Phoenix Chosen #3 (The Phoenix Guardians #3)

18. Tyler

18

TYLER

I climb down from the wagon. Airos is on his back with a dazed look like he just got socked in the jaw. Kalistratos runs over to us.

“They’re Phoenikos,” I repeat. “I felt it when they stopped the cart.”

“Those weren’t phoenix flames,” he says.

“No, they weren’t,” Airos says, groaning as we help him to his feet. “And whatever they just did to me wasn’t phoenix powers either. I don’t know what that was.”

“I think I might know what that was,” I say.

They both turn and look at me.

“A high voltage stun gun.”

“Cheesus, Tyler. Speak plainly,” Kalistratos says.

“It’s a thing that… uh, stuns. Bzzt. It uses electricity to knock you flat on your ass. I’d recognize that sound anywhere. I used the same thing for half a decade at work. Whatever—the point is that it’s from my world. This sorcerer bandit guy? I think he might be the omega we’re looking for.”

Airos walks to the trees and pushes over one of the cloaked figures. It crumples into a pile of loose dirt and fabric. “They’ve been putting on a performance, and quite an impressive one. I felt it, too, Tyler. They used phoenix abilities to create these puppets and hide the truth that they are only one person. They moved the earth to trap the wagon. It seems our so-called captured omega isn’t in need of rescuing after all.”

“I felt nothing,” Kalistratos says. “Are you certain they were Phoenikos?”

“You must attune your senses , my friend,” Airos says, patting Kalistratos’s shoulder. “Not your boner. The way you were waving that thing around, I was worried you’d put someone’s eye out.”

“I’ll put your eye out,” Kalistratos shoots back.

“But, wait, wait, wait,” I say. “How are they able to use phoenix powers, but I can’t?”

“You sensed his phoenix energy,” Airos points out. “Even your mate couldn’t. That counts for something, Tyler. Don’t be too concerned about such things.”

How can I not be? If this guy really is from Earth, if he really is one of the other omegas—and every damn sign is pointing to yes—then doesn’t that mean he’s been here just as long as I have?

A noise from the bushes has the three of us poised and ready to attack, but we all relax when Gral crawls out, disheveled with brambles all over his fur.

“I… apologize,” he says, straightening himself out. “I am not a warrior.”

“Come. We have a bandit to chase,” says Airos.

Gral wavers. The poor tiger is literally shaking in his boots. “I… think I should return to the village.”

“Return to the village and let us take all this loot for ourselves?” Kalistratos says with a smirk.

“I thought you were making sure we got the job done?” I ask.

“I’m just a trader,” he says. “What would you have me do?”

Airos pats Gral on the back. “How good is that nose of yours?”

The forest, though not very dense, is filled with obstacles. Like so much that I’ve seen of Circeana, the terrain isn’t level for very long. Walls of rock the size of a three-story building block our way, leaving only narrow gaps to traverse the sharp uphill climb. Gral leads, occasionally pausing to sniff a tree or rock we pass.

I’m in my head about this whole thing. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a stun gun at all, they just knew some kind of electricity spell that made the same sound. It’s not that far-fetched.

But that would be ignoring that Airos and I felt the presence of phoenix powers. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt this gut reaction—I’d experienced it with Airos, too. It was how I’d known he was a phoenix when we first met.

Of course, just because this person has phoenix powers doesn’t mean they’re one of the other Chosen omegas. They could just be another phoenikos, no different from Kalistratos and the other guys.

No, the real tell I absolutely can’t ignore was the collection of burn ointment packets our sneaky little mystery subject left on our doorstep. Olympic levels of mental gymnastics would be needed to come up with a justification for how anyone but someone from Earth could possibly know what those were used for. Those packets, combined with everything we’d just experienced, were the blaring neon sign pointing at one thing—this person was one of the Chosen.

