Inferno: the thrilling final novel in the Talon saga from New York Times bestselling author Julie Kagawa

Riley

Well, this day had gotten weird.

A man was sitting quietly at the table in the conference room, flanked by soldiers of St. George. He was lean and bony, wearing a simple shirt and dark pants, and his skin was tanned and leathery. His hands were folded in front of him, his dark gaze staying fixed on the wooden surface until the four of us—myself, St. George, Ember and the Order lieutenant, Martin—approached and stood at the table’s edge, facing him.

“I am Lieutenant Martin,” the officer began in clear, official tones. “Current commander of the Western Chapterhouse of St. George. Who are you? What is it you want here?”

At his voice, the man finally raised his head, his expression calm. But his gaze wasn’t for the lieutenant, but for the red hatchling standing beside St. George.

“Ember Hill,” he said in a soft but perfectly audible voice. His dark gaze slid to me. “Ex-Agent Cobalt. My master sends his greetings.”

Ember tensed, as did St. George. The two guards did, as well, hands straying toward their weapons. The man at the table, however, remained as serene as ever. I stepped forward, feeling Cobalt rise, responding to a potential threat. “And who would that be?” I growled.

“Forgive me, ex-Agent.” The man bowed his head. “But my master would rather not discuss business with the soldiers of St. George within earshot.” His gaze flicked briefly to Martin and the soldier. “This message, and the terms that come with it, are for you and Miss Hill alone. Sebastian may stay, if he likes,” he went on, and I stiffened. That he knew the soldier’s name, as well...who was this human? And who was this mysterious master who knew us all? “But the rest of St. George must leave. My master was quite insistent that this was for your ears alone.”

“I don’t think so,” Martin said. “You’re in Order territory, sitting in a St. George chapterhouse. Anything you want to tell the dragons, you can inform us of, as well.”

“Come now, Lieutenant,” the man went on in a reasonable voice. “Surely you can see I am not a threat. I am no dragon, no soldier. I am not armed. Your soldiers have already determined that I am wearing no wires or transmitters. Two dragons and a former soldier of St. George should have no trouble with a frail old man.” His thin lips twitched. “But feel free to shackle me to the table, if you are that worried.”

“Who are you?” I growled. Frail old man, my ass. He obviously knew far too much to be harmless. “How the hell do you know who we are, or that we’d be here, for that matter?”

“I will tell you,” the stranger said, and refolded his hands to the table. “Once St. George is out of the room.”

I looked at Martin. He stood for a moment, rigid and silent, his jaw set, before he nodded once and jerked his head at the soldiers flanking the man. They gave him worried looks but immediately turned and walked out. Martin watched the stranger a moment more, dark eyes appraising, before he turned to Sebastian.

“We’ll be just outside. Call if you need us.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.

The officer gave the figure at the table one last glance and walked out of the room. The door closed behind him, and we were alone with the stranger.

The man didn’t move. “All right,” I said, stepping forward. “You got your wish. St. George is gone. So start talking, human. You obviously know who we are, what we are and probably why we’re here. There’s only one possible group I can think of with that kind of information.”

“I am not from Talon,” the man said. “Let us get that suspicion out of the way right now. You have no reason to fear me. I represent a single individual, not an organization. Though Talon is part of the reason I have come. My master has sent me here with a message. He wishes to meet you, ex-Agent Cobalt. You and Miss Hill. There are things he wishes to discuss.”

“Uh-huh. And we’re supposed to drop everything and go meet with this mysterious individual right now, am I correct? Sorry, but I’m going to need a little more than that. Especially since we don’t even know this person’s name, or yours, for that matter.”

“My name is not important,” said the stranger. “I am simply his voice. His name, however, you might have heard before, ex-Agent Cobalt. My master calls himself Ouroboros.”

Ouroboros?

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. I felt Ember and St. George watching me, and suspected I looked as stunned as I felt. “That’s not possible,” I stated. “Ouroboros is...”

“A legend?” the old man answered with the hint of a smile. “A myth?”

“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.

“Of course I am,” I answered. “I can’t leave them alone now. It’s too dangerous. Talon is actively trying to kill us, and they have a huge clone army to do it. I don’t dare send them back to the safe houses—the nests have all been compromised. I have one place left for us to go, and I can only hope Talon hasn’t found it.”

“I take it we’re going back to the farm,” Wes stated, and I nodded. He sighed. “Well, hell, Riley, I can take them there. It’s not rocket science to drive a bloody van.”

