The Gully Snipe (The Dual World Book 1)

by JF Smith

  Roald had been gob-smacked to learn of what had transpired since he left with Gallun and Gellen. His conversation with Thayliss and Thaybrill, a solid day-length away by swift horse, had been miraculous enough, but what he had learned of his brother Bayle in that conversation had changed everything for him. Mostly he was relieved to know that Lohrdanwuld was safe, for now, as were both Thayliss and Thaybrill. He was astonished, too, and yet at the same time, he found he was not so surprised after all about his Gully’s — Thayliss’, he reminded himself again — true parents. But that discovery, added to his birthright among the Balmorean people in the Mercher clan, made his brother something beyond extraordinary, something that Roald no longer knew how to treat.

  When Thayliss had introduced Prince Thaybrill to him and they stood next to each other in his apartment, Roald remembered being taken by how undeniably much the two resembled each other, even standing side by side. He would have wondered at it then and asked about it, if it were not for the crisis looming at their doorstep and a wretched lack of time forcing them into rapid action that evening.

  Behind him and below, in the dark and hidden behind the part of the mountainside he sat upon, was the valley pass that led between the two kingdoms. At some point, almost certainly soon, around dawn he figured, the Maqaran army would advance, taking control of the pass and entering Iisen through that valley. Only they would be unaware that they were expected until they were in that very valley and surrounded by Iisenors on higher ground, their retreat cut off.

  In a final moment of supplication, he did kneel down. The cooler air of the hours before dawn swept across the mountains, touching his face and hair. He prayed to his parents that this was, indeed, the proper strategy to take. He had argued repeatedly about this strategy with the two Marshal Adjuncts, Marshal Pumblennor over the soldiers from veKinn’s fief and Marshal Yorghen from veOusthendan’s fief. It was their absolute belief that the Iisen forces should merely keep the Maqarans force out; Roald did not deny that their approach was simpler, more practical, and an imminently safer strategy. What he did know, what he did argue, was that such a strategy left no leverage. He knew that Prince Thayliss would see the leverage as everything; he knew he would lay down his life to provide that leverage to the person he had shared a bed with as family for so many years, if that is what it took.

  If it were not for Prince Thaybrill’s specific wish that he be in charge, with a signed and sealed letter in the prince’s own hand demanding the same, he would not have been able to stand against the two senior ranking officers in this argument. But then after his first conversation with Thayliss through Omalde and Aian, when Thayliss had begged that they capture the Maqarans, Roald was only too pleased to tell him that this was the plan already being put in place. The comment earned ugly glowers from the two Marshal Adjuncts sitting with him. It was only when Thaybrill, whose words came through the old woman, Omalde, threatened the two adjuncts with being thrown in irons if they did not follow Roald’s every command without question that the two officers capitulated and argued no more about it.

  Roald had assured both princes, through the ocelot, that all would be well and that their highnesses could rest in assurance. Omalde had described Prince Thayliss’ relief at the plan, but then related how Thayliss had mumbled that he would not rest easy until all was over, the Maqaran forces had been captured, and no Iisenors or Balmoreans were harmed in the process. Roald, through Aian, had told him that all but the last request was reasonable, but that he would do his best to make the prince regent proud. He kept his own role in the mission underneath his tongue for fear of upsetting Thayliss unnecessarily, which he felt sure it would.

  Roald remained on his knee and prayed again to his parents — for strength, and cunning, and most of all, for luck. He prayed that whatever his own fate would be in this battle, that he would make his erstwhile brother, now about to become king, proud of what he had accomplished, proud that he could be trusted to follow out the wishes of the twin princes to the best of his ability.

