“Yes,” I agreed. “I know. If I’m lying, why would I tell you I’ve taken part in slaughtering your kind?” She had no answer for that, watching me with hard black eyes. “I was a soldier of the Order,” I said again. “If you want the truth, there it is.”
She frowned, suspicion and curiosity warring with anger and hate. “Why would you tell me this?” she asked in a soft voice, coming forward again. “You say you were part of the Order that would see us extinct. You have admitted to killing my kind, massacring us wholesale, in the name of your God.” She leaned forward, close enough for me to see my reflection in her jet-black eyes. “The only reason I do not kill you where you stand is because you told the truth, and you knew what that would mean. I find myself curious as to why. Why would a soldier of St. George reveal himself to his enemy? What kind of game are you playing?”
“It’s not a game,” I told her. “I’m not your enemy. And I’m not part of the Order any longer. We can help each other.” One of the men snorted, but I ignored him. “I have information on the Patriarch and Talon,” I continued, holding her gaze, “and I’m willing to share it with you. But you have to trust me.”
“Trust you?” The dragon rose, giving me a look of contempt. “Trust you?” Walking to the opposite wall, she stood there a moment, arms crossed, as if trying to compose herself. “Do you know why I’m here, mortal?” she said, whirling around again. “Do you think I want to be in this bizarre country, surrounded by oblivious mortals and their strange customs? I had a temple, in the Hua Shan mountains. A small, isolated temple perched on a cliff, where I lived in peace with the humans for over a hundred years. The temple monks all knew me and revered me. I was the third dragon to make my home there, as my ancestors did before me.
“And then,” she continued, narrowing her eyes, “one day, we had a visitor. A dragon, from the Western lands, all fancy and civilized in his expensive suit, always looking at his smartphone. He spoke of his grand organization, Talon, and tried to get me to join. All dragons should be united under one banner, he said. Think of what we could accomplish if all our kind joined together against the mortals. I refused. I didn’t want to be part of his massive corporation—I was content living my simple life with no interruptions or demands. I craved peace, isolation. Not power. I’d heard rumors of our Western cousin’s sprawling organization, and the Elder Wyrm’s constant quest for supremacy. I wanted nothing to do with Talon, and told him so.
“Before he left, he told me this—be careful you are not making a terrible mistake. Without Talon, you are vulnerable. Without Talon, St. George will eventually come for you, and all your desires for peace and simplicity will mean nothing when they are burning your temple to the ground.”
My skin prickled, and cold spread through my insides. I knew where was this was going. I remembered the conversation between the Patriarch and the Talon agent, about a temple in China, and suddenly everything became perfectly, sickeningly clear.
“One month later,” the dragon continued softly, “that is exactly what happened. The Order of St. George came in the night and began slaughtering everyone in the temple. Unarmed monks, who had never killed so much as a grasshopper in their entire lives, were cut down in a hail of bullets as the soldiers marched through, searching for me. I know the monks tried to talk to the soldiers, reason with them. I know they strove for a peaceful solution and were gunned down without mercy or thought. I wanted to fight—my friends, men I’d known since they were children, infants, were being systematically executed. But the abbot convinced me to flee.
“We are the only ones to survive the massacre at the temple,” the dragon finished, glancing at the two men standing like rocks beside me. “Three survivors, out of a dozen souls who wished only to live their lives in peace and isolation. And then, St. George came through, slaughtered them all, and burned the ancient temple to the ground. Nothing remains of my home but cinders and ash. So, tell me, St. George...” She stepped forward, raising her arm, and the cold edge of a knife was pressed against my throat. The dragon’s gaze was glassy as she leaned in. “Why should I trust you? Why shouldn’t I show you the same amount of mercy your kind showed the monks at my temple?”