The Gully Snipe (The Dual World Book 1)

by JF Smith

  The grin on Jahnstlerr’s face was chilling. “My life will be ended by this time tomorrow no matter what I do. I have nothing to lose by speaking my mind.”

  Gully turned back, refusing to be baited by a condemned man. veBasstrolle, coward that he was, resumed his open sobbing and never lifted his eyes off the carpeting.

  Jahnstlerr stole another glance at Roald and snorted, “And I see my uniform now hanging off an ignorant boy! This is what is to run and control the Kingdom Guard? You accuse me of undermining the security of this realm? That one probably needs help understanding how to buckle his boots each morning!”

  Gully glanced at Roald, saw the doubt and embarrassment in his eyes, and the anger flared within him uncontrollably. He refused to allow this man to run roughshod as if he were in charge of the proceedings. He wheeled around, and before anyone could really decipher what was happening, Gully had knelt down and pulled his throwing knife from the leather sheath he had had sewn into his father’s boot. In a flash, Gully flung the knife where it buried itself in the old Lord Marshal’s shoulder, all the way to the hilt. The force of the strike knocked the Lord Marshal almost onto his back and he screamed in agony from the buried knife blade.

  Gully stormed back down the dais, followed closely by Gallun and Gellen. He put one boot on Jahnstlerr’s chest and pulled his knife free while the man still screamed like a wounded pig. He wiped his blade clean on the prisoner’s blood-stained tunic, the same that he had been wearing when arrested in the middle of the night, and then replaced the knife in his boot.

  veBasstrolle had completely prostrated himself on the ground, and trembled horribly in fear. Chelders’ sons and the corrupt guards in chains and irons behind their old leader tried to push back, away from the scene, but were forced to stay put by the men that had once been their fellow swordsmen. There were shocked shouts and gasps from others watching the operation of the court, the first true one in over twenty years.

  Jahnstlerr’s screams of pain finally died down and he held the wound with his good arm, his blood seeping between his fingers and down his arm and chest. Jahnstlerr panted and said, “That’s poor aim for such a short distance. Highness.” The man may have been wounded, but his words still had not lost their sneering insolence.

  Gully’s mind told him he should not lower himself to care what Jahnstlerr thought, and for the most part, he didn’t. However, another part of him decided there was a good, calculated reason it might be useful to accept the old Lord Marshal’s challenge.

  “Dunnhem,” called Gully.

  “Sire!” barked the guard.

  “Do you trust me?” asked Gully. “You have my permission to be fully honest. Do not turn your head to spit, Dunnhem,” he demanded, throwing in the old Iisen admonishment to be brutally candid.

  To his credit, Dunnhem did not hesitate in the slightest. “Absolutely, Your Majesty!” he barked.

  “Take his arm and force his hand into the air, holding it steady. If the disgraced Lord Marshal demands a better example of my skill, then I shall oblige him.”

  Dunnhem immediately wrapped himself around the man’s arm, immobilizing it, and forced his hand into the air. Gully climbed up the steps of the dais in the meantime. He glanced over at Roald, who had a hint of a knowing smirk on his face, which made Gully feel better. Hopeful, even.

  Gully did not stop at the top of the dais, though. He continued down the backside, such that his direct line of sight to the target was a very difficult one.

  Dunnhem, seeing where the king had placed himself, and with a voice far less sure than the previous time, called out, “Highness, he refuses to open his hand. He keeps his fist balled!”

  Gully took the knife from his boot again and tossed it into the air a few times with a casual skill. He pushed the mantle farther back off of his throwing shoulder so that it would not interfere.

  “That is of no consequence, Dunnhem. Hold his arm steady, please!”

  Dunnhem forced Jahnstlerr’s arm into the air and wrapped his own arms around it tightly to hold it steady, bringing himself within barely a finger-length of the raised fist. Jahnstlerr grunted and huffed as he wrestled to fight Dunnhem off, but Dunnhem had strength and leverage on his side. The entire court held its breath together once again. Gallun and Gellen made no effort to give broader clearance to the path of the knife throw since they knew Gully’s skill well and had no fear, and they both watched with a bloodthirsty gleam in their eyes.