We reach the apex of the rocky hill. Gral signals for us to slow, and we all stop and hide behind a cluster of boulders and thin pine trees. Gral points. At the base of the other side of the hill is a flat area with a few trees and a large rock formation. Tucked against the rock, difficult to see if you weren’t looking for it, is a little lean-to shelter made from downed branches, tree bark and mud. The longer I stare, the more I start to notice. There’s a pile of disturbed dirt with a few scraps of discarded food poking out from the soil. Beneath the trees, camouflaged by branches and leaves, are amphorae and other containers—a hoard of stolen loot.

We wait and watch silently from our position until it’s clear that no one is home.

“I’m going down there,” I say.

Kalistratos grabs my hand. “Don’t do that. They’re watching.”

“I know, that’s why I’m going down there. Don’t worry. We just have to show them who we are.”

“Tyler…”

“Let me handle him, okay? I had to take a class on conflict de-escalation for work. I’ve done this kind of thing before. I’ll be fine… I think.”

I start down the hill and the others trail cautiously after me. I signal for them to wait at the edge of the campsite.

It quickly becomes clear that the site has been used for a while. The shelter may have started as something fast and dirty, but a few repairs and additions have been made. Closer to the rock, out of view from our vantage point on the hill, is something that looks creepily like a graveyard, or maybe some kind of weird-ass sculpture garden, with small mounds of dirt, like little anthills, and also larger piles that look like mud snowmen. Beside the shelter are discarded amphorae and the black char of a fire pit.

“Hey,” I announce to the silence. “Uh… hi. Look, we know you’re probably watching us right now. We just want to talk. We know you left that medicine.” I pause. Might as well just cut to the point. “And we know you’re from Earth. You’ve got a lot of questions. I did too. I think we can answer them for you. Like, uh… that belly you probably have? Let me tell you right now, it’s not a tumor.”

I wait and listen. “Would you just come out and talk?”

Suddenly, a figure rushes out from beneath the shadows of the trees and comes straight at me. Kalistratos and Airos shout and move to intervene, but I hold my hand up and yell at them to stop. I’m in security guard mode, I know what I’m doing. I take a few quick steps back and circle to maintain the distance between me and the hooded attacker.

“Hey! Stop!” I shout.

The guy cocks his arm to strike at me, and the sleeve of his cloak pulls back just enough for me to see the yellow stun gun in his hand. It buzzes angrily as he swings, but misses me by a mile.

“Motherfucker, I’m here to help ,” I say.

“You’re not real,” a voice growls beneath the hood.

He squares up with me and swings again. I’ve been in enough fights to recognize when someone knows how to swing a punch and when they don’t. This guy has had training, but it’s obvious he’s mentally off balance right now. I slip the punch, catch his arm and maneuver it behind him, then kick out his leg and drive him to his knees. The stun gun crackles in his hand just a hair away from his own back.

“I promise you, I’m real,” I tell him. “And so is this world. You’re not crazy, you’re not hallucinating. I can explain everything. Now, drop the weapon .”

He struggles against me, but I’ve got his arm pinned. I took a year of jujitsu classes while working nightclub security, and it’s really paying off now.

“My name is Tyler Blackwood,” I continue in a calm, even voice. “I’m from Bakerville, California. I was transported here, just like you were.”

The crackling of the stun gun stops.

“Just toss it aside,” I tell him. “I’ll let you go, and everything will be cool.”

“What are you, a fucking cop?” he says.

“Better. Security guard.”

He laughs, and I feel him relax.

“Good,” I say, loosening my grip. “So can we just?—”

His elbow drives into my stomach. With a fast twist, he’s broken out of my grip, and the business end of the stun gun is saying hello to my ribs. I collapse onto my side like a sack of potatoes. Fuck, so much for that jujitsu.

The man turns and sprints, but a bolt of green energy snaps from Airos’s staff and hits him in the back. He goes rigid like a statue and topples backward, landing in Airos’s arms. The stun gun clunks across the dirt.

