A reminder of things that could never be allowed to happen again.
The soldiers made way as Tauran headed for Emilian, a few of them nodding in greeting. Whatever Emilian had said to them had seemingly convinced them to follow a rebel leader. Emilian had always been an excellent speaker. Or maybe these men had simply chosen the lesser of two evils. Looking at Falka now, that scenario didn’t seem unlikely.
Falka was on the ground, mirroring Emilian’s stance at the head of his flock. His jacket was askew and his hair was a mess. He was red-faced, wild eyes boring into Emilian’s. The soldiers closest to Falka eyed him with the same wariness they did the dragons.
“It is a weakness!” Falka shouted, his voice so rough it was barely recognizable, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Softness and compassion cannot win wars! Softness is weakness! Fear is weakness! Life is sacrifice!” He waved his hands as if to clear buzzing flies from around him. “To succeed, we have to cut away the things that make us weak! Wade through pain and struggle to reach true victory and peace!”
“He’s snapped,” Emilian said softly, once Tauran reached him. “Most of the soldiers are only sticking by him because he’s still the man in charge.”
“Well, then, let’s change that,” Tauran murmured back. “What about the riders?”
“Look at them.”
Tauran’s gaze fell on Jasper. Even from the distance between them, Tauran could tell he’d been crying. He absently stroked Flora’s neck, Flora’s tail and wings tucked close to her body.
“You!” Falka spluttered, pointing a finger at Tauran. He stepped forward. “You and that fucking Sharoani whore sticking your tongues down each other’s throats. That’s why you’re weak. You could have been my successor, it was always meant to be you instead of Roric, but all you care about is—”
“Enough.” The authority of Tauran’s voice surprised even himself. Falka stopped, seemingly as surprised as Tauran was. Taking advantage of the silence, Tauran continued, “This has gone on long enough. I’ve let you hurt people, hurt dragons, for long enough.” He looked past Falka to the soldiers behind him. “Can’t you see what I see? Falka doesn’t care about any of you. He doesn’t even care about Valreus. All he cares about is power. And he’s grown blind with it. Falka is no longer fit to be general of the Sky Guard.”
“How dare you!” Falka drew his pistol at the same time as Tauran did, staggering forward until they were feet from each other. Falka’s eyes shone with unshed tears and his hand shook with rage, but Tauran’s was steady. The subtle rush of air under wings sounded all around them as the wild dragons gathered close.
“It’s over, Falka,” Tauran said.
Falka released a snarl, drawing back his hand and swinging his pistol like a blunt weapon.
Tauran caught his hand, but was too slow to block Falka’s curled fist aimed at his bruised ribs. He gasped, stars dancing at the corners of his vision. He held his pistol in his other hand, but didn’t use it. Instead, he pulled Falka in and kneed him in the gut as hard as he could.
Falka crumbled, and Tauran twisted his wrist, forcing him to drop his pistol. It clattered to the ground. Falka followed its path, reaching for it with his other hand, but Tauran’s fist striking his cheekbone sent him to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth.
Tauran stepped back, kicking Falka’s pistol out of range.
“Excellor,” Falka hissed, the name coming out like a curse as he scrambled to his knees. “Attack!” Slowly, Excellor straightened behind the rows of guards, head lolling to one side. Blood dripped thick and dark from the massive dragon’s face and onto the pavement.
Behind Tauran, Leyra rose. She drew a breath and roared a warning. Excellor shrank back.
A quieter roar echoed Leyra’s warning, announcing Valeron’s arrival. He landed clumsily in the open space in the yard, the broken end of his tail dragging streaks of blood across the ground.
“Emilian!” Roric’s voice was full of fury. He scanned the crowd, eyes landing on Falka, then on Tauran. His jacket was torn open, his normally perfect hair covering one eye. His effortless, elegant air was gone, replaced with a look on his face like a cornered animal.
Emilian stepped forward, and Valeron turned toward him, baring his teeth in a snarl.
“You did this!” Roric stabbed his finger at Emilian. “You started this! I should have killed you when I killed your dragon. Guess you’re not such a coward anymore,