The Cumerian Unraveling Trilogy (Scars of Ambition, Vendetta Clause, Cycles of Power)

by Jason Letts

  “The whole place is a madhouse,” Glickon marveled. “We just don’t have the numbers to hold them off.”

  “We’ve got to keep hoping. There’s a way. I know it,” Lowell said.

  “Can you get us to the plant?” Taylor asked.

  “Let’s find out,” Glickon replied, twisting the wheel and swerving around a body in the road. The farther east they went, the better shape the town was in. Lowell set his jaw as the conflict receded behind him, wondering if people would think he’d abandoned them. If they did, he hoped in time they’d understand that he’d had a good reason. Losing Bracken Energy’s machinery would cripple the region, leaving any survivors destitute and powerless. Winning the war but losing their livelihood wouldn’t be much of a victory.

  Cresting the hill, they approached the road leading to Bracken’s facilities. The helicopters were an ominous sight, a reminder that the campus was no longer friendly territory. Some of the lights were on in the towers and the various maintenance buildings, but the soldiers of Bolt & Keize were well hidden at the moment.

  The only option was to slow down, ditch the rickshaw before anyone heard them, and creep into the place Lowell had strolled into every morning for the majority of his life. Even in the dark, Lowell had a good sense of the area’s layout. But was it good enough to get him close enough to use his sword? Not wanting to press his luck, Lowell sheathed the sword and pulled out his gas gun.

  “Any clue where they’d be?” Taylor whispered as the trio crept toward the helicopters, which appeared to be abandoned. A lot of it depended on what unknown factor had brought Bolt & Keize here. It was possible they wanted to steal machinery or data, but it was just as likely that they had only come to kill off any Bracken engineers. Either way, there wasn’t much for them above ground.

  “The cavern,” Lowell replied, and together they turned left, heading for the power plant’s facilities and the combustor underneath.

  Silent as ghosts, they crept onto the campus and peered through the darkness in search of a sign that would show them where to go. Glickon held out a hand to stop them and then pointed to a patch of light behind a shed that vanished a moment later. Knowing someone was there got Lowell’s adrenaline flowing, but Glickon urged them to stay close to the entryway.

  “I’ve got it,” he said, tiptoeing off toward where the flashlight had been and readying his sword. Lowell smirked, wishing he could watch Glickon’s handiwork take out the patrolling soldier before he knew what hit him.

  A few minutes passed, and to their surprise Glickon returned with a hostage in tow. Sword pressed against the squirming soldier’s throat, Glickon held him tight, a satisfied look on his face.

  “A little extra insurance,” Glickon said to them, turning his attention to his unarmed captive. “Take us to them.”

  Lowell breathed a little easier when they entered the plant’s main facility. Whether they encountered gunfire or swords, the leverage of a hostage would come in handy, as a human shield if nothing else. The door had been broken, and inside the glow of red caution signs revealed papers strewn about in the front offices.

  They’d barely gotten to the stairwell when they heard voices below on the cavern’s main deck. Lowell gave the captive a threatening look to keep his mouth shut, and together they decided taking the next stairwell over would be better than trying to come down right near them.

  Once they’d made it down the other steps, Lowell took the lead and peeked at the group of men across the wide platform connecting the control room to the reactor core. There were a handful of them there, but the only one Lowell could make out in the sparse light was Arnold Keize’s bulky frame.

  Glickon, Lowell, and Taylor exchanged nods. The confrontation was a breath away.

  Filling his lungs and holding out his gun, Lowell left the stairwell and emerged on the platform. Glickon and his hostage were on one side, while Taylor, his sword drawn, held the other. They made it nearly halfway over to them before one of the soldiers spotted them and took aim.

  “Put the guns down!” Lowell shouted, clutching his in both hands. Keize appeared rattled for a moment until a slick grin crept across his face. All three of Keize’s soldiers had their guns raised, ushering in an uncomfortable standoff. Lowell regretted not coming in shooting.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Keize called. “I was just touring my new facility.”

