Rise of Dachwald (Boxed Set, Books 1 through 2)

by Lawlis, Daniel

  Finally, one of the senators stood up. His name was Alexinduhr. He cleared his voice as he prepared to speak: “I propose we send emissaries to the City of Sodorf, bring eyewitnesses with them, and demand that justice be done.”

  “I second that motion,” said another senator, eagerly standing and then quickly sitting.

  One senator after another rose to concur with Alexinduhr. Other senators added to the proposal, stating that, if it was Sodorfians that had caused this horrible damage, the Sodorfian government should have to pay immense reparations. Just when it seemed complete unanimity had been reached and the only logical action was sending emissaries, an old, nearly antique-looking man stood up to have his turn to speak. He was the oldest of the senators: 115 years old, to be precise. He could have been the grandfather of any of them. His name was Gullingsor, and if he were lying asleep next to a corpse, you probably wouldn’t notice a difference. He had long, snow-white hair, thin spectacles, and a large walking staff he used to help steady himself as he stood. Like a supporting beam keeping a fragile building from toppling right over and breaking into a million pieces.

  “Good senators,” he began, in an old, croaky voice one would expect from such an oldster, “it pleases me to still be here with my fellow countrymen at such an old age,” he said, chuckling lightly. “I have great respect for each and everyone of you, and I can see great wisdom in all of the suggestions that have been proffered thus far, and so I must preface the following by saying that I can see the reasoning behind each and every one of the points that have been made by all of you . . . but I must say I disagree. I will say why I disagree, and I will also say what I propose. I propose you simply let General Sivingdon cross the border.”

  Chaos broke out throughout the senate; several senators stood and shouted things like, “That’s outrageous!” and “NEVER!” The old man had lost all his marbles. He was an embarrassing piece of decoration with no real use. Or so they thought.

  “SILENCE!!!” King Duchenwald thundered. “Gullingsor will have his opportunity to speak. He is not only the oldest senator, he is also the most experienced; he will be heard without interruption! Gullingsor, please continue.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said, looking just as resolute as before in stating what he had to say. “Starting where I left off, I believe General Sivingdon should be allowed to cross the border. As many of you know, General Sivingdon isn’t a bloodthirsty man. He’s no warmonger. Why . . . many of you must remember the mercy he showed to the rebels several years ago after quelling that rebellion in the east. This is not a man eager to shed blood or to plunge our country into war. This is a man who wants to save our country from destruction. Now, keep in mind sending emissaries will take time. General Sivingdon says that the tracks will not be visible for much longer, due to heavy rainfall. By the time we send emissaries all the way to the City of Sodorf—assuming, they aren’t attacked or even killed along the way—and get permission to send Dachwaldian soldiers and trackers into Sodorf, there aren’t going to be any tracks left!

  “Then what will we have to depend on—the pity of the Sodorfians?! After all, we won’t have any proof of Sodorfian involvement at that point other than our word. They will be unlikely to believe us and will in no way be obligated to assist us. In the event that they were to do so, it would only be out of philanthropic goodwill. Do you all want to stake the lives of millions of Dachwaldians on Sodorfian philanthropy?! On the philanthropy of a people that, despite that fact they’re not at war with us as far as we know, trusts us as far as they can throw us?! They also have an agrarian economy and aren’t exactly going to be keen on living on rations to support a people they fought a vicious war against years ago, especially if they feel there’s no proof Sodorfians are to blame. Most likely, they won’t offer us any assistance! We’ll be lucky if our emissaries aren’t attacked in the City of Sodorf itself, so great is the suspicion that still exists between our two peoples!