Kalistratos skids to my side.

“Well, I tried,” I say.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nah,” I groan as he helps me onto my shaky legs. “It’s just a tickle, that’s all.”

Airos sits the man on the ground.

“Let’s get a look at our new friend, shall we?” he says and pulls back the hood.

His head lolls forward, shaking a twist of dark hair across his dirty forehead. He’s younger than I expected. His eyes flutter open, but he looks like he’s drunk a fifth of Everclear. Absolutely discombobulated. His cloak is heavy and flowy enough to hide his stature and physique. but now that I’m up close and personal, I’ve noticed a telling swell at the front of the garment.

“Jesus, Airos,” I say. “What’d you do, scramble his brains?”

“He’ll be fine.” Airos reaches into the sleeve of his robe and pulls out a bundled cord, then positions the man on his knees in a praying position. “Hold him steady and put his hands behind his back.”

With practiced swiftness, Airos weaves the cord around the man’s ankles and wrists, securing them together. It’s as unexpected as it is impressive. This is beyond boy scout shit—it reminds me of something I would expect to see gracing the cover of some bondage magazine.

“Excessive, is it not?” Kalistratos asks, clearly thinking the same thing as me.

“Not when you’ve been stabbed in the back by a prisoner you thought you secured,” Airos says, finishing the knot. He wipes his hands and kneels in front of the man, then places his staff between them. “Give me some time to set his mind back in place.”

“So you did scramble his brains,” I say.

While Airos is doing his spellcasting, Kalistratos and I look around the campsite. I pass the strange sculpture garden, and Kalistratos prods one of the mounds with his sandal. It crumbles apart.

“Some kind of Gaean ritual?” he asks me.

“Not unless he’s really into arts and crafts,” I reply.

Maybe he is. The lean-to looks well-constructed, definitely better than anything I could do with a pile of twigs. Shit, it seems even better than the little shack Airos was living in.

I look closer at the leaves and bark layered like shingles and am surprised to see a layer of plastic beneath them. Poking at it, it seems like it’s made from one of those disposable ponchos you sometimes see people wearing on water rides at theme parks. Kalistratos copies me and pokes at it too.

“I’ve seen this strange material before,” he says.

“Of course you have, it’s plastic.”

“ Plah… steek . So, it is true. He is from your world.”

“Sure as hell looks like it.”

We walk around the lean-to and into the trees to reach the hidden stash of stolen loot. I brush the cover of leaves and branches away, revealing a neat row of amphorae and several stacks of boxes.

“That’s the shipment,” Gral says. “That’s what was stolen.”

“What about everything else?” I ask. “All of the other wagons he raided?”

“Some of that may be right here,” Kalistratos says, pointing to wooden crates tucked away behind large rocks.

Inside are sacks of food, the kind of stuff that doesn’t spoil quickly. It’s not much, though. Maybe just enough for a week for one person to eat.

“Hello!” Kalistratos reaches far into the crate. “I like the look of this.” He pulls up a heavy leather sack, jangling with the sound of metal, and affectionately pats the side of it. “Looks like he’s been getting on just fine.” He tips the sack and a cascade of heavy coins pours satisfyingly across the wood

I push aside the ragged wool cloth acting as a door and enter the lean-to. The rock wall forms a small nook-like overhang where a bedroll is tucked away. Nearby is an amphora with a spigot at the bottom, a ceramic cup, a leather pouch with some jerky inside, and surprisingly, a big balloon filled with water.

Puzzled, I pick up the long white balloon and jiggle it back and forth between my hands. Then I see the nipple tip poking out at one end and nearly drop the damn thing on the ground.

“Oh, gross,” I say.

What the hell is he doing with a water-filled condom? Then I remember something I’d read once, that a condom is a perfect survival tool because it can hold a gallon of liquid.

