Well, I'm officially a month late in getting this up. So sorry! It's been an unpleasant month.
Here is the next story in the "Fate Is A Gift" series, one which introduces a new wrinkle – because obviously making Max's life harder is what it's all about. Right?
The title for the story is taken from this quote by Mario Puzo: "The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other." Additionally, the chapter names throughout the story are taken from one of my current favorite songs, and one I think definitely describes our heroes particularly well: "Feel Invincible" by Skillet.
I've left this long enough that I'm out of notes, so here's the first four chapters you should have had for the past four weeks all at once. Sorry again!
Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Lone Survivor
He woke at dawn and rolled out of his sleeping bag, folding it up with meticulous familiarity. He didn't bother to reignite his campfire, instead opting to munch on his leftovers from the night before while he walked.
Today was going to be the day.
Today he was going to make the pain stop – forever.
Today it would finally be right.
-==OOO==-
When Max padded down to breakfast in his socks particularly early for a lazy summer Saturday, he would not have been at all surprised to find out that he was not getting a day off, though he could not have said why. It was just a feeling, a gut instinct.
But he still came downstairs in his socks because some things are sacred, even to Cap-Bearers. Especially lazy sock mornings.
Max also noted that Virgil waited until Max's mom had finished her second cup of coffee before he sprang the 'the time has come once again for the Mighty One to defend the safety of the world' spiel on her. He had learned, the hard way, not to test her patience when she was under-caffeinated.
A year before, even a few months before, such a proclamation would have been met with dismay on Max's side and scolding worry from his mom's.
But that was before Toyama. Before everything had changed. Before Max had changed.
Now he lived with his Guardian and his Teacher full-time, and now none of them tried to dissuade the game Destiny seemed determined to play with Max's life. Virgil and Norman were less keen than they had been previously to see their Cap-Bearer put at risk, it was true; Max, however, made up for their lack of enthusiasm with his own deepening determination to be the hero he had to be.
"I'll pack a lunch," was all Max's mom said. She was even less eager to let her son walk into danger, but she could not prevent him. The world needed him – however much she hated that it did.
"Where are we going?" Max wanted to know.
"Arevik National Park in the southeastern part of Armenia." Virgil took a sip from his own mug of tea. "According to my calculations, a band of mercenaries has stumbled upon an item of great power which they cannot be allowed to control."
"Are we talking Super Secret Soviet Tank or are we talking Magic Necklace of Somebody I've Never Heard Of here?"
Norman snorted. Then he stole a piece of Max's bacon.
"Hey!"
"Your reflexes are slow this morning, Mighty One." He gave a great, smug grin and happily munched the pilfered strip that was still nice and warm and just crispy enough to be perfect.
Max glared at him. "Yeah? Well, we'll see who has slow reflexes when the going gets, uh, going!"
Max's mom sighed. "Eat your eggs, dear. They're brain food and you could probably use some."
Max stuck his tongue out at her but dug into his food anyway, crowding one arm around his plate and watching Norman out of the corner of his eye to prevent any further pilfering of his breakfast.
Virgil waited until Max and Norman were both absorbed in eating before he continued.
"In this case, the situation is more the latter than the former. Though the one may lead to the other."
Max blinked at him, tried to parse Virgil's words, then gave up and shrugged. "Whatever you say. When are we leaving?"
"As soon as possible. Armenia is approximately eleven hours ahead of us already and I would rather arrive before dark if possible. We will have some walking to do in order to catch up with the band of thieves so close to imperiling the entire world."
Max nudged Norman with an elbow. "Not with us around, right big guy?"
Norman grinned. "I eat thieves for breakfast."
"Then you don't need this!" And Max promptly stole one of Norman's remaining strips of bacon and ate it with a grin.
Norman gave him an approving smile and a nod. "Well done, Mighty One."
