“Kids,” the lieutenant said. “And females. How many of them have even held a gun? How many of those ‘breeders,’ as you called them, have recovered enough to participate in battle? An untrained soldier is more a liability than a help, even if that soldier is a dragon.”
“Kids?” Riley’s mocking voice drew our attention to the rogue, who stood with his arms crossed, smirking at the lieutenant. “That’s an entirely different tune than what you sang earlier, Lieutenant,” he challenged, making Ward’s jaw tighten. “Which is it? Either they’re helpless kids or soulless demons—they can’t be both.”
“Riley,” Ember said before Ward could erupt. “We’re not here to fight each other. And he does have a point. Lieutenant Ward,” she continued, staring the man down, “I understand your concern, but our options are limited. None of the hatchlings or dragonells has been trained like your soldiers, but they are dragons. And more important, they are all willing to fight. They’ve seen battle before, and they know what they’re going up against. At this point in the game, with the numbers working against us, we can’t be selective. The question is, will you and your soldiers be willing to work with them? Are you willing to accept that most of your troops will be dragons?”
I watched her, feeling proud as she stood up to the Order’s most infamous lieutenant. A few days ago, I expected Ward to argue, just for the sake of disagreeing with anything a dragon said. But that was before Ember had stood between him and the killing flames of an Adult. It was difficult to despise someone who had saved your life, even if they were supposed to be your mortal enemy. As she had done with me, Ember was challenging everything the Order thought about her kind. If she survived the upcoming battle, she would be vital in bridging the gap between dragons and the rest of the Order of St. George.
Ward gave an annoyed sigh. “Yes,” he snapped. “With how important the mission is, I suppose having dragons fighting alongside my troops is unavoidable. But what of the lizards? Will they accept orders from us?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Riley broke in. His mouth was set in a grim, determined line as he faced the officers. “I’ll be there. No offense, but I’m not willing to leave them in the hands of the Order. I’ll lead the assault on the main gate. You just worry about backing us up.”
“Cobalt, no.” Shockingly, it was Mist who spoke, the first time she’d said anything at any of these meetings. Pushing herself off the wall, she stepped up to the table, narrowing her gaze at the other Basilisk. “You’re going to die if you charge at Talon head-on,” she told him, and the worry in her voice surprised me. “You’re a Basilisk—you’re better off leading the infiltration into the laboratory.”
“These are my hatchlings,” Riley said. “My underground. I won’t leave them to die at the hands of Talon.” Mist started to protest, but he overrode her. “I might’ve been a Basilisk, but first and foremost, I am the leader of this resistance. My responsibility will always be to them.
“Besides,” he went on, his voice softening, “we already have a Basilisk who will go with the infiltration team. And she’ll do just as good a job as me, maybe even better.” Mist blinked, and he offered a smile. “You don’t need me there—Basilisks always work best alone. Just support and help the team like you’ve always done. I know I’ll be putting them in good hands.”
Mist sighed and glanced at Ember. “I have a feeling I know who’ll be leading it.”
Martin’s gaze slid to me. “And what about you, Sebastian?” he asked. “You’ve been very quiet over there. What are your thoughts on this operation?”
“I’m just a soldier, sir,” I replied. “I’ll go where I’m needed. And I’ll do what has to be done.” Though I already knew my part in the operation, where I would be. At Ember’s side, fighting to get her and the others into the room with Talon’s vessel army, making sure they had a chance to save us all. Martin seemed to realize this, as well, for he gave a faint smile and shook his head.
“So, it’s decided,” Riley announced. “We have forty-eight hours to get ready. Get everyone together, gather all the supplies and weapons we need, make sure everyone knows the plan. In two days, this is going down. And we’ll either succeed and stop Talon from taking over the world, or we’ll die trying.”
Silence fell over the room as Riley finished. As we all realized what we were up against, and what it would mean for everyone. This was it. The final confrontation. The last battle with Talon, where the only outcomes were victory, or death. Retreat was not an option. No matter how much opposition we faced, no matter how grim the odds, we could not leave until we finished what we came to do. Talon’s army had to be destroyed.
Even if that meant the death of every last soul in the resistance.
*
“Crazy times, ain’t it?” Tristan muttered.
I nodded absently. We were sitting on the roof of the farmhouse, Tristan’s rifle over his knee, gazing over the endless fields, forest and pastureland surrounding the property. It wasn’t Tristan’s turn for guard duty, but this was his favorite spot: high overhead, lonely and isolated, where he could see everything for miles.
“I was wondering…” Tristan mused again, looking down at the yard, where a duo of soldiers passed a small group of rogues headed for the farmhouse. The two groups nodded stiffly to each other, and then continued on their way. “Let’s say a miracle happens. Let’s say, somehow, Talon crumbles and we actually win this war. What’s going to happen to the Order, now that we’ve fought beside ‘the enemy’?” I can see the council demanding that we turn around and slaughter every dragon here, but I know that some of us—hell, maybe most of us—are going to have a problem with that. If St. George decides not to kill dragons anymore, what’s going to become of the Order? Where will we fit in?”
“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve been wondering the same thing myself, and there’s no good answer, for either side. I just know the Order has to change. We can’t continue as we’ve always done, not with what’s happened.”
“Yeah.” Tristan sighed. “Guess we can worry about it when it happens. If it happens. Because, let’s face it, we’re probably all going to die when we assault that laboratory. I can’t imagine Talon is going to leave those things unguarded, even if they aren’t expecting us.” A smile crossed his face as he looked toward the distant hills. “It’s going to be huge,” he said in an almost wistful voice. “This battle, it’s more important than anything we’ve ever done. At least we’ll go out in a blaze of glory.”
I didn’t answer, and he gave me a sideways look, a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous, Mr. Perfect Soldier,” he said teasingly. “You’re the reason we’re in this mess in the first place.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“No?”
“No.” I was, but not for the reasons Tristan thought. Constant fighting and the teachings of St. George had effectively smothered any fear of dying in battle. We all accepted that death was a certainty, a fact of life for the soldiers of the Order. We had all been trained to give our lives for the cause, and to have no regrets.
I had regrets. I regretted all the senseless killing I had done. I regretted that I wasn’t able to save more of us, and that most everyone I knew would probably die in battle, as Tristan had said. We were both soldiers. We knew the odds. I wished it hadn’t taken the Order of St. George being nearly wiped out to convince them they needed help, that the only way to stand against Talon was to ally with their greatest enemies.