I took a quiet breath. “The Order can change,” I said carefully. “I’ve lived with some of these dragons. I’ve seen what they’re really like. They want nothing to do with Talon or the war. All they want is to live freely, without the fear of St. George coming for them in the middle of the night.” I paused; Martin was watching me intently, eyes dark, but he wasn’t openly protesting or calling me a heretic. Still, I chose my next words carefully. “Sir, if you would just talk to one of them, let them explain their side, you would see that they’re not all soulless monsters. Honestly, some of them are a lot like us. At the very least, they don’t deserve to be slaughtered just for existing.”
Martin sighed. “Perhaps it is as you say, Sebastian,” he said. “Perhaps it is time for the Order to look at things anew. Unfortunately, we cannot do anything about it now. Let us first see if we survive the night before we talk of change.”
“Sir?”
Martin looked up as Tristan came into the room and saluted just inside the door. “We’re ready, sir,” he announced. “Everyone is in position, and the rest of the base is locked down. We’re just waiting on your orders.”
Martin nodded. “I guess it’s nearly time, isn’t it?” he mused, rising heavily from his seat. Gazing at each of us in turn, he gave a small smile. “Sebastian, St. Anthony, I can truly say it’s been a pleasure serving with you. Good luck to us all.”
DANTE
It’s time.
I stood on the raised dais at the back of the command center, gazing at the bank of screens in front of me. Each showed satellite images of a familiar desert, a familiar cluster of buildings in the middle of the darkness. On one screen, the base was dark, save for a large square building in the very center. This structure was brightly lit, and that made me suspicious.
“Are we ready?” I asked. Around me, the team of humans were quick to respond. I knew the Elder Wyrm was listening somewhere as every Talon command center around the world prepared to go to war. The Night of Fang and Fire had finally come. Tonight, among many others, the Western chapterhouse of the Order of St. George was going to fall. By any means necessary.
Then let’s begin. I took a deep, steadying breath and commanded, “Send in Alpha flight one.”
“Sir.” Immediately, one of the senior humans glanced at me, brow furrowed. “Just the one flight, sir?” he asked, as if I didn’t know what I was doing. “We have five flights and the Omega protocol on standby. Shouldn’t we send them all at once? We’re sure to overwhelm the base, and we’ll take fewer casualties ourselves.”
“No.” I narrowed my eyes at the human. “You don’t know this chapterhouse or who resides there. And, lest anyone has forgotten, this is St. George. They know how to kill dragons, and how to defend themselves from dragons. Before we throw everything we have at them, I want to know what kind of firepower they’ve got and how to deal with it. So, this is the last time I will repeat myself—send in Alpha flight one. Hold the rest in reserve until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, sir.”
I crossed my arms, watching the screens, waiting for what the night would reveal.
The match has been set into motion, St. George. Let the games begin.
GARRET
Three minutes till midnight.
Outside, the air was still. A sickly white moon hung in the sky behind a few wispy clouds, unable to pierce the darkness blanketing the chapterhouse. I stood at a window on the upper floor of the barracks, watching the sky for dragons. Behind me, the rest of my team—four of St. George’s best—sat or lay quietly on cots while I kept watch. Fifty yards away, the armory sat huddled in shadow, silent and dark. My gaze went to the spots where the snipers were hiding, Tristan among them. I wondered if he would survive this night...if any of us would survive. We’d prepared as best we could, but who knew what kind of numbers Talon would throw at us?
“All squads, this is Anvil Six,” came Martin’s voice over the radio. The lieutenant was in the armory with the rest of the squadron. “What’s it look like out there?”
“Anvil, this is Longshot Six,” came Tristan’s voice, cool and unruffled. “Nothing on our end. The sky is clear.”
“Anvil, Storm Six,” said the commander of the machine gun squad. “Same here, just sitting on our asses waiting, sir.” A few chuckles echoed that statement, and I smiled faintly.
“Anvil, Scorpion Six,” I said into my headset. “Nothing here, either. We’ve got a clear line of sight to your position and everything is quiet.”
“All right,” Martin replied. “You know the drill, gentlemen. Keep your eyes open and radio the second you see anything, lizard or otherwise.”
“Sir,” we all answered, and the line went quiet.
I glanced at my team. They seemed calm, cavalier, even, but that was to be expected. We’d all done something like this before. Never on our own turf, of course, but we all had experience in staging ambushes and waiting for the battle to start. Worrying and dwelling on the upcoming fight was useless; there was nothing we could do until go time.
Ember, I thought as my watch flipped to 11:59 and a blanket of clouds crawled across the moon. I wish I could have seen you one more time. Wherever you are right now, stay safe.
“We got movement!”
I jerked up. Tristan’s voice crackled over the radio, tense and chillingly eager. “Hostiles inbound. About two clicks away, from the west side of the fence. Ugly gray bastards like Scorpion said. Ten targets, maybe more.” A heartbeat of a pause, and Tristan added, “Damn, they really are exactly the same. Looks like the party is about to start, sir.”
“Copy that, Longshot,” Martin replied. “You may fire when ready.”
