The Gully Snipe (The Dual World Book 1)

by JF Smith

  “I call to the Nighting Empyrean above, in this moment,” intoned the Archbishop. “Kneeling before you is Thayliss veLohrdan, claimant to the throne of Iisen by birthright. If any of his ancestors above have cause to preclude his ascension to the throne, show your sign to us now.” The Archbishop held his hands out wide, waiting for any sign that might appear. The courtyard paused in baited silence as the crowd waited. Above, the stars continued with no more than the same indifferent twinkling that was their hallmark. Gully was too busy thinking of his father to even notice the foolish deference to a swath of dotted lights in the sky, so very far away.

  After a sufficient pause, the Archbishop smiled as he looked back down at the prince before him. He carefully lifted the crown of Iisen from its stand and held it aloft. It was not a heavy or ponderous crown as Gully had expected. Instead, it was far more delicate. Its color was fascinating as he caught a glimpse of it for the first time. It was made of a gold, but a very rare kind of gold — what was called nocturne gold. It made it almost black, but with something of an iridescent quality that the eye had trouble catching directly. Set into the deep indigo gold were precious stones, white and pink and blue and golden, that formed the chief stars of the Iisen constellations against the metal that constituted their night sky. It struck Gully that the stones were all the colors of the sparkflies he had chased with Pe’taro at his side while his father watched in amusement, smoking his pipe.

  The Archbishop said, “By the sacrament of blood and ancestry that is the core of our people and our faith, and with the assent of your forebears, I now crown you... King Thayliss, ruler and monarch over all the Iisendom! May your ancestors bless and guide your rule!”

  The Archbishop placed the crown on Gully’s head.

  Gully sighed as he felt the weight of the crown settle upon his brow. He already disliked the name King Thayliss.

  He stood slowly and then turned, the faces and people falling from his attention so that all that was left was the seat he was to take at the far end of the carpeted pathway. Everything else faded into the soft light of the torches and the misty host of stars above. He took his first step down from the dais while the Archbishop remained behind.

  In his mind, he remembered riding his father’s shoulders as they arrived in East End, so very long ago now. The people and noise and bustling activity frightened him, but his father’s hands held him tight and the sound of Ollon’s voice describing everything had made him feel safer. He remembered the first time his father purchased a small bit of sweetened chicory there in the city market as a treat and how wonderful it had tasted.

  Gully continued his slow walk towards the throne, a seat painstakingly pieced together from hundreds of pannyfruit trees centuries earlier. The faces of those on either side of him faded into indistinct shapes, as if covered with layers of gauze, so that all he saw was the end of his journey, the seat where he would become someone else. Where he would become someone he did not know.

  He clutched for his memories, as if he would never again have the chance. He pulled at them, anything he could remember, in the case that this was the last time he would be able to do so.

  He remembered sitting by the firelight of his father’s cabin, the snow falling silently outside and Pe’taro curled up next to him on the floor. His father, as he did so many times after this first time, took the crystal pendant from its safe spot among the fireplace stones and handed it to Gully, who examined it with curious eyes. Gully remembered turning it over and over, seeing how the firelight danced inside of it and shot out from it, all over the small cabin. His father’s words reverberated in his head, “This is our most important possession, my son, and never you forget... this is more of whom we are than our bodies or our thoughts or anything we accomplish. Both our past and our future are bound up in it. Never lose it. Never let go of it. It is now as much yours as it is mine, and you are as much a part of the circle as I am.” His father leaned over and kissed him on the top of his head sweetly. “And that makes me very happy. You are fate’s blessing for me, my precious son!”

  Gully stopped in front of the throne. He turned and finally took notice of the faces watching him. Every one of these people were now dependent on him for their well-being. All of those around him, and how many thousands upon thousands more throughout the kingdom, now looked to him for good or bad.

  Gully stood and let his gaze wander across all those silently anticipating faces. He was so absorbed in the eyes upon him that he did not notice how his hand gripped at the crystal sigil that he wore underneath his coronation tunic.

