Phoenix Chosen #3 (The Phoenix Guardians #3)

12. Tyler

12

TYLER

I t seems like the entire village has come out to see us as we dine in the winery villa. The dinner is roasted goat meat with aged goat cheese, olives, some kind of pickled root that reminds me of radish, various styles of bread, and deliciously rich red wine. The food is super simple, but it feels like the best thing I’ve ever eaten. All of us are fucking famished . It’s the first real hearty meal I’ve had since leaving the Great Phoenix’s tower. Crazy.

I could eat more, but I notice that Airos and Kalistratos are reserved about accepting too much from them, so I follow their lead. I get it. There’s usually no such thing as a free lunch, and I’ve gotten the sense that this place has seen better days, even though the vineyard is thriving and gorgeous. The villagers are friendly, but they seem weary and a bit nervous.

They remind me of the shop owners in a plaza I used to work at that’d been hit by a series of armed robberies. Even though they always put on a good customer service face, I could tell the experience had deeply scarred them, and they were always afraid of who might walk through the front door.

“ How did you do it?” an elderly woman named Phyllis asks. “That beast has killed every being that has attempted to cross through its territory.”

“We’ve been cut off from the east for nearly five years, ever since that damned harpyia roosted,” Markos explains to us. “It meant we could not do business in Athenos. We hired hunters to try and kill the monster. They never returned.”

“Why didn’t you just go around?” I ask.

“I’m afraid it’s beyond our capabilities now. We’re much less durable than we once were.”

“And,” adds Kristos, stroking his gloriously long Santa beard, “now we cannot go south either. Thank the Gods you showed up.”

“More wine and food for our heroes!” someone shouts, and everyone cheers.

Kalistratos holds up his palm, calling for everyone to wait. “Please,” he says, gently but with a stern authority. It’s just a single word, but everyone stops talking and listens. My heart jumps.

So damn sexy.

“What is it you’re expecting from us?” he asks. “We’re not heroes, we’re just passing through. We appreciate your hospitality—we were in great need of it. But we have our own problems, and staying here may only bring them to your doorstep. We can pay you, of course. This essence stone would fetch a pretty good price…”

“The journey to Athenos is difficult,” Markos says, shaking his head. “Now that it’s open, we may get traders coming through once again, but… we cannot make it ourselves anymore. It is Aelonos that is our lifeblood, but the way south has been blocked.” He holds up two fingers. “Nearly two months ago, a powerful bandit gang seized the road. They raided our shipments and we were powerless to resist. We have no warriors here. We’re not strong enough to defend our carts.”

Phyllis says, "The gods of thunder and fire have blessed them. They knocked out poor Kristos with a single blow and drove off the rest of us with a great breath of fire.”

“He surprised me,” Kristos mutters, embarrassed. “If I’d been a younger man…”

“Nonsense!” Phyllis interrupts. “It was thunder magic! You wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it. But our heroes...” She smiles, her teeth stained from wine. “They can do it.”

Kalistratos sighs. “Like I said, we have our own problems…”

“Kalistratos,” I whisper. “We should help them…”

“I’m not going to put you in danger,” he replies quietly. “We’re not here to fight bandits. And there’s only two of us.”

I frown. “There’s three of us,” I say.

“Tyler…”

“You gave me this,” I say, patting the sling on my belt. “I know how to use it.”

“And what about payment?” Airos asks.

“Airos!” I say. “Seriously? They’re a bunch of senior citizens. C’mon, you don’t charge an old lady for helping her cross the street.”

“If I had to beat someone up to do it, maybe I would,” Airos replies.

Kalistratos laughs. “For once, we agree on something.”

I shrug. I can’t argue with that. I’m just not used to the idea of mercenary work, of demanding payment for helping people—but then again, I was a security guard. When I think about it… it’s not really that different.

“No, no,” says Markos. “Of course we will pay.”

They produce a bag of coins and set it on the table with a heavy thunk.

“Okay,” Airos says, nodding. “And a week’s provisions, room and board, and free access to fill my wine gourd whenever I pass through.” He smiles cordially at them.