-==OOO==-
A few minutes of stocking a backpack with supplies and globe-hopping from portal to portal later, Max, Norman, and Virgil popped out into a lush, thick forest where afternoon was just beginning to turn to evening.
As soon as Max's feet hit the ground, he shivered hard enough for the canteen hanging off his backpack to rattle.
"Eeyeaah."
"Are you all right, Mighty One?" Virgil reached up to touch the boy's arm, surprised at the chilliness of his skin in spite of the warm summer sun heating the forest even in the shade.
"Yeah." But he looked around with his shoulders up protectively. "Just a really weird feeling."
Norman closed the distance between them as if he could remove Max's discomfort with his proximity. He didn't say anything, but Norman knew Max understood his intent to protect him all the same.
Virgil gave Max a few moments to orient himself before he cleared his throat. "Then may I suggest we attempt to find the mercenaries who are our reason for being here?"
"Sure." Max made himself smile more normally. "Where to?"
"I believe we will locate them approximately four miles in that direction." Virgil pointed.
Max set off with Virgil beside him and Norman following, and while there was an extra tremor of tension that ran through all three, they let it pass unremarked upon.
Max forced himself to breathe calmly. If it's bad, we're here to handle that. If it's nothing, that's okay. And if it's really bad, we can only find out about it and take it down when it happens.
I've felt worse. I'm sure I'll feel worse again.
And none of it matters.
We've got a job to do here. No matter how bad it gets.
He glanced to Virgil, then backwards at Norman.
And I'm not alone. I can do this. We can do this. No matter what.
A couple of miles later, he let out a breath and felt more like himself.
"So. You gonna tell me what magical thingy is endangering the world this time? Scepter of Doom? Magic Cape of Handsomeness?"
Virgil gave him a sideways look. "I fail to see how anything like that could portend catastrophe in the world."
"Clearly you don't know the power of a hunky lead in a female-oriented fandom."
Virgil actually stopped. "I'm sorry – what?"
Max laughed. "Never mind." He leaned back to Norman. "Remind me to add certain vampire books to Virg's reading list."
Norman gave him a thumbs-up.
"Anyway." Virgil resumed walking, trying not to smile. "There are several possibilities, but only one truly likelihood. I would rather not speculate until I have proof, however."
"Since when?" Max asked. "You love to speculate. We usually can't stop you."
"He's got a point," Norman put in.
Virgil huffed and his feathers rose and fell like a dog's hackles. "Oh, very well. It is my supposition that the individuals we seek have discovered and claimed a feather of the Firebird."
Max raised an eyebrow. "I assume you don't mean the muscle car."
Virgil sighed. "Of course not."
"So...literal firebird? Like a phoenix?"
"Similar, but not identical." Virgil took up a lecturing cadence in time with his steps. "There are many phoenix-like creatures scattered throughout the world's mythology, but in this case we are dealing with the Slavic version. It is a staple of the fairy tales from this part of the world north to the Arctic Circle, anywhere Slavic languages spread. Its origin is an object of some debate, but most tales agree that the Firebird is a magical creature whose feathers contain great power – often a power which brings ruin upon those who meddle with them."
"Hmm." Max considered, then said, "I think more magical objects should come with warnings. Like, can we go around and label everything 'Do Not Touch Or Risk World-Ending Disaster and Maybe Hair Loss' or something? I bet we'd solve a bunch of problems all at once."
"Nobody likes hair loss," Norman said.
"I believe a warning like that would – " But Virgil tripped and fell with a squawk.
Max reached down to help him up. "Watch your step, Virg. You okay?"
"Ahem. Yes. I'm fine." But he paused and looked down at his feet. "However." He held up a length of thin wire, the source of his fall. "I believe it is possible someone may know we are here already."
"Oh, great job, Virgil." Max rolled his eyes. "Way to find the only tripwire in a thousand square miles of wilderness!"
"I assure you, it was not my intention."
"Anyway. If they know we're here, we better go be somewhere else." Max glanced to Norman who gave him a nod and the three took off at a run.