  Lowell snickered, not surprised that Keize would give up his posturing about the importance of clean energy as soon as he could get his hands on more profitable gas. But how did that go down with his deceptively meek, backstabbing partner? Those messages with Bolt still seemed the impetus for Lowell’s entire downfall, and he couldn’t wait to wring the bastard’s neck.

  “And where’s that filthy worm Bolt?” Lowell snapped.

  “We all know he doesn’t have the stomach for this,” Keize replied, but the way his eyes widened at the question gave something away. He’d been caught.

  “Bolt won’t be making any public appearances for a while?” Lowell pressed, seeing that he had Keize on the defensive.

  “Neither will you after this.”

  Lowell already had an idea what had happened now and was in disbelief that he’d had it so wrong. Could it have been possible that Bolt had been in earnest all along?

  “Why lie about it?” Lowell said, raising his voice. “Just say that you killed him. What does it matter?”

  “Yes, I killed him, but I am taking care of his little girl,” Keize said.

  “Oh yeah, you’re a real hero,” Lowell retorted. “Have you told her what happened to her father?”

  Keize’s face turned red, the angry streak Lowell had seen in their conference room bubbling to the surface.

  “You idealistic fools need to be pushed out of the way so we can make these companies into what they ought to be.”

  One word stuck out to Lowell above all the rest.

  “Who’s ‘we?’”

  The clacking of a cane preceded Carlisle Empry’s exit from the control room. He had three Bracken guards with him. Seeing the traitorous chairmen ignited an inferno in Lowell’s chest that only grew more roiling as Carlisle joined Keize’s side. Lowell heard Taylor gasp beside him.

  “Didn’t I tell you what I would do if I saw you again, Lowell?” Carlisle droned. “Put away that toy and die like a man.”

  He clacked the end of the cane against the platform, shedding it of its casing and revealing the blade within. Keize drew his sword, as well. Since Glickon was holding the hostage, that left Lowell and Taylor against six gunmen and two swordsmen. That wasn’t going to work.

  “You’re outmatched, as always,” Keize observed.

  The sudden pop of a gas gun ripped through the air, and everyone glanced around to see where the shot had come from until the soldier standing between Keize and a side passageway dropped to the floor. It was possible the shot had been intended for Keize, but one less soldier would do fine.

  “That’s what you think!” Sierra said, stepping out of the passageway. She always knew how to impress him. The soldiers were having trouble pointing their guns in two directions, and things were looking up.

  “To liquid hell with your whole damned family!” Carlisle growled.

  A strange noise echoed through the cavern that caught them all off guard. It sounded like laughter coming from the lower catwalks below them, where there was nothing but rock, raw gas, and deep fissures that cut miles into Iyne.

  “Nissa,” Taylor said above the clattering of footsteps. Lowell’s eyes bulged. It was one thing to blow up the plant, but anything below the gas-intake module could cause incalculable devastation for the entire continent.

  “Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?” Keize sniped.

  “They’re here to set off an explosion that’ll make the entire ClawLands implode,” Taylor said. “There’s no way anybody will survive, least of all us.”

  The sudden threat turned the tables on the entire situation. Simply poin
ting weapons and staring each other down was tantamount to death, but Lowell certainly wasn’t about to give them an edge.

  “I’ll go,” Sierra offered.

  “There’s too many of them, and they have their energy,” Taylor added.

  “And what about you men?” Lowell called to the Bracken guards who were pointing their weapons at him. “I gave you your careers. Are you really going to kill me? Go and help her take care of them!”

  The guards stood about awkwardly as they considered the order. Carlisle appeared annoyed when they followed it and went for a nearby ramp, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Go,” Keize simply said to his soldiers, who lowered their weapons and followed the guards. Lowell caught a glance from Sierra as she passed by to follow them. She’d done the right thing, but he could’ve used more of her help.

  Lowell set down the gun and drew Legacy from the sheath. It made a pleasant scraping sound and caught stray beams of light. He was an amateur going up against professionals, but in his core he knew he wouldn’t allow himself to fail in front of his son. Besides, the best swordsman in the world had less to fear from the second best swordsman than from an utter novice, who might achieve victory by doing something completely unpredictable. If only Lowell had it in him to pull that kind of miracle off.

