The Gully Snipe (The Dual World Book 1) (42 page)

Thaybrill took him through a side door into the great Dining Hall. Gully had not been here before, and it was more impressive than what he had seen on previous times. The long, polished table could comfortably seat more than thirty people, he guessed, each person in a chair cushioned in violet velvet and with a back as tall as a standing person. The three chandeliers overhead each must have held thirty candles each and torches, too. The stone vaults forming the roof overhead soared up high enough for a starling to feel comfortable flying about inside, and gave the room a cavernous feel.

Thaybrill pulled at Gully and led him to the far end of the Dining Hall, then back through the kitchen area, which Gully guessed had to be the size of three or four large inns in total. There was a discrete doorway built into a back wall that allowed access through the storeroom and into the tower of the royal solar itself.

Thaybrill led them up a servant stair for several steep flights until they stepped out into a broad hallway. There were large candles lit along the hall, illuminating tapestries of hunting trips, the Trine Range, and people that Gully did not know.

Thaybrill opened a door and Gully followed him into a massive room, many times the size of Roald’s apartment. But this room served only one small purpose. It was Thaybrill’s sleeping chamber. The elaborate bed, carved of dark wood, and hung with heavy embroidered drapes, was the largest Gully had ever seen. Near the bed was a huge fireplace, so large a man could stand in it and not have to duck his head down. There was a comfortable reading couch nearby and shelves filled with more bound parchments and books than Gully knew existed.

Thaybrill began to speak, but Gully interrupted him, “So this is how a king lives? It is beyond my imagination!”

Gully’s comment caused Thaybrill to pause, and then he smiled wryly. “Your cabin is more of a home than any luxury this castle has ever provided, Bayle. Do not forget what makes a place a home.”

Gully nodded, realizing that he did in fact agree with the prince.

“I wish that I had met your father before,” said the prince. “He sounds to me like a very good man. Perhaps one day I will have that honor, if the stars will it.”

He crossed the room to a cabinet and chose a sword from it — a short, but easily wielded one. Thaybrill added as he checked it, “Besides, these are just
my
rooms. The king’s quarters are above mine, and are much more exquisite. They’ve been unused for twenty years now, since I was born and my mother died giving birth to me. They’ve been prepared and readied, but I was not to take them as my own until the crown was on my head.”

Thaybrill led Gully out and down a different, grander set of steps than the ones they climbed to get to his rooms. He threaded confidently through a confusing set of passageways and stairs, and Gully caught a brief glimpse of yet another grand hall that he had not seen before, one much larger than even the great Dining Hall had been. They exited through a door and Gully found himself at one end of the Courtyard of the Empyrean, which he had visited on one of his previous excursions into the Folly.

They started to cross to the far end, towards the chapel, when Thaybrill felt at his belt and cursed under his breath once. “I forgot to retrieve my dagger, and I really feel I should have it,” he whispered in Gully’s ear. “Wait here, Bayle, in case Mariealle arrives with the Archbishop. I shall be only a moment in retrieving it.”

Before Gully could readily protest, Thaybrill had disappeared. Gully stepped over to the procession of arches in the covered arcade that formed the outer edge of the courtyard. He stopped at the knee-high wall along the outer edge, lowered the hood of his chaperon, and peered over into the inky blackness of the ravine below. In the darkness, he could not see the bottom of it, but knew it to be quite deep. He leaned against one of the elaborate spiraling columns supporting an arch and glanced back across the courtyard itself, and the remaining torches gave enough light to where he could see reasonably well. The perfectly cut and set stones that paved the courtyard were engraved with the stars and constellations of the night sky, spreading out from one end to the far. The more prominent stars, and especially the stars of the Trine Range constellation, were gilded in pure gold. It struck Gully as quite an extravagance to have pure gold underfoot, serving no other purpose than decoration to be trod upon.

Not far away, the massive armillary sphere stood silently, gilded even more decadently than the stars set into the stone floor. Gully wondered for a moment if Thaybrill even noticed these things.

“Well, well!” came a sudden, snarling voice to Gully’s ears. “I knew you wouldn’t stay away forever, boy!”

