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

by Jason Letts

  “There!” Rhyne pointed farther down the hillside, where a couple of torches shone through the trees. Taylor could occasionally hear the snapping of branches or the squeaking of wooden wheels. He glanced at the dark expanse, wondering if the trucks they’d used to invade the ClawLands were kept in the distance to maintain the element of surprise.

  “There’s no way they’ll ever make it over the bedrock to the Vault,” Taylor said.

  “That’ll give us time to figure out exactly what’s going on,” Rhyne said, which was what Taylor feared. They descended the stairs and entered the ballroom, where the Hockleys began to trickle in wearing their bedclothes and looks of searing indignation. They peeked through the tall drapes at the masses assembling on the east lawn. When Melody dragged herself in and took a look, she immediately drew a promising conclusion.

  “Thieves! I know a bank robbery when I see one,” she said, flinging the drapes closed and staking out territory in the center of the room.

  “Who are they?” another relative asked.

  “I’m not sure, but we need to find out. We should’ve known better than to think we’d make it through this entire Cumerian unraveling without anyone looking at us as a target,” Rhyne said, producers murmurs of agreement from the others.

  “Look at all of those people. There’s almost an entire town’s worth out there right now, and plenty more are climbing the hill. This kind of manpower can’t be called anything other than an army, and that means there’s something in here they want,” Melody said, her voice becoming shrill.

  Danby stepped into the ballroom and joined the group.

  “House security has been put on high alert. If there’s any sign that they’re attempting an intrusion, we’ll be ready for them,” he said, but Taylor knew better. The Vault relied on its steel beams and impassable doors for most of its defenses. Sure, there were a few men keeping a lookout that would spot a massive breach of the foundation, but they were far from being able to keep eyes on every corner of the exterior at once.

  “Has anyone been able to identify them?” Rhyne asked Danby, who stepped closer to the circle of family members forming.

  “Using a spy glass, we were able to catch a glimpse of the wagons they’re hauling up the hill. Based on its design and the agricultural nature of the cargo, it’s almost certain the intruders are associated with the Illiams,” Danby explained to echoing gasps.

  The Hockleys were well aware of their place in the national pecking order. Despite the wealth they’d amassed, they’d never dared to stand against another one of the premier families.

  “The Illiams? Why would they threaten us? We manage their accounts!” one of the older men said.

  Seeing that he needed to step in before the group followed a train of thought that would defuse the situation, Taylor didn’t hesitate.

  “Why don’t we go out there and talk to them? It doesn’t make any sense to just assume they’re going to cause trouble before they’ve done anything. There must be a way to work this out so that nothing gets stolen and nobody gets killed. We don’t know why they’re here,” he said.

  The Hockleys’ natural distrust of him made the statement sound unreasonably naïve, and most of them began chuckling at him as they leapt at the alternative.

  “It looks like they’re about to attempt a withdrawal of much more than they’d put in,” Melody said to general agreement. “No one has ever broken into the Vault, and it’s not about to happen now.”

  Though it wasn’t a surprise that Melody was up in arms, Taylor found his attention drawn to uncle Rhyne, who had a much cooler head and probably a degree more respect from the others. The man certainly knew when it was time to fight, but it was hard to tell if he’d also buy into Taylor’s reverse psychology. Rhyne clenched his fists and shook his head.

  “Let’s not jump to any hasty conclusions. Someone needs to…”

  The sound of shattering glass made everyone jump as one of the giant panes of the ballroom came crashing down. A flaming ball rolled into toward the center of the room right at their feet. When it came to a stop they saw it was a burning melon, so much like the ones that had torched many of the buildings in the ClawLands.

  Melody released an angry shriek.

  “Unbelievable. We’re under siege by the bumpkin brigade!”

  While the family members in the room scattered for safety, Taylor felt overwhelming relief that the Illiams had taken it upon themselves to make the first move. Without it, Rhyne might’ve heard all about the fictitious will and put the situation together. As it was now, no one was about to go out and risk falling into the sights of the Illiams and their catapults, which were stuck on the hillside below the stone ledge.

