“Yep.” Riley rubbed the back of his skull, looking both nervous and annoyed about being nervous. “Never did like the idea of meeting a god. Somehow, I get the feeling gods just don’t like me very much.”
“You?” Garret asked, the hint of a smile crossing his face. “With your complete disdain for authority figures? I don’t see why that would be.”
“Ha, ha, laugh now, St. George. We’ll see how funny it is when we’re all piles of dust being scattered by the wind.”
We started off again, walking single file down the narrow path, following our guide toward the territory of a god.
If possible, the jungle got even thicker, more tangled, with branches and vines clawing at us from either side of the trail. Our guide came to a sudden stop and murmured something I couldn’t understand. Ahead, sitting to one side of the tiny path, a stone statue rose out of a cluster of vines and roots, the snarling visage of some scaly, horned creature peering out at us.
Riley cocked his head at the statue. “Huh,” he remarked. “Is that supposed to be a dragon? It looks like a wild pig had a baby with an alligator.”
I shook my head at him. “Can you be any more irreverent? I haven’t been struck by lightning on this trip yet.”
The guide turned, his dark face solemn in the shadows of the undergrowth. “This is as far as I go,” he said. “From this point on, you only have to follow the path. I will wait here until your business is complete.”
Riley frowned. “I thought you said you served this master or god or whatever you call him.”
“I do. But I am simply his voice outside of the jungle. Only those who have been invited can step into his territory unharmed. Therefore, I will wait for you here. If you do not return by sunset, I will know you are not coming back. Now, go.” He nodded down the trail. “My master is not a patient god. It would be unwise to incur his wrath.”
We went, slipping deeper into the jungle, venturing into the unknown. Into the territory of a god.
Almost immediately, I knew something was wrong. My dragon instincts stirred, edgy and restless, though I couldn’t see anything unusual. But I could feel eyes on me. I could sense something watching us, stalking us down the trail, keeping just out of sight.
Garret moved closer, walking by my side, even down the narrow path. His eyes were hard as he murmured, “Something is following us.”
“Yeah,” I whispered back. My hand twitched, wanting to reach for the Glock hidden beneath my shirt, but I didn’t want to give away that we knew we were being stalked. “Should we tell Riley?”
“He knows,” Garret replied, keeping his gaze straight ahead. His posture was calm, but I could sense the tension in him, ready to explode into action. “Stay alert. Be ready to move when it happens.”
As he said this, we entered a clearing, and figures melted out of the undergrowth. Tall, slender, with only a strip of cloth tied around their waists, they moved like ghosts, making virtually no noise as they stepped forward. Before we could say anything, they had surrounded us, and a dozen bone-tipped spears were leveled at our hearts.
GARRET
Two weeks earlier
I stood in Gabriel Martin’s office, watching as the lieutenant walked into the room with a slight limp. He shuffled around the desk, then sat down with a grimace and eyed me across the wood. I stood calmly at attention, mostly out of habit, until he waved me into a seat.
“Sebastian,” he greeted as I settled into the chair. “You’ve come from the infirmary, yes? How is St. Anthony?”
“The same, sir,” I replied. Tristan St. Anthony still lay in a coma, unmoving and unresponsive, much as he had the past two days. The fact that he was still alive at all was either a testament to his hardheadedness or his extremely good luck, for many of his severely wounded brothers had not survived that first night.
“Stubborn bastard. He would have to make things difficult. The medic is going to give me an earful about moving him, I’m sure.” Martin half smiled, then shook his head with a sigh. “We’re leaving, Sebastian,” he went on, sobering as he looked at me. “We’re too exposed here. Our numbers have been depleted, our defenses broken, and Talon still knows where we are. If they attack again, there is no way any of us will survive another round.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. I’d suspected as much. Martin was right to leave, to gather the remaining soldiers and retreat to fight another day. We couldn’t stand against Talon, not like this. I didn’t like the idea of abandoning the base to the enemy, but I knew we had little choice. “Where will you go?”
“Somewhere Talon won’t find us.” Martin sighed. “The Order has several locations throughout the country, emergency safe houses that are meant to be used as a last resort. We’ve never had need of them, until now. I plan to fall back to one of them, regroup and see about contacting the rest of the Order. If anyone in St. George survived, they’ll be doing the same.”
“Do you think there could be other survivors?”
“God, I hope so,” Martin said. “We can’t be the only ones left. There have to be others—even a handful is better than none. Talon couldn’t have destroyed every single soul in St. George. What about your dragons?” he asked. “What will they be doing?”
“Riley is planning to leave, as well, sir.” For the past two days, the rogue leader and the other dragons had been staying in the empty officers’ quarters at the far end of the compound. There were too few St. George soldiers left alive to even think about harassing them, but the dragons stayed deliberately isolated from the rest of the base. Dragons being allowed on St. George soil was still an alien concept to most of the soldiers, and neither Martin nor Riley wanted to take any chances. Soldiers were not allowed to venture to the “dragon’s side” of the compound, and the rogue leader had forbidden any contact with the rest of the base. Riley himself stayed as far away from the soldiers as possible, his inherent distrust of St. George and the desire to protect his underground making him reluctant to interact with humans, even Martin. Only Ember went between the two sides without fear, acting as a liaison between dragons and St. George, relaying messages and updates to them both. There had been hard eyes and wary glances whenever she walked across the yard or into a room, but so far there had been no real problems with having a dragon stroll freely through Order territory.
Of course, the remaining soldiers having seen the red dragon lead a counterattack against the horde that would have otherwise destroyed the base didn’t hurt. Perceptions were changing. Slowly. Many of the soldiers’ attitudes had downgraded from openly hostile to merely suspicious. No one but Martin had spoken to Ember or the rest of the dragons since they’d arrived, but no one had openly threatened or mocked them, either. It was the best I could hope for.
Sadly, there were a few whose hatred had not waned, who despised the dragons and thought the Order should shoot them, and me, in the head while they had the chance. Thankfully, Martin’s authority over the Western Chapterhouse was absolute, and he was respected enough to be obeyed, even in the face of what would be considered extreme blasphemy. It didn’t stop the men from talking, but it did prevent an all-out rebellion.
Martin rubbed his forehead. “Go to your dragons, then,” he stated. “Talk to them. Find out what they intend to do. I wish I could promise them protection if they came with us, but you know the Order as well as I do. The soldiers here are one thing, but if we meet other survivors, I’m uncertain I can convince them to listen to me, regardless of what happened.”
“Which is why we’ll be leaving before we start getting shot at.”