The Throne of Crowns (The FirstLord Chronicles Book 1)

by Fox, Simon

  The Throne of Crowns

  The FirstLord Chronicles, Part 1

  Simon Fox

  Who will shape the future – a visionary or a warmonger?

  © Simon Fox 2016

  See the end of the book for background information about the characters and the story.

  The Continent, principal landmass of the planet Isska, in the year 902 XE

  1

  3rd day of Spring, 902 XE

  The Shannvarl Hills, Xunna

  For three days and three nights the assassin had waited, waited, waited – hiding and shivering among the crags and shrubs of this windswept northern wilderness. But now, finally, the time for action had come.

  Ten wedge-shaped dark-green military Zemmka-Field cars were approaching in single file, gliding just above the rock-strewn surface of the narrow valley. The assassin, concealed among a cluster of boulders atop the valley’s southern wall, aimed his Brallshar rifle at the third vehicle in the convoy.

  Peering through his telescopic sights at the rear section of the car, he found his target: Ammzal Vallmar, FirstLord of the Xunnland. Seated next to Vallmar was Yasstan Lanndra, the Supreme WarMaker.

  Their mouths were moving. The assassin wondered what they were talking about. Some weighty political matter, perhaps? Or maybe just the weather. Whatever the case, this was the last conversation they would ever have.

  He waited a few more seconds until the car was directly below his ridge-top position. Then he squeezed the trigger.

  The rifle spat out a needle-thin red beam of lethal energy that pierced the window next to the FirstLord, stabbed straight through his head and cut an exit hole in the car’s rear bodywork. The valley echoed with the beam’s distinctive high-pitched shriek.

  The car stopped abruptly and the nine other vehicles swiftly took up protective positions around it. A platoon of soldiers in dark-green uniforms and peaked caps – members of the elite Invincible Corps – jumped out of the cars, Brallshar pistols in hand. Among them was an officer, his red badges of rank clearly visible. The assassin knew this was Vannsko Dassan, Marshal of the Corps.

  For a very brief moment, despite the threat of another sniper shot, Dassan stared through the holed car window at the bloody corpse of the FirstLord. Doubtless he was struggling to believe that this terrible thing had really happened, and on his watch! Then he shouted some orders, and the Invincibles began purposefully ascending the boulder-littered southern valley-side, raking it with ferocious Brallshar beams as they climbed, hoping to flush out the hidden killer.

  The assassin scrambled out of his rocky lair and fled, clutching his rifle. He didn’t really expect to escape, but it was worth a try. There was a dense forest about two kilometres to the south. Maybe he could elude the Invincibles there …

  2

  3rd day of Spring, 902 XE

  The Annra Forest, south-western Xunna

  Jaddra and Torrlin were crossing a grassy clearing in the Forest when Jaddra suddenly stopped in his tracks. The Yevv on his left wrist was bleeping insistently.

  He sighed with irritation. He didn’t wish to be disturbed. These hunting expeditions were his only escape from the never-ending politicking in Zarr, the Xunnland’s capital.

  Reluctantly he pressed the “RECEIVE” button on the Yevv. An unwelcome image appeared on the virtual screen in the top-left corner of his field of vision – the broad bearded face of Yasstan Lanndra, the Supreme WarMaker.

  Like Jaddra and Torrlin, Lanndra had red-brown-pink freckled skin and short dark-red hair. But whereas their beards were fashionably short and neat, Lanndra’s was thick and bushy, clearly marking him out as a traditionalist.

  Normally his facial expression was one of confident authority, but right now there was something close to panic in his eyes. This worried Jaddra – only a truly disastrous event could unsettle a man as powerful as Lanndra. What had happened?

  “You have a message for me, WarMaker?” asked Jaddra, knowing he was about to hear some very bad news.

  “Yes, my Lord.” Lanndra hesitated, apparently reluctant to continue.

  “What is it, Lanndra?!”

  Almost as if there were a blockage in his throat, the WarMaker forced out the words: “My Lord, there’s – there’s been a – a Code 1 Incident!”