Kalistratos snorts. “Oh, this monk is really something.”

“We have a deal,” Markos says, holding out his hand.

“Wonderful,” Kalistratos mutters.

They bring us more food and wine. Airos looks happy to drink another cup. I’m happy to get more food. Kalistratos is pissed.

“What are we doing, Airos?” he says angrily. “We can’t fight bandits, especially when we know nothing about them.”

“Apparently, they know magic. That’s something,” Airos answers coolly. “Very curious. Besides, we don’t have a choice. We’re going to Aelonos. We have to take that road, so why not get paid to do so?”

Kalistratos leans back against the wall and drinks his wine.

The village has a bathhouse.

It’s down the hill, with fresh water directly from the nearby river stream. What I don’t expect is that it’s a communal bath, and it seems like every man in the village has decided now is a good time for a soak.

“Keep your eyes to yourself, Airos,” Kalistratos says as we all strip our filthy robes in the changing room.

“Aw, Kalistratos, but you have such a nice ass,” Airos says, grinning at him.

“Not talking about me, dammit.” Kalistratos scowls.

“But he’s right, you do have a nice ass.” I smack it before scurrying out to the pool.

The room is made of stone, with a pool about the same length and width as a large cargo van. Steaming hot water tumbles out of a wooden mouth, and the walls above us have narrow windows just below the ceiling where the steam flows out. There’s a faint smell of charcoal smoke and floral incense coming from somewhere. A few stone benches line the walls, where some villagers relax and chat after their bath. One of the walls has a tile mosaic of a man riding a dolphin next to what looks like a sea serpent. I dip my toe into the water—it’s surprisingly hot—then lower myself in.

Fuck , that hits the spot, especially with a good dinner and wine in me.

Kalistratos and Airos soon join me. The room falls silent, and every eye is fixed eagerly on us. This must be what it’s like to be a celebrity.

“Erm… hello,” I say, with an awkward wave.

“You’re staring at my mate,” Kalistratos growls. All of the bathers go back to their business.

“Is it weird that this bandit dude can do magic?” I ask Airos. “You seemed surprised.”

“It’s not very common. Such knowledge is usually obtained through the study of the Gods—meaning, belonging to a cult. And for a monk or priest to join bandits and devote their time to robbing elderly folk of their wine… It seems a little strange to me. With such abilities, there are many other ways to make money, if that’s their goal.”

“Like being a mercenary?” Kalistratos asks with a smirk.

“Amongst other things,” Airos says, shrugging off the jab. “Anyway… there’s also not been a single casualty. What kind of bandits would work that way?”

“The kind who see easy prey,” Kalistratos replies. “Seriously. These people keep trying to send their caravans to Aelonos and they’re robbed every time. Their ‘guards’ are the same people out there picking grapes. They can barely hold up a sword. They know exactly what will happen every time, yet they keep doing it.”

“I mean, maybe it’s kind of like paying protection money,” I suggest. “If they don’t send their wine through, these bandits could end up coming here and raiding the village. Seems worse, right?”

“I suppose they don’t have any other choice,” Kalistratos concedes. “We need to learn more about these bandits before we just meander into their little snare.”

“I’ll speak with Markos,” Airos says.

“No, you’re gonna rest,” I say. “You’re goddamn exhausted, we can see it. We don’t want you passing out or something.”

“As my Chosen commands. You’re right, I’d have no one to revive me if I do.” He grins cheekily at Kalistratos. “Unless you want to give me that kiss.”

Kalistratos groans and looks away. I can’t help but laugh at how easily Airos can get under his skin.

I grab Kalistratos’s arm. “Hey, leave my mate alone,” I say jokingly to Airos. “He’s a very sensitive man.”

“Since Alyx isn’t here to rib him, it’s my duty to put in twice the effort,” Airos replies.

A smirk spreads across Kalistratos’s face. “Feh. You’re not wrong.” He sighs. “This would be a lot easier were he here. The son of a bitch. He’d better be alright.”

“We’ll find him,” I tell Kalistratos, squeezing his bicep to my chest.