I held my breath, waiting. Outside, the night was still. I couldn’t see anything in the darkness but the armory in front of me.
Then a shot rang out, the report crystal clear in the silence. A half second later, Tristan’s voice echoed smugly over the radio.
“Lima down, Anvil Six, lima down.”
A cheer went up, my own team joining in. “Quiet,” I warned, glancing back at them. That was just the first casualty. We couldn’t celebrate yet.
Two more shots echoed, ringing over the buildings. “Shit,” hissed another sniper, one I didn’t recognize. “Dodgy bastards. Anvil Six, they’re coming in fast.”
“Storm,” Martin snapped. “Get ready. When you see the targets, light them up.”
A chilling scream rang out, making my blood run cold, as several dark, winged shapes appeared through the clouds. Eyes glowing silver against the black, they dropped from the sky with shrieking battle cries and swooped toward the armory.
DANTE
“We’re taking fire!”
On the screens, lights flared, illuminating the darkness. The distinctive white streaks of gunfire.
“They’ve got machine gunners on the roofs,” someone called out, as if he hadn’t expected anything like that. I considered firing him on the spot. It was St. George; how could he not expect they would be ready for an attack made by dragons? This was precisely why I wanted to send in the first wave, to gauge their defenses and fortifications and test what kind of surprises they had waiting. None of this was unexpected.
“Sir, we’ve got snipers,” called another human, staring intensely at the screens. “Coming from the chapel and the headquarters roof, I believe. Alpha one-three and one-seven are down, and one-nine has been severely wounded. Should I order it to return to base?”
“No,” I said calmly. “If it’s going to die soon, there’s no reason for it to return.” I swept a hand toward the screen. “Have Alpha one-nine ram the chapel tower. Hopefully that will get rid of at least one shooter. The rest of them should take out the machine gunners and the other snipers.”
There was a moment’s pause. I could feel the eyes of the rest of
the team on me, wide and stunned. “Are my orders unclear?” I asked softly.
“No, sir!” The man quickly turned and spoke urgently into his radio, and the rest of the team averted their eyes. Casualties were to be expected, I told myself. The vessels were tools. Bred to fight, kill and die. And when they died, they should take out as many enemies as they could. I was commander, and victory was nonnegotiable. The life of a single vessel, a dozen vessels, didn’t matter. They existed only to ensure that the battle was ours.
“Sir,” said another human, “what of the armory? We’ve got shots coming from that building, too.”
“Ah. That would be their headquarters,” I mused. “Their bunker for this attack. If we destroy it, the fight is ours.” I raised a hand. “Send in flight two,” I ordered. “Have them concentrate fire on the armory.”
GARRET
The scene outside dissolved into utter pandemonium. Metallic-gray dragons swooped through the air, breathing flame and lighting up the darkness. Turret fire roared, and the occasional bark of sniper rifles could be heard over the cacophony. Dragons tumbled from the sky, falling to the ground or crashing into the sides of buildings. We seemed to be holding our own, but I knew this couldn’t be the whole strike force. Talon had to be holding something in reserve, just as we were.
Behind me, I could feel the tension in my squad, watching the screaming chaos through the windows, their hands on their RPGs. I saw several looks shot my way, wondering when they would receive the order to fire, to aid the rest of the base. Not yet, I thought at them. Hold your ground, it’s not time yet. We get only one shot, and we have to make it count.
Voices crackled over the radio—Martin calling orders to his men, the other squad commanders responding in turn. I listened, helpless to do anything else, knowing our time was coming but not yet. I heard Storm commander snarling defiantly at the dragons swooping by, heard the chatter of machine gun rounds, before his voice abruptly cut out over the radio. Martin called out to him, demanding his status, but he didn’t respond.
And then, Tristan’s voice, oddly calm, like he was watching a head-on collision but couldn’t do anything about it. “Oh, shit—”
With a streak of metallic scales, a dragon slammed full speed into the chapel tower with a boom that shook the ground. Wood and plaster flew everywhere, splinters raining to the earth as the steeple wall collapsed with a groan and a snapping of timber.
“Tristan!”
Someone behind me hissed a curse. I ignored him, putting a hand to my helmet as I snarled into the headset: “Longshot Six, come in. Longshot, this is Scorpion. What’s your status?”
Nothing. The buzz of static and the echo of gunfire were the only answers to my repeated calling. Numb, I closed my eyes, fighting the helpless rage within. Dammit, Tristan. You weren’t supposed to die on the front lines. You were the one who was supposed to survive this.
Outside, the fight continued. A gunner frantically tried shooting down three dragons at once, but another swooped in from behind and landed on his back. Narrow jaws snapped, and the soldier slumped lifelessly over the gun. As I watched, a second dragon flew straight into the hail of machine gun fire, didn’t stop and crashed headfirst into the turret, crushing both the gun and the soldier operating it.
“Sir,” one of my men growled. “More dragons incoming.”
I looked up as another wave descended from the clouds and swarmed the armory. Jets of flames erupted from their mouths as they swooped past, strafing it again and again, and I could feel the immense heat even from here.