They did not stop until they had put a little more than a half-mile between themselves and the tripwire. While Max and Virgil worked on catching their breaths, Norman drew his sword and stood guard, senses alert to any possible danger. They were close to their adversaries now, and the Guardian was ready for anything.
Max glanced around, his eyes falling on a particularly tall tree nearby. "Hey. Gimme a boost, Normie."
Norman did not even put his sword away – he simply held out one enormous palm for Max to step onto and lifted him one-handed into the nearest sturdy branches. From there, Max squirreled up the tree with ease.
"Norman."
Norman looked down at Virgil.
"Be very careful."
"Something wrong?"
Virgil paused for a moment, eyes troubled. "I believe...I am now having a similar feeling to the Mighty One's upon arrival."
Norman frowned. "Magic?"
He knew, from thousands of years of experience, that Virgil was not the most intuitive of beings; a demigod could stroll right past the end of the Lemurian's beak and he might never notice it was there, especially when reading. But sometimes Virgil got feelings, could sense sorcery or, every now and again, ill will.
Virgil might only get a sense of foreboding one danger out of ten, but Norman had learned that he was never wrong about that one.
"Not exactly." Virgil hesitated again, looking up into the tree where the Mighty One was just settling into position to peer over the area. "Just...do not let down your guard, Norman. For anything."
"I won't."
"Hey guys!"
Norman and Virgil both looked up. Max was perched at the top of the tree with one arm wrapped around its trunk for balance, but the other cupped his mouth so he didn't have to shout too loudly.
"I see the camp that way!" He pointed. Then his attention shifted and his entire body went taut.
"Mighty One?" Norman called.
"And, uh, I think somebody's heading our way!"
Norman's head swung in the direction Max was looking, becoming aware of the sound of someone moving through the forest towards them.
Virgil moved out of Norman's way and turned back to the boy above. "Jump, Mighty One!"
Max was already descending at speed, half-climbing and half-falling from branch to branch as he made his way down. He ignored Virgil and kept his attention on not losing his grip on the tree. He knew he could jump and Norman would catch him, he knew that as surely as he knew anything about his Guardian, but he didn't want to distract Norman who was bracing for battle.
Just as Max was making his final sliding leap to the ground, a figure emerged from the trees.
He was tall, rivaling Norman for height which very, very few people did. His hair was a neutrally sandy color cropped close to his head in a military-looking cut. He wore sturdy slacks patterned with forest-appropriate camouflage and a plain t-shirt under a vest with a matching camouflage pattern and many bulging pockets.
Norman squared off with him and held his sword out, waiting.
Max hit the ground, steadied somewhat with Virgil's help, and turned to the newcomer. "Huh! It's like G.I. Joe, but a European knockoff. Armenian Joe?"
To Max's surprise, the stranger smiled. "Not quite. But a good guess."
Virgil lifted his head. "What is your business here?"
"I have been following my former comrades through this forest in an attempt to learn what they have acquired. I do not trust the man who leads what used to be my unit." His voice was low and smooth, and he spoke English with a slight accent.
Max raised his eyebrows and took a few steps forward until he was beside Norman. "Why did you leave them in the first place?"
The man gave Norman a long look before he answered Max directly. "Our former commander was an honorable man. When he retired, the one who replaced him made some changes which I feared would lead down a dark path. I chose to resign, but have stayed close to observe."
"So you were a mercenary too?"
The man's smile shifted, darkened. "Is that what you think of us? Perhaps it is so. We were men for hire, yes, but our former commander only gave our services to those in need. Villages plagued by rogue groups, roads seized by terrorists, doctors trying to reach refugees or war camps. What my comrades have become is not who we were."
"And who was that?" Virgil asked.
He shrugged. "Men with but one skill, nothing to lose, and no country worth fighting for."
