Page 69 of Legion

“Yes, sir,” I said again, and he fell silent. I knew he was thinking of the Order, his chapterhouse and all the soldiers under his command. We both knew he was asking a lot of them—accepting the word of a known traitor, not surrendering the traitor to St. George, allowingdragonsinto the chapterhouse without repercussion. Such blasphemous procedures had never been considered before. But nobody had walked. No one had challenged him or me. I’d known leaders of other chapterhouses who’d governed through fear and intimidation, who’d had the soldier’s deference and obedience, but never their respect. Martin was not one of them. The soldiers of the Western chapterhouse trusted him with their lives, even if he was breaking every rule and tradition from the time the Order had been founded. I remembered the way he’d looked out for me after Lucas Benedict’s death, remembered how he’d come to my defense when I had accused the Patriarch of treason, the only officer to consider my words in an assembly of hundreds. And I wondered how many other secrets this man kept close to his chest.

“Can I ask you something, sir?” I ventured. He glanced up and nodded, and I took a deep breath. This might not be a good time to bring this up, but I might never get another chance. “Sir, how long did you know my parents were part of Talon?”

He let out a long sigh, as if he knew this had been coming for a while now. “From the beginning,” he replied, and gestured to the seat across from the desk. I slid into the chair, and Martin folded his hands on his desk. “Right after the raid on the compound,” he began, “Lucas contacted me and told me everything. That the mission was a success, that the target and all its servants were dead, but there was one survivor from the compound that he could not bring himself to kill. When he told me his plan was to bring you into the Order and raise you as a soldier, I said he was making a mistake. I told him that anything that came from dragons was evil, and that one day, you would turn on us and sell us out to the lizards.”

“Sir...”

He held up a hand. “Regardless of what I thought, Lucas would not hear it. He was determined to raise you as a soldier of St. George. He was adamant that there was something from that compound that could be saved, that didn’t have to be pure evil.” He paused, then said in a slow, weary voice, “Lucas knew your mother, Garret. That’s why he took you that day. Before he became a soldier, before she married a scientist and started working for the organization, they knew each other. Apparently, they were very good friends, perhaps even lovers, before life pulled them apart.”

I sat there, reeling. More secrets, more truths that I had never suspected. How much had the people I’d trusted really kept from me? Was my entire upbringing one big lie?

“When you were born, your mother no longer wished to be part of Talon,” Martin went on. “Perhaps she didn’t know what she was really working for until later, or perhaps she didn’t want to raise you in the company of monsters. But she knew that she could not simply take you and disappear—Talon would track you both down. So she waited, and somehow, she found Lucas again. She made a deal with him, that if the Order attacked the compound, her family would be spared. They would escape and disappear without Talon’s knowledge. And Lucas agreed that St. George would let them go.” Martin sighed. “But something went wrong. Your mother was killed, caught in the crossfire when the dragon showed itself.”

“And my father?” I asked numbly.

“His body was never found,” Martin said. “But we believe he was shot or burned to death along with the rest of the servants. No one in that compound survived.” Another heartbeat of silence, and then he added, “Lucas never forgave himself for that night. That’s why he took you in. If he couldn’t save your family, he would at least save something. But that is your true heritage, Sebastian. And that is why we are here. Because Lucas saw something in you that I did not—at least, not at first. He saw...not a Talon servant, not a soul tainted by dragons, but a boy. An orphan who was alone in the world, because of him. He decided then and there that he would not let the dragons have you. That he would honor your mother’s last request and save you from the organization.”

For a long moment, I was silent, trying to process it all. I’d thought I knew Lucas Benedict. But he’d had another life before we ever met. He’d known my mother, and that thought sent a spear of anger through me. For years when I was a boy, I had dreamed of my mom and the family I’d forgotten. I wished I could have known them, especially my mother, but it seemed Benedict knew more of my family than I did.

“Who else knew of this?” I asked, finally glancing up. “How many knew who my parents really were?”

“No one who is alive,” Martin said quietly. “Myself, Benedict and the Patriarch were the only ones who knew your parents were Talon servants. But not even the Patriarch was aware of your mother’s connection to Lucas. He made me promise never to reveal that to anyone.”

“Was he ever going to tell me?” I rasped. “Were you? Or were you going to let me believe that Talon killed my parents my whole life?”

“No.” Martin’s eyes narrowed. “When you graduated basic training, Lucas was going to tell you himself, tell you everything. But after he was killed, I watched you push yourself to become that perfect soldier. I watched you in battle, watched you go after the enemy with a single-minded hatred I’ve only seen in veteran soldiers, and I knew that if I had told you your true heritage, it would have destroyed you. So I made the decision to let that other boy die. You became Garret Xavier Sebastian, the Perfect Soldier of St. George. The boy who was raised with dragons...we buried him and hoped he would never resurface.”

“What were their names?” I asked softly. “My parents. Before I became Xavier Sebastian, what was my real name?”

Martin gazed at me for several heartbeats, then rose and walked to the filing cabinet behind him. He opened a drawer and riffled through the contents, then spun and walked back to the desk, tossing a manila folder in front of me.

I flipped it open. Inside, several photos, files and newspaper clippings peered back at me. The story of a mysterious explosion at a private lab that had apparently killed every worker there. And a sheet of paper, crinkled and yellowed with time, that read Certificate of Birth at the top and had a familiar name typed into the line below it.

“Garret David Olsen,” I murmured, then scanned the rest of the sheet. “Born in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Mother’s maiden name, Sarah Beckham. Father’s name, John Olsen.”

“I took the liberty of researching your family once you came to live with us,” Martin said as I stared blankly at the sheet of paper, not knowing what to feel. “I think Lucas wanted you to have this eventually, despite my misgivings.” He sighed. “But who you were then and who you are now...it doesn’t make any difference, Garret.”

I looked up, surprised. Both at hearing my first name, and that Martin would say something like that. Martin, a staunch supporter of St. George and all its ideals, who believed that a soul corrupted by demons was beyond hope. He hesitated, as if gathering his thoughts, then continued in a grave voice.

“I once told Lucas nothing good comes from a dragon. That even a four-year-old boy was tainted beyond hope. That the evil within him would fester and grow, and eventually he would turn on us. And there are those in St. George who would say that is exactly what happened.” His face grew even darker. “The Patriarch certainly thought so, and it cost him his life.

“However,” he went on, “I find it ironic that the one who accused you of treason was himself corrupt beyond measure. And that you risked your life to expose him.” Martin shook his head, his gaze becoming intense. “I’ve watched you through the years, Sebastian. I know you better than most. Though you did make me doubt you the night you escaped with those dragons, in this, at least, I can admit when I’ve been wrong. If there is evil festering in your soul, I’ve yet to see it.” His smile had no humor in it whatsoever. “Though that does throw everything the Order believes into question, doesn’t it?”

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.

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