Page 7 of A Phoenix Reborn at Christmas
“Good day, Lord Everflame,” the baker said. “I hadn’t expected you back.” His smile stretched, like a thread about to snap. “I am surprised that such an illustrious lord like yourself would condescend to visit our lowly bakery once again. We are honoured and grateful to be blessed by your patronage.”
There was nothing in his voice or words that was openly mocking. But still, Percival knew that was exactly what the baker was doing.
Percival’s kind and his family might have fallen in terms of power and strength. But he did not deserve this insolence.
Percival lifted his nose into the air, staring down at the baker. “Your food is passable. I’ll have a mushroom and leek pie. Two of them.”
“Unfortunately, Your Lordship, we don’t have mushroom and leek pies today. I am so sorry.”
“What?” Percival snapped. Fire and ashes! He’d been thinking of the pie since he ate it yesterday. His taste-buds tingled at the mere memory of it! And now he was being told they didn’t have any today!
“I must give you my deepest apologies, YourLordship.” The baker emphasised the last word. “But we have different savoury pies each day.” He did another of his insincere bows. “I am sorry to have to convey this terrible disappointment to you.”
“What pies do you have, then?” Percival sneered.
“Individual chicken pot pies,” the baker said. “It’s got chicken, carrots, celery, onion, and peas.”
“Well, I’ll take a chicken pot pie.” He had to admit, it did sound delicious. And if it had the same buttery, flaky pastry… “I’ll take two of them.”
The baker got two and packaged them in brown paper. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’d be interested in the chicken pot pies, Your Lordship.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, you’re a phoenix.” The baker slid the package towards him.
“So?”
“I’m surprised you’d eat another bird. Isn’t that cannibalism?” The baker raised a brow.
“Are you a fool?” He scoffed. “Birds eat birds all the time. Hawks, eagles, owls, and falcons prey on smaller, weaker birds.”
Percival straightened his shoulders. “And phoenixes are not small, weak birds. We are firebirds. We control flames. We are atthe top of the pecking order. We are immortal.” But a cold sliver, like ice, slid down his spine as he spoke the last sentence.
Because what he said, that should be the truth. Phoenixes weremeantto be immortal. It was what they were known for. But if it was true, then why had so many of his kind died, never to be reborn again?
“I apologise for my ignorance, Your Lordship. That’ll be eighty bells.”
Percival blinked. With hands that only shook a little, he counted out the coins and placed them on the counter.
The baker took them. Counted them and then handed him the change. “Here you are, and I can promise you today the change is correct. I am so sorry for my mistake yesterday and for inconveniencing you so terribly.” He bowed his head.
But Percival didn’t even bother to count the coins. He shoved them in his coin-purse and took the pies. Then, without another word, he strode from the bakery.
A few steps outside, he paused and let out a breath. It fogged the frosty air.
So many phoenixes had suffered their final deaths. A once powerful race that had been in the thousands had now dwindled to less than a hundred.
How could this happen to us? And we are meant to be immortal!
Percival almost laughed. Or wept.
But how did one destroy a phoenix? How did you kill a creature who could be reborn?
It turned out to be rather simple in the end. At the moment of death, you froze their ashes. Of course, it could not be a natural freeze. No mere snowfall or below-freezing temperatures would do it. No. It must be an unnatural, magical freeze. Like frost magic, which could be cast by ice sorcerers.
And phoenixes bred so rarely, so their numbers did not easily replenish.
The first great loss to the phoenix population had occurred over a thousand years ago when they lost the war against the frost giants and ice sorcerers. It had resulted in their numbers being halved. Since then, their population had continued to decline.