  “Get to the phones,” Melody shouted down the hallways. “Someone’s going to want to protect their money!”

  As the family members scrambled about the building, thuds against the exterior marked attempts to demolish the Vault with incendiary produce. Some potatoes managed to crash through another window and ignite the rug all the way in the lobby. Despite a flurry of panic, the onslaught proved little more than a nuisance after a while, and the mansion’s occupants settled into a tense standoff. Rushing around a corner carrying a table to barricade a window, Taylor nearly bumped into Danby, who was sweating profusely.

  “Any news from the calls?” Taylor asked, struggling to hold the bulky table in place.

  “There’s a group from Ristle coming, and the Guard may intervene as well, but it’ll be hours and hours before any of them make it,” Danby said.

  Taylor pushed on, trying to think through the confusion. He hadn’t anticipated that anyone with any strength would help the Hockleys, not unless the Wozniaks were prepared for a head-on collision, but the Guard would certainly be enough to add additional unpredictability to the environment. After dumping the table against a gaping window and staring out at a throng of thousands stretching out along the hillside, Taylor knew that time was not on his side.

  A few of the farmers had climbed on top of the catapults and managed to scale the rock face, but they didn’t fare well once they got to the building’s exterior, where murder holes in the steel and stone made for easy shooting. Unless more of them were able to rush the building, the whole group might decide to retreat.

  Leaving the table and the drafty room behind, Taylor returned to the hall and started toward the southern end of the mansion, its front. He squeezed by a few rushing residents, some of whom had found guns or knives and were prepared to fight to the death. Though the lights were all on inside now, the state of frenzy left his movements free of scrutiny.

  Taylor ascended a few flights of stairs and took a plain steel door at the end of the hall that led to a balcony. Overlooking the gate’s exterior and the bridge suspended via chains against the wall, it was a relatively secluded spot occupied by just a single member of the security team.

  “Whoa, stop right there!” a young man nearly his age said. He had on a dark blue uniform with golden rings.

  “Relax, it’s just me,” Taylor said with his hands up. “They sent me to check on the bridge.”

  The young man might’ve just gotten out of the Youth Guard and wasn’t about to fall for any such ploys.

  “Who sent you, exactly? I’m the only one who can control the bridge, and that doesn’t change under any circumstances. Don’t move a muscle.”

  “My mother did. She wanted to make sure it hadn’t been targeted by the catapults.”

  It was as reasonable a question as any, but a look in the young man’s eyes told Taylor that his lies were in vain. When he reached for his sword, Taylor had to jump in and slam him against the balcony’s rail to stun him. The boy was quick and managed to jab him in the stomach and face, but Taylor weathered the blows and drilled his elbow into the bridge operator’s neck. The crunch of one more punch was all it took to send the young man slumping against the ground. He was unconscious and wasn’t likely to wake up to anything good.

  Turning to
the panel set against the railing, Taylor realized what the guard meant when he said he was the only one who could control it. There were a number of levers around a big wheel and not a hint of any instructions. He’d seen the bridge tilt down from its place against the building and then extend below the ledge to the ground below hundreds of times, but it wasn’t clear how that smooth motion related to these controls.

  Placing his hands on the cold, slick wheel, he attempted to get it to budge, but he found it wouldn’t turn an inch. The levers turned easily but had no effect other than a small amount of squeaking in the bridge apparatus. A sense of deep unease set in as he tried to figure out what to do. When he flipped one of the levers, he found the wheel turned with little effort. But making an entire revolution had almost no effect on the bridge, which still stood straight up. He spun it again and again until it whirled around of its own accord, and the bridge squeaked and began to tilt.