  “Now, consider an alternative scenario: We decide to authorize Sivingdon to cross the border, which, yes, would be a violation of our treaty; I do not argue with that. If we send a messenger today to authorize Sivingdon to cross the border, he could find out just how far into Sodorf these tracks actually lead while there is still time. Senators, I am, as you know, a very, very old man; I probably don’t have much time left in this world. Something tells me this wasn’t the work of Sodorfians. Our great king earlier gave reasons for which we shouldn’t believe it was the Dachwaldians; he makes a strong argument. But there is even stronger evidence the Sodorfians wouldn’t want to do such a thing. All of our spy reports inform us Sodorf is experiencing peace and comfort. Their harvests have been rich and plentiful; they’ve suffered very few rebellions or attacks, and as a result they have drastically cut back not only the size of their military but also the quality thereof. These certainly aren’t the qualities of a nation itching for war. And although they must also know our military isn’t strong and that the sentiment in Dachwald is peaceful, they certainly know if they launched such a devastating attack on our economy and livelihood and we discovered they did it, our peaceful sentiment would be transformed into a desire for martial vengeance. Senators, daring though it may be, I strongly suspect that if we were to allow General Sivingdon to cross the border into Sodorf our trackers would quickly find these tracks circling back around and going either back into Dachwald or into some neighboring country. Perhaps the Seleganians to the east or the Metinvurs to the west either wish to wage war on us or force Sodorf and us into war with each other so we’ll destroy each other and let them pick up the pieces. Or, and I know that many of you might find this fantastical, perhaps this is the work of the Moscorians—”

  Pandemonium broke out. The senators shouted, “ABSURD! This is fantasy! He’s gone mad!” and many other derisive remarks. King Duchenwald shouted them down like a father dealing with unruly children and requested Gullingsor to continue.

  “As you know,” Gullingsor said, picking up where he left off, “no one knows exactly what happened to the Moscorians. Those of you who have studied history know that after the Seven Years War, the Moscorians quickly fell out of favor. Many people feared civil war would break out and the Moscorian elite would attempt a coup d’état and fight against the Vechengschaft. Mysteriously, and very contrary to their truculent nature, they simply vanished, no one knowing where exactly they went to, nor what happened to them. No one knew either what happened to Tristan, the almost mythical person purported to be a grandmaster of Glisphin and the leader of the Moscorians and the source of their ideology. Now, many of you may think such a person never existed, that he was simply a bit of Dachwaldian legend. But many of you also know that there are numerous surviving accounts of the Seven Years War reporting many amazing feats by the Moscorians: for example, fighting for days without rest, or sustaining wounds that would have killed the average person and yet resuming fighting within days without any apparent ill effects. Maybe these accounts are all fantasy, maybe not. But the fact remains most historians agree the sudden disappearance of the Moscorians was baffling and nonsensical. No historian has ever been able to come up with a convincing explanation as to their demise. Many of you are probably wondering why this old man is rambling on and on about legends, history, and folklore when we have a very pressing matter at hand. I am simply trying to make you consider all the options and to remember that things aren’t always what they seem. I propose that at the very least we authorize General Sivingdon to cross the border with certain limitations.

  “For example, to cross the border but not fight except in self-defense. If this indeed was the work of some outsider trying to instigate a conflict between us and Sodorf, probably a few miles into Sodorf, there will be evidence of this. Such a large group of people couldn’t march very far south into Sodorf without being detected themselves. No, they would march south for several miles and then change course, going back to their true homeland, hoping all the while we don’t have the courage to c
ross the border and find this out for ourselves. If it does turn out to be Sodorfians that did this and General Sivingdon and his men come across them and engage them in combat, then I don’t think there is a man here who would say he’d be acting unjustifiably. If General Sivingdon and his men cross the border and are confronted by Sodorfian soldiers, Sivingdon can present to them a letter signed by all of us stating immense agricultural damage has been incurred in Dachwald and appears to have been carried out by Sodorfians and that to rule the Sodorfians out as the perpetrators, we couldn’t waste any time in diplomatic wrangling and had to cross the border to find out who or what was responsible, lest the tracks be washed away by the rain and leave a horrible doubt as to who caused the damage. If the Sodorfians truly seek peace, then they will understand our position and, in a spirit of peace, assist us in hunting down those responsible. If, having heard our motives, and being given the opportunity to send their troops across our border to see the damage for themselves, they still seek to attack us, then it would be they who would be in the wrong, not we. For they would almost certainly do the same thing if the situation were reversed. That is all.”

