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

by Jason Letts

  As the fallen foe struggled to get up and squirm away, Taylor noticed the much higher quality of his armor. Unlike those with the chain mail, this one and those now rushing in wore hard plastics and strong technical fabrics. Although Taylor dispatched this one with a downward smash that pounded him into the ground, they appeared to be better fighters as well. It heightened Taylor’s anxiety that the only reason they were holding off the Lus was because they’d only faced cannon fodder.

  The fight wore on, and the Cumerians had ceded much of the square. The statue of Triton still stood tall in the center of it, providing Taylor with some sense of direction amid the swirling mass of bodies coming at him from every direction. He stood out to everyone and had to be in overdrive the entire time. One moment of lax attention would’ve been the end.

  Helping cover his back was Captain Keran of all people, who now felt more like an uncle than a mortal enemy he’d almost killed. The degree of trust Taylor had to place in him was crucial. The old soldier fought with twin knives and the ability of an acrobat. If Taylor had to guess, Keran had taken it easy on him earlier. Their fight now seemed more like a test than anything else.

  “What’s the outlook, captain?” Taylor asked after Keran dispatched another enemy with dual slashes to the neck.

  “We’re doing good, but not good enough,” he shouted as he engaged another foe.

  Taylor gritted his teeth and looked for his next victim. He had cuts and bruises aplenty, but nothing was about to slow him down. What they needed now was something big to change the dynamic of the battle. Simply picking away at the Lus wasn’t good enough. A war of attrition was one they would surely lose.

  What looked like a streak of long black hair flashing in the moonlight sent a jolt down Taylor’s spine at the thought of Nissa. There was no way it was her, but when he pushed forward what he found was almost as surprising. A young woman in silver armor and a helmet, long hair coming out the back, was among a group of onrushers. Taylor took a hefty swing to clear away those in front of her, giving him enough visibility to confirm his hunch.

  “Angela Lu, Cumeria will never be yours. What do you have to say for yourself?” Taylor said through a scowl.

  Angela treaded carefully, keeping her distance while others poured in around her. Taylor took another swing while Keran eviscerated a nearby foe. She was smaller than most of the fighters, able to slip through amongst them without being noticed. As she darted around, Taylor craved the possible upside of demoralizing her forces by taking out their leader.

  “Be careful, Taylor!” Keran shouted from a short distance away. “That’s razor wire!”

  The best Taylor could tell was that Angela was unarmed. She had gloves on and nothing else. But Taylor happened to see her come up behind a Wozniak soldier, slide from behind over his shoulder, and make a strange looping hand motion. A second later the Wozniak soldier’s arm had been severed and was on the dirt.

  Taken aback by the wire running between her gloves, Taylor watched her snake behind a few of her soldiers, probably hoping he’d swing at them and be open for her. But Taylor kicked one and then smashed the other with the cudgel’s handle.

  “If you want to take me on, stop hiding,” Taylor growled, but again Angela gave no response. She did burst forward however, probably hoping to get in close before Taylor could swing, but he was itching to prove her wrong and jerked his arms so hard he was surprised they didn’t come out of their sockets. The swing was right on target, and he waited for the satisfying sound of a treacherous enemy being smushed into soup.

  But to Taylor’s surprise, Angela somehow latched onto the end of the cudgel and rode it around. Suddenly she was only a few feet away, standing on his weapon and holding out her hands with that razor wire draped between them. Panicking, Taylor did the only thing he could do. He dropped the cudgel and backed away.

  The drop hardly affected her balance, letting her stalk toward him with a ravenous smirk on her face. Taylor continued backing away without regard for what was behind him. He knew that taking his eyes off of her for a moment could be fatal. Nothing on him would be of any use for defending himself.

  When Angela charged forward suddenly, Taylor froze for a moment before attempting to go low and sweep her legs out from under her. But Angela was far too quick, hoping over his attack and attempting to lasso her wire around his neck. Taylor had to drop onto his back so he could slip the knot before it closed, but that left him completely exposed to her attacks from above.