  Gully turned. For all of about one or two seconds, he studied the target over the rise of the dais in front of him, where he could only barely see the clenched fist held tight up against Dunnhem. Gully could land the knife in the neck of a wild piglet from a greater distance than this, and do so with vines and bushes in the way, so he did not need to study the target long. A moment’s glance was all it took to understand the pattern of how Jahnstlerr fought with Dunnhem as he tried futilely to pull his arm away.

  He whipped his hand back and threw the knife with a clear eye and precise power. It arced over the dais and landed, but not in the fist where Jahnstlerr was expecting it and was holding his hand tightly closed to deflect and soften the landing of the blade. It landed instead, in the soft and exposed wrist just below the fist, exactly where Gully intended it.

  Jahnstlerr screamed in agony again and ropes of blood spurted out from the severed veins in his wrist. The knife stuck all the way out the back of his wrist as blood poured out. The court erupted into shouts and murmurs at the gory scene.

  Gully barely paid attention to the man’s wailing and walked casually around to the front of the dais. He did feel guilty when he got to the other side and saw how white in the face poor Dunnhem had turned, white except for the splatters of blood. The swordsman still held on tight to the arm with the almost-severed hand sitting atop it. Gully swore to himself he would apologize later to Dunnhem in person for his arrogant little display, and then promise never to do that to him again.

  “Dunnhem... Dunnhem...” called Gully, trying to pull the swordsman out of his shock. “Dunnhem, if you would be so kind, remove my knife, wipe it, and return it to me, please.”

  Dunnhem finally shook himself out of it, nodded shakily, and jerked the knife from Jahnstlerr’s wrist, causing a fresh wail of pain. He let the prisoner fall over onto his side, clutching at his spurting and ruined hand. Dunnhem wiped the blade off the same way Gully had earlier and then stood to give it back to the king with a bow.

  Gully stooped down to replace his knife in his boot. He couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied at putting the fatuous bastard into his place, and Jahnstlerr’s mouth seemed to be silenced once and for all. His only regret was that it was not Krayell Delavoor writhing on the floor in agony instead.

  All around, the spectators gathered in the court were buzzing in conversations that skirted between the hushed and the unbridled at the shocking scene that had played out before them.

  Gully waved impatiently at veBasstrolle and told the young guard next to him, “Sit him up, please.”

  The guard gulped and paled visibly, obviously wondering if it was his turn to hold veBasstrolle’s arm up, but he grabbed Lord veBasstrolle by the neck and hauled him back into a kneeling position as instructed. Only then did the miserable Lord veBasstrolle finally look at Gully, hot tears streaming down his blubbering and red-blotched face.

  His moment of grim satisfaction passed, Gully wanted so much to be furious and vindictive at these men, a storm of righteous death to pour over these people that had caused so much pain and misery for so many. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. All he felt was sadness.

  Chelders begged, his words so lost in his sobs and cries that they were mostly unintelligible moans, “Please, Highness! Do not... the knife... beg...”

  Gully ignored him and sat down heavily on the bottom few steps of the dais while the lord continued to plead and pule wetly. He finally interrupted and said to Chelders, “I doubt if you would remember it, but we met in the street one day. Well, more
properly, you were in your fine carriage and I was in the street. You called me a ‘two-legged donkey’ that day. A ‘knockered fool’ also, if my memory does not fail me.”

  veBasstrolle began shaking and crying even more hysterically. “Please... Highness! I beg... I beg you! It was all Krayell that lured me into... I had no idea... This was all his—”

  Gully felt empty inside that these were the men who had secretly terrorized the kingdom for so long. He said quietly, “Shhh....”

  veBasstrolle stopped talking. From his throat gurgled a noise, something between a miserable groan and a cry of fear.

