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

by Lawlis, Daniel

  He heard footsteps coming.

  “Open the gate, Sergeant,” General Sivingdon said as he approached.

  “Yes, General,” Ivingerd responded, and he promptly opened up the gate. He wondered who were the men with the general were. They were wearing Dachwaldian armor but were larger than any men he had ever seen, and not just since the famine had gotten in full swing either, but in his entire life.

  Sergent Ivingerd had about fifty men with him ready to fight off anyone trying to break through the gate. They also didn’t recognize these men, but seeing they were with General Sivingdon, they figured they must just be some higher-ups they had never seen before. They thought it strange that General Sivingdon wasn’t wearing his armor. He always wore it. But they recognized him nonetheless and didn’t dare question him.

  After passing through the gate, they walked down the hundred-foot corridor to the last gate, which led directly to the heart of the castle. There were another dozen or so guards there, but seeing General Sivingdon and that the men accompanying him were wearing Vechengschaft armor they let them pass without incident. Although it was true something about the picture seemed just a little strange, they figured the danger in daring to question a superior officer was far graver than keeping their mouths shut and ignoring their suspicions about the large, fierce-looking soldiers accompanying him.

  They were now inside the castle itself.

  They had to be careful because of the many sentries and guards on patrol. If they suspected anything, they just might unleash a hail of arrows first and ask questions later.

  It could have been a real nightmare getting inside the royal palace without being immediately attacked by several dozen bodyguards. They already knew General Sivingdon had been stripped of his command and ordered to stand trial for high treason, whereas the rest of the country was to find out the next morning. This was where Tristan came into play. He had had one of his pholungs, Istus, fly silently through one of the palace windows and deposit a large loaf of bread onto one of the tables. The guards, being large men with voracious appetites, simply couldn’t resist eating the sweet-smelling bread. They would have been better off if they had exercised self-restraint, however, because the bread was poisonous, and within thirty minutes they were as dead as a mouse struck by a rattlesnake.

  This left King Duchenwald all alone.

  While Feiklen and the rest stayed at the base of the stairs and kept watch, Sivingdon proceeded to go up the stairs, carrying a large knife in his hand.

  The lava that had been temporarily resting was now starting to flow upwards again. Soon it was going to erupt. He went up the numerous flights of stairs before finally reaching the top. Then, he proceeded to walk down the hallway to King Duchenwald’s room.

  As he got nearer and nearer, images and words from their last conversation were flashing through his mind at a hundred miles per hour.

  (Stood for. That system is for times of peace; this is clearly a national emergency and will be treated as such.)

  The king’s room was now closer.

  (You have mere seconds to turn over your sword and armor, or I will have twenty of my fiercest royal bodyguards subdue and imprison you!!)

  Closer.

  (You will be judged based upon their written confessions. You will not be permitted to cross-examine them or see them.)

  Closer.

  (If you are found guilty . . . well, you will be executed.)

  (It will be a public trial and will be held in the town square at noon.)

  Inside the room.

  (Do you DARE defy me? Do you DARE defy me?! Do you DARE—)

  “YESSSS!!!” Sivingdon couldn’t help but scream. King Duchenwald’s eyes opened. He looked like a mouse that has just realized a black mamba has decided to come pay it a surprise late-night visit.

  Sivingdon’s armored, gloved hand went down over King Duchenwald’s mouth like an airtight seal over a leak. He brought his sword down hard into King Duchenwald’s stomach.

  And again.

  And again.

  “How were you gonna do it?” Another stab.

  “Death by archers?” Another stab. “The gallows perhaps?” Another stab.

  “I know . . . maybe you were going to drawwww—

  (Sivingdon twisted, pulled, and dragged the knife throughout King Duchenwald’s stomach)

  —and quaaaaarter me!”

  It was a good thing Sivingdon’s hand was armored because King Duchenwald was thrashing around like a fish on dry land, biting, gasping, doing anything he could to free himself from this angel of death that had descended upon him.