  Carlisle and Keize approached in tandem as if they’d been a team all along, which they might’ve been, so far as Lowell knew. The chairman certainly didn’t have any remorse, or much of an expression at all except for the rapt attention of a master preparing to work. Taylor had strength, speed, and that strange, glowing energy, but he lacked experience with a sword too. At least they had Glickon, who continued to hold his captive.

  “Let him go,” Keize suggested as he crept closer. “Then we can have an even three on three. No? All right, I’ll settle for two on two.”

  Keize locked eyes with Lowell and lunged in so quickly it made Lowell flinch and jerk his blade. He hit nothing but air, needing a full moment to recognize that the actual point of Keize’s sword had gone to his right, impaling both the soldier and Glickon. The bloody tip of the sword protruded from his back.

  The force Keize put into the strike to stab through them both must’ve been phenomenal, but all Lowell could do was watch his trainer drop to the floor.

  “Focus now, or you’ll be next,” Glickon muttered. The life seemed to drain right through the porous suspended platform beneath them, leaving Lowell with nothing but sudden grief and flickering rage.

  Keize was still right there in front of him when Lowell brought his arms back for his first swing. He infused all of his anger, resentment, and malice into one swift swoop of the blade that sang as it ripped through the air. Keize barely got his blade up in time, offering such a weak block that the strike knocked his bloody sword back against his chest and stomach. It forced Keize back, and Lowell prepared to follow up and keep pounding him until something flashed in the corner of his eye.

  “Look out!” Taylor shouted, leaping forward to deflect Carlisle’s attack with his own sword. They clanged mere inches from Lowell’s head, and he diverted his next sweeping swing in an attempt to gut Carlisle while Taylor had him tied up, but Carlisle dropped to his knees to block both swords and rolled away near Keize.

  It was a good start, but until they drew blood they weren’t really getting anywhere.

  “You should’ve gone with your mother, Taylor,” Carlisle growled. “Why bother with this old, washed-up, penniless louse?”

  Taylor pressed forward and took a swing, which Carlisle easily deflected.

  “My father made it through your games without ever compromising himself, while you accused him of your very own crime. You betrayed our company when you tried to throw him out over a flimsy pretext, but you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  Soon Carlisle and Taylor were trading attacks, and Keize had regrouped and launched an assault at Lowell, who couldn’t get his mind off of Taylor referring to Bracken Energy as “our company.” Lowell was proud to have his son with him, but it was bittersweet; he’d wanted his boy to have the freedom to follow his own path. The company was sucking him in, as it had done to Lowell so long before.

  He wasn’t focused, and Keize quickly got the better of him. The attacks were coming too fast, leaving Lowell scrambling to block or get out of the way. Watching his son engage in a life or death struggle proved a perilous distraction, and soon Keize must’ve realized that even his blocks didn’t amount to much. Lowell stopped the next swing for his head, but Keize continued to press the edge of his blade closer and closer to Lowell’s face. Arms buckling, Lowell’s attempts to lean away or shuffle back did nothing to abate the approaching edge. Another step brought Lowell against the chasm wall, straining and gritting his teeth as the tip of the blade loomed closer to his right eye.

  “You’re a weak man, Lowell. You don’t deserve the power you had, not like me,” Keize glowered, inhaling a stilted breath as the tip of the sword dragged across the skin under Lowell’s eye. The sting of being sliced open induced a level of panic, but Lowell was afraid to even move, lest the tip find a way straight through his skull. Lowell watched his blood dribble down the blade.

  “Help!” Taylor’s word ripped through the air, forcing Lowell to make a move. He wouldn’t submit, not now when his son needed him. Pressing hard against the sword, Lowell bought himself some breathing room and then let Legacy flag back so Keize’s sword would pass over his head. In an instant Lowell was in close, removing a hand from the sword for a quick jab before slamming its pommel into Keize’s sternum. Lowell put a foot behind him, pushed, and tripped Keize, who fell onto his back.