  Lanndra knew that Jaddra knew the meaning of this term. In the secret parlance of the Military Intelligence Corps, “Code 1” referred to the assassination of the FirstLord.

  For a few seconds Jaddra’s mind froze with shock. Then he stammered, “How – how did it – happen?!”

  “The FirstLord was – shot – by a sniper – here in the Shannvarl Hills, just – just a few minutes ago,” answered Lanndra, his voice struggling and faltering. “His – body – is now being flown to Bannskar’s Palace.”

  “I’ll go there at once!” said Jaddra.

  “I’ll meet you there, my Lord.”

  Jaddra closed the Yevv connection and Lanndra’s face disappeared from his virtual screen.

  Torrlin had only heard Jaddra’s side of the conversation but had seen his friend’s distress. “What’s happened?!” he asked.

  “My father’s been … killed!” replied Jaddra. Those words seemed unreal, impossible, absurd. His whole body trembling, he slumped onto a fallen tree-trunk and took some deep breaths.

  Stunned, Torrlin swore loudly and vehemently.

  “I can’t believe this!” said Jaddra, his heart pounding. “My father has – had – half a million Invincibles to protect him! How could an assassin have got to him?!”

  Torrlin just shook his head in bewilderment.

  Jaddra sat there for a short while in silence, trying to regain a measure of composure. Then he Yevv-called Shappka Hessar, the commander of his personal security squad, who was aboard a skyship circling over the local area.

  “Colonel, the FirstLord has been assassinated,” said Jaddra bluntly. “I want you to take me back to Zarr immediately.”

  Hessar was a seasoned officer in the Elite Police, but even he was thrown off balance by news such as this.

  “I – I’m so sorry, my Lord,” he said awkwardly. “I’m on my way!”

  A few moments later the skyship – a blue-grey metallic sphere about 30 metres in diameter – landed in the clearing, touching down on six retractable legs, its Zemmka-Field engine humming rhythmically.

  Jaddra and Torrlin boarded the ship, gave their rifles to a servant and seated themselves in a private cabin. The engine revved for a moment, and then the ship leapt into the sky, accelerating to supersonic speed in just five seconds, but without any gee-force effects.

  Below them was the enormous wild expanse of the Annra Forest. On the western horizon were the distant snow-capped peaks of the Sorra Mountains. Sitting beside a window, Jaddra gazed down at the shifting landscape without seeing it, his mind in turmoil.

  The last time he had been with his father – ten days ago – they had argued, as usual, about the future of the Xunnland. Jaddra wanted to reform Xunnish society, while Ammzal insisted that the ancient traditions must be preserved at all costs.

  He had always been a dominating presence in Jaddra’s life. It was hard to believe that this terrifying larger-than-life man was really dead …

  By now the northernmost reaches of the Forest had slipped out of view and the ship was rapidly traversing the broad many-citied central plains of Xunna. Soon they were crossing the sprawling southern districts of Zarr, the greatest conurbation on the planet Isska.

  Finally they descended smoothly towards their destination in the oldest district of the city – Bannskar’s Palace, the ancestral home of the
Vallmar Family. The 800-kilometre journey from the Forest had been completed in a mere nine minutes.

  Hessar landed the ship at the palace’s skyzone and Jaddra disembarked, accompanied by Torrlin, Hessar and the grey-uniformed security squad. Yasstan Lanndra was waiting there, at the head of a 100-strong honour guard of Invincibles. He walked forward and bowed deeply to Jaddra. Tall and well built, he would have been an impressive figure even without his black-and-gold uniform.

  Rising, he said, “My Lord, I – I offer you and your family my most earnest condolences.” Deep sorrow was written all over his face.

  “Thank you, WarMaker.” Jaddra knew Lanndra’s sorrow was genuine – the FirstLord had been his ally and friend. “But why is Marshal Dassan not here?!” Vannsko Dassan had failed in his primary duty – to protect the FirstLord. He should have been there too, ready to offer his apologies and explanations!

  “My Lord,” answered Lanndra with a sigh of regret, “the disgrace was too much for Dassan to bear. He took his own life, just a few minutes ago.”