Gully had not even looked up before he already had taken the throwing knife from his belt and gripped it at the ready to throw at the source of the taunt.

When he looked at the far end of the arcade, and saw to whom the voice belonged, Gully’s heart rose into his throat. There stood a tall man with a wiry constitution and hair of ashen white, holding Mariealle captive before him. He had one hand across Mariealle’s mouth to keep her quiet and his other hand held a sharp blade to her throat. Even in the distance, Gully could see a drop of crimson red where the knife already had dug into her beautiful skin.

Gully slowly stepped closer, growling angrily under his breath at this man, and would have already thrown his knife and killed whoever he was, except the man was clever enough to use Mariealle to great advantage as a shield.

“I was expecting you back soon, Thaybrill, after my men returned and said you had managed to wiggle free.” said the sinister man. “You look terrible, by the way... much the worse for your ordeal. The ragged, short cut of your hair does you no favors!”

Mariealle struggled a little, and the man tightened his grip on her until she stopped. He continued, “I’m impressed that you managed to slip past my men that have been watching the edge of the forest for days now, and even those on the front gate tonight, but it does not matter. As expected, I knew the one person you would go running to if you managed to get back would be that fool of an old man, the Archbishop. So I’ve been waiting to see you. It’s rather amusing the only person you could rally to your side is the daughter of a merchant! As if she could do something of value!”

Gully continued to stalk closer and closer, not saying a word, focused solely on how to end the life of this man, whom he now assumed to be the wicked Domo Regent in person.

And what in the blazing lights of the night sky is he talking about?
wondered Gully.
Why does he so easily confuse me with the prince, whom he knows so well?

One step closer and the Domo Regent took a step back, dragging Mariealle with him. “No, no, Highness! No closer now, or your pretty girlfriend will bleed out all over the courtyard! Stay back now!”

Mariealle was as white as a sheet and whimpered as the dagger dug into her throat again.

“Drop the toy blade you carry, prince! It serves no useful purpose!” demanded the Domo.

Gully was so focused on what to do to free Mariealle that he barely noticed the look of confusion that unexpectedly crossed the Domo’s face.

It did not register until he felt a presence and glanced over to see Thaybrill standing next to him with his hood down and sword drawn and at the ready.

The Domo Regent shook his head, glancing between the two men facing him, and then turned even whiter than Mariealle already was. Whiter even than his own hair. As white as a man confronted by a walking ghost. He took an unsteady step back, dragging Mariealle with him.

“No, no!” murmured Krayell in shock, “It cannot be! I had you killed myself! That night, so many years ago! How can you possibly be standing there unless as a phantom?”

Gully glanced at Thaybrill, who looked as confused and unsure as he himself felt. Gully, though, had no time for irrelevant, nonsensical riddles and cared about only one thing. He shouted, no longer caring who might hear or see, “Release her, damn you! Your game is over, Domo Regent! The Lord Marshal is being arrested as we speak! veBasstrolle will be arrested before first light! And troops will be in place to repel the Maqarans before they even set foot on Iisen soil! Release Mariealle and the prince might go easier on you!”

Gully wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the Domo Regent looked even more confused for a moment. It lasted for but a fraction of a second, though, because Mariealle chose that moment to kick back into the Domo Regent’s knee and pull away from him, causing the Domo to scream in agony.

Mariealle stepped away from the Domo, and Gully was ready for her to run to them, but she stopped. She held her hand up to her throat for a moment, then pulled it away. Her hand was washed in bright red blood, dripping with it, where her throat had been cut as she had pulled away from the Domo’s clutches.

Mariealle looked at her hand in confusion, then over at Gully, as if she did not understand what had happened. She opened her mouth and tried to speak a word to him, but no sound came forth.

Gully screamed, “Noooo!” as he watched the crimson fire inside of her leak from her neck.

The Domo Regent recovered quickly enough, and seeing the girl still standing there, he kicked at her with all his might, sending her tripping over the low outer wall of the arcade. Gully watched in horror, his heart completely stopped, as she teetered for a moment on the top of the balustrade wall, and then fell over into the deep ravine on the other side, her dark cloak blowing around her as she went over.