  The words of his father reverberated in the back of his head, “We are all born someone, Di’taro, but it is only whom we choose to be that matters.”

  I did not choose this, he thought hopelessly. I choose to allow it. I choose to take this throne and this crown. But I was not given any real choice.

  Gully pulled at the mantle he wore and sat down heavily upon the throne.

  All of the of faces looking at him, all of the most powerful, the most wealthy, the most vaunted in the realm, watched as he did so. At the instant he took the throne, every knee knelt and every head bowed before the new sovereign of Iisen, the first in twenty years.

  And none of the gathered saw the few teardrops that slipped from his eyes.

  Chapter 34 — Judgment Of The Traitors

  Gully stood from the large chair behind the table, now his table, the dark stone one that served as the centerpiece of the room where the monarch took counsel in private, in the sovereign’s chambers behind the Throne Hall. It felt a little stuffy to Gully because, for absolute privacy, there were no windows. The stone walls, with their carvings, felt heavy and closed in, even with the high ceiling.

  Thaybrill, Roald, and Chancellor Barolloy remained standing motionless and watched him from the other side of the table.

  “Let us please go and get through this. There is no benefit to waiting, and if I embarrass you now versus embarrassing you an hour later makes no difference, I suppose,” said the king. He had been delaying, but he had become frustrated with himself for the pointless vacillations he had engaged in thus far that morning.

  Thaybrill grinned while the Chancellor seemed supremely uncomfortable.

  Gully moved to a wall to one side of the glass-smooth table and began examining it. Unlike the others in the private chamber, this particular wall was made of a very light colored stone, almost the color of parchment. Carved into the parchment stone of the wall was a map of the entire Iisendom, along with much of the surrounding lands and kingdoms. It was very detailed, and the lines of the engravings and labels on the map had been blackened so that they could be more easily read.

  Thaybrill said, “It would be nigh impossible for you to embarrass us, King Thayliss.”

  Gully visibly flinched at the name.

  “The procedure for holding court in your Throne Hall is entirely at your discretion. The only right way to do so is, by definition, how you choose to do so,” encouraged his twin brother.

  Gully thought that perhaps that was the official definition, but... unofficially...

  “And besides, no king has held court for twenty years. Few have memories to compare whatever you do to our father during his rule, or anyone else for that matter.”

  Gully considered his brother’s latter statement and found it to be more encouraging than the former one. How hard could it be? He merely had to make decisions. And those decisions, being the king’s, were law and affected hundreds if not thousands. It was all a trifle of no more concern than whether to have honey mead with his supper or a light ale. He sighed deeply as he continued to stare at the map, dreading being on display and studied intently. It was a thief’s worst nightmare come to life.

  Chancellor Barolloy, having spent little time around the new king, seemed unsure how to interpret the mood of the monarch. Roald stood stoically by, waiting patiently to either be addressed or dismissed.

  Thaybrill, though, was utterly comfortable wit
h the king’s mood. He walked over to his brother, placed an arm around his shoulder, and shook him heartily.

  “You will do fine! If you find yourself unsure, look to me and I will help as I can. We all will!”

  Gully glanced back at Roald and the Chancellor. Roald shrugged slightly since he was as new to this as the king himself. The Chancellor cleared his throat noisily, shaking the jowls in his ruddy cheeks as he did so, and said, “Your Majesty, we are all here to serve you. You have but to ask and we will assist in any way you require!”

  “Fine,” said Gully, and did not dally any longer. He turned and strode out of his chambers purposefully, allowing Thaybrill, Roald, and Chancellor Barolloy to trail behind him.

  As they walked into the Throne Hall, Gully pulled Thaybrill up next to him and whispered, “Is this Chancellor trustworthy?”

  Thaybrill nodded. “He is. He is a good man.”

  “And he knows how all of this is supposed to work?”

  “In principle. He became chancellor about seven or eight years ago, so he has never done this with an actual monarch. Until today, he only supported the administrative decisions of the Domo Regent, which were not held in a royal court.”