  She landed a punch to his face as she straddled him, and Taylor caught a glimpse of the razor wire dangling in front of his eyes. It was no thicker than something used for fishing, yet the tiny serrated edges were there.

  Reaching blindly to his right, Taylor happened to catch hold of a spear, which he used to whack Angela’s side. It wasn’t enough to knock her off by itself, but as she waved her hands over it and used the wire to slice it in half, Taylor delivered an energy-imbued punch right to her midsection that sent her flying back.

  Her armor made Taylor’s hand sting, but he got up as quickly as possible and returned to the cudgel. Angela got up more slowly than Taylor would’ve expected, even from a punch of his.

  “You’re not cut out for this,” Taylor said, trying to taunt her, but he received only silence in reply. As he lifted the cudgel and stared her down, he realized simply swinging it at her was unlikely to do the job. New tactics were necessary.

  Other thoughts crept into Taylor’s mind during the momentary reprieve. There were seven Lu sisters, but only Angela could speak Cumerian. He remembered meeting with them all in Iron City, noticing how fine the gradations of age were between them. Angela was somewhere in the middle. Even though the woman in front of him looked young and had only been a foot or two away from him, between the armor and the extreme likenesses there was little reason to be confident about her identity.

  It looked like she was about to charge again when Captain Keran broke out of a nearby scrum with his twin knives and careened into her. Though he knocked her to the side and was still swinging, the sudden intrusion did little to faze her. Whipping the wire around, she attempted to take off his hand but managed to tear away one of his knives instead.

  Taylor had plans to throw the cudgel at her and run in behind for the finishing blow, but with Keran in the way he couldn’t risk it. He had an interloper of his own to dispatch that required him to divert his attention. When he was able to return his focus to Lu and Keran, she had taken the offensive.

  Hoping to force her closer to Keran where he could better handle her, Taylor swung just behind her in a wide arc. Lu got out of the way of the cudgel and ran straight into Keran’s knife, which pierced the armor covering her stomach and forced her to sputter. A smile formed on Keran’s lips, but it didn’t last long. Though he’d impaled her, his hand remained fixed to the knife. In a second Angela had looped the wire around his forearm and severed it. Keran gasped, as did Taylor, who fought to steady his backswing and reverse it.

  But by the time Taylor connected with Lu’s back, drilling her with the fat end of the cudgel that completely obstructed his view, both Lu and Keran spilled onto the ground, except a deep gash in his neck signaled that she’d torn through it like a straw.

  Lu had fallen on the knife, pushing it so far in it poked through her back. She rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. Setting the cudgel down, Taylor fell on top of her, making sure to hold down her hands in case she had an unexpected surge in strength.

  “Say something in Cumerian!” Taylor shouted at her. It would be so much easier if it was Angela about to die. Taylor knew Angela was the real leader, the one whose fall would make a real difference in the outcome of the battle. Already there were dead bodies piling up everywhere, including Keran’s. Though Taylor didn’t consider him much of a friend, the loss of such an adept fighter would be acutely felt.

  “Say anything!” Taylor shouted again at Lu, whose eyes were glazing over. The hope that she was Angela took on a sh
ade of bitterness as her mouth spilled open and once again nothing came out.

  CHAPTER 13

  From the bottom of the Spiral, Tris watched the battle unfold in front of her as if she were the entirety of Cumeria’s last line of defense. Her children and countless others were putting their lives on the line a short distance away, and Tris knew she would somehow make it through and be forced to reckon with the grief of it all. That was her lot in life. That was the curse of having a strong Moa.

  Everything she saw in front of her made her loathe to even carry a weapon. As much as she loved Cumeria, she was done with the fighting. It never seemed to accomplish anything other than causing heartache and agony. She leaned against the railing at the very bottom of the Spiral’s twisting walkway. The edge of the fighting was not one hundred yards away, but she watched it with alarming passivity.