Max shared a glance with Norman and then waved him off. He held out a hand and covered some of the distance between them. "Well, maybe you can help us keep your friends from making a huge mistake."
"It would be my honor. Tell me how I may be of assistance." The man met Max in the middle and shook his hand.
Virgil and Norman stepped up beside their boy.
"This is the Mighty One," Virgil said, "and we are his protectors. I am Virgil and this is Norman."
The man peered at Max. "Mighty One?"
"You can call me Max."
But he shook his head. "There is an old story from my village of a Mighty One who is a great hero, a defender of all against evil. If you are such, I am even more honored to share in your quest."
Max flushed slightly. "That's me, but I'm probably not what you had in mind from the stories. I'll take any help I can get stopping your friends."
"What must we prevent my comrades from doing in their foolishness?"
"Your former unit has acquired an item of great power," Virgil said, watching him closely. "Perhaps you have seen it. I believe it would have the appearance of a very large, luminescent feather."
The man's eyes widened. "Yes. I have seen this while I watched from a distance."
"It's from the Firebird. Not the car – a real Firebird," Max said. "And it's sort of a big battery. Like, nuclear-power-plant-level big."
"Then we can waste no time. If we can retrieve this feather, I will attempt to speak to my people. Perhaps I can help them see the danger of their ways."
Max nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me."
Norman cleared his throat. "You didn't give us your name."
The man met Norman's gaze and held it. "You are correct. I apologize for my rudeness. I am Branislav Kovac." He flashed a smirk at Max. "Call me Bran."
"Hmm." Virgil considered the man. "Branislav: Slavic for 'warrior.' An appropriate name for a...mercenary."
"Not a mercenary, merely a warrior of fortune," Bran said, shaking his head. "But it seems to me that a warrior is what we need now, no?"
Norman bristled.
Max patted his Guardian's arm. "Easy, big guy." He turned to Bran. "I think we've pretty much got the 'warrior' thing covered, but we can always use more help when saving the world from nuclear disaster. Right?"
Norman dipped his head slightly in agreement.
"I think it very unlikely this will involve any form of nuclear armament," Virgil said. "Such weaponry does not require the power of the feather to fuel it. Rather, I would suggest some sort of enlarged particle or beam weapon, perhaps mounted on a satellite for maximum damage."
Max blanched. "Do not go giving your ideas to the bad guys, okay Virg?"
Bran nodded. "The world is dangerous enough without putting weapons in orbit. Let us hope our enemies have not found a buyer with the same thought as yourself."
"I did not say I thought it would be prudent, simply effective." Virgil cleared his throat. "Now, we must find these men and retrieve the feather before they can use or sell it. By my calculations, they will prepare to transport it from this location before sundown."
"You are not wrong," Bran said. "They have a contact in the next village who will summon a helicopter."
"Then we gotta get that feather back first." Max tipped his head at Bran, considering. "And I'm starting to get an idea about how we're gonna do it."
-==OOO==-
"Aw, come on! You gotta blend in with the rest of us!"
Norman met the Mighty One's gaze and resolutely shook his head. "I'm not taking off my armor."
Virgil huffed, drowning in one of Bran's spare shirts which he wore more like a gown. "I entirely sympathize with you, Norman."
Max frowned at both of them.
"Perhaps." Bran rose with a pile of clothing which he handed to Max. "If I can find another vest, you can wear it over your attire. Would that suffice?"
Norman inclined his head and Bran backed away to return to his tent again to sort through his things.
Max rolled his eyes. "You sure picked a weird time to be all silent and stuff, Normie." He turned to get himself behind a few trees so he could change into the smallest clothing Bran could offer.
Norman felt a lump come into his throat. "Mighty One."
Max paused and looked back over his shoulder. He could see the fight in Norman's eyes between guilt at not going along with the plan and whatever stubbornness had set in. Max shook his head and gave a tiny smile.
"It's fine, big guy."
Norman relaxed fractionally and let his boy go to change.