  He stood and allowed himself a moment to dwell on his longstanding attraction to the prince regent, and also on the recent and almost immediate physical attraction he felt towards Prince Thaybrill since meeting him, too. With it came the light touch of the shame he felt for giving safe harbor to these feelings for two men as great as they, for direct heirs of the royal family. It had grown even worse with Thayliss. Thayliss was not only the son of Colnor the Fifth, but he was also the son, through this so-called blood seal, of Ollon, and now the heir to the last remnants of the Balmorean empire, such as it was. He prayed briefly, to whoever in the sky might be able to hear him, for forgiveness for the effrontery in having these feelings towards them.

  Perhaps, if the battle went well, and once things were back to normal in Iisen, he would be honored with an invitation to see the coronation first-hand. It would be wonderful to see the man that had once upon a time been his brother have the crown of Iisen placed on his head and to see him take the seat of the monarchy.

  These musings were bittersweet for him. He had always known that sooner or later he would lose his brother, the last of his family, the one that he loved so very deeply. It was just that he never would have imagined that this would be the way he would lose him — to the crown instead of the gallows or bogs. Not for all the swords in Iisen would he ever have thought.

  His silent meditations were interrupted by the sound of a rock nearby tumbling away and he heard a huffing and puffing of someone climbing. In the dark, he still did not see well and his hand went to the sword at his side, but the voice he heard speak his name made him relax.

  “Ho there! Roald!” called Raybb, “Must you Iisenors always insist on being so high up to pray?”

  Raybb was close enough now that Roald could see both his human and bear half climbing the last of the distance between them.

  Roald laughed and replied, “I expected to be back at our camp before my absence was noticed. How did you find me here, anyway?”

  Raybb sat down with a tired huff next to where Roald stood and said as he caught his breath, “A bear’s nose is a remarkable instrument. I was able to follow you as easily as if you had left a trail of rope along the path you climbed.”

  “I do not know that I’ll ever be able to accustom myself to the range of talents you balmors enjoy!” said Roald, his eyes beaming in the darkness at his new friend.

  “Encender sent me to call you back. We must prepare, Roald. Ummalst has been flying several times already this morning and his reconnoiters find the Maqaran troops are readying themselves,” said Raybb.

  Roald brushed the sand and grit from his greaves where he had been kneeling and said, “Well, come on then, let’s be on our way! I must thank Ummalst, Hyynreck, and Abella Jule again. I would not have the confidence in today that I now have were it not for them and the constant information they have provided!”

  Raybb hesitated and then said, “Before we leave, Roald, I’d like to try one more time. If you don’t mind.”

  Roald already knew what Raybb was talking about. He said, “Try if you like, good Raybb. My mind is set, though.”

  Raybb stood and placed a large hand on his new friend’s shoulder. “What you do is not necessary. It is a risk.”

  “It is necessary, Raybb. I wish it to be some other way, but it must be this way. The Maqarans must have confidence that they have the surprise, and that means that the guards at the pass when they come through must be captured, and not escape. It is not something for which I will ask others to volunteer. If I could do it entirely by myself, I would, but a single guard at the pass would raise too many suspicions.”

  “I would volunteer!” said Raybb gruffly. “Give me an Iisen uniform and I will be the sleeping guard caught unawares!”

  “Raybb, you and I both know that your skills as a fighter, as a familiar, bear and man fighting with one mind, are too valuable to throw away on a ruse,” insisted Roald. The bond forged between him and Raybb upon their meet
ing, one as friends and as soldiers, had been almost instantaneous. “Besides, Marshal Pumblennor remembers skirmishes with the Maqarans years ago. They prefer capture over slaughter so they can bring their prizes back as slaves. They will not have luck hunting for new slaves today, and so I am safe with the other two guards who will be captured along with me.”

  He slapped Raybb in the chest affectionately and said, “It is a small risk this time, and I willingly take it for Iisen.”

  Roald still found it difficult to accept the openness of the Mercher clan. He marveled at a society such as the Balmoreans’, so very accepting of those swayed. On meeting them that first night, Roald had developed an instant bond with Exoutur and Raybb, and even the adorable Maarbeth. It gave him a faint hope for a life he never thought could exist anywhere but in the deepest parts of his imagination. It gave him hope that maybe he could find the happiness that they had. He also knew without any doubt that this was why Thayliss had instructed him to seek out these two men specifically when he arrived at the Mercher camp, and he blessed his brother’s name for it.