  “I deserved BETTER!!” Sivingdon said, and then he slowly cut King Duchenwald’s throat from ear to ear. A geyser of blood erupted, soaking Sivingdon’s face, body, and hands. He licked some that had gotten on his lips. Salty. He liked the taste.

  Next to King Duchenwald’s bed was a huge stack of papers. General Sivingdon picked one of them up. It was a message to be distributed the next day around all of Dachwald, telling everyone, in so many words, that he was the reason for all their grief and suffering. Although Sivingdon had already been sufficiently outraged with the Dachwaldian government not to feel the slightest bit of guilt about what he had just done, this made him feel all the more confident he was doing the right thing.

  But there were still the senators.

  Sivingdon walked down the stairs and let the others know King Duchenwald had done all the damage to his country that he could on this side of the grave. Of course, it hadn’t been necessary. The blood covering his hands, face, and chest told the tale.

  He walked over to the large rope, and pulled down hard. Within seconds bells were ringing in the house of every senator.

  Cursing vehemently, they dressed themselves and began heading towards the royal palace. “This figures!” said Alexinduhr to his wife as he dressed. “The king said he was a little uneasy about the decision he had made to use General Sivingdon as a scapegoat because he has put in so many years of service for this country. I hope he hasn’t gone soft and changed his mind at the last minute!”

  The other senators made similar complaints to their wives—or, in some cases, mistresses—as they dressed and readied themselves for the meeting. Within forty minutes they had all arrived inside the royal palace. They thought it was a little strange that they didn’t see any guards around, but it wasn’t the first time. Sometimes the guards were just a bit lazy. Shirked their duties when they thought they could get away with it. Perhaps they had just stepped away for a couple of minutes to relieve themselves or sneak a swig of strong spirits. It would sure as hell help pass the night. Maybe they were dozing. Regardless, the senators were tired and wanted to get the meeting over with as soon as possible and get back to sleep.

  They proceeded to go down into the senate chambers.

  The room was lit by a series of torches, but by choosing which torches to light, one could selectively make parts of the room well lit, others shrouded in darkness. Sometimes King Duchenwald did this purposefully so the senators would have a harder time reading his facial expressions as they deliberated a matter. They sat down and waited for King Duchenwald to begin speaking. Alexinduhr, in particular, was starting to grow uneasy.

  “Your Majesty, with all due respect, you have summoned us here at such an awful hour of the night—most of us were asleep—and now you just sit there? What do you want?!”

  Silence.

  All of the senators had a certain amount of fear and respect for King Duchenwald, but of all the senators, Alexinduhr was the least respectful, least fearful, and tonight, he would reach his boldest.

  “Aghh, to Kasani with this. I’m leaving.” He started to get up.

  Suddenly, the torches above King Duchenwald were lit. What was left of him.

  His blood-smeared, tattered body sat in its normal chair, looking like a gutted fish.

  Sivingdon stepped out from behind the throne. He was smiling lightly. You’d think he had just heard a mild
ly funny joke.

  “He doesn’t want anything,” he said, calmly. Too calmly. “But I do. I want a whole helluva lot. I want to save this country. And by Kasani, I’m gonna do just that.”

  For a brief moment silence froze the room, seeming to turn into frozen, mute statues all who were in it. Alexinduhr broke the ice.

  “We all want that,” Alexinduhr began. “In fac—“

  “Sure we do. And, in fact, we would both do anything to see that through. Anything at all,” Sivingdon said calmly.

  “Exactly,” Alexinduhr said, fear invading his body like a virus, despite the calm exterior he was trying desperately to uphold.

  “Like . . . sacrifice me, for example. You all thought that was a damn good way to save this country. Didn’t you?” He smiled again. A paternal smile. The smile of a father calmly explaining to his six-year-old son that his ridiculous tale about how the family window got broken just wasn’t going to fool Daddy and that there were going to have to be consequences. Serious consequences.

  “General, we had reports. We must have been deceived. We—”

  “Lies. All lies. Lies have been sapping this country’s strength like dysentery draining a man’s bowels! But enough is enough. There are going to have to be consequences. Very serious consequences.”