I crouch down to peek into the bed nook and see something pushed into the far rear corner. I reach in and drag it out. It’s a backpack—tan, with a digital camo pattern.

“Yeah, that’s definitely not local,” I say, as if I need more convincing that this guy isn’t from around here.

I do a quick check of the bag. When I peek inside the main compartment, I see a first-aid kit next to a bundle of clothes with a wallet peeking out of a pants pocket. I take it out, and find a couple of quarters, a two-dollar bill, and a small scrap of paper neatly folded. On the inside of the paper is a rough drawing of what looks like a phoenix, done in Sharpie marker.

Maybe it’s like one of those inkblot tests and I’m just seeing what I want to see. The long neck, the curving shape of its wings, the long tail feathers… I mean, it could be a peacock, or something else entirely.

But no… My gut tells me this is supposed to be a phoenix.

I flip open the wallet’s side fold and find an ID card with a very official-looking stamp.

“Armed forces,” I say, reading the text printed in bold across the top. “Jackson Bird.” I look at the birth date. My estimate wasn’t far off—he’s twenty-three, two years younger than me.

“Why don’t you eat a dick!” shouts an unfamiliar voice.

“Oh, our friend is back,” I hear Airos say. “And he is quite excited.”

“Excited to shove my foot up your ass. Untie me. Let me go, now . Hey!”

I emerge from the shelter and see the guy hopping on his knees towards Airos, who keeps stepping back every time he gets close. I half expect him to shout, “I’ll bite your legs off!”

“Jackson Bird?” I call out.

Surprised by the sound of his name, Jackson freezes and nearly falls forward. Airos glides around him and catches the center of the rope like he’s holding a man-shaped luggage. Jackson glares at me.

“How do you know my name?” he demands.

I hold up the ID between two fingers, like a cigarette. “Found this.”

“Hey, you don’t touch my stuff, alright? Put that back where you found it.”

I bring out the backpack and place the wallet and the ID on top. “We’re not after your stuff. Like we said, we’re here to help.”

“Alright, then untie me.”

“Not gonna happen. Not yet.”

Airos sets him back into a kneeling position. I sit down in front of him.

“This is some kind of experiment,” he says. “Virtual reality. Westworld . Right? I’m a government guinea pig.”

“Yeah, I thought something like that, too. The Matrix . Hallucinations. Nope. This is all real. You were brought here, just like I was.”

His eyes flick around as he processes what I’ve just said, and then settle on Gral. He sighs. “Abduction then. Never could’ve dreamed aliens would be a bunch of furries.”

For some reason, Circeana has never felt like “another planet,” at least not like what I’ve seen from stuff like Star Trek . I would bet even the fastest spaceship wouldn’t be able to reach this place from Earth. It exists in an entirely different where and when.

“Kind of,” I say, “but not really. What you need to know is that you’re here for a reason. Both of us were plucked out of our lives and dropped into this reality because we’ve got a role to play. I guess it’s called destiny.”

Behind me, Kalistratos shovels the coins back into their sack.

“Hey, you don’t fucking touch those,” Jackson shouts. “Those are mine, alright?”

“Those were acquired from stolen merchandise,” Gral growls. “Whatever business you have with this man is none of my concern. All I care about is that he sees justice for his crimes. I will take him back to Aelonos and see him punished.”

The tiger starts for Jackson, but Airos steps in between them. “We’ll return the stolen merchandise,” he says firmly. “And the coins. Kalistratos?”

Kalistratos hesitates, then lets out a reluctant sigh and tosses the bag to Gral.

“And the money he’s spent? The people he’s hurt? This doesn’t account for everything.”

“Look, I never meant to injure anyone,” Jackson says. “That guy on the cart… I didn’t expect things to go that way, alright? I’m sorry.”

“Hold your tongue, thief.” Gral takes another step forward.

Airos stops him with his palm. “I’m sorry, friend, but we cannot allow you to take this man.”