Before Thaybrill or Gully could react, the Domo Regent fled.

Gully ran to the edge of the arcade where she had fallen, his heart still, breath held, and his eyesight threatening to dissolve into blackness. But there, on the wall, clinging to it was one porcelain hand.

“Help, Thaybrill, she clings here!” he yelled, but Thaybrill was already at his side.

Gully grabbed at Mariealle’s one hand that was free, trying to pull it from flailing about so he could lift her up. Just as he barely managed to connect the fingers of her free hand with his own, her grasp on the wall failed. The sudden weight almost pulled Gully over with her, but he flattened himself on the top of the wall and held tight to her, pouring every ounce of strength he had into the few fingers that kept her from falling.

Thaybrill struggled to get close enough to grasp Mariealle’s other hand, which waved helplessly out in space over the coal-black emptiness beneath her.

Gully fought valiantly to anchor himself so that he could free his other arm to better grip her without being dragged over the wall. The hand of Mariealle’s that he held, though, was covered in her own blood, making it slippery. He groaned in agony with the effort of trying to support her entire weight with no more than a few fingers.

It was only a moment later that he felt her hand slip from his own, and she fell. Gully watched as the one and only time their hands had ever touched ended, and the depth of night swallowed his love whole, without a single sound.

Gully’s mouth opened, but nothing came out of it. His eyes saw nothing but the empty night where the most beautiful thing he had ever seen had fallen. His body began to climb over the wall, with no conscious effort directing him, to scale down into the chasm to go after Mariealle, to bring her back.

He had a vague sensation of hands pulling at him, pulling him away from the knee-wall, and yelling in his ear that sounded like it was shouted from a great distance. “NO! You cannot, Bayle! The wall is not scalable!

He fell back onto the stone of the courtyard, eyes staring unblinkingly. All he saw were the lifeless, colored points of light in the sky staring back down at him. He realized that the prince lay next to him, panting from effort.

“I’m... sorry, Bayle. She is… she is gone. She could... not survive such a fall... and neither would you!” said Thaybrill between pants.

Gully’s vision began to fog and blur, and he let go. Sounds drifted into the distance, and his sight became no more than rough shapes and muted color. The only thing he could see clearly was his hand. It was the same hand that had held hers. The same one covered in her blood.

He stared at this hand and time passed. He became dimly aware of people and voices, but nothing that resolved to something firm enough for him to comprehend. He felt arms around him, lifting him, urging him to stand, and so he did. He had the sensation of being led somewhere, but he couldn’t see where or judge how far away he walked. At some point, he realized that he was sitting, a soft blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had the impression that there were many candles lit around him, their light dancing and waving quietly. He tried to focus on the candles, but all his mind would allow was for him to see the last trace of Mariealle’s soft curls of hair disappearing into the dark abyss. The last ember of her beautiful hair dying to blackness.

Someone held something to his mouth, and a voice urged him to drink. Some sort of liquid slipped past his lips and into his throat, burning sharply, and finally bringing him out of his shocked state. His eyes fell down to his hand again, and saw the blood still there upon it.

“Bayle!” a voice snapped sternly. “You must listen!”

“Krayell!” yelled Gully with such ferocity that it caused Thaybrill and an old, balding man to jump back. “Did you catch that filthy son of a two-legged pig?! Is he dead?!” he screamed.

Gully noticed that the guard, Dunnhem, had appeared at some point and was standing nearby with two other swordsmen whom he did not recognize.

Thaybrill replied, “No, Bayle. We did not. He will not enjoy freedom for long, though. He is now a wanted man; alive or dead is of no matter, and I will not be choosy. The Lord Marshal is in irons and the traitor guards watching for me at the barbican gate have joined him as fellow prisoners.”

Dunnhem added, “Once we nicked one of the swordsmen that was in on it, it took nothing for the names of the others to start spilling out like ale from a drunkard’s mug. It is not many, thankfully, and they cannot hide from us.”