  Gullingsor took his seat. An uneasy silence invaded the room and lasted for several minutes. The senators weighed the words they had heard and tried to assess their impact on their fellow senators. Even King Duchenwald was silent.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “How do you respond to these words?”

  Silence still.

  “Come, speak up.

  “Fine, I will speak. I must admit Gullingsor’s words powerfully argue for a completely different approach to this whole matter. Our initial response was affected more by a literal interpretation of an ancient treaty and how best to follow it. Gullingsor’s words, on the other hand, go far deeper. He asks us to not simply parrot what is written in an ancient treaty, but ask ourselves what is in Dachwald’s best interest under these extreme circumstances. Usually, we could deliberate for weeks—go home, think it over, take time to make sure we make the right decision. Unfortunately, time isn’t one of our present allies. We must vote now. Do we authorize General Sivingdon to enter Sodorf, or do we send emissaries? We’ll follow the decision of the majority.”

  He distributed tablets amongst the senators. Every senator’s vote was worth one vote; King Duchenwald’s, two; and, he would decide in the event of a tie. Twenty agonizing minutes of silence ensued while the senators weighed the pros and cons of each course of action. When they had all decided, they delivered their votes personally to King Duchenwald. Once the votes were all tallied, King Duchenwald read the results: eight votes for allowing General Sivingdon to cross the border, fourteen for sending emissaries. The senators eyed each other, wondering which way their counterparts had cast the die.

  “Well, rightly or wrongly, we’ve decided against allowing Sivingdon to cross. Now let us proceed swiftly and not lose any time.” King Duchenwald said.

  An uneasy round of applause ensued. Lifeless applause. Like the applause you give watching a rival receive an award that was rightfully yours. Even those who had voted against letting Sivingdon cross the border were starting to second-guess themselves. The decision was made.

  King Duchenwald left the room, as did the senators, and he handpicked two emissaries to go to the City of Sodorf. Their names were Sifindel and Lixen. Both spoke Sodorfian fluently and were knowledgeable of Sodorfian customs. Ten of the king’s best bodyguards were also chosen to protect the two emissaries on their journey. Three of the bodyguards wore a sword as their main weapon, both long swords, weighing about forty pounds each and measuring five feet in length. Two carried longbows; three carried crossbows; another, a large halberd; and the tenth, a long flail.

  This flail was a terrifying weapon. The steel pole to which one end of the chain was attached was about three feet long, and the other end of the chain was attached to a steel ball about ten inches in diameter. Fifteen razor-sharp spikes protruded from it, some straight outward, others at an angle. The spikes protruding straight would hit their target more or less head-on. The curved spikes would tear and cut through flesh. And they had the additional benefit of being able to hook an opponent’s armor, drag him to the ground, and take him on a nice, long ride. They could also be used to hook an opponent’s weapon and yank it from his grasp, leaving him as defenseless as a woman in a dark alley.

  All the bodyguards were heavily armored, but their horses were lightly armored because speed was essential. The horses they and the emissaries would be riding were anything but ordinary. They were spider horses.

  Many, many centuries ago, a man who was both a horse-breeding expert and a dabbler in magic figured out a way, using a secret combination of magical herbs and breeding, to produce horses with an extra pair of legs in the front and in the back, as well as razor-sharp teeth. Although the secrets for creating these horses were long lost, there were still a small number of them because Dachwaldian kings had continued breeding them with one other. Only the king could own one of these horses, but in the event of war or emergency sometimes generals or emissaries were allowed to borrow them. Dachwaldian kings had long dreaded the idea of their enemies getting a hold of these horses and breeding their own.