  “I do not hold a grudge about those names and slights, Lord veBasstrolle, and they are easy enough to ignore,” said Gully, still sitting on the carpeted steps of the dais. He could sense Gallun and Gellen standing immediately behind him. His voice turned softer and more reflective. “What saddens me is how they are a symptom of a greater ill, and that illness is a deeper problem for me than your specific crimes, I think. The fundamental attitude you wield, that people are things to be used and disposed of at your convenience, that you see yourself as constitutionally set apart from them by birthright... that is what truly saddens me. I wish that I could say that such an attitude is limited to you, but it is not.”

  Gully realized how truly he had spoken what was in his heart when he had chosen to simply let his words flow unrestricted. It was a relief to give his concerns a tangible form, but those same words also haunted him even more as a result.

  He fell silent for a few moments, lost in his thoughts as he considered the true problem he faced. When he realized the number of eyes anxiously anticipating what he would do next, he took a deep breath and resolved to fix the problem in front of him, if not the greater problem of which it was a symptom.

  Gully stood and strode back up to his throne and resumed his seat there, Gallun and Gellen falling into place on either side.

  “Perhaps you are not aware of what was really happening, though. Are you aware that Krayell betrayed the two of you?” he said, gesturing to veBasstrolle and Jahnstlerr. “All of you, in fact. Everything he had arranged was intended to leave a clear and undefended path between Maqara and Lohrdanwuld so that our land could be seized by an invading army and everyone, you included, would be thrown into slavery, while he alone was rewarded by the Maqarans.”

  Gully watched veBasstrolle’s and Jahnstlerr’s reactions carefully. He leaned back and said, “I see that you were not aware of this. He betrayed you every bit as much as he betrayed this kingdom. The only difference is that the Iisendom is saved from this fate... while you are not.”

  Gully stopped addressing the prisoners directly and instead said aloud to all gathered, “I know what sentence is expected here. But I think that it would be very instructive for these men to experience what they put so many others through, and to experience for themselves existence at the lowest end of society’s scales. These men will become the very people whom they hold in such contempt.”

  “Cut out their tongues and dump them at the Maqaran gate as slaves for King Azi, with my compliments,” said Gully with a grim finality. He wanted to feel satisfaction with this punishment, that this was justice, but nothing he could do would ever equal the terrible nature of their crimes.

  veBasstrolle began screaming in agony and Dunnhem almost had to knock him out with the flat of his sword to silence him.

  “If any of you, by some miracle, find yourself back on Iisen soil for any reason and at any time, you are to be put to death immediately,” proclaimed the king.

  “And Chelders...” said Gully, trying to get veBasstrolle’s attention. veBasstrolle was too busy sobbing to listen, his hands covering his ears as he tried to deny his fate as a child would a scolding.

  “Chelders!” roared Gully, finally getting the man to pay attention.

  “You make a sickening mockery of the term ‘nobleman.’ In addition to your punishment, your land is forfeit. Your home and wealth are all forfeit. Your family’s noble status is forfeit. Your constellation is forfeit. From this moment on, there is no longer a Watch Tower constellation in the night sky, Chelders.”

  veBasstrolle, now reduced to Chelders Basstrolle after being stripped of his noble status, had fallen onto his side on the floor and no longer even cried out. His breath was coming in hitches and wheezes, driven by sheer panic and fear. Gully sincerely hoped he and Jahnstlerr did not die before they could be handed over to Maqara as slaves.

  It was done. Gully took a deep breath and sat silently in his seat, his mind drifting. Would this balance the scales of justice enough? He felt impotent, that he could not ever fully balance their punishment against their crimes, but did this even come close? It was the most he could do, and it still felt like it was woefully inadequate.

  And the worst one, Krayell, the murderer many times over, was still free, running for his life somewhere. Gully knew how very resourceful the man must be to have evaded capture this long. Worse, by now he had probably found someone he could bribe to get him into Maqara safely, even with Roald’s attempts to foil that escape route for him. Gully wondered, for only a brief moment, if he should threaten to invade Maqara if they did not hand Krayell over to face justice. Part of him would have paid any price to bring Krayell to his knees in the hall where he sat, so he could be insufficiently punished like the miserable lot in front of him. But there was a limit to what Gully would do, how many lives he would sacrifice, for something like that. He wasn’t sure his heart could stand much more than the good men that had already died protecting Iisen from Krayell’s traitorousness. The cost was always so high, and the outcome so unsure... it wanted to paralyze him.