  Taylor cried out as the sound of steel clattering against the floor rattled Lowell. One more strike might’ve finished Keize, but Lowell turned for his son, who had caught Carlisle’s sword in his brilliant blue hands. Blood didn’t drip onto the platform—it rained. And Carlisle’s glare of ravenous hatred stoked inexhaustible revulsion in Lowell.

  Charging forward, Lowell swung for Carlisle’s side. Surprising them both, Taylor’s grip on the sword prevented Carlisle from twisting it around into a block. Legacy ate into Carlisle’s side, tearing through the tough fiber like it was paper and drawing red as it created a deep gash just below the man’s rib cage.

  The agony racking Carlisle’s face made him completely vulnerable. He dropped his sword and collapsed onto his hands and knees, followed shortly by Taylor, who clutched his bleeding hands.

  “Dad,” Taylor called, but Lowell had already heard the clinking of footsteps behind him. His chance to take out Carlisle was slipping away, as well, but he turned to fend off Keize. Lowell lowered his cocked-back blade when he discovered Keize had picked up the gas gun and pointed it directly at him.

  “There’s nothing I enjoy less than a fair fight.” Keize smirked.

  He pulled the trigger, the pop echoed through the air, and a sudden pressure erupted in Lowell’s chest, somewhere near his collarbone. Taylor was screaming, but everything had gone blurry, drowned out by the beating of Lowell’s heart. The force knocked him back, twisting him around with his blade still in hand. He was going to fall on Carlisle. It played out so slowly. He shifted the blade slightly to the left so that it fell on the chairman’s neck.

  When Lowell crashed into him, Carlisle rolled onto his side, and the two men came face to face for the last time. The sword sliced across the traitor’s neck, which began spilling blood. Carlisle glanced at Lowell and choked on his next breath.

  “Was it so wrong to want more?” he wheezed, falling limp.

  Taylor leapt for Keize, who fired an errant shot and then backpedaled before the young man could tackle him. Taylor swatted away the gun and watched as Keize floundered toward the stairwell, unarmed and in full retreat.

  The pain swelled in Lowell’s chest. It became difficult to keep his eyes from drooping closed. They’d won the fight, but what price had he paid?

  CHAPTER 25

  Leaving her father
behind to chase the intruders below was one of the hardest things Sierra had ever had to do. She expected to be the one he would call on when he needed help, but now Taylor would have to fill that role, saving her father from his penchant of taking on more than he could handle.

  She trotted down the grated steel ramp leading to the lower catwalks and the wide seal below that forced all the gas rising through the chasm into the vacuum-like intake valve, which then pumped it to the combustor for the reaction that would produce electricity. Carlisle’s guards Arnold Keize’s soldiers tramped along ahead of her. It wasn’t hard to imagine one of them turning at her and firing a shot, but the gas gun in her hand and Nemi in the folds of her clothing gave her the confidence to believe she was prepared for anything.

  The laughing and chattering continued below, striking Sierra with the odd notion that a group of teens had ventured into this wasp’s nest. All she knew about them was what Taylor had imparted, that they were here to set off an explosion, but why? Why would a bunch of kids risk their lives in order to commit such an arbitrary and senseless act of destruction?

  One of them yelped, alerting the rest that Sierra and the soldiers were coming. The procession turned into a chase once the ramp connected to the bridge that spiraled down the chasm toward the seal.

  “Stop!” one of the guards commanded, having no impact on the kids in their black robes. They circled around, down, down, shouting taunts at each other. Looking at them from over the side, Sierra noticed a petite girl with dark hair that seemed to spill out of the top of her head like a fountain. The contraption she carried had a few blinking lights—undoubtedly the explosives they were planning on using.

  Fed up, the guard finally fired a shot at them, but the teens vanished where the spiraling walkway plunged into the rock, forming a tunnel leading below the seal where the platform simply ended below the intake valve.

  Sierra comprehended the disturbing nature of their attack for the first time. If they were trying to take out the plant, there’d be no need to go anywhere other than to the combustor, but descending to these depths signaled an entirely different kind of crazy. Dropping an explosive down one of the Claws simply had no modern precedent and the effects would be unimaginable.