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

by Jason Letts

  “No one would think to do that if the lock suggested otherwise. The real locks are always in the mind, not on the doors.”

  Still feeling slightly mindblown, Taylor followed Melody through the doorway and pulled the door shut behind them. The bare tunnel supported by nothing more than a few pillars immediately went dark, and the two of them fumbled forward with arms outstretched, groping against crumbling ground for the way to go.

  “Where does this tunnel lead?” Taylor asked. The stale air left him short of breath.

  “To a cistern on the hillside,” Melody said.

  With all of the farmers ransacking the Vault, Taylor would then be left to navigate many miles of dark forest to the road between Ristle and Toine. Only time would tell if finding food or putting up with his mother would be the bigger challenge.

  The tunnel began to slope downward but still must’ve been awfully close to the surface. Above, thumping footsteps made specks of dirt rain down on them. The rolling of a catapult caught his ears as well, and Taylor feared it would collapse the tunnel and bury them.

  But the sounds soon passed behind them and a faint light accompanied the sound of water ahead. A little farther on, and Taylor’s next step put him ankle deep in water.

  “From here we have to swim out. It’s not far, but take a deep breath,” Melody said, wading in ahead of him. A splash sounded her exit, leaving Taylor a moment by himself. He wondered what he’d gotten himself into or where this was going. But the only thing to do was push on.

  The icy water stung the skin on Taylor’s face as soon as he submerged himself. He opened his eyes to see murky water illuminated by the moon and stars. It only took a few strokes for him to clear the tunnel and break for the surface, where he took a gasping breath and flailed for solid ground.

  “Shhh!” Melody scolded him, but any noise he made was nothing compared to the commotion around the distant mansion, where most of the lights were on. The entire building seemed like a glowing beacon that would draw people from all over.

  When Taylor dragged himself out of the water and shook off his drenched clothes, it immediately became clear why Melody was so interested in quiet. It was just the snapping of a twig, but Taylor got the sense that someone was around. The soft ground allowed them to soundlessly tiptoe away down the hill, cautiously hiding behind trees in order to scope out the ground in front of them.

  Taylor peered ahead while sidling up to one tree, setting his hand on it only to feel something sleek and leathery. He glanced up to find a pair of eyes staring down at him, and the push came so quick he couldn’t avoid being knocked on his back.

  “Can’t take a piss round here without being in’rupted!” the man shouted. “Some kind of vermin infesting these woods.”

  Taylor flipped to his feet, grabbed the man by his tunic, and shoved him back against the tree. He covered the man’s mouth as well, but it was too late. Voices sprung up all around, and Taylor grasped the only possible conclusion. There were so many of the Illiams’ farmers that not nearly all of them had made it up the hill.

  “Taylor!” Melody said, the urgency in her voice trumping any attempt at discreetness.

  “Run for it,” Taylor said, reaching back to deliver a blow to the man’s face and knocking him flat on the ground. Taylor hopped over him and took a few steps only to discover some of the others were already closing in on him. In the darkness, he couldn’t even see the pitchfork until he felt it stabbing him in the stomach. Being caught made Taylor so angry, and he swore he’d fight through the entire army if he had to.

  Failing now was not an option.

  Taylor swatted the pitchfork aside and burst forward at the woman who wielded it, but there were two others at her side, one with a spear that jabbed him in the chest. The third one swung a club at him, which he barely deflected while shoving away the spear.

  “Taylor!” Melody shouted while kicking in the air. A pair of men started tying her up.

  A response was more than Taylor could give at the moment, since he now had his hands full with a half dozen enemies. Maybe it was the pain from the wounds he’d already received, but they seemed to blend into the dark, only becoming distinguishable when they were no more than a few feet away. When one jumped on his back, Taylor managed to throw him off into a few of the others, but there were just too many of them.

  Someone had a hefty section of a fallen tree branch that seemed to come at him in slow motion. Taylor was wrestling with another foe down at his legs and couldn’t duck in time to avoid the blow. The impact point was the center of his forehead, sending Taylor’s unconscious body slumping against the ground.

