by Jason Letts
“That doesn’t bode well for either of us,” came a deep, serious voice. It was Qi Ptock, the former chairman of the Private Oversight Committee who helped the chancellor engineer his takeover. Taylor was tempted to apologize to his brother for revealing his news to a sworn enemy, but saying he was sorry wouldn’t help anything. Randall cleared his throat.
“Mr. Ptock and I are starting negotiations to form a new government, in the hopes that we can quickly restore order before too much of the country devolves into chaos. There have been several sticking points, however,” Randall explained.
“But none of them will matter compared to the threat we face if Captain Keran amasses a strong enough force to storm the Spiral and quell the warring premier families. As your brother knows, Keran’s a ruthless man who has always used the Guard as his personal seat of power, and I could’ve predicted the threat of a military coup even before all this madness began. Do you know what the real crisis we face is?” Ptock asked.
Randall left the window and approached the table. He had on a nice suit and stood tall, managing to almost look the part of a chancellor in Taylor’s eyes.
“What we lack is authority. I received over forty percent of the vote in the election, but that doesn’t give me the right to propose new articles of governance without the direct approval of the people,” Randall said, but Qi Ptock shook his head.
“No, it doesn’t. In fact, as a senior advisor to the former chancellor, I have a better claim to the position than you do. But that doesn’t change the reason why both of us are in an undeniably weak position,” Ptock said.
“Then what is it?” Taylor asked, growing impatient at the politician’s lecturing. Qi Ptock had tanned skin and black hair with hints of grey here and there. He was known as someone who invariably played by the rules, even those handed down by a scheming chancellor, but at the moment all of the rules had gone out the window. He slowly set his pen down and rose from his seat. To Taylor’s surprise, their long-time adversary set a hand on each of their shoulders.
“What we all suffer from is an absence of allies. You’re used to the days when a majority won the right to rule by voting, but Cumeria has entered the realm of another kind of majority rule. It’s whoever has the most able-bodied fighters that will carry the day, and they’ll force their will on the nation by the edge of a sword, not a ballot,” he said.
Taylor pursed his lips knowing he was right. Randall seemed to be in agreement as well.
“It’s sheer numbers and the ability to amass arms, even if they’re taken against their will,” Randall observed. “We’ve got a few hundred people remaining in the ClawLands, but that’s not enough for even a token defense against the Guard’s weapon stockpile or the substantial forces of the Illiams or the Wozniaks,” Randall said.
Ptock pulled away and shuffled some papers on the table until he came to a map of the nation and its various regions. The ClawLands had been blacked out as if it didn’t even exist.
“It would seem like a reasonable strategy to me that you resume your campaign and gather support among the rebel townsfolk in the mountains. They’ll celebrate you as a hero for personally murdering Cumeria’s visionary leader,” Ptock said. Randall narrowed his eyes.
“Of course, and when I return with them I find you cozied up to Captain Keran and welcoming the Guard into the chancellor’s suite,” Randall said, accusing. “Don’t think I’m oblivious to your endgame in all of this.”
“And what’s that?” Ptock asked. He sat back in his chair and grinned.
“I know how you like to latch onto the strongest presence available and bide your time until you can worm into power yourself, whether that be through bad advice, scandal, phony investigations, or by just being the next in line. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done to my father, and I promise you that you’ll find yourself in the ground before you find yourself in the chancellorship,” Randall said.
Despite Randall’s visible anger, Ptock’s amusement only grew.
“Do you remember how I always used to outfox you back in the in the Grand Council? That’s because you’re always so sure about things you know nothing about. Be careful, Mr. Bracken. I might be the closest thing to a friend you have left, and the only one standing between you and an execution courtesy of Captain Keran and the Guard.”
The two of them stared at each other for a moment until an urgent knock came at the door, startling them all. Taylor went to answer it and found Cori, Randall’s shaggy haired and mousey-looking lover. She was still serving as Randall’s political adviser, and between her and Taylor they amounted to almost his entire staff.
She entered and immediately spotted Qi Ptock, making her much more circumspect about her news than Taylor had been.
“There’s someone here to see you,” she said. Randall clenched his jaw and scratched his chin.
“Not now, Cori. We’ve got something we need to sort out.”
But one look at Cori’s stern face made it clear she wasn’t going to budge.
“I think you should take this meeting,” she said simply, which was more than enough to get Randall to relent.
Qi Ptock put his hands behind his head and leaned back, chuckling.
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere,” Ptock taunted him.
“Not yet anyway,” Randall said, leading Taylor and Cori to the door.
They entered into the cool morning air and descended the Spiral’s circular slope. Near the bottom they found a rusty car with smoke coming out of the engine. It was lurched on the sidewalk and looked like it would never run again. Cori directed Taylor and his brother through a door on the ground floor to a hallway leading to the Grand Council chamber. In the hall, they found a large, balding man of morose disposition who Taylor was sure he’d seen before on a few occasions.
“Hey kid,” he said to Randall before shaking hands.
“You can stop calling me that any time, Ralph,” Randall said. Their visitor emitted a sudden cough and had to lean against the wall for support. Taylor reached out to steady him.