  Shocked and saddened by this news, Jaddra was silent for a moment. Then, summoning up his courage, he said, “WarMaker, please tell me more about – how my father died.”

  “We were on our way to observe some Army manoeuvres,” explained Lanndra, “but the killer was waiting for us! Somehow he’d gained precise knowledge of our pre-planned route through the Shannvarls.”

  “And how, exactly, did he …?” Jaddra couldn’t finish the question.

  “He used a Brallshar rifle – it cut right through the car window next to the FirstLord, penetrating his head, killing him instantly,” replied Lanndra, his voice cracking with anguish. “I was sitting right next to him, but there was nothing I could do to save him!”

  Jaddra closed his eyes and shook his head, horrified by Lanndra’s description of his father’s death. But he was also puzzled:

  “Surely, though, all the windows in the vehicle were Brallshar-proof?” he asked.

  “Indeed they were, my Lord, but it was no ordinary Brallshar the assassin used. It was a special ultra-high-power version.”

  “I see … And the assassin – has he been caught?”

  “The Invincibles swiftly tracked him down, but he killed himself before he could be captured and questioned.”

  “Oh … So who was he?”

  “The Intelligence Corps have identified him as Rennka Gannor, a member of the Krallish Independence Movement. He’s been on the Elite Police ‘Wanted’ list for three years.”

  Almost like a physical sensation, a feeling of unreality swept over Jaddra at this point. Was he really having this conversation, talking about his father’s murderer …?

  With a conscious effort, he focused on the practicalities of the here and now: “Where’s the FirstLord’s body been taken?”

  “To his private apartment, my Lord. Your family are all gathered there.”

  “I’ll go to them at once.”

  “May I have the honour of escorting you?”

  “Very well.”

  Jaddra, Torrlin and Lanndra, with a squad of Invincibles, entered the labyrinthine stone-built palace and made their way through its gloomy echoing corridors to Ammzal’s many-roomed apartment. In its outer chambers crowds of whispering high-ranking mourners bowed or curtseyed solemnly to Jaddra as he passed through.

  Then he alone entered the lavishly furnished bedchamber where, in an atmosphere of reverent hush, his wife Leenesh, his mother Brenntesh and his sisters Yemmved, Xellvet and Kwevvesh were anxiously awaiting his arrival.

  They all stood up and curtseyed to him, and he kissed each of them on both cheeks. No one spoke – it was deemed disrespectful to talk in the presence of the dead.

  Then, with some trepidation, Jaddra approached the giant-size bed upon which his father’s corpse had been laid out. A bandage had been wrapped around the upper part of the head to conceal the fatal wound.

  Jaddra keenly felt the dark irony of the situation. Here lay Ammzal III – supreme ruler of the Xunnland, the most powerful man on Isska, commander-in-chief of millions-strong armies – slain by a lone sniper …

  The eyelids had been closed, the face had been washed, the thick red beard had been combed. It was almost possible to believe that he was just sleeping …

  But there was no breath in this body. Ammzal would never awake …

  More than anything else, Jaddra felt numb and distant – as if he were merely observing himself standing at his murdered father’s bedside …

  Now that Jaddra had seen the corpse, as Xunnish custom demanded, he and his womenfolk withdrew to another room and mourned together for an hour or so. They were all in shock, but there were few tears. A hard dictatorial man, Ammzal had not been loved, even by his wife and children.

  Finally Jaddra suggested they should all gather again in the evening to discuss the funeral arrangements. He and Leenesh then went to their own apartment within the palace.

  When they were alone there at last, she embraced him and looked up into his red-irised eyes. “How are you feeling, Jadd?” she asked with wifely concern.

  “Mixed up,” he replied with a sigh. “I still can’t really believe this has happened.”

  “But it has happened,” she said, “and now the Throne of Crowns is yours, and you’ll have to rise to the challenge!”

  He sighed again. “I know.”

  He was painfully aware that, even with the backing of the many influential people who wanted the old political system to be reformed, it would be an uphill struggle to change a regime so bound by tradition and history. The conservative forces in the Xunnland, led by the WarMaker, would do everything in their power to block the road to reform. Nevertheless, Jaddra was determined to create a more just society, because he knew that justice was a matter close to the heart of the Anthall.