  Something rustling in the bushes on the Spiral’s courtyard caught her attention, but she regarded it with little more interest than the bloodshed in front of her. Absolutely anything could’ve been in the bush, but she couldn’t be compelled to glance over at it for more than a second. All Tris really wanted was to rest after such a long journey.

  A short time later the door to the Spiral behind her creaked, but because she didn’t look she had no idea if it was someone entering or exiting. The noise, hollering, and clashing of steel constantly assaulted her ears. It was so late and there were cycles of darkness yet to come.

  “Trissandra Bracken,” said a voice that made her skin crawl. She looked back and felt a flush of panic when she realized Velo Wozniak and Arnold Keize were standing directly behind her. It was unlikely they had been hiding in the bushes, and their unruffled appearance made it clear they hadn’t spent any time in the battle as well.

  “If you’d be so kind as to come with us,” Keize said. It wasn’t a request she could decline, and Keize’s grip around her arm was almost enough to tear her sleeve.

  He pulled her back into the Spiral’s open doorway and ground floor, the corridors of which led to the Grand Council chamber. The sounds of the battle faded behind them, but in their place came a nervous tension that racked Tris from within. What these two men were doing that allowed them to be so disengaged from the fighting worried her.

  To her surprise, lit candles formed a ring around the council chamber, casting a soft glow that seemed ideal for quiet introspection. The light cast shadows like waves against the smooth wood-colored tables and padded dark maroon chairs. Suddenly Keize released her arm, leaving her near a desk while the pair tread into the center of the floor as if they were lawmakers about to introduce some new legislation or pontificate on an abstract point.

  “We’ve been doing some serious thinking about what to do from here,” Velo said, holding his hands behind his back. Never before had Tris seen him appear so penitent. “What seems strikingly obvious is that this fight is a lost cause, the majority of my fighting-age men will be killed, leaving the OrePlains virtually defenseless. Can you imagine that I was so busy searching for veiled plots from the Brackens that I never even imagined the Lus would try to clear the field like this?”

  Tris crossed her arms and offered no sympathy for the plight of the diminished executive. He seemed in much the same condition Lowell had been in, his suit seeming like an empty shell. But Tris had to hope his analysis of the situation was wrong, otherwise Sierra, Randall, and Taylor would be lost in the process.

  Arnold Keize, in an elaborate warrior’s getup, sword at his side, didn’t look at all like he’d abandoned his resolve.

  “At this point, working with the Lus and earning their trust seems the best course of action. As strong as they are, they’ll still need allies in other sectors, not to mention people on the ground here who could provide crucial services and support. Once we’re able to establish a modicum of dependence from them, that’ll allow us to explore new opportunities,” Keize said.

  Tris knew enough at this point to fill in what Keize had left unsaid. He’d play the part of a trustworthy friend only to wait for his chance to stab them in the back. If anyone doubted his unbridled ambition, one needed only to go and ask Jim Bolt about it. Once someone had outlived his or her usefulness to Keize, they were instantly expendable. Knowing that, it made Tris feel even more uncomfortable about the position she was in.

  “What’s going to impress them is our ability to make the tough decisions, ruthlessly evaluate what’s working and what isn’t to help them with their bottom line. This isn’t any time for mistakes, not when reaching the top of the mountain requires diligent focus and unerring determination. Nobody who can’t perform should be allowed to slow us down,” he said.

  Tris nearly stopped listening to the blatherings of the desperate businessman until he pulled a gun from inside his silver jacket and pointed it directly at her. When her mouth dropped open a little, he smiled and gripped the gun tight with both hands.

  “And I think the best place to start is with you. If you hadn’t failed this entire situation might’ve been different. We’d have the manpower to fend off the Lus, and we wouldn’t have wasted all of that time and energy beating down the Illiams. You had one job to do, but like your departed husband, you couldn’t handle it. This is actually one of the Bracken gas guns, which works fine because there’s no electronics. If only everybody had one of these, we would’ve been able to simply blow away everyone from Iron City.”

  “Look, please. There was no way. Portia is dead,” Tris stammered, struggling to come up with something to say that would keep his finger off the trigger. Her remark did provoke a nasty grimace from Velo.

  “Oh, is that so? Maybe I’ll be able to find the body while it’s still warm, give her a proper send-off, for old time’s sake,” he said, making a lewd gesture and chuckling to himself. “But it’s good she did us all a favor and checked out to After. She’d probably be angling to squirm into the Lus’ good graces herself, and how many tag-alongs do you think they’re going to allow? That’d only make it harder for me to get control back later.”

  While Velo gloated to himself, Keize peered at him and clenched his jaw.

  “You know, Velo, that’s an excellent point,” Keize said, drawing his sword from its sheath.

  “Wait, no!” Velo cried, having only a second to anticipate the agony before the sword tore through his lower midsection near his kidney and sliced under his ribcage to his upper torso. Amid of flurry of jerking that composed Velo’s last movements, the gas gun spilled out of his hand and bounced around the floor in the center of the council chamber. Afraid that it would go off when it hit the floor, Tris twisted away and put her arms over her head.

  The sound of Velo’s body slapping the floor followed, urging Tris to look back to see if she were next. What she found instead was that Toria had crawled out from under one of the desks and taken hold of the gun, which she awkwardly held against her stomach with both hands. Keize had been about to charge forward to Tris until the small girl with the gun stopped him cold. Even with his armor on, a bullet from that thing would fly straight through him. Tris sensed an opportunity.

  “Toria, come here and give that to me, please,” she said, trying not to sound panicked.

  “Sweetheart, be a good girl and hand that to me now,” Keize said, some of his frustration at the sudden impediment seeping through.

  “Come on, Toria. Over here,” Tris added. Coaxing the girl’s attention came with its own peril though, because her entire body swiveled with her head, leaving the barrel of the gun pointed directly at Tris. She swung the other way after another call from Keize, who put the bloody sword back in his sheath. The girl was afraid of blood, which suggested to Tris she had an advantage. She could get through to Toria, get a hold of the gun, and make sure Keize would never have another chance to backstab anyone.

  “He’s not your father, Toria. Do you remember Jim Bolt? That’s your father. This man with the blood on him is not on your side,” Tris said, kneeling down.

  “She’s lying to
you. I’m your father and always have been. Do you trust me? Don’t listen to her lies!” Keize argued. His anger was bubbling over, and it looked like the next time Toria turned away he planned to charge her.

  But before Tris could do anything else, the young girl seemed to make her decision by flinging the weapon toward Keize. Tris watched it sail end over end, sure her last opportunity to salvage the situation had vanished, until the butt of the gun struck the hard floor and caused the weapon to discharge.

  The loud rapport echoed throughout the chamber hall. Tris flinched and raised her arms. Toria fell over. Arnold Keize clutched his stomach and then looked down at his bloody hands. The shot had struck him dead on, and Tris looked over in astonishment as he dropped to his knees and his jaw quivered.

  Toria started to cry and tumble toward him, but Tris hobbled forward and held her back, unsure of what Keize would do as he struggled with his deep wound.

  “You’re no daughter of mine!” Keize said. His face was a mix of fury and agony. He broke out in a sweat and began gasping for breath. Tris held Toria close but did nothing to shield her from the gruesome sight in front of her. She sniffled and wept but neither turned away nor reached out for him.

  “The Bolts have taken their revenge for Jim’s death,” Tris said. “Let it haunt you throughout After.”

  Keize was in no position to respond. He listed to one side and managed to pull his helmet from his head before losing the strength to hold himself up.

  “So close. So cold,” he muttered before the movement of his lips ceased. Tris exhaled a deep sigh, almost allowing herself to think that things would be OK despite everything happening outside in the square. The bodies of Velo and Arnold were not more than a few feet away from each other. In a way Tris thought it was fitting they’d die side by side. Each had attempted to use the other right up until the end.