  He looked up and saw too many eyes awaiting his next move.

  Gully called Chancellor Barolloy over to the throne, who approached nervously after the scene that had just played out. Prior to holding his first royal court as king, Gully had been nervous. Now he felt small again and didn’t want to face any more of this. He could not stand all of these people looking at him.

  Gully asked him, “Barolloy, is there anything else I need to do to make these punishments official for these criminals?”

  “N... No, Highness,” said the Chancellor, wiping at his brow again. “You have spoken and that is all that is needed.”

  “Is there any other critical business which cannot wait? I think this has been enough for one day.”

  “No, Your Majesty. I quite agree with you!” said the Chancellor, with a relieved bow.

  Chapter 35 — A Dissatisfied Court

  With his dismissal of the court spoken aloud, Gully stood to leave, and motioned for Roald to follow him. They walked out of the Throne Hall and onto the Folly grounds because Gully had grown anxious to be outside. He wished he could go out into the city, to disappear into it the way he preferred, but mentioning that idea to people around him seemed only to upset and worry them and make them give him a hundred reasons why he could not.

  They began to walk together, and Gully could feel Roald’s stiff gait next to him, although he wasn’t sure if it was because of himself, or because of the Lord Marshal’s uniform he now wore. He tried to think of the best way to reassure Roald that Jahnstlerr, earlier, was trying to provoke all of them to anger and that Roald already was a fine Lord Marshal.

  Before he had settled on a preferred way to broach the subject, though, Roald spoke first. “Your Majesty chose an interesting day to boast your skills with a knife.”

  The comment took Gully by surprise, but in a good way. It almost felt like the old Roald was back.

  Gully chuckled and said, “Ah, well, word will spread and others will consider carefully before daring me again, yes? At least I hope. And must you call me ‘majesty’ and all that foolish fuffery when it’s just us?”

  Roald’s stiff expression faltered for a moment, but then it resumed, and he said, “It would be improper and disrespectful to address you any other way.”

  Gully was about to argue when the Archbishop appr
oached them and asked to have a private word.

  The king looked at Roald helplessly, wishing he could continue the conversation, but Roald had already bowed and turned off in the other direction. Gully wondered if he would ever get his brother back.

  The Archbishop and Gully wandered slowly over towards where some people were watching a squad of the Kingdom Guard archers, who were practicing with targets a distance away. The Archbishop came to his point quickly.

  “Sire, I cannot agree more with the punishment you meted out today,” said Nellist.

  Gully said nothing, but raised an eyebrow because he expected a point of contention to follow, and he was not disappointed.

  “However, with respect to Chelders, you cannot change the night sky, Your Highness. You cannot dictate to our holy stars where they are to settle or how they may behave. It is not the prerogative of man, any man, including the king, to presume to be able to do so, Your Highness.”

  “I do not attempt to do so,” said Gully. “What the stars do or do not do amongst themselves is not my concern. But if Basstrolle’s ancestors in the night sky sat idly by and watched indifferently as he committed these heinous acts, then shame upon them! If that is the sort that is rewarded with a seat in the sky, then I want no part of it!”

  “What I can do,” continued Gully, before the Archbishop could interrupt him, “is ensure that the men of this world, you and myself and all others, never again refer to that section of the sky as the Watch Tower constellation, and honor the Basstrolle family by doing so. Let other families, more worthy of it, claim it as their own.”

  “It is a dangerous step, Your Highness, and precariously close to trying to exert royal control over something that is inarguably out of a monarch’s reach,” said Nellist.

  “I understand, Archbishop,” said Gully sincerely. He was not trying to pick a fight with the Archbishop, but neither was he going to allow a disgraced family to continue to claim exclusive dominion over a portion of the sky as a sign of status and prestige they did not deserve. “I respect the distinction you lay out and give you my word I will not overstep the boundary between rewarding the honor of noble families with an identified constellation in the sky versus dictating to our ancestors within those same constellations.”