"It is rather strange, though, for you to disobey the Cap-Bearer." Virgil was very carefully not looking at him. "Is something wrong?"
"I thought you told me not to let down my guard," Norman said.
Virgil blinked at him. "Yes?"
"Then why are you trusting him?"
"Him? Surely you don't mean…"
"Bran." Norman spat the word like it was bitter and vile on his tongue.
"Ah, yes. I never said I trusted him."
Norman glared. "You're wearing his shirt. He's part of the plan. And you haven't said one word about it."
Virgil ruffled his feathers and shrugged. "It isn't that."
"Then what is it?"
Virgil looked away. "Ask me later, Norman."
Norman growled. "I'm asking you now."
Virgil continued to remain silent. Norman loomed over him and might have done more except that Max returned, baggy pants tucked into his sneakers and shirt-sleeves rolled up. The white of his t-shirt poked above the buttons of the camouflage shirt from Bran, and he looked rather more like a boy playing dress-up in a grown man's uniform than anything else, but he was certainly less obviously an outsider.
"Just call me G.I. Max, I guess." He glanced between them. "Everything okay?"
"Yes, Mighty One," Virgil said quickly. "Everything's fine."
A moment later, Bran emerged. "I can find nothing to suit Norman, but we may be able to acquire a jacket when we enter the camp."
Max grinned at him. "Cool! Let's go!"
Bran put a hand on Max's shoulder and returned the smile.
Norman bristled. Max's pack, easily strapped to his own, rattled slightly.
Bran ignored him. "If you will follow me, I will lead you into the camp where it is most poorly watched. Stay close to me, Mighty One."
Max fell into line behind Bran, with Virgil and Norman bringing up the rear. The journey through the forest passed quietly, except for Virgil who managed to get his borrowed shirt caught on seemingly every branch and thorn.
The first dozen times the Lemurian paused and had to be released from a snag or sniffed in annoyance at being caught up in a bush, Max or Norman simply helped him get loose and Bran waited. But as they drew nearer to the perimeter, Bran began glowering at Virgil with every delay.
Finally Bran pinned Virgil with a glare. "Perhaps you should remain behind. You are not very agile, and agility will be necessary to steal the feather."
Virgil gave a hmph. "I assure you, I can move as quietly and quickly as necessary. It is this disguise which causes me difficulty."
"It is a fool who blames his wardrobe for his own failings," Bran said.
Max crossed his arms. "Hey! Virg might not be the most woodcrafty guy I know, but he's not a fool."
Bran ducked his head. "I apologize, Mighty One. Forgive me."
"Sure. No problem. Let's just focus on getting that feather back."
Norman shot Virgil an irritated look. The Lemurian could only shrug.
-==OOO==-
Initially, the infiltration went very smoothly. Bran led the three of them through a quiet spot away from the main camp and guided them between tents and temporary buildings and vehicles, avoiding most people. It was just growing dark as the sunset arrived in the late evening, providing them with additional cover.
By the time the camp was alerted to their presence and scrambled to attack, Max was already crawling under a tent-flap into the place where the feather was being kept.
Virgil shucked his borrowed shirt and joined the boy as Bran and Norman began taking on the entire troop of soldiers outside.
"We must move quickly, Mighty One."
"Yeah, I got that," Max shot back, trying not to listen to the yells of his Guardian and of Bran while they defended the tent from all comers. "Help me find it. They didn't just leave it out on a table, apparently."
Virgil and Max ransacked the tent with much opening and tossing of containers, taking care when they came upon stores of ammunition. But finally Max's hand alighted on a metal case about the size of a shoebox and he could tell he had the feather in his grasp.
He opened it just to be sure, though. Only idiots like Skullmaster would just run off and assume they had the Object of Great Power when they really had an empty box.