  Taylor’s sense of satisfaction evaporated the instant he realized the bridge was descending too quickly and would crash against the ground. He winced and sucked his teeth when he tried to grab the wheel and the friction stung his hands. In a last ditch effort to slow the bridge’s descent, he flipped one of the levers, which stopped the thick, iron chains from spilling out of the mansion’s front gate. While the chains stopped, the gate didn’t, and the entire bridge apparatus tore the gate from the building. The bridge slammed against the ground, and the extension rattled over the ledge.

  The sound had been so loud that Taylor needed to cover his ears, which left his eyes clear to witness the destruction unfolding in front of his eyes. The entire building shook, and there was no doubt everyone within miles knew what had happened. Though Taylor’s ears were ringing, he had enough sense left to tell that others were coming for the balcony, and he needed to clear out fast.

  But going through the door was not an option. Knowing he was going to regret this, he slid over the side of the balustrade and latched onto a narrow ledge, pulling his legs over just as the door burst open. Hanging onto the edge with his face pressed against the stone surface, Taylor listened as several pairs of footsteps entered the balcony.

  “Liquid hell, what happened here?”

  It was Taylor’s uncle Rhyne, and the footsteps came so close to where Taylor was he was sure he’d be spotted. No doubt Rhyne stood right at the edge, either checking the young man or gazing out at the mess. Another pair of footsteps clattered into earshot.

  “My son!” Danby called amid the sound of shuffling. Taylor winced about the young man, but any apology would have to wait. Over Taylor’s shoulder he could hear that the Illiam horde had discovered the fortuitous pathway onto the cliff and wasn’t wasting any time taking advantage of it. Taylor’s arms and shoulders were burning, but he managed to glance over his shoulder at the first group climbing up the shattered bridge.

  “We’re about to have company,” Rhyne said. “Remember what bankers do best, make them pay.”

  Some grunting from Danby signaled that he meant to carry his son away, while the rest raced inside to rejoin the house forces. Taylor breathed a sigh of relief. If it weren’t for Danby’s entrance, Rhyne might’ve caught him.

  Hanging from the balcony’s lower lip lost its thrill when Taylor heard shots fired near the Vault’s front gate. He glanced over just long enough to see that the intruders were circumventing the unbreakable door with its wheels and dials for the more vulnerable windows, even if it brought them closer to the murder holes. The rabid farmers were making use of any possible points of entry, and Taylor didn’t doubt they’d eventually spot him dangling from above.

  Taking the risk that someone would spot him coming in from the balcony, Taylor climbed up and rushed back into the house. Rhyne, Danby, and the others were gone, but the sounds of commotion on the ground floor below echoed in his ears.

  A woman’s harsh shriek cut through the rest of the noise and put Taylor into motion. He raced along the hallway for the stairs, wondering if it was his mother or another relative. Now that the Illiams had entered the Vault with the goal of finding the maps of Cumeria’s shadow infrastructure, there was one piece of the puzzle that had to be removed in order for them all to carry on obliviously.

  Taylor avoided the grand staircase leading to the lobby in favor of a secluded set of stairs to the kitchen. When he emerged from the double doors to the dining hall, he found two tanned women with overgrown hair in rough leather clothing pilfering the silver. One of them threw a few forks at Taylor while the other rushed at him, but Taylor knocked her back and plowed past the thrower on his way out of the room.

  As he went from the billiard room to the bar to the coat room, all the while glancing into the center lobby where Rhyne and the house staff were holding off the intruders with improvised weapons, Taylor searched for the one person who held the key that would change all of this. He’d nearly made it all the way around the floor when he caught a glimpse of frizzy brown hair and cherry red fabric.

  Another gangly farmer got between him and the lounge where his mother had gone, stopping Taylor in his tracks. He had on overalls made of some woven straw and a maniacal look. The man was probably a foot taller than Taylor and smiled to reveal a mouth with no teeth. Aghast, Taylor unleashed the raging impulses surging in his veins, leaping forward to pull the man closer by the arm while elbowing him in the side of the head. The farmer never lost his footing and came back swinging a candelabra that he’s grabbed from a nearby table.