“Ready to fire, sir,” the soldier said, hefting the weapon. “On your order.”
“Hold,” I snapped, and his jaw tightened. “Not yet,” I told him and the rest of the team. “There are too many dragons in the air. If we move now, we’ll be wasting our shots and giving away our position. Our orders are to wait until we’re sure we can do the most damage possible. Until that time, we stay put.”
Johnson glared at me with suspicion and defiance. “Are you sure we’re holding back because of orders, sir?” he asked, his tone softly dangerous. “And that you’re not feeling sympathy for the lizards?”
Any other time, I might have hit him. Dragons were attacking, the base was being destroyed and I’d just watched my best friend die in front of me. I was not in the mood for insubordination, and laying him flat on his back was a viciously tempting thought.
Instead, I turned and calmly pointed the muzzle of my sidearm in his face. He froze, as did the rest of the squad, and I smiled coldly.
“Not yet,” I said, my voice flat and dangerous. “We hold position until I say it’s time. Is that clear, soldier?”
He glared for a moment, then dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir.”
I returned to watching the battle, a cold lump settling in my gut. Talon was still holding back. I didn’t know how many more waves of dragons were coming, but I did know they weren’t done, not by a long shot.
I had the sinking feeling that they were just getting started.
DANTE
“Losing more vessels, sir,” said a human, turning to look at me with wide eyes. “Nearly all of Alpha has been killed, and Bravo is at half-strength.”
“The building is holding, sir,” said someone else. “It must have fire-resistant walls. Our forces can’t burn it down.”
I smiled coldly. Well, St. George. You’re putting up as big a fight as I thought you would. How long can you hold out? I wonder. Very well. If the rats won’t be burned out, we’ll go in after them.
“Send in flight Charlie,” I ordered, “and have them concentrate all physical efforts into getting into that bunker. I don’t care what it takes.” I narrowed my eyes at the stubborn building on the screen and clenched a fist. “Tear it down!”
GARRET
This was endless.
I watched yet another wave come in, this one even bigger than the last, dragons descending from the air in a swarm. Our forces were dwindling. The machine gunners were all dead, and I hadn’t heard a sniper report in a long time. And yet, the dragons kept coming, a relentless, never-ending hoard. Maybe Talon did have an infinite supply of them, and they would continue to attack until they had slaughtered every last soldier in the chapterhouse.
“They’ve stopped trying to burn down the armory at least,” one of the men growled beside me. “What the hell are they doing now?”
I didn’t answer, watching as the new swarm of dragons dropped from the air, rushed the armory walls and began tearing at them viciously. Inside, soldiers stuck their guns through the windows and fired on their attackers, but there were too many dragons and too few places to fire from. Bricks began crumbling and falling away as the clones’ relentless assault continued.
But they were on the ground now. A massive group of them, all in one spot. I looked at my team, saw the same realization in their eyes and nodded. It was time; we would never get a better shot.
Raising the RPG to my shoulder, I carefully aimed the rocket through the window, at the cluster of writhing, squirming wings and tails. Beside me, the others did the same—five lethal high-powered grenades, going right into the heart of the enemy forces.
“Ready,” I muttered, curling my finger around the trigger. “Aim.” I paused for a heartbeat, for that moment when my body was perfectly, absolutely still, then released the breath I was holding. “Fire!”
With a deafening, piercing hiss, five rocket powered grenades streaked from the windows of the building, flying into the mob of dragons below. Five massive explosions followed as the grenades erupted into roaring balls of smoke and fire, turning everything white for a split second. Dragons were flung in all directions, shrieking, tumbling through the air and crashing lifelessly to the ground. The smoke cleared, leaving a large section of scorched, blasted earth that was now covered in blown-apart dragons, so
me twitching weakly but far too wounded to stay alive.
The men beside me let out wild cheers and howls of triumph. I imagined the same was happening inside the armory, but there was no time to celebrate. The surprise attack had decimated the dragon numbers, killing half of them in one lethal blast, but there were still more out there, clawing at the armory, slowly pushing their way in. If they managed to get inside, we could lose the battle.
“Let’s go!” I snapped to the team, and grabbed my M-4 from where it lay beneath the window. “Before they have a chance to regroup.” When they did recover, we would likely be killed, but this was our job. This was our part in the battle: hit hard and fast, and kill as many as we could before we died.
Sprinting down the stairs, we charged into the chaos, into the heat and screams and smoke, and opened fire.
DANTE
A huge explosion rocked the screen, turning it white for a moment.
“Shit!” cried one of the humans as the rest of them gasped in horror. “Sir, we’ve got multiple wings down. Bravo one, two, three, seven, ten. Charlie two, six, seven, eight, ten. Delta four, five—”
“Excellent.” They stopped and stared at me, stunned. As I expected. That was their ace in the hole. I knew they were holding something back. I smiled grimly. Victory was close. Just one final push.
“Send in the rest,” I ordered. “All wings, attack. Take that base down, now.”
GARRET
I’d been told that there is a point in every soldier’s life when he knows he’s going to die.