“Are you all right?” Taylor asked as Ralph waved him off while looking over his shoulder at the empty council chamber, once a place where the fate of Cumeria was decided.
“Let me get to the point. I’ve got something great to tell you about. Listen to this. I went to the OrePlains and read your father’s will to Velo Wozniak, Portia Illiam, and Arnold Keize, promising them access to secret documents about Cumeria’s shadow energy infrastructure,” Ralph said.
Randall stared blankly at the lawyer, while Taylor gawked with his mouth open. Cumeria had a shadow energy infrastructure?
“When are you going to get to the great part?” Randall asked. “Because it sounds like you just handed our enemies a gift greater than what we’d give to our best friends.”
But Ralph’s eyes lit up and his excitement came through in his scratchy voice.
“I handed them an envelope and left, but those documents weren’t inside. Now those three are going to be scouring the country for anything connected to your father, because they believe getting that information will secure their power over Cumeria!”
“That doesn’t sound good either! Ralph, what did you do?” Randall put his hand over his forehead and tapped it against the wall. Taylor sympathized with his brother, who already had enough on his plate to deal with. Ralph squinted and made a clicking sound with his tongue.
“Wait, what aren’t you understanding here, kid? You don’t think there’s really a hidden energy grid that no one knows about, do you? The whole will was a fake. I made it up! Now your enemies, who used to have an alliance, are all fighting with each other while on a frantic search for something that doesn’t exist, sticking their necks out and waiting to be picked off.”
As much as Taylor began to get a sense of what happened, it still seemed an awfully dodgy maneuver. The last thing the Brackens needed at the moment was a direct confrontation with anybody.
“And when did this happen?
” Taylor asked. Already he was bracing himself for a fight, but the Wozniaks and Illiams had entire armies, and Keize was a real swordsman who had a lot of resources at his disposal.
“Just last cycle. I came here as quickly as I could. If I can guess based on the state of frenzy I whipped them into, they’ll begin the hunt in no time flat,” Ralph replied, seemingly satisfied with himself.
Randall ran his hand through his hair and glanced over at Cori, who never needed an excuse to speak her mind.
“What are we supposed to do about this? We don’t have ten heads to put together, much less an army to challenge them. No matter how far out they stick their necks, there’s no way we’ll keep the Spiral for more than five minutes!” she said.
“They won’t be coming here,” Ralph said, broaching a wide grin. “They’re headed for the Vault north of Ristle.”
Taylor flinched when he heard the name of his mother’s estate.
“What, why the Vault?” Taylor asked.
“Ahh, now this was the move your father would’ve appreciated most. Lying to his enemies and convincing them to go on a wild goose chase is one thing, but getting them to turn against his wretched ex-wife, Melody Hockley, would really make him proud. Err, no offense.”
“None taken,” Taylor said, unable to begrudge other people for having harsh views about his mother when his own were so tense and conflicted.
“Everyone is well aware that your mother stole the Bracken fortune when she left, so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to suggest she’d stolen other things as well. Inside the large brown envelope I gave to Portia Illiam was a simple note saying, ‘You didn’t think this rightfully belongs to the Hockleys too? A small repayment for so many torturous years of marriage’. I finished it off with a forged signature from Melody. Next thing we know, the Illiams will have cracked the Vault and torn the place to shreds,” Ralph said.
“That’s genius!” Randall had been won over completely, but Taylor had his doubts. He wasn’t sure if any of them had ever been to the Hockley estate, but its name wasn’t just for show. It was difficult to get into, harder to navigate, and impossible to destroy. Taylor wondered what would happen if someone showed up at their door and there was enough time to talk and figure out they were being played.
“And with any luck there’ll be plenty of losses on both sides,” Cori added. It seemed like everyone was only seeing the possible benefits.
“That cold-blooded thief is finally going to get what she deserves,” Randall chimed in. That was the last straw for Taylor. Something needed to be said.
“This isn’t going to work out nearly as well as you suspect. Say what you want about my mother, but she’s cunning and nobody’s fool. If she gets a hint that we’re moving against her, we’ll suddenly have all of the Hockleys and all of their money against us too. That’s not something we can deal with right now,” Taylor said.
He sidled past Randall and went for the entrance.
“Hey, where are you going?” Randall asked.
“If somebody’s going to come knocking on the Vault door, I’ve got to be there to make sure they don’t figure out what’s really going on,” Taylor said, exasperated.
“But you’ll be a target!” Randall said.
“We don’t have a choice!” Taylor shot back.
“What about the Guard and the abductions?” Randall posed, getting surprised looks from Cori and Ralph.
“You’ll have to hope I make it back before they try to do anything.”
“Whoa, can we just wait a minute here and figure this out before we all go rushing off?” Cori demanded, putting her arms out. “It’s fine with me if you want to go to your mother’s, but there’s something Mr. Fiori said that still needs to be explained. He said he told Wozniak, Illiam, and Keize about the shadow grid, but he only gave the envelope to Portia. What are Velo and Arnold going to do?”
Randall and Taylor glanced over at Ralph, who grew contrite despite his previous bluster.
“I figured whoever didn’t get the envelope would just be groping around the country for clues, probably searching around places related to your father. You can’t be serious that you don’t have anything you could throw at them when they’re far away from home and ready to be taken unawares?”
The concern on Ralph’s face became increasingly evident. Maybe he didn’t understand the dire state the Brackens were in before, but he did now.
“I’ll have to get word to the ClawLands. The survivors of the previous attack there need to get ready or run,” Randall groaned.
“I did this for your father,” Ralph said, not giving up. “Before this they were all united against you. Divide and conquer, right? I’ve done the dividing, and now you just need to follow through and conquer.”
At the moment nobody was feeling good about their prospects, and Taylor felt even more urgently the need to get to the Vault before the Illiams did in the hopes of creating a favorable outcome.
“The pieces are moving now,” Taylor said. “If we can’t gather our strength, sooner or later we’ll come up against someone who’ll knock us out of the game.”
CHAPTER 2
In the Still Sea, every drop of blood is unmistakable.
Sierra stood near the bow on the deck of the galleon taking them back to Cumeria when she saw a trio of ships in the distance. The hulking wooden vessel had enjoyed a remarkably uneventful journey, but all of that was about to change. Out here, surprise company was never a good thing.
“Tommack! Razi!” Sierra called to her companions, who were getting the knots out of some rope not far away. She pointed out the specks distance, which already seemed to be growing larger as they approached.
“Copian pirates?” Tommack suggested, scratching the stubbly skin on his cheek.
“Not this far east,” Sierra replied. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say they were Cumerian, possibly part of the chancellor’s trade outfit.”
“So, Cumerian pirates?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Pretty much.”
Razi got the message and began calling for Maglum. They would be able to communicate to the few crew members provided by the Mind of Madora that they needed to prepare for trouble. Although the ship didn’t have much in the way of cannons or other weaponry, Sierra was confident they’d be able to intimidate any would-be attackers.
A sudden cacophony of screeching jarred Sierra’s senses, drawing her attention up to the masts and the rigging where dozens of tiny dragons, Nemi included, sounded the alarm over the impending conflict. Two of the larger dragons soared so high that they were almost out of sight, and one more paddled in the water off the starboard side. The ship could only support the weight of one of the larger dragons at a time, and even then there was hardly room for them on the top deck.
The worst part about the collision course they were on was the interminable waiting, the gnawing feeling in her gut that something would go wrong. They might never make it back to Cumeria, nor even have a chance to fulfill the expectations of her father that she lead their family back to greatness.
“Is Mom below deck? Best leave her there,” Sierra said to Tommack as he came up with a full load of harpoon shafts.
“Tucked into bed but wide awake,” Tommack said.
It was the best Sierra could hope for. Her mother Tris was still weak from her wounds and despondent from the loss of Lowell, but she would find a way to persevere if given enough time. Her mother had proven herself to be surprisingly resilient, but their greatest tests were yet to come.
As the long day continued, they began to make out signs and symbols on the approaching ships. Two of them were fishing vessels, but the third one closing in was a metallic clipper not unlike those that had left from Madora carrying her father. A glimmer of hope sprung within her that he was still on board.
“Don’t make any rash moves,” Sierra called to the crew. “Let’s wait to see what they want and save the fighting until we don’t have any other choice.”
/> But the cannons mounted on the clipper’s decks made her doubt her strategy. Their galleon drifted into range, and Sierra held her breath until it became clear they weren’t about to fire. Soon they were close enough to see the faces staring back at them from the other ship. The men looked ragged, and their fishing lines trolled the depths in vain.
“Ahoy there,” came a booming voice on the clipper that traveled easily across the water. “Where might you be headed?”
“Our destination is Cumeria’s western shore,” Sierra replied, hoping her voice wouldn’t become hoarse from the shouting. “And we don’t intend to be delayed.”
She glanced over at Tommack, Razi, and Maglum, who stood firm at her side.
“The fishing ’round here has taken a rotten turn, and we’re desperate for food. Might you have any to trade?” the captain of the clipper announced.
“Depends. What sort of cargo do you carry?” Sierra asked, hoping to get around to finding out about her father, but the more she looked at the ship, the less likely it was the one that had docked in Madora. The captain would’ve recognized her, and Portia Illiam or Velo Wozniak might’ve been doing the negotiating.
“No cargo,” the captain replied. “But I can give you your lives. Give us what you have or we’ll take it.”
Sierra bit her lip, knowing where this was headed. Starving men saw nothing to lose in a fight when their own lives were at risk. As it was, the city of Madora had little food to send out of town, and the ship’s larders had barely enough to get them home. No, the prospects here were growing bare, and Sierra knew that the time to scare them off was now.
“Nemi sol!” she called, and countless winged lizards hidden in the masts followed Nemi’s example as he took to the air, swooping and diving. They shrieked and cried, pushing their swarm out over the open water. Gasps erupted from the fisherman, some of whom displayed sabers and knives. Little did they know how little those metal weapons could do against dragons that themselves were made of metal.