  The two soldiers began their descent down the side of the mountain, carefully picking their way among the rocks and tree roots that could send them tumbling in the poor light. Roald lamented that more of the garrison stationed at the pass had not been available to add to their numbers. When veBasstrolle had been arrested, the names of those complicit in his fief came falling from his mouth in a torrent, as if giving up enough others would secure his own forgiveness. The two guards that took him back to Lohrdanwuld sent word with the list of names to Roald at the pass. Unfortunately, about half of the garrison at the Maqaran Pass was named on the list and had to be arrested immediately. Roald wanted more men for the battle today, but could not risk these particular ones turning on their own when the fighting started.

  They reached the solid path below and Roald pushed all thoughts of traitor soldiers, men happily joined together as a family, and, most of all, lost brothers out of his head. The time had come to think of only one thing — luring the Maqarans into the trap he had set and pulling the net tightly around them.

  ~~~~~

  “When the first arrows fly to make ourselves known, they will aim near our location. Remember then, no abrupt movements, and duck down in the chaos that will follow. Try to pull one of the dead on top of you for protection. It is my hope that they will not fight much when they realize their situation. Are you prepared?” asked Roald of the two swordsmen standing with him.

  “Aye!” they barked.

  “Eyes true, men, and may all of our ancestors protect us and Iisen from our enemies!”

  In the pale light of dawn beginning the day of battle, a large falcon dropped from above them, flapped in mid-air a few times to slow himself, and then turned into a man who landed easily on his feet. The balmor transmute whispered to Roald and the two swordsmen, “Their advance scouts are almost here. You must get into position now!”

  “Thank you, Hyynreck, your eyes and your wings have proven invaluable!” said Roald. “Your job is done! Go and rest yourself now.”

  “Begging your pardon,” said the unclothed Hyynreck through gritted teeth, “but I plan to have some plucked eyeballs for my breakfast! I’ve been looking to having a fair go at these bastards for years now for what they did to my sister!”

  Roald clutched at his stomach for a moment at the thought and said, “I’m glad you’re on my side! Go, and thank you again!”

  Hyynreck leapt into the air, transformed into the blue-gray feathers of his sooty falcon form again and was gone.

  “Remember, you’re asleep, so slow and deep breaths,” said Roald as he positioned the two guards and then took his own place sitting on the ground, leaning up against the makeshift guard shack. “The success of our trap starts with us.”

  The Sheard Mountains, stretching from the Northern Wastedowns to the Ouleand Sea not far to the south, were an impenetrable wall of jagged cliff faces and mountainsides that even the mountain goats found daunting. The only exception that had ever been discovered was a twisty, narrow path that allowed passage between the two kingdoms, and even that path had started out a treacherous one. Over a span of years and years, to make passage easier for people on foot, and then mules and horses, and finally carts, the path had been hewn out flatter and wider. Even now, it was surrounded by sheer walls and rocks. On each end, the passage opened up wider, but in the center part, it narrowed down so that barely twelve or so men could walk along abreast of one another. One end of the narrow section held the gate and guard station for entrance into Maqara; at the other end, the guard station of Iisen. It had been many years since there was any overt temper between the two kingdoms, and trade had slowly increased in that time, so there was not much emphasis on a strictly secured border. On the Iisen side, the path wound around some more, gaining in width, until it emptied out onto open, flat land before where the Ghellerweald began to rise up. The main trap Roald had put in place was where the pass ended in open land. Before that point, the Maqarans would be constricted and between the walls of stone and rock that were hiding the Kingdom Guard of Iisen.

  The first critical step in the trap, though, was to let the Maqarans take control of the pass and think that they had caught Iisen unaware as they entered.