The feather winked back at him with all the colors of a fiery dawn shimmering along the delicate barbs. It looked as insubstantial as water, or reflected firelight, but it was warm to the touch, almost humming. Max closed the box and pulled it to his chest, removing his own disguise which fit in a baggy way – and with running in his immediate future, he didn't want a repeat of Virgil getting stuck in the forest.
"Okay. Let's go!"
Suddenly there was a cry and a grunt and a pair of soldiers armed with guns stormed into the tent.
"Stop them!"
Max dove to the side, Virgil in his wake, as they opened fire. "Norman!"
Norman let out a cry from outside. Then the tent shuddered. A moment later, the entire canvas cover of the tent was ripped away by one irate Guardian, who promptly balled it up and threw it at the pair shooting towards Max, catching them in its folds.
"We got it," Max called, scrambling to his feet and running to Norman's side. "Let's make tracks, big guy!"
"Look out!"
Bran came flying in from the side, catching Max in his big arms and pulling them both sideways. Norman roared, then spotted the incoming grenade. He still roared, but with a different anger as he grabbed up Virgil and dove after Bran. They took cover behind a vehicle as the ground exploded.
"We've still got a lot of friends inbound," Max reported from where he leaned around Bran's shoulder. "Think we can slow them down?"
"Leave it to me," Bran said. "Return to where we met. I will find you there." He pressed a hand against Max's shoulder before launching himself into the fray once more.
Max could hear him yelling in Armenian, "Stop, comrades! You must stop!"
"Come on." Max tugged on Virgil's arm and hauled him to his feet. "We've got to trust him. It doesn't sound like they want to hurt him."
And they raced into the woods, leaving Bran to guard their retreat.
As they jogged back to the clearing with the tall tree Max had climbed so recently, Max kept glancing over his shoulder.
"Do not fear, Mighty One," Virgil said. "He will endure."
"How do you know?" Max asked. He felt the same way, though he couldn't have said why.
"You must trust me on this."
"Fine."
When they reached the clearing, Norman removed the packs he had carried and set himself to listening. Max started to climb the tree again, only for Virgil to put out a hand.
"I would feel better if you were not several stories in the air if Bran's former allies were to find us."
"I thought you said he'd be okay?"
Virgil simply raised an eyebrow.
Max sighed, but he nodded and leaned against the tree to wait.
It was almost twenty minutes later that Bran entered the clearing. "All is well." He raised his hands at Norman's defensive posture. "I was able to convince my comrades that their desire for the item was foolish. They have yet to accept me into their ranks as before, but they are at least considering their path once more, which is all I wished."
Max smiled. "I'm glad. I guess that makes this one a wrap." He turned to Virgil, still holding the box with the feather of the Firebird. "What do we do with this?"
"I believe we should deliver it somewhere secure," Virgil said vaguely. "I would not wish it to fall into other hands." He glanced up at the sky and the waning twilight. "However, it is too late for us to reach the nearest portal from here before night is upon us," he said.
"Looks like we're camping out!" Max grinned at Norman. "But it's your turn to fish."
Norman nudged him but nodded. "As you wish, Mighty One."
"If I may," Bran said. He looked at Max, but his body was arrayed to face Norman. "As I am somewhat far from my own camp, would you mind if I passed the evening in your company as well?"
Max hesitated. He had the urge to shiver again, but there was something in Bran's eyes that made him shrug and say, "It's fine with me."
"Thank you. Allow me to contribute by acquiring sufficient firewood." And without another word, Bran turned to begin gathering deadfall from the nearby woods.
"Mighty One," Norman began, "I'm not sure…"
"Norman." Virgil's voice was low and oddly cold. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Max asked.
Virgil put a hand on Max's shoulder. "I am grateful you allowed him to stay. I wish to speak to Bran in private."
"Oh, sure." Max looked between his friends. "Isn't it okay, Normie?"
Norman shrugged and said nothing.
"Great," Max muttered to himself as he bent to retrieve his pack from where it had been let fall. "This isn't going to be awkward or anything."