  Gully sighed again and grumbled, “So we are all guessing our way through this.”

  Thaybrill laughed as Gully stepped up onto the dais and took his seat upon the throne. At his sides stood Gallun and Gellen, in human form this time, unarmed and wearing nothing beyond their kilts.

  Per custom, everyone in the Throne Hall knelt briefly on one knee and dipped their head as soon as the king took his seat.

  Gully pulled at the lightweight mantle he wore, the one of pale gold. He twisted at the signet ring he had been given to wear, the same one that had belonged to his father, King Colnor the Fifth. He was unaccustomed to any jewelry other than his pendant and had found himself fidgeting with it since he had put it on after the coronation the night before. He was glad the crown was not something he had to ever wear except on very special occasions. The only thing that he did wear that felt genuinely comforting to him were his father’s dirty and worn boots, which he refused to give up, much to his new valet’s dismay.

  His head still ached with too much fine wine from the celebration feast the night before as well. His attempts to draw Roald into a more relaxed state, to draw out the Roald he had known all his life, had failed, and so he had resorted to drink to cope with instead.

  “I assume there is a list of items to decide upon today?” asked Gully to no one in particular because he had no idea to whom he should address the question.

  “Indeed, Your Majesty,” said Chancellor Barolloy.

  At the far end of the hall, the massive carved doors opened, and a group of men in irons were led in. They shuffled, jangling and clanging in their fetter chains, to the other end of the hall, along the violet rug that ran its length. There were whispers and fingers that pointed as the criminals were pulled through the hall until they were in front of the dais and the throne.

  The court spectators, some of whom Gully knew, some he had only seen, and some he did not know at all, craned and peered to get a look at the criminals that had been brought in.

  There were two men in front in irons, then another two, and then there was a group of another fifteen men or so behind them. They were well surrounded by uncomfortable but determined members of the Kingdom Guard. The guards forced all of the prisoners down onto their knees in front of the king.

  Gully’s throat seized up when he recognized one of the two men in front. It could not be possible that this would be his first decision to make as king. Gully’s stomach roiled and he fought to keep from twisting in the throne.

  The Chancellor bowed and called out, “Your Highness, for your judgment and sentencing are Lord Chelders veBasstrolle of East End, Lord Marshal Soudern Jahnstlerr, Earlich and Vendann veBasstrolle, sons of Lord veBasstrolle, and then also the members of the Kingdom Guard that were identified as being a part of the conspiracy to sell Iisenors into slavery.”

  Even before the Chancellor had time to finish his introduction, Gully felt his fingernails digging into the arms of the most important chair in all of the realm. His throat suddenly became very dry, and he felt like a lame deer looking into the eyes of a hungry wolf.

  He stood and mumbled, “Ro... uh, Lord Marshal, Prince Thaybrill, Chancellor... may I consult with you for a moment in my private chamber, please.”

  Gully pointed indistinctly at the closest guard next to the prisoners, realized it was Dunnhem, and said, “Dunnhem, do not take them anywhere.”

  Dunnhem saluted sharply.

  Gully shoved the door to his office chambers open and stomped inside, feeling the flush in his face.

  Thaybrill and Roald followed, looking concerned and confused. Chancellor Barolloy looked terrified.

  “Why are they here?” hissed Gully in surprise as he turned on the men who had followed him. “They weren’t dealt with already?! I assumed they would have already been sentenced and done with before now!”

  The Chancellor looked back and forth between Thaybrill and Roald, bemused and worried that he had already made a grave mistake and upset the king. Neither of the other two had an answer so the Chancellor cleared his throat noisily again. He took a piece of fabric from a pocket and mopped at his bald head where he had begun to sweat.

  “If it please Your Highness, no. Their crimes are very serious ones, and it is only appropriate for you to be the one to act in judgment upon them.” He attempted a smile that came out more like a worried grimace, hoping the king would be understanding.