  And yet, he had assumed he would have at least another ten years before becoming FirstLord. He felt too young, too inexperienced.

  “I don’t feel ready for this!” he confessed to his wife.

  She kissed him firmly on the mouth. “You are ready for it!” she insisted. “I know it in my bones. And I’ll always be there beside you.”

  For a long admiring moment he gazed down at her – the cascading dark-red hair, the delightful patterns of her red-brown-pink freckled skin, the perfect curves of her body, the captivating golden-brown eyes that now looked up lovingly into his. Even after seven years of marriage, she still made his heart race. But just as much as her beauty, he prized her solid common sense, her quiet courage, her inner strength.

  “I love you, my FirstLady,” he said with a smile, returning the kiss.

  3

  5th day of Spring, 902 XE

  The Square of the Gods, Zarr, Xunna

  Two days later, in the Square of the Gods in Zarr, 4 million mourners, from every far-flung corner of the Xunnland, gathered for Ammzal’s funeral.

  The Square was one of Isska’s greatest architectural wonders. Over two kilometres long on each side and paved with countless slabs of purple-green marble, it had been the heart of the Xunnish State Religion for over two millennia.

  On its northern side stood the Temple of Zarrva the war god; on the east side was the Temple of Karrda, god of wealth; and on the west side was the Temple of Tezzett, goddess of fertility. All three structures had been built on a super-grand scale, their exteriors richly decorated with enormous brightly coloured murals depicting famous scenes from Xunnish mythology.

  The Xunnland’s Great Families, all splendidly dressed in funereal black two-piece uniforms, were gathered at the summit of an immense flight of white marble steps rising up to the front of Zarrva’s Temple. Jaddra and Leenesh stood at the head of this hundreds-strong phalanx of aristocracy. In the admiring eyes of the great multitude in the Square, they looked exactly like a FirstLord and his FirstLady ought to look: he was tall, broad-shouldered, carrying a natural air of authority; she was glamorous, voluptuous, effortlessly elegant.

  There
were Invincibles on guard duty everywhere. Thousands of them surrounded the Temple of Zarrva, while hundreds more watched from the rooftops of all three temples for any sign of suspect activity among the millions in the Square. Forrta Lanndra, the newly appointed Marshal of the Invincible Corps, was leaving nothing to chance.

  At the appointed time a hundred Invincibles on the roof of the Temple of Zarrva played a stirring trumpet fanfare. This was the signal for the body of the FirstLord to be brought to the funeral pyre.

  At the foot of the flight of steps, six of Ammzal’s most trusted household servants lifted the Vasska-wood coffin onto their shoulders. Slowly and reverently they carried it up the 200 steps and then carefully laid it upon the neatly stacked pyre in front of the nobility, while the trumpeters played a haunting lament.

  As a secret Follower of the Anthall, Jaddra loathed the State Religion and all that it stood for, but as Ammzal’s heir he was obliged to play his part in this ceremony. He walked forward to the right side of the pyre, while Yasstan Lanndra, dressed in the black-and-gold ceremonial robes of the High Priest of Zarrva, went to the left side.

  Nearby, hovering on a miniature Zemmka Field, was a robotic video camera, its lenses trained on Lanndra. It would relay his image and his words to the Yevv networks, which in turn would transmit them to the crowds in the Square and to countless millions across the Xunnland. With great solemnity he declared:

  “My fellow Xunns, we have assembled here today to pay homage to Ammzal, third FirstLord of that name, Guardian of the State Religion, Supreme Warrior of Zarrva, Chieftain of All Xunns, Overlord of the Vallmars. With deepest reverence, we will witness his departure from this world and his journeying to the Empire of Zarrva.”

  Lanndra opened a centuries-old leather-bound copy of The Book of the Gods, the sacred text of the Xunnish people. From it he began to recite the liturgy for a FirstLord’s funeral, inserting Ammzal’s name in the appropriate places: