Page 40 of Phoenix Chosen 3

“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 kindof 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 tohelp,” 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.

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