As I stared at him in shock, Jade broke in, as well. “And if you are worried about their safety,” she said, “put your mind at ease. I will remain with them until you return. Talon will not threaten any of the hatchlings while they are under my watch.”

“I... Are you two feeling all right?” I wondered, aghast. What the hell was going on here? Wes hated people, and teenagers especially. And Jade barely knew us. “What’s gotten into you two?” I asked, frowning. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were doing everything to get me to leave except physically pushing me out the door.”

“Riley.” Wes gave me one of his patented I’m surrounded by idiots looks. “Think about it. Ouroboros is the second-oldest dragon in the world, and he’s at odds with the bloody Elder Wyrm. What would happen if we convinced him to fight for us?” The hacker shook his head at me. “If you can’t see the potential there, mate, then I really have no hope for you at all.”

“Yes,” Jade added with a somber nod. “Know thyself, know thine enemies. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That we are at war.” The Eastern dragon gave me a look that was nearly as impressively disdainful as Wes’s. “And knowing our enemy will be the key to overcoming them. Knowledge is the greatest weapon we have, and who better to obtain this knowledge from than one who has lived longer than nearly everyone else on the planet?”

“And I know you, Riley,” Ember broke in. “You want to meet with Ouroboros. If you miss this chance, you’re going to be kicking yourself for the rest of your life.”

“Agreed,” Mist added. “If I was summoned by a legend, I would make that a top priority, but that’s just me.”

I sighed. “I wonder if you people realize that I’m the leader of this underground,” I remarked. “Just throwing that out there, in case you’ve forgotten.” As expected, no one seemed impressed, and I shook my head in defeat. “All right, I suppose we’re going to see what the First Rogue wants with us. Wes, Jade, if you’re sure you’ve got the hatchlings...”

“Oh, will you just go already,” Wes said. “You sound like a bloody nursemaid.”

Ember

The present

The humans surrounded us, silent as wraiths in the darkness of the jungle. There were close to a dozen of them, dark skinned and mostly naked, wearing loincloths and necklaces of shell and bone. Most carried crude wooden spears, which they’d pointed at us in a bristling ring of spikes. A few outside the circle held bows and arrows. None of them spoke, or made any sound at all. They simply watched us with unreadable black eyes.

“Okay,” Riley murmured, gazing around. “That’s a little worrisome. Do you think this is the welcome party?” His voice was amused but held a hint of warning. Garret had drawn his weapon and was keeping the muzzle pointed at the ground, ready to respond with lethal force if he had to.

“What do you think they want?” I asked, keeping my gaze on those sharp points hovering very close to my face. Garret had moved behind me, and I could feel the tension lining his muscles, his hard gaze as it swept the crowd. Riley shrugged.

“No clue, but I’m not too keen on getting skewered to find out.” His gaze slid to me, and a hard smile pulled at his mouth. “You have a change of clothes, right?”

“You want us to Shift? In front of all these humans?”

“Who are they going to tell? The news monkeys?” He rolled his eyes before his attention focused on the crowd again. “I figure this way we won’t even have to fight anyone. They’ll just drop their spears and run.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then I’d rather be in dragon form if they try to shove a spear up my ass.”

The crowd in front of us suddenly parted, and an old man stepped through, stopping just a few feet away. He was thin, nearly skeletal, with twig-like arms and only a few strands of wispy white hair stuck to his head. He regarded the three of us with eyes that were still sharp and clear, then raised a clawed hand to point at me.

“You,” he rasped in a thickly accented voice. “Name.”

“My name?” I asked. Around us, the warriors remained silent, still keeping their spears pointed at us. The old man didn’t answer, just continued to watch me with piercing black eyes. “Ember,” I said quietly. “My name is Ember Hill.”

He nodded once and stepped back, and the men surrounding us lowered their spears. The old man raised a withered hand and beckoned, indicating for us to follow.

We did, trailing him down a narrow path that soon disappeared as we went deeper into the jungle. Even for Garret and Riley, it was difficult to keep up. The old man, and the men surrounding us, moved like ghosts through the trees and vegetation, silent and nearly unseen. They blended perfectly into their world, unlike us, the noisy intruders, stomping through the undergrowth in our rugged boots, hacking at vines along the way. The jungle closed in around us, becoming darker and even more tangled, as if offended by our presence and our attempts to clear a path. After only a few minutes, I was lost, and all sense of direction had vanished into the canopy. Which made me nervous. If our mysterious guides decided to disappear and leave us stranded in the middle of the jungle, we might never find our way out.

