps I’ll take you up on that kiss, that’ll rejuvenate me?—”

“Come on, you phony monk, let’s get moving,” I say, pushing him by the shoulders.

We pass the lake and find where the Delos tributary picks up again. Here, we pause to wash ourselves in the cold water. Airos walks a short distance down the river and closes his eyes as he sits against a rock.

I help Tyler remove his robes down to his underwear. The wound is closed, but very red. I cup a handful of the stream water, carefully press the side of my palm just beneath his armpit, and let the water pour down his side over the slash marks. He winces.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s not bad. Just stings.”

“I should never have even let this happen.”

“Hey. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have wandered away like that. I got us into that mess. I just hate the feeling of not being able to do anything. I don’t want to be a burden.”

I run the back of my fingers against his bare bicep. “You’re no burden, Tyler.”

“I know you’re supposed to protect me and all of that, but I have a real difficult time reconciling the idea of being some kind of damsel—dude—in distress all the time. It’s not what I’m used to at all. I’ve always been a man who takes care of himself.”

“And I would never seek to take that away from you,” I say. “In truth, I need all the help I can get. I’m not doing a very good job of it.” I smile at him. “Here. To replace the one you lost.”

Tyler smiles back when he sees the sling. He turns it over in his hands, feeling the leather. “Where’d you get this?”

“Maybe you don’t want to know…”

His nose crinkles. “Aw, Kalistratos… Don’t tell me you pulled this thing off a dead guy.”

“Take it, you need a weapon.”

He gives me a look, laughs, and tucks it into his belt. Then he takes my hand and squeezes it. “You’re doing great, alright? Don’t worry. I know you’d never let anything happen to me. And I would never let anything happen to you, either.” He kisses my cheek, then whispers into my ear, “I’m gonna give you a hell of a reward when we reach our destination.”

His words send an immediate pulse of excitement through my cock, and I leap to my feet. “Airos! Time to go!”

It’s nearing sunset, and signs of the village are becoming more frequent. We pass a monument to the god of travelers, well weathered and overgrown with weeds, and on a rocky hill are the remains of a long-abandoned temple, its stone columns sitting staggered like stacks of coins. We step onto a narrow road stamped with horse and cart tracks. I hear goats in the distance, and the smell of a cooking fire drifts lightly on the wind.

“It seems we’re being observed,” Airos says calmly.

I sense it as well. We stop walking.

“Hello!” Airos calls, raising his free hand.

A twig snaps, and a frail old man holding a drawn bow emerges from the trees. His arms are quavering, like he can barely maintain the weight of the draw.

“Come no further!” he says.

“Put it down, grandfather,” I reply. “You’re going to hurt someone. Probably yourself.”

“Only you,” he says shakily.

“I doubt that.”

“Look,” Tyler interrupts. “We’ve had a really rough day. I nearly got my ass carried away by a harpyia, my friend here is on the verge of passing out, and my mate… Do you know what being ‘hangry’ is? Because he’s getting hangry, and we don’t want to deal with that.”

“You encountered the harpyia?” the old man asks. “And lived?”

“Not just lived, grandfather,” I say. “We killed it.”

“I-impossible,” he says.

“It’s true!” Airos pulls out the essence stone and holds it up high.

The old man sees it, and in his shock, he lets go of the bowstring. The arrow buzzes by us and thwocks into a tree.

Tyler ducks his head. “Jesus.”

“Apologies!” the old man shouts. Then he turns, waves, and whistles. Three other men, all just as ancient as him, emerge from hiding spots along the path. They’re carrying rusted old things that look more like farming tools than weapons.

He approaches us, bows, and looks closely at the stone. “Incredible! It’s real!”

The old villagers surround us, murmuring excitedly. “The Gods have answered,” says a bearded man in a gray chiton. “Our heroes have come!”

“By the Gods’ blessings,” the bowman says with a happy grin. He gestures to the others to introduce them. “This is Lukas, Lasos, and Kristos. I’m Markos. Come, come! Rest and recover.”

They lead us up the road and we enter the village. It’s old, with several houses on the outskirts taken back by the land, but ahead on a hill is a beautifully kept vineyard with many rows of grapevines loaded with fruit.

Airos perks up. “You have a winery.”

“Indeed we do!” Markos says. “It’s our pride and joy. Metsova wine is the most popular in Aelonos.”

“Then I’ve likely filled my cup with it.”

“It is my honor! Then you’ll be very pleased to know that we’ve just finished a new batch. You are very welcome to as much as you’d like. And, of course, there will be supper as well.”

I exchange a look with Airos. As a mercenary, I know he has the same question on his mind as me: What do they want from us?

I’m about to say something when Tyler clamps my hand tightly with his fingers.

“We’re very hungry,” he says. “We’d love some supper.”

Right, I think. Eat first, ask questions later.