Page 59 of Phoenix Chosen 3

The corner of his mouth tugs into a smirk that quickly vanishes. He knows he outmatches me in swordplay.

I’m only going to have one opportunity to defeat him.

He comes at me again—Cheesus, the bastard is fast.

I spin on my toe and do the only thing I can do—run.

25

TYLER

Crouched low, Jackson pauses to listen.

The ringing of metal on metal through the trees is like a bird call from behind us. I hear Kalistratos shout something that I can’t make out.

Please let him be okay.

The sound of a bowstring snapping and the vague woosh of an arrow come from somewhere off to our front. I can’t tell the exact direction, but Jackson looks at me and makes a chopping motion with his open hand. All I can do is shrug and nod. Obviously he’s done this kind of thing before.

He continues forward, and I see his improvised flamethrower clutched in his right hand.

The sound of movement. Footsteps in the foliage. We duck behind some bushes and wait. Peering through the leaves, the forest is still and suddenly quiet.

Where are they?I think.

Suddenly, Jackson shoves me hard, sending me onto my side as an arrow pierces the bushes and jams into the ground.

“In the tree!” he yells.

This was a mistake. Why the hell didn’t we just stay back where we were? Back where Kalistratos was?

With a thrust of his palm, Jackson summons and flings a cluster of stones and hardened mud into the tree line like a blast of buckshot. They tear through the leaves and rattle the branches, except for a small area in the boughs of one tall oak, where they crumble and fall harmlessly away as if stopped by some kind of force field.

I see a flash of dark fur and the glint of metal as an arrow is knocked to a cocked bowstring.

“Move!” I yell.

The sound of the passing arrow is like a goddamn missile. I feel my hair lift from the wind, and then suddenly a sharp, searing pain on my right shoulder. I look down and see that I’ve been clipped. It’s barely a scratch, but it’s enough to make me feel a surge of panic. Fight or flight.

If I run, I die.

I look up and see Jacksonthrowing himself out in the openlike a fucking moron.

What the fuck are you doing?

Then, a big ball of fire roars out from his flamethrowing and curls into the canopy where the sniper is.

“Get some!” Jackson shouts, waving the can back and forth to drench the trees in flames.

Smoldering leaves fall from the burning cluster of trees. Their bark is old and dry, and the flames are spreading fast.

“Bet you weren’t expecting that, huh, motherfucker?” Jackson mutters. “Where are you?”

I squeeze my fist around the stone in my sling and pull the cord taut. I catch movement in the trees to my right, a shadow moving quickly from branch to branch. It’s been a while since I’ve used a sling, but it feels comfortable in my hand. I whirl the stone in a circle and whip it with all the force I can muster, sending it like a gray bullet into the trees. It impacts with a loud crack, and the archer drops from a branch and lands on all four paws on the ground.

She stands and holds a hand to her forehead. Bright red blood trickles from under her palm, flowing down her fur and dripping across her black cloak. She hisses angrily at us. Jackson turns and holds out his flamethrower, but only a small cough of a flame comes out. He shakes the can and tries again. Nothing. Out of gas.

I drop to one knee and reach around for a stone, but the archer already has her bow drawn and ready.

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