  Fortunately for the Dachwaldian kings, there was a special recipe of oats—which the Dachwaldian kings guarded very closely—these horses had to eat, without which they would turn incredibly vicious, attack everyone and everything in sight, and then die within weeks. It was for this reason that over the centuries, although occasionally spider horses were captured by other nations, they weren’t able to hang on to them. The horses turned on their new owners, who were utterly ignorant of the special oats they required, and devoured them with their sharp teeth or pulverized them with their powerful, sharp-hoofed legs.

  The party got onto their spider horses—two large bags of special oats inside each saddlebag—and headed towards General Sivingdon. The saddle used was very different. There was a large, extra piece of leather brought tightly over the rider’s legs to prevent him from falling off. Another piece of leather covered nearly all of the rider’s back, and it was tied around the front of the horse’s neck and trunk. This was to keep the rider from flying off when the horse galloped. Also, shock-absorbent leather helped the rider not to injure his back when he was thrust backwards. Anybody attempting to ride one without this special equipment would either have to be a master horseman or have a death wish.

  The horses took off like an arrow shot out of a longbow, the harnesses straining against the riders’ backward momentum.

  During their ride, they passed Efenktor, whose horse was traveling at top speed, and he was astonished to see the party gallop past him as if he were standing still. He had a head start of at least several hours, and now, less than two hours after these men on their spider horses had taken off from Castle Dachwald, they had already passed him.

  The senate sure didn’t take too long to make up its mind, Efenktor thought to himself, watching the spider horses grow smaller and smaller off in the distance. Did the king and senate decide to give General Sivingdon permission to cross the border? As he wondered about this, he urged his horse to go faster.

  Chapter 17

  Sivingdon was impatient. Three days had passed now, and it could be another day or two before he heard back from Efenktor. Rain had been pouring down incessantly for the last several days, and although Efenktor was a phenomenal tracker, he was growing doubtful even Efenktor would be able to follow the tracks. When the tracks had first been discovered, even he could see them, although not without some difficulty. He had gained some tracking experience in the lower ranks of the Vechengschaft, and although his tracking skills were not masterful, they were respectable. At this point, he couldn’t see any tracks at all, but was still holding out hope Efenktor or some of his other expert trackers might, but time was running out quickly.

  “Kasani!” he yelled, cursing angrily at the long delay in action. He was tempted to simply send Singdor or one of
his other trackers across the border, even though he would probably be court-martialed. Then, just as his anger and frustration were nearing their boiling point, he heard horses. They were far off, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of hooves striking the ground like the low roll of a drum.

  His hopes soared.

  (perhaps it’s Efenktor hightailing it back to give me permission from King Duchenwald and the senate to cross the border and find out where these damn tracks lead!)

  He grabbed a telescope and looked.

  Nothing.

  He waited a few minutes, and when he looked through it again, he could see the blurry outlines of approaching horsemen. As he continued watching, these blurry figures started to become sharper, and, about two minutes later they grew faces. There were twelve men, and he recognized all of them.

  “Sifindel, Lixen, and ten of the royal bodyguards—what do they want?!” he asked himself out loud.

  He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he didn’t like it. Where was Efenktor? He had sent Efenktor to inquire on this matter and report back. He noticed they were all riding spider horses.

  (perhaps they simply traveled faster than him and he’ll be arriving shortly after)

  He got on his horse and rode out to meet them.

  “Greetings, Lixen and Sifindel; I assume you have news for me.”

  “Greetings, General Sivingdon,” Lixen responded, bowing. “We do indeed.”

  He handed General Sivingdon a scroll with the king’s seal on it. Sivingdon read the message.

  Fury enveloped him.

  “This is an outrage!” he said, purple veins emerging from his neck like large vines on a tree.

  “Doesn’t the king realize that within one day these tracks will not be traceable?! It’ll take you days to even reach the City of Sodorf, and there could be weeks of diplomatic wrangling before they even consider giving you permission! Then, there will be no tracks to follow, and our country will be at the mercy of the Sodorfians’ charity!” he exclaimed bitterly.