  Roald took the intervening moments to slow his thoughts, to clear his mind, and to focus himself on the approaching task. He sat on the ground, leaned against the decrepit guard shack nestled between a couple of massive boulders and let his head droop down as he breathed slowly and deeply, the cuirass across his chest rising and falling in feigned slumber. A few minutes later, he could hear quiet footsteps, but he made no outward notice of them.

  There was suddenly a knife at his throat, the same as with the other two guards asleep at their post. He was pulled up, and to play his part well, Roald tried to shout, but the Maqaran scout dug the knife in to emphasize his point and said, “None of that, now. It won’t make difference enough, and quiet saves your worthless hide in the meanwhile!”

  Roald gave up quietly.

  As expected, the advance scouts tied them up and removed their swords and tossed them off to the side. The first key danger, of being killed instead of captured, had passed successfully.

  Roald again played his part and said angrily to the one digging a short sword into an unprotected spot on his side, “What are you waiting for? If you’re here to rob us, get on with it and be gone!”

  The Maqaran laughed with his fellow soldiers and said, “This day dawns on more than a simple robbery, Iisenor!” He nodded at his fellow scouts and said through an evil grin, “And you might as well get used to calling me ‘master!’”

  It was not long after that when the main forces of the Maqaran army began to pour through the pass and into Iisen. While kept off to the side as the forces passed, Roald counted carefully and blessed his eyes in the sky for having reported the number accurately; when the invaders landed in the trap, they would be well-matched by the Kingdom Guard.

  It took a while, but after all of the forces had marched through, Roald expected that they would be dragged along as well, at the tail end of the column. But to his dismay, that was not to be the case. A few other Maqaran soldiers took control of the three prisoners and began to lead them, unwillingly, back through the pass into Maqaran territory.

  Roald panicked. This was not part of the expected plan, and he no longer had to feign his reaction at what was happening, nor did the other two swordsmen. His strident demands of “Where are you taking us?” and “What are you doing?” went ignored.

  Roald knew the timing of when the trap would spring. It would be a while yet before the Iisen forces surprised the Maqarans, long enough to where the Maqarans would be entirely in Iisen, sealed off, and unable to retreat back into their own land. But now, in the meantime, he and his two fellow soldiers would be well into Maqara and in the hands of the enemy before Iisen forces retook the pass and noticed they were not with the Maqaran column. Any m
inute, he and his two fellow guards would pass through the Maqaran gate and be lost.

  Roald, even with hands tied, fought back again and shouted, “I’m not going there! You can’t—”

  The Maqaran soldier leading him on reared back and kicked him in the chest so violently that he landed hard on his backside in the rocky path. The soldier stood over him and drew his sword, sticking the tip of it into Roald’s mouth, forcing him to hold deathly still for fear of what was to happen next.

  “No more of this simpering from your gullet, Iisenor! Or so help me, I’ll cut your tongue out now rather than later and fry it up in butter for my breakfast!” spat the Maqaran, his eyes flashing from under his light brown hair.

  Roald’s fellow guards stood by helplessly, held back by their own captors.

  In the dim morning light, the soldier pulled his sword from Roald’s mouth and pointed it directly at his throat instead. Roald could see the muscles tense in the Maqaran’s chest, like he was about to drive the sword home and be done. At the same moment, there was a whisper of black fur, as black as a moonless night, which sailed over him noiselessly, knocking the Maqaran to the ground.

  Roald regained himself and saw that a massive black panther had set upon his captor, its strong jaws ripping into the Maqaran’s shoulder, causing him to squeal in pain. With his good arm, the Maqaran flailed and tried to angle his sword to drive it home into the huge cat on top of him. With the speed of a flash of lightning, Aalehvan changed to human form on top of the invader, grabbed the sword from him and flung it away, then changed back to a panther in time to snap the neck of the Maqaran with his gleaming white fangs.