  Gully said, “You’re the Chancellor of Jurisprudence, are you not? Couldn’t you have sentenced them already?”

  The Chancellor wrung his hands in front of him and responded with a slight bow of his head and a tight throat, “Well, Sire, in the absence of anyone else, yes. But I thought it best to allow for you to pass judgment yourself after your coronation. I hope I have not acted improperly. Very... uh, very much so!”

  Gully paced around behind his desk and rubbed at his eyes. He stopped after a few minutes and stared emptily at the map carved into the wall again.

  The Chancellor ventured, “These crimes warrant death, Your Majesty, unquestionably. Simply say that is to be their punishment and they will all be hanging by the neck in the Bonedown tomorrow morning at dawn.”

  He added, “You can even go watch if you like,” in case the new king might enjoy something like that.

  Gully knew that was the appropriate punishment, but it tugged at him nonetheless.

  Thaybrill spoke up and said, “Thayliss... it is your place to sentence these men. They have more than earned a sentence of death, and you know this. They deserve to hear it from the lips of the king, from the very monarchy they tried to undermine and destroy.”

  “Aye,” whispered Gully as his eyes drifted over the map. “Aye, Thaybrill. You are right.”

  Before he turned, Gully looked at the map a few seconds more, glad to be distracted momentarily from his unpleasant task. To the east was Maqara, of course. To the west, beyond the desert that formed the boundary of Iisen, the word “Vale” was carved; it was a land that Gully had never even heard of. To the south was the Ouleand Sea, the Sea of the Damned.

  But to the north... to the north was...

  “What is north of Iisen? On this map, it is labeled as the Northern Wastedowns,” asked Gully.

  Roald stood silent, but Gully knew that he would not know the answer to that.

  The Chancellor mumbled slightly, begging forgiveness for not being able to answer the king’s direct question.

  Thaybrill said, “It is what it says it is, my brother — wasted lands. Too cold and frozen to bother with. There is nothing there.”

  Gully’s fingertips traced over the lettering in the map, lettering that dismissed a mysterious and unknown place as nothing more than wasted lands. That was Balmorea, though, and at some point, it had not been wasted lands. He wondered what horri
ble fate befell it that it had become uninhabitable and now was forgotten, a large void on a map. He felt a little saddened at the thought that he was tied to that land, to what had once been a massive empire, an empire that had dwindled down to a tiny, wandering handful of remarkable people.

  He wondered if it had been betrayed from within, corrupted and rotted from the inside until it collapsed to empty lands and scattered people — the same way the men on their knees in the Throne Hall had attempted to do to Iisen.

  Without another word, Gully turned and stormed back out, back to the hall to face the men that had attempted the same in Iisen, all for greed and heartlessness.

  As he walked back into the Throne Hall, the prisoners were still on their knees. Chelders veBasstrolle’s head was hung low and he was blubbering like a frightened child. The other man in front had his head held high. He was pudgy, but not pasty and corpulent like veBasstrolle, and Gully assumed he must be Lord Marshal Soudern Jahnstlerr. His eye was shrewd and defiant and trained on Gully, then on Roald, then back.

  Before Gully even spoke, the previous Lord Marshal sneered loudly, “So this is how the kingdom ends — given over to thieves and children.”

  Gully stopped, took his foot off of the dais he was about to climb, and instead walked over towards the prisoners. His face flushed slightly, but then he held his hand up to stay Dunnhem from striking the prisoner in the back of the head with the flat of his sword.

  Dunnhem stopped and slowly re-sheathed his sword at the king’s gesture. The entire hall had fallen into a breathless silence at the opprobrium. So quiet that, behind him, Gully could hear the soft footsteps of Gallun and Gellen stepping down towards him, the low murmurs of growls beginning in their throats. He turned and gently motioned for them to stop as well.

  Gully stood in front of Jahnstlerr and said, “Rather defiant words for someone who has committed the crimes that you have committed, for someone about to face a very grave judgment.”