  CHAPTER 4

  There was something in the air that reminded Tris of her husband Lowell.

  Some presence occupied the halls and filled the room where she had been kept after her helicopter ride from the ClawLands. It had been two cycles since she left the bedroom that would’ve been cozy under any other circumstances. The floral print bedsheets, drapes the color of wine, and enough books on the shelves to keep her reading for a year, none of them could dispel the uncomfortable feeling of being held against her will as her husband had.

  The door creaked open unexpectedly, but the person who entered had become all too familiar. A pregnant woman on the verge of giving birth waddled into the room with her usual sympathetic gaze. She had on a loose-fitting black gown, open-toed slippers, and short brown hair. She carried a black dress in her hands and set it on the bed near where Tris was sitting.

  “How are you feeling today? Is everything OK?” Velo Wozniak’s wife Erina asked, clasping her hands with all of the sympathy of a death bed visitor. “This was made up especially for you. Would you be so kind as to put it on and come downstairs?”

  “Why?” Tris asked.

  “I can’t tell you that. It would ruin the surprise,” Erina said before getting up and leaving the room.

  Tris watched her go, slightly stunned. The only things that Tris knew about Erina were what Lowell had told her. In the usual Wozniak way, she had been brought into their family through the use of force and was known for an uncommon meekness. She was a captive in her marriage and seemed to have little joy in her life. Tris couldn’t detect if Erina resented the Brackens for her son Raidan’s death at the hands of Sierra.

  The thought of going along with anything the Wozniaks wanted repulsed Tris until she ran her hand over the dress’s smooth fabric. It felt like touching a cloud and must’ve cost a fortune, compelling Tris to put it on for the sheer novelty of it. Elegant and tasteful, it reminded her of the things she’d always wanted for herself that she wouldn’t let Lowell buy for her, except that black was never her color.

  To Tris, taking the dress meant also accepting the order, and she twisted the handle of the unlocked door and looked for the stairs, unsure what was going to happen to her. For all she knew they were planning to execute her too, or she’d go downstairs and discover it had all been an elaborate hoax, and Lowell was waiting to tell her they’d staged the whole thing.

  Whatever it was, Tris realized it involved a great many people as she slowly descended a set of stairs leading to another hall. Two cycles of inactivity managed to make her feel rested, finally able to shake off the tumultuous trip back from Madora.

  Clinking of glasses and subtle laughter made it to her ears as she left the stairs and wandered down another hall. Elaborate steel molds of fascinating artistry lined the way to the tall iron doors marking the entrance to the great hall. A small cluster of people stood at the door, but there must’ve been a hundred more in the voluminous space behind them.

  “Thank you for coming,” Velo Wozniak said, suddenly at her side. She hadn’t even seen him approach, but suddenly he was there putting his arm around her and guiding her toward the hall with its ice sculptures and fire pits decorating the silvery steel walls. The people at the entryway stopped talking to turn to her, offering bright smiles and comforting touches, as if all of these strangers were old friends.

&
nbsp; “So lovely of you to join us, Tris,” one said.

  “You look fabulous in that dress,” another said.

  The people inside began gravitating to the entryway, all of them seemingly intent on meeting her. Obligated to be polite, Tris returned weak smiles and nods until she felt she had to say something.

  “What’s going on here?” she asked Velo, who was shaking hands and waving, though always at her side.

  “They all came for you,” Velo said, basking in the attention as if they had all come for him. “Can I get you something to nibble on from the snack bar?”

  Tris hadn’t been at the center of such a ritzy affair since her wedding day, and even then this might’ve produced a bigger bill. Among the displays were a number of impressive floral collections that must’ve been brought in from all over the world. Some of the flowers would only last a few hours after being cut and probably cost the Wozniaks a fortune, but no one thought anything of it.

  Velo’s brother Merritt introduced himself and Arnold Keize was present with the young girl Toria, who had been playing with the cheese blocks and had smeared one of them all over her black dress, but other than that Tris had never heard of a soul in the room.