  The candelabra was hefty enough to knock him back and sharp enough to cut gashes into his shoulder. The blood that seeped through and stained his clothes had a bluish tint. Going to the weapon he knew would give him the upper hand, Taylor leapt forward with arms outstretched and grabbed the man by the head. Taking painful blows to the side, Taylor waited for the mutated bacteria he carried to poison the man, whose movements grew listless as his eyes took on a haunting glaze.

  Once the man expelled his final breath, Taylor quickly moved on for the lounge, which appeared to be unusually vacant. Smoke from a fire in the next room irritated Taylor’s eyes, but he came around a couch near the back of the room and found Melody huddling behind it. With one swift push he moved the couch and then yanked her onto her feet.

  “What’s happened to you?” she asked, but Taylor didn’t have time to explain his condition.

  “The Vault will be lost any minute. We have to leave,” he said, taking her by the wrist and starting for a door that would lead them to the front of the house. It was possible they’d be able to escape through a broken window without attracting much attention. But after a few steps Melody halted their progress.

  “We can’t leave everything here behind!” she said, but Taylor couldn’t stand to be wasting any more time.

  “Your money or your life, which one do you want to keep?” Taylor pulled her again and this time she didn’t resist.

  “What’s the difference?” she mumbled behind him.

  As they pushed through the building toward the front, it was clear the Hockley’s resistance was on its last legs. Most of the farmers were running through the rooms freely, and the only people there to stop them were lifeless on the floor. Taylor had to wonder if Ralph Fiori knew his ruse amounted to a death sentence for most of the family, or if he himself had known as much when he worked to help it along.

  With Melody in tow, Taylor crossed through an archway to the side of the grand staircase and stepped into the main entryway where all of the vases, statues, and stands had been toppled and smashed. From the smell there seemed to be enough blood in the air to fill a person. Another step around a column gave Taylor space to see that a few of the farmers were holding down Rhyne just as an elegantly dressed blonde woman entered from one of the adjoining rooms and crossed in front of the large vault door.

  “I don’t have any more time to lose. Tell me where the maps are,” she said, producing a gun from behind her back. Taylor had seen this woman before when he raided her home with the Ma Ha’dere.
Portia Illiam had threatened to destroy his home in retaliation, and now she’d done so for both of his parents.

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Rhyne spat. All his strength couldn’t break him out of the bind he was in.

  “Then you’re of no use to me,” Portia said, pulling the trigger. After the shot, Rhyne’s body slumped to the ground and Melody screamed. Portia looked up and locked eyes with Taylor, which he knew wasn’t good. He nearly tripped over Melody pushing her back through the archway and around a corner.

  “Now do you see why we have to get out of here?” Taylor gasped.

  “I can’t believe that bitch shot my brother!” Melody wailed, her face wrinkling up.

  As much as Taylor felt a pang for his lost uncle, what he’d really meant was that they needed to leave before Portia and Melody crossed paths long enough to work out that those maps didn’t exist. Fiori’s ploy was all Taylor had left.

  “But I won’t let her do the same to me. We have to get to the library. There’s an escape route among the safe rooms.”

  This time Melody led the way, moving faster than Taylor had ever seen her before. Passing a pair of farmers ripping the keys from a piano, they rushed past the lounge to the library, where the fake section of wall led down to the safe rooms. Melody flicked the lights on and looked down the long concrete expanse, which hadn’t yet been infiltrated.

  “It’s this one,” Melody said after they’d turned a couple of corners.

  They stopped at a door with a wildly complicated lock that took up almost the entire surface. Interlocking blocks of various shapes and sizes needed to be rearranged in order for a bar to be removed. It looked like it would take forever, even if she knew the exact sequence to pass. Taylor cleared his head to focus on the pieces and what order they needed to be moved out of the way.

  Melody put her hand on the handle, counted aloud to ten, and then pulled the door open. The bar across the door didn’t seem to block anything at all.

  “All you had to do was hold the doorknob for ten seconds? What about all of these parts of the lock?” Taylor asked, beside himself. Melody looked at him and shook her head.