Suddenly, he heard the door behind him open. His hand shot for his knife as he looked over his shoulder.
A tall, powerful silhouette stood in the doorway. Was it one of the guards? If it was, he made no moves to apprehend him. For several long seconds, he just stood there, silent. It was then the figure started to look familiar to Jaysynn. No, it’s my mind playing tricks on me.
His doubt was dashed when the figure spoke.
“I thought you would be here, Jaysynn.”
“Dracon?” replied the young Emperor, easing and easing his hand from his knife. He shined the rod on the figure, illuminating a black Army field uniform. Four small brass thunderbolt ribbons gleamed in the light.
“Yes, it is I,” Dracon finally replied.
By now, Jaysynn had raised his light to the general’s face. The man’s expression was stony and grim, with perhaps a twinge of sadness.
“How’d you know I would be here?” asked Jaysynn.
Dracon dropped his gaze briefly. “I know you too well, Jaysynn. I knew you would want to discover the truth and that you would not wait. What surprises me is how easily you were able to sneak into this place. I have trained you well.”
“Did you tell the guards I was here?”
“No. I told them I was here for a document I need for a briefing tomorrow.”
Jaysynn was surprised. “Thank you.”
“What have you learned?” Dracon asked coldly, closing the door.
Jaysynn turned back to the document he was holding, shining his light on it. “There was something called ‘Project: Godfire’ conducted in secret. A lot of the info here is blacked out, but it seems like it was started about a year ago and had something to do with the Heart of Thyrion.” He flipped to the next page, and his eyes widened. “I can’t read it all, but it looks like this was about manipulating the magic in some way. Maybe they destroyed the Great Well. I wonder if my father started this.”
“The fool knew nothing about it,” shot Dracon, his voice suddenly full of anger.
Shocked, Jaysynn stood, glancing back at the general and shining his light on Dracon’s scowling face. “How do you know?”
Dracon huffed. “Because I started the project.”
Jaysynn’s jaw dropped. “You what?”
The general slowly walked toward him. “I headed the project and it was spearheaded by members of the military elite and the aristocracy, both Select and common.”
Jaysynn grit his teeth. “And you never told me?”
“I wanted to include you, but the others…they did not know if you could be trusted. I have begun to agree with them.”
“Why?” Jaysynn demanded.
The general, now within a few paces of Jaysynn, stopped. Indignant anger swelled on his face, and he barely held it back. “Our goal was to dethrone your father.”
Jaysynn was petrified. The light rod and papers nearly slipped from his hands. “That…can’t be true.”
“The empire was in decline. Your father’s blunder in sending your brother to re-conquer Remirion was sending shockwaves through our territories. Their defiance and victories told other cities that we could be defeated. Uprisings sprang up everywhere. When we expanded into new lands, resistance was fiercer. And they forced us to fall back. They even defeated Select Ops teams. Your father—no, your family—was a disgrace to the Thyrian Empire. In two decades they were destroying what had been built in five centuries.”
“But you are bound by honor to serve and obey the Emperor!”
“Yes, but I am a patriot. My first duty is to the empire. I could not sit by and watch your father handle it like a clumsy child does a toy.”
Jaysynn flung the papers to the floor. “I didn’t like my family any more than you did, but…you shouldn’t have kept me in the dark.”
“And what would you have done if had told you?” asked Dracon accusatively.
“I…I…don’t know.”
“Precisely. You haven’t the stomach for such things.”
“Well, I hope you’re happy!” shot Jaysynn, pointing at Dracon. “Thanks to your project, I’ve inherited an empire in ruins!”
Dracon sighed. “The cause of the Cataclysm is still unknown. We never intended to cause a disaster. And you were never supposed to be made Emperor.”
Jaysynn clenched his fists. “And why not?” he asked, indignant.
Dracon’s voice was the coldest it had ever sounded: “Because you lack the courage or the will to do what is necessary.”
Shock, grief, and anger mingled within Jaysynn, creating an emotional thunderstorm. His brother’s last words to him echoed in his mind. You are unworthy of the Kyzer name! You who were born untouched by magic! You who have remained in the Palace out of mother and father’s pity! You are no brother of mine!
“How can you say that?” he finally asked.
“This week has shown me your weakness. The burden of the crown is crushing your brow. While I never expected you to inherit the throne, I had hoped my training would make you strong enough to be an Emperor, but it seems my hope was in vain.”
Jaysynn looked away in shame. The general’s words pierced his very soul. He closed his eyes to dam the oncoming tears.
“It is time Thyrion had a new leader, one who will stop this downward spiral and suck out the poison in the city’s veins. The age of Emperors has ended.” Dracon paused. “Forgive me, Jaysynn, for what I must do.”
Suddenly, Jaysynn sensed an attack and reflexively lunged sideways. He rolled to his feet and looked back, horrifed.
Dracon glared at him, holding a combat knife.
“No! Don’t do this!”
Dracon said nothing and attacked.
Jaysynn dodged the general’s knife-thrust, then several slashes that hissed through the air. The young man had the speed advantage, but Dracon was a seasoned warrior. The general made sure to stand between him and the door. If I can just get out of here…! Jaysynn thought.
The Emperor jumped onto the desk, but Dracon kicked it, tripping him. Jaysynn slammed into the desk. He barely rolled out of the way to avoid a downward stab. Stumbling to his feet, he unsheathed his own knife and snapped to a combative pose. They glared at each other for a second. The general’s cold eyes drilled holes into Jaysynn’s head. The young man glanced to his right, catching the door in the corner of his eye, and then back at Dracon. The desk was in his way. He sidestepped toward the desk and sprang over it. Two strides later, a rolling chair—undoubtedly kicked by Dracon—sideswiped him. He fell over it and hit the floor. Dracon’s silhouette lunged for him. Jaysynn rolled out of the way and sprang to his feet.
Jaysynn, fearing he would trip while running again, sheathed his knife. Dracon seized the moment to attack. The Emperor lunged back to dodge the slashes. Dracon made the mistake of repeating the same attack too often, so Jaysynn intercepted his backhanded slash with a swift roundhouse kick, disarming the general. Righting himself, the young man launched several punches at Dracon’s chest and head, but it was almost like hitting a brick wall. The general would not go down.
Dracon caught Jaysynn’s fist, fell back, and tossed him headfirst toward the window using the young man’s own momentum. Jaysynn was barely able to stand before Dracon lunged at him, fists flying. The Emperor blocked or parried each attack, but the barrage slowly pushed him backward until he was almost leaning against the cold glass. Adrenaline flooded his veins, focusing his mind. He deflected a punch and retaliated with a hard kick to Dracon’s gut. The general staggered back, but only briefly. Suddenly, he pounced at Jaysynn. His palms slammed against the young man’s chest. The force of the impact launched him back.
Glass shattered.
Jaysynn suddenly found himself falling amidst sharp shards gleaming in the moonlight.
The Hall of Records’ face rushed upward. Wind hissed in his ears.
His eyes met Dracon’s as he fell. For a fraction of a second, he saw remorse in the general’s face. Jaysynn’s hand reached toward him as the general seemed to rush into the distance.
A thud.
Darkness.
Don't miss a single word of stories as they are published! You'll also receive first notice of special sales and behind-the-scenes information.