The air is suddenly tense. I get to my feet. Kalistratos’s hands slowly move to his front, nearing the hilt of his sword.

“I’m pretty sure Markos would be happy just knowing his problem has been solved, right?” I suggest, trying to use my most diplomatic tone. “And that’s all that matters?”

“He will answer for what he did to Agis,” Gral says.

“These past two months have been a fever dream on a deserted island,” Jackson says. “I was doing what I had to do to stay alive. Tell you what? If you just untie me and let some blood back into my arms, I’ll tell you what went down. I swear on my sweet darling grandma that I won’t don’t anything stupid, and if I do, I’m pretty sure either Shere Khan, Magic Mike, or boner Hercules here will put me down faster than my middle school bully.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Magic Mike, free his arms.”

Airos points at himself. “Is that me?”

“Yup, I think that’s you,” I say.

He shrugs and cuts the rope around Jackson’s wrists.

Jackson groans and thrusts his legs out in front of him. “ Fuck , sweet relief.” He shoots an angry glare at Airos and rubs the thick red marks indented into his skin. “Somebody keep an eye on this guy. I think he likes tying people up a little too much.”

“Airos,” I say, pointing to him. “And that’s Kalistratos. I’m Tyler.”

“Alright, what about Tigger here?”

“Gral,” he says with a snarl.

“He’s one of the people you’ve been stealing from. That’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, I know. Giant anthropomorphic tigers ain’t something you see and forget.” Jackson bows his head, still rubbing the rope marks on his wrists. “So… is he okay? Agis, right?”

“His burns were harsh, but he will recover,” Airos says.

Jackson exhales. “I’m telling you, I never intended for that to happen. I just wanted to scare them off the cart. Same thing I’d done every other time.”

Airos’s face is serious. “Tell me how you did it. It wasn’t magic that you used, so what?”

“Ah,” Jackson says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, maybe it’s not magic in a place where real magic is a goddamn certifiable fact. But it was what we Earthlings call a magic trick.”

“Go on.”

Jackson holds up his index finger, asking for a pause. “Let me take this cloak off. You guys aren’t gonna wreck me if I do, right? I’m unarmed.”

He pulls the thick cloak over his head and takes it off. Beneath it, he’s wearing a dirty tank top and shorts. The pregnant swell in his belly is clear and prominent. He shakes the cloak, and something drops onto the ground. It’s slender, with a red cap. Next to it, falls a plastic Bic lighter. I pick both up.

“What are these items?” Airos asks.

It’s an aerosol can of butane lighter fluid, and tied to it is a twig whittled into a perfect arm to spear a beeswax candlestick. It’s a pretty damn clever and resourceful little flamethrower.

“Earth magic,” I say, then pop the cap off and light the candle. “Take a step back.”

Airos, Kalisratos and Gral just about drop flat onto their faces when I press the button and spray a giant ball of fire into the air—immediately catching a branch on fire.

I obviously did not think this through.

“Uhhh, guys, a little help?”

A plume of dirt bursts up from the ground and falls over the burning branches like water from a firehose.

“Thank you, Airos,” I say.

Airos looks stunned. “That was not me.”

We all look at Jackson, sitting on the ground with dirt and sand piled on his head and shoulders like fallen snow.

“Yeah, that one wasn’t a trick,” he says.

“No, it wasn’t,” I say quietly. I can feel my heart pounding. “How did you do that?”

By some miracle, I was able to keep my cool. I badly wanted to grab Jackson by the shirt and shout my question into his face.

“I thought you were gonna tell me that,” he says. “I’ve got a lot of fucking questions, but what I really want to know is, what the hell is going on here?” He points to his belly.

Airos grabs Jackson’s arm and pulls him up to his feet, then unties the rope around his ankles.

“You certain you want to do that?” Kalistratos asks.

“I don’t know,” Airos says. “Will we need to put you down again, Jack-son?” He pronounces his name like it’s two separate words.