  “I’d always wanted to meet you,” one boisterous old man said. “I’m Marlon Graddock, of Graddock Emporiums. My daughter Aimee is around here. She worked with Sierra at Fiori Law.”

  “Oh, I see. It’s nice to meet you,” Tris said. She’d heard of the stores and the name before, but what didn’t make sense was why he was here. He must’ve been someone who Lowell had worked with. Everyone seemed to be a part of Cumeria’s business elite that she guessed had some tangential relationship with her husband.

  “Don’t miss the chocolate fountain,” Velo said, pulling her away when a clock chimed somewhere. “Wait, not now. It’s time.”

  A short stage had been mounted in the back of the room, which supported a regal-looking piano. Velo hopped on the platform and waved his arm, and bowed.

  “How about something to get us in the proper mood?” he said, gliding over to the piano.

  The crowd cheered as he sat down and began to play with more skill than Tris would’ve guessed. She didn’t recall the tune, which may have been an original, but it was a striking combination of melancholy and grace that was hard not to get lost in. The tune only lasted for a minute, and then Velo got up to soft applause before addressing the crowd.

  “Friends, it’s comforting to have you with us on such a solemn occasion. It’s not easy to accurately describe a man who had such a profound influence on all of our lives. Whether he was your mentor, peer, business partner, rival, husband, or father, it can’t be overstated what a meaningful place Lowell Bracken had in Cumeria,” Velo said, one hand on his heart.

  Tris gasped, suddenly realizing that she was attending a funeral service for her husband. Though the body wasn’t present, it now made sense that the black clothes weren’t just for a dinner party. Tris’s brief outburst seemed to get through to Velo, who tilted his head to her in a kind expression that only increased her revulsion.

  “I recall one memory in particular that revealed something significant about Lowell’s character. We were locked in routine contract negotiations, each fighting for slightly favorable terms on one tiny detail or another, when I threatened to pull the plug and stormed out of the meeting. Do you know what Lowell did? He waited there for six hours until I came back. He knew I was bluffing, and because of his patience he won the terms he wanted. He never took his eyes from the goal, and I’ll always respect that about him.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tris said softly, looking around at the faces blindly nodding along at Velo’s canned speech. How many of them knew what he did to Lowell? They must’ve all known, since it was broadcast everywhere. The outrage was building up inside of her, growing with every note of half-hearted praise.

  “But don’t take my word for it,” Velo continued. “Let’s hear about the old gas bag from one of the people who knew him best, our very special guest…”

  “You killed him!” Tris shouted at the top of her lungs, making nearly everyone in the crowd jump and turn. “Is everybody here crazy? It doesn’t matter how many nice things you say. You killed my husband and I hope you suffocate on your self-righteous hypocrisy!”

  Tris breathed deeply when she finished, realizing that everyone was staring at her, making her feel like she was the crazy one for ruining such a reverential occasion. It was madness and a sham, all of these people here to honor a man who they hardly knew and had probably worked all of their lives to thwart.

  “Don’t look at me like that! Why are we even here? You know this is all nonsense as much as I do.”

  Tris felt herself breaking down under the pressure of so many eyes. The worst part about it was that in all those looks no one was judging her harshly. They just watched, as if this was normal behavior for a wife who’d lost her husband. Maybe one day she’d appreciate what they’d done when she was in a better state of mind, they must’ve supposed.

  Unable to take any more, Tris made an ungraceful exit, pushing through to the door and then retracing her steps up to her room. She closed the lockless door and collapsed on the bed. Being invisible wouldn’t remove the searing indignation, but it was the best she could ask for at the moment.

  She wouldn’t accept the reasoning nipping at her thoughts that she had acted childishly by throwing a tantrum at a funeral party thrown by her husband’s murderers.

  Tris wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It was still dark, but she must’ve dozed for a while. Some scratching at the door suggested it had woken her up, and she watched the handle twist with a new dread for what was out there that wanted to get in.