  He unsheathed his sword slowly and calmly, with all the surety and conviction of a stern father pulling his belt out of its loops in order to give his wayward son one hell of a beating.

  “Your end has come. Dachwald . . . is going to rise.”

  Alexinduhr made a last-ditch effort to appear confident. “What . . . you think you can kill ALL of us?! The bodyguards will be here in a moment’s notice. All I have to do is call them!”

  “You can call them all night long. The moon will respond and engage you in a philosophical debate on the meaning of life before they respond.”

  He smiled.

  “And no, I am not going to kill all of you, but I am going to kill you. My friends will see to it that you all get your just deserts. That you all get the consequences.”

  The Moscorians began entering the room. None of the senators knew who they were—almost none of them. Gullingsor, on the other hand, noticed something eerily familiar about these men as they entered. Especially Feiklen. An avid student of military history, especially in regards to the Moscorians and their origins, Gullingsor knew that amongst the Moscorians, one had particularly distinguished himself by excessive savagery. Although no portrait had ever been made, there were written descriptions of him. Large and powerful, eyes that were a beautiful blue, yet somehow terrifying. A bad scar on his left cheek, obtained at Dachwaldendomel by the sword of one of the Knights of Sodorf. This was this man heading towards him right now. His menacing blue eyes appeared to look straight through his soul.

  “Moscoria—” he began to say, but his words were cut short by the single blow from the large halberd Feiklen swung down onto his skull, splitting it in half as easily as a watermelon on a cutting block.

  The senators tried like mad to shove past the Moscorians and General Sivingdon, but it was no use. Sivingdon, his erstwhile chillingly calm demeanor now replaced with the savagery of a wolf chasing its meal, charged towards Alexinduhr. He leaped over several of the large benches that were in his way, jumped up in the air, and brought his sword down in a stabbing motion right into Alexinduhr’s throat. Blood showered across his face. His sword penetrated several inches into the thick oak wood on the ground beneath Alexinduhr’s neck. He pulled the sword out violently, a stream of blood even more powerful than the first shooting out as he dislodged his sword, and he immediately turned around and decapitated a senator to his right.

  Within less than a minute, every senator lay in a pool of blood on the floor of the senate chambers, which Sivingdon and the Moscorians were wading through like a shallow creek. General Sivingdon saw his armor next to King Duchenwald’s throne, smiled, and put it back on, along with his sword.

  The next day, General Sivingdon summoned a large meeting of officers, soldiers, and citizens outside the castle. He stood on a large platform surrounded by thousands of eager listeners.

  Hoping for good news.

  Hoping against hope.

  Behind him on the platform were about two hundred of the deadliest Moscorians wearing Vechengschaft armor for appearance’s sake. This would change soon. General Sivingdon began his speech:

  “Officers, soldiers, and citizens of Dachwald. This has been a black chapter in our great history, perhaps the blackest ever written, but, I promise you, it has an end, and it is in sight. And at the end of this black chapter lie very great things: this I also promise you. Yesterday, unbeknownst to any of you, this chapter almost became even sadder. The so-called king and senators of this great country conspired against me. Conspired to scapegoat me for the suffering we’ve all endured recently. I am going to tell you the truth about what happened to our crops and what happened shortly thereafter, because few if any of you know the truth about these events. As most of you probably suspect, the Sodorfians indeed DID DESTROY OUR CROPS!! All of my officers knew this, all of my trackers knew that the tracks were Sodorfian, and all of my trackers knew that the Sodorfian tracks went directly into Sodorf!! As general of the Vechengschaft and as an ardent Dachwaldian patriot, I wanted to do what any ardent Dachwaldian patriot would under such circumstances—attack the Sodorfian vandals and MAKE THEM PAY FOR WHAT THEY DID!! But the Dachwaldian government didn’t see it that way. They wanted . . . negotiations. They wanted to . . . talk things over. Look at how much good that did us!! We talked to Sodorf, and our emissaries looked their leaders right in the eye and demanded JUSTICE!! But did they give it?! No! They conspired against us! For conspiring is what Sodorfians do. Sodorfians cannot be trusted; Sodorfians cannot be reasoned with. They were a serpent in our bed. A scorpion underneath our pillow.