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” I whispered to Garret after a few silent minutes. The soldier had holstered his weapon but his posture was still tense, his eyes constantly scanning our surroundings and the men slipping noiselessly through the trees beside us.

“I don’t know,” he replied, glancing at something overhead. I looked up and saw a small yellow monkey on a gnarled branch, peering down at me with large black eyes. “But they knew your name,” Garret went on. “That means they were waiting for us.”

We continued into the darkness. The men and our guide never slowed down or said anything, either to us or each other. The one time Riley tried talking to our guide, the old man simply shook his head and put a finger to his lips. After a couple hours of walking, I was starting to wonder if this hike would ever end, if the jungle just went on forever, when Garret suddenly nudged my arm and pointed to something in the trees ahead.

At first, I didn’t see anything different or unusual: just looming trunks, undergrowth, vines and shadows. Then the outline of a wall, stony and ancient, appeared through the trees, nearly invisible with moss, vines and gnarled roots. As we got closer, I spotted a crumbling archway in the wall, flanked by a pair of statues so weathered and moss covered that they were entirely featureless. Beyond the barrier, rising toward the jungle canopy, a huge stone structure, as weathered and moss-eaten as the statues, towered among the trees.

My brows rose. Was this where these people lived? A hidden village deep in the jungle, surrounded by the ruins of an even older civilization? I was amazed. It was hard to believe that there were still places in the world this untouched by modern conveniences, where humans had lived without electricity or phones or computers for hundreds of years.

As we approached the archway, however, the old man stopped and turned, holding up a hand. I looked around and saw that the warriors surrounding us had backed away and were standing several yards from the entrance, as if reluctant to step close.

The old man looked at me, then Riley and Garret. He took a step back, pointing at us, then to the archway beyond. I frowned.

“You’re not coming with us?”

No answer, just the repeated motion of pointing at us, then to the gate, a little more vigorously this time. Riley looked at us and shrugged.

“Guess we go on without him. Be on your guard, though. I’d hate to walk into an ambush of archers firing at us from every nook and cranny.”

We stepped toward the archway, moving cautiously as we approached the gate. I glanced over my shoulder once, and saw that the old man and the rest of the warriors were gone. Like they’d never existed.

We continued through the gate. Beyond the wall, the arch opened into a massive courtyard. Moss and vegetation had swallowed half of it, with weathered stone tiles poking up from the green and walls crumbling under the weight of gigantic roots that snaked over them like monstrous pythons. They slithered through the courtyard between uprooted stones and piles of rubble, making the footing treacherous. Crumbling buildings covered in moss and vines stood at the top of the steps, and trees pushed up through the stone, splitting roofs and walls as they reached for the sky. Between the steps and the buildings, more streets snaked off into parts unknown.

“It’s awfully quiet,” Riley remarked as we ventured warily through the sprawling courtyard. Insects scurried away from us, fleeing over rocks and vines, but they were the only sources of movement I could see. “And I’m not just saying that to be cliché. You guys can feel it, too, right?”

I nodded. He was right. A few minutes ago, the jungle was teeming with sound: buzzing insects, calling birds, howling monkeys in the treetops far overhead. Now the canopy was dead silent, as if every living creature for miles around was afraid to make a peep.

“I don’t like it,” Garret began as, at that moment, a tremor went through the ground under our feet.

We froze in the center of the courtyard, weapons out, bodies tense as we gazed around. The tremor came again, a faint vibration that made the rocks tremble, accompanied by a muffled boom. And another. Insects scattered in every direction, and a few pebbles went tumbling and bouncing down the wall, as the footsteps grew steadily louder, and my heart beat faster and faster. It nearly stopped when I saw a ridge of spines moving behind the roofs—roofs that were at least forty feet tall.

“Aw, shit,” Riley breathed. And then words failed us as a dragon the size of a building walked calmly between the ruins and into the light.

He was old; even without his massive size, I could tell that much. His scales were a dull blackish-green, the color of swamp water, and his enormous wings were tattered and full of holes. Moss and vegetation grew along his back and shoulders, giving him a shaggy look, and I suspected that when he laid down, he could blend perfectly with the jungle floor. His curved black claws were longer than my arms, and bony horns swept forward from a narrow, skull-like face, eyes burning orange-red in the sockets. Those piercing eyes now fixed on me, as the great Wyrm Ouroboros raised his head, towering over us all, and flashed the most terrifying smile in the world.