  The door opened slowly, and Toria wandered in carrying a wooden knife. Lowell had told Tris what had happened to the girl’s father, but there wasn’t any sense that her loss bothered her. Tris watched out of the corner of her eyes with her face against the pillow as Toria snuck along the back wall, froze in place, and crawled along the floor toward the bed.

  Tris cringed, thinking she couldn’t be any more confused about the girl’s behavior, but that was before Toria popped up against the side of the bed and jabbed Tris in the side with the wooden knife.

  “You’re dead!” she squealed, laughing.

  “Ow, that hurt. What are you doing with this thing?” Tris asked, sitting up. She tried to take the knife from Toria’s hand, but the girl poked her in the palm and held it behind her back.

  “We’re playing assassin. Want to play again? Do you have a rope?”

  Every word out of the girl’s mouth disturbed Tris more.

  “This isn’t a good game to play. You should be playing with dolls or flowers or construction sets, not trying to kill people,” Tris said, holding Toria by the wrists when she flashed her knife again. “Did your daddy teach you this game?”

  “Yes,” Toria said, barring her teeth in a smile that was more menacing than cute. “My enemies shall live in fear.”

  “Really? Jim Bolt taught you to go after people with knives?” Tris asked, in disbelief.

  “Who?”

  “Your father, Jim Bolt.”

  Before she could go on, the door swung open and Arnold Keize entered, a surly look on his face. He lifted Toria onto his chest and held her tight.

  “Don’t listen to her, my sweet. She’s in a very troubled state of mind,” Keize said, shaking his head a Tris.

  “I got her! I got her!” Toria cheered, raising the knife into the air and poking Keize in the shoulder.

  Tris stood up and narrowed her eyes at him.

  “What are you doing to this poor girl, telling her to run around after people with knives? How come she doesn’t know who her father is?”

  Keize, with his short black hair and deep-set eyes, pursed his lips and tried to cover Toria’s ears.

  “Hey, please keep your parenting opinions to yourself. I’m entitled to teach my children in the way that
will best serve them in the world, and Toria will always know who’s on her side,” Keize said in a forceful whisper.

  “You’re not a parent!” Tris said. It was like her mind was splitting in two because of an overdose of absurdity.

  “I’m going to forgive you for these heinous insults but only because of your fragile state. My personal recommendation is that you show a little more gratitude for everything that’s been given to you. We understand you’re going through a hard time and want to help, but the way you’re handling it is really making it difficult on us,” Keize said, his face softening into something more sympathetic. He casually bounced Toria on his chest.

  “Gratitude? Are you serious? You and Velo dragged me into your helicopters and took me away from my daughter. And then you make a mockery of the death of my husband and expect me to go along with it. What do I possibly have to be grateful for?” Tris asked, her emotions rising.

  “Please just sit down,” Keize said.

  “Tell me what you want from me! I haven’t forgotten what Velo said back by the ClawLands. I know there’s something you want,” Tris said, steaming.

  “Have a seat, all right?” Keize said. “There is something we want. We know we were involved with something terrible when it came to Lowell. It wasn’t supposed to end that way, but we have no choice but to move on. Making amends might never be possible, but we don’t want his death to be in vein. Can you believe that?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Tris said, staring off at nothing in particular.

  Keize set Toria on the floor and took a seat next to her on the bed while the girl ran around the room. It was discomforting having him so close to her, and it was even more unpleasant that he was trying to be nice about it. His smile seemed awkward and couldn’t mask something untrustworthy in his eyes.

  “How can I put this? Things are coming to a head, Tris. The Wozniaks are gathering there strength, the full extent of which has never been seen, in their bid to take over the capital. They used coal-burning armored vehicles to attack the ClawLands and paid a heavy price when their lack of maneuverability was exploited. They saw it as an embarrassment and aren’t about to make the same mistake twice. Stunning machinations with sophisticated electronics are waiting to be unleashed on Cumeria, and no one will be able to stand in their way,” Keize explained, as if to comfort her.