“Obviously I’m sticking with you guys.”

“This matter is not yet settled,” Gral complains. “He will come with me to Aelonos.”

“No, he’s not,” says Airos. “It was an accident. You saw how unwieldy his fire weapon was.”

“I did, and you cannot have me believe that he did not intend to harm us.”

“Is there anything else that can be done?” I say.

“Guys,” says Jackson, “look, I thought I could make things right with the medicine, but I didn’t. I fucked up, and I’m not going to run away from doing the right thing. If that means going with Tigger here, then I guess that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

“Uh, you stole a ton of shit from a village full of elderly people,” I remind him. “That’s hardly what I would call doing the right thing. You probably would’ve kept doing it if we hadn’t shown up.”

“I was either going insane or abducted to an alien planet. I wasn’t about to find out whether the locals wanted to eat my big-bellied ass for dinner, so I did exactly what I was trained to do behind enemy lines—lay low and stay alive. But I got caught, fair and square. So, haul me in.”

“Good,” Gral grunts. “Hand me the rope.”

“I’m afraid not,” Airos says in a firm, unyielding voice.

“I don’t understand. Why are you defending this thief?”

I know there’s no possible answer we can give that will satisfy Gral. It’s too dangerous to tell him the truth, and he wouldn’t believe it anyway. So what the hell are we supposed to do?

“We—”

A pulse of phoenix energy surges like a bass kick, and in the corner of my eye, Kalistratos disappears. Gral’s eyes flick wide open as a hollow gasp escapes his fanged mouth, and he teeters forward like a goddamn felled oak tree and collapses flat onto the ground. Kalistratos is standing behind him, a haze of dirt still shimmering through the air as it settles around his feet. His sword is drawn.

“Jesus!” I yell. “You didn’t have to kill him!”

“He’s just taking a little nap,” Kalistratos says, sheathing the weapon. “I hit him with the flat of the blade.”

Jackson’s jaw is on the floor. “ Goddamn ! You just fucking teleported, bro!”

“Actually, he stopped time,” I tell him.

“This place just keeps getting crazier. Next, you’re gonna tell me you guys can fly.”

Airos sighs. “This complicates things. You. May I ask, what was your plan by volunteering yourself to be taken prisoner?”

Jackson shrugs. “Well, I was pretty sure you guys weren’t gonna let that happen. I just didn’t think you would take Tigger here out so soon.”

Airos says nothing, but I can tell what he’s thinking: Is this guy really one of the other Chosen omegas?

“It’s time for us to leave,” Kalistratos says.

“We can’t just leave Gral here like this,” I say.

“Nor can we proceed as planned into Aelonos,” Airos says. “We’ve now become fugitive accomplices. I don’t doubt that Gral will come searching for us, once he comes to.”

Kalistratos is already binding the tiger’s wrists. “Then we’ll need to give ourselves some time. We send him back to the village. Unfortunately, that means we only take what we can carry. So much for our reward.”

Kalistratos fireman carries Gral over his shoulders back to the wagon while the rest of us lug the stolen goods from Jackson’s campsite. After taking what supplies we can carry in our pouches, we reload the wagon and tie Gral to the driver’s bench.

“Such a shame,” Airos laments as he fills his wine gourd to the brim from one of the amphorae we can no longer take. “So close to having unlimited free wine.”

“Hey,” Kalistratos says, clapping Airos on the shoulder. “Who knows? Perhaps at the end of all this, you’ll have your very own winery in Phoenikos country. You’ll be a hero and you’ll never have to spend a day sober again in your life.”

Then he smacks the donkey’s rear and sends it clip-clopping and hee-hawing down the road with the wagon, back to Metsova.

“Hero? End of all of what?” Jackson asks, shouldering his camo backpack over his cloak. “What are you talking about?”

Airos takes a swig of wine and corks the gourd. “Save the questions. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

“All I have are questions,” Jackson mutters.