“Dead,” I said flatly. “The dragon known as Ouroboros is supposedly dead. After he went rogue, no one has seen him—”
“In over three hundred years,” the stranger finished. “Yes, that is what Talon would have you believe. However, Ouroboros is very much alive, ex-Agent Cobalt. And he sent me here to find you and the daughter of the Elder Wyrm.” His gaze shifted to Ember, who straightened quickly. “He has something to discuss with you. In person.”
Ember glanced from the old man to me. “I take it this… Ouroboros is important?” she asked. “Who is he, anyway?”
I took a deep breath. “Ouroboros,” I began, hearing the awe in my own voice, “is a Wyrm. An old, old Wyrm. Right behind our infamous leader of Talon, he’s the oldest dragon in the known world.”
Ember’s brows arched. “Oh,” she said.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “So, he’s kind of a big deal. Even though he’s not supposed to exist. A long time ago—and I’m talking over three hundred years, mind—Ouroboros and the Elder Wyrm had a disagreement. Everyone has forgotten what it was about, but they think it had something to do with Talon, and the direction the Elder Wyrm was taking it. The stories say the fight was everything from an argument to a full-blown, Godzilla versus Mothra–style throw down, but in the end, Ouroboros left Talon and went rogue. The very first dragon to do so. He just…disappeared. The official consensus in Talon was that he’d died, but there is a legend, among rogues especially, that claims that somehow Ouroboros survived and is still out there. Hiding from Talon, managing to stay off their radar all this time.” Riley shook his head. “Of course, it was always just a myth. No one has seen or heard anything from Ouroboros since the day he fled Talon.”
St. George looked at the man sitting at the table. “Not so much of a myth, it appears.”
“No.” I narrowed my gaze at the stranger, suspicion rising up like dark flame. “So if what you say is true,” I said, “and Ouroboros is alive, where the hell has he been all this time? Why hasn’t he done anything? Does he not care that we’ve all been dying, thanks to Talon and St. George? He’s probably the only one who can go head-to-head with the Elder Wyrm and have a sliver of a chance. Why hasn’t he ever made himself known, contacted the rogues at the very least? Why now?”
“I do not presume to know the mind of Ouroboros,” the human stated. “I have come to deliver his message, nothing more. I do know that contacting anyone by modern means, such as phones, computers, and the like, has never been his preference. Phones can be traced. Computers can be hacked. Ouroboros is a bit of a…traditionalist, if you would. If you wish to know the answers to your questions, you will have to go to him and ask him yourself.”
I growled in frustration. “Fine. Where is he?”
The man blinked. “Forgive me, ex-Agent,” he said, still in that supremely calm voice. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you that.” He raised a hand as I stepped forward. “You, of all people, should know the lengths to which a rogue will go to keep their location a secret.”
“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Ember wanted to know.
“If you agree to meet my master, I will take you to where you must go. I warn you, however. It is a lengthy journey. Ouroboros is not here, in the United States. Hiding himself so well meant cutting himself off from nearly all of civilization. The trip to meet him will take some time.”
“Time we really don’t have,” I snapped. “There’s a war happening now, and Talon is on the move. I can’t leave the hatchlings to go traipsing halfway around the world for a chat.”
“Even if that chat is with Ouroboros?” the stranger asked mildly. “The First Rogue? One of only four great Wyrms in the entire world? Who knew the Elder Wyrm centuries ago, who is the second most powerful dragon your kind has ever known? I would think that you, ex-Agent Cobalt, with your network of dragons trying to hide from Talon, would be especially eager to see why Ouroboros has called for you.”
“Hey, don’t get me wrong.” I held up a hand. “I would love to meet Ouroboros and pick his brain a little. Particularly on how he’s stayed off Talon’s radar for the past three hundred years.” I raked a palm over my scalp. “But this is a really bad time. I can’t leave the hatchlings now. Talon is still after us, and there’s probably not much time until they launch their second phase of attack, whatever it may be. I have to get my underground as far away as I can before that happens.”
Ember looked at me, then back to the man at the table. “Do we have to give you an answer now?” she asked.
“No, Miss Hill.” The man shook his head. “Please take your time. Talk among yourselves. Decide what you want to do. But…remember that Ouroboros is not a patient Wyrm, nor one that forgives or forgets.” His voice remained the same, serene and matter-of-fact. It was not a threat, merely a statement, but I felt the warning reverberate through me all the same. “He has no tolerance for those who waste his time. If you refuse this offer now, it will not be made again in your lifetimes. So please choose carefully.”
*
“Bloody freaking hell,” Wes remarked. “Ouroboros? The First Rogue? That’s bloody impossible. I thought he was… I mean, isn’t he supposed to be…”
“Nonexistent.” This from Mist, leaning against the far wall. Leaving the stranger under the dubious watch of a couple soldiers, Ember, St. George and I had retreated to our temporary quarters on the other side of the base. Now, the three of us were gathered in Wes’s room, along with two other dragons who had joined us recently: Mist, a former Basilisk agent whose motives for being here were still shady as hell, and Jade, an Adult Eastern dragon with a fondness for tea and being aloof.
“Ouroboros is a myth,” Mist said. “An urban legend the rogues keep alive to give them hope.” Her long silver hair glowed dully in the shadowy corner she’d claimed as hers. Even though there were still a few hours of daylight left, the curtains were drawn and the lights were turned off. The only luminance came from the screen of Wes’s laptop on the desk, because my human hacker friend seemed as allergic to sunlight as a vampire.
“He isn’t real,” the girl insisted. “Everyone in Talon knows Ouroboros died long ago. After all this time, we would have seen or heard something.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to the human sitting in St. George’s conference room,” I said, jerking my thumb back at the closed door. “Because he’s either eaten too many magic mushrooms, or he says that the First Rogue is not only real, he wants to meet with us.”
Jade, standing quietly beside a wardrobe, regarded me with interest. “If Ouroboros indeed lives and has called for you, it would be wise to go. One does not receive a summons from an ancient Wyrm often, if ever.”
“Yeah, but…” I scrubbed both hands through my hair, frustration warring with curiosity. Of course I wanted to go. This was Ouroboros, the First Rogue. The legend who had hidden his existence from Talon so well that everyone, inside the organization and out, had thought he was dead. For three hundred years. I would kill to learn his secrets.
But if I left, what would happen to my underground if Talon came for us again? My network was brave; they had fought Talon’s clone army and had turned the tide for St. George. Without our intervention, the Order would have been slaughtered.
The cost was high, far too high. Some of them hadn’t made it. Five hatchlings were dead, buried in the desert sand with the soldiers they had fought beside. I knew them all by name; I remembered the day I’d taken each of them away from Talon, with the promise of a better life, one that was free.
“You’re worried about the others,” Ember said quietly.