  “They pretended to cooperate. They sent soldiers to examine the damage, but, this was only a trick. The Sodorfian nobles attacked THEIR OWN SOLDIERS so they could frame the Vechengschaft! They made it look like an unauthorized Dachwaldian attack had occurred so that they could self-righteously refuse to negotiate with us or allow us to cross their border. Our foolish king and senators fell for the ruse easily!! The Sodorfians took advantage of the pacifism they knew was rampant in our country! All they were doing and still are doing is preparing us for slaughter. That’s right. And are we ever ripe for it! Many of us are so weak we can barely stand. We have had to eat our pets, our horses; some have eaten their children. Many eat sawdust just to obtain temporary relief from the horrible hunger pains. Some have chosen to kill themselves out of despair. And all the while, who do you think is watching . . . waiting . . . plotting? The Sodorfians! They are your greatest enemy! They are MY greatest enemy! They are OUR GREATEST ENEMY!! But what can we do about it? We will never get the king and the senate to act; they are too cowardly!!’

  Angry remarks from the crowd expressed strong agreement.

  “Well, they WERE too cowardly. Here are the failures that have abandoned us to conquest.”

  The Moscorians withdrew from large sacks the heads of the senators and the king.

  “Here are the men who would oppose US!!”

  And, saying this, he grabbed the severed head of the hated King Duchenwald and slammed it onto the platform in a show of defiance.

  “NO ONE can stop us now!”

  The crowd cheered wildly. Finally, someone with some backbone had taken over.

  “But I can’t do this alone! I ask for YOUR help! Will you give it?!”

  “YES!! WE’RE WITH YOU!! YOU CAN COUNT ON US!!” came the loud response.

  “Now, thus far the only thing I have done is talk. The king and senators did that just fine. But when was the last time they offered you . . . a FEAST?!!”

  He picked up a large bugle, blew hard on it, and then pointed towards a hill just east of them. Down the hill came an armada of large wagons pulled by enormous oxen and guarded by hundreds of
soldiers. Though still at a distance, the hunger-crazed mob could see they were loaded with food. Mostly, deer, but also slain wolves and large bears. The mob began rejoicing loudly and triumphantly.

  “We’re gonna eat again! We’re not going to starve!!” they cried, amongst other declarations of joy.

  “But I am going to need your help if we are to truly overcome our enemies. All males between fifteen and forty-nine must enlist in the Vechengschaft. Our country has a long way to go before she recovers. These animals we’re about to eat were slain in the perilous northern regions, where few have dared to hunt for centuries. These brave men you see escorting the wagons are some of my bravest, most highly trained soldiers. Men, will you fight for your country?!!”

  “Yes!!” the male Dachwaldian listeners proclaimed in a frenzy of enthusiasm and determination.

  “Brave Dachwaldian women, will you support your husbands and sons who so bravely decide to fulfill their patriotic duty and join the Vechengschaft?!!”

  “Yes!!” all the women proclaimed ecstatically. “Yes, we will!!”

  “Let us begin the feast!!” General Sivingdon proclaimed triumphantly.

  Everyone was revelrous—that is, everyone except for the few Dachwaldians of Sodorfian descent that happened to be listening to the hate-filled rhetoric. Frightened, most of them hurried back to their homes to begin a dash back to Sodorf and never look the hell back. Everyone else, however, couldn’t remember being happier. All the Dachwaldians pitched in. Some skinned the animals; others gathered wood to make bonfires. Others went back to their homes to get ale and other spirits. Within an hour, fires were blazing, meat was roasting, and ale was being guzzled. They ate and they ate, and then ate some more. Ate until they nearly had food coming out their ears. A few got sick, but didn’t care. One frail man, who looked like a toothpick, said triumphantly before vomiting, “I’ve never been happier to vomit!!” Similar scenes abounded. The whole valley was an orgy of gluttony and ale-guzzling. People formed large circles and happily danced traditional Dachwaldian dances. Dances they hadn’t thought they’d ever have the occasion or spirit to dance again.