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

by Lawlis, Daniel

  Feiklen had specifically told him to go to the southern fence. As he went that way, he noticed that while he had seen multiple guards patrolling along the other walls, there didn’t appear to be any patrolling the wall they were approaching. This increased his confidence that, in spite of what Feiklen might have in store for him later on, the plan was not to kill them while escaping the camp itself.

  Nonetheless, he hoped against all hope that the others didn’t notice this anomaly because he certainly didn’t want them to know that this was all a big setup. He didn’t want to impose any additional worries on them. That could only be harmful. Although they had been doing some looking around, they were mostly just keeping their eyes peeled on him to see what he would do. Like a line of ducks following the lead duck.

  Never in all of his life had he seen such torrential rain. And the thunder . . . it was absolutely ear-deafening. It sounded almost like large explosions of pheorite.

  BOOM!!! Silence. BOOM!! Silence. And on it went. About every twenty seconds a loud explosion of thunder nearly shook the very ground they walked on. As he walked by the other huts, his heart went out to those that were not even being given a chance to escape. After all, there was a chance, albeit small, that they were indeed going to make it. He made a vow to himself right then and there that if he were successful, he would join the Sodorfian army, come back to fight the Dachwaldians, and liberate this extermination camp and all others like it. Finally, after having reached the last prison cabin by the southern wall of the camp, they paused.

  “I’ll go forward,” Polunk said, “and make a hole with the pheorite. I’ll try my absolute best to make the sound of the explosion coincide with a clap of thunder, but in any event, once that explosion goes off, there’s no turning back. Run like the devil’s on your heels about to light your ass on fire! Anyone who doesn’t think they can do this needs to turn back right now, go back to their prison cabin, and leave themselves at the mercy of the guards.”

  He looked into each and every one of their eyes to try and see what they were thinking. No desire to go back to the prison cabin. Fear, yes, he saw that, but he also saw a steadfast determination to overcome that fear and try to escape.

  “Okay, I’m glad you’re all with me; here goes nothing.” And having said that, he got down on his belly and crawled like a snake to within thirty feet of the wall. The cabin they were hunkered down beside was about a hundred feet from the southern wall. He listened to the claps of thunder and tried to mentally calculate the exact amount of time elapsing between each.

  (numbers, finally something you’re good at, ol’ buddy)

  Sometimes about seventeen seconds passed between each clap, other times slightly more than twenty. He decided it would be too risky to try to anticipate the clap of thunder when throwing the pheorite-smeared stone. He was going to have to wait until he heard the thunder before throwing it. The only thing he did not like about this was that by the time he threw the stone and caused the explosion, the noise from the clap of thunder might have ended or at least dissipated enough for the sound of the explosion to be in great contrast to the sound of the thunder.

  He readied himself.

  BOOMMMMM!!! Hearing the clap of thunder, he immediately stood up and threw the rock with all of his might towards the wall.

  BAAANNNGGGG!!! He was amazed at the result. It tore the wall to smithereens. He had been expecting a small hole, at best, through which they would have to squeeze themselves, but the results were much more impressive. The explosion knocked out an entire section of the wall.

  (it’s scary to think of the disadvantage the Sodorfians are going to have, coming up against a monster like this stuff)

  Polunk and the thirty other Sodorfians with him wasted no time. They sprinted through the opening like deer being chased by a jaguar. Although they were not in the best physical shape, due to the deficiencies in their diet over the past several weeks—and, for some of them, over the past several months—the fear of capture and death gave them an energy that no food could provide and which no lack of food could stymie. Polunk could not have been more pleased with how the explosion had turned out. It had occurred about one second after the clap of thunder, and although it was not completely drowned out by the sound thereof, it had nearly perfectly blended in.

  Little did he know that while he and the thirty other Sodorfians with him scampered through the opening, Feiklen stood about three hundred feet northeast of the opening with his arms crossed. Kihlgun stood close-by.

  “Looks good so far,” Feiklen said. “Now, we just have to make sure they don’t get out of our sight and that we make sure that all of them except Polunk make it across the border. See to it. I’ll take care of things around here.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kihlgun replied. Kihlgun went and summoned about fifty Moscorians to begin stalking the escapees and a group of Vechengschaft soldiers—twenty in all—to begin repairing the hole that had been blown in the camp’s fence. They got to work immediately. Having experimented quite heavily with pheorite during their training north of there, under the Moscorians, they knew just about how much damage would be caused by the explosion. They had already prepared about thirty individual pieces of wood—cut to the exact same length, width, and shape as the other pieces of wood that made up the fence—to replace those which had been either destroyed or even significantly damaged. They had overestimated by just a little bit: there were only about twenty-six wooden pieces that were going to need to be replaced. Within about two hours of wet, sweaty work, they succeeded in putting the wooden pieces into their proper places. By the time they were finished, it didn’t look as if any damage had ever occurred to the fence. Feiklen came and inspected the work and told them that they had done an excellent job.

  Kihlgun and his men put on the camouflage suits they were going to wear while tracking the escapees. Suits which allowed them to completely blend in with their surroundings whether lying down or standing. They consisted of netting covered with lots of grass, leaves, and sticks. Although their weapon of choice for long-range combat was without question the longbow, it would be too cumbersome for this kind of mission. Instead they brought crossbows.

  They began pursuing the fleeing escapees. The escapees had a head start, but the Moscorians were in no hurry. After all, they knew the fleeing Sodorfians could only travel at nighttime.

  Chapter 3

  “Kasani, I’m tired!” said Ichinvohd, one of the escapees. “Do you think we could at least rest for a little bit?” he asked Polunk.

  “Sure, let’s take a brief rest,” he said, “but not too long. We’ve gotta stay ahead of the guards. They’ll be coming after us any minute—that is, if they’re not already.”

  “Okay,” Ichinvohd replied, “I think I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  “How are the rest of you doing?” Polunk asked his fellow escapees. They all responded that, like Ichinvohd, they needed a few moments of rest and then would be on their way. Polunk was particularly impressed with one of the older men that had come along with them. He looked like he was at least in his sixties. He had been whipped, beaten, branded—compliments of Arbeitplatz—and an S branded onto his neck, but he was holding his own.

  “What’s your name, sir?” Polunk asked.

  “Aisendall,” he replied. The man was about six feet tall, thin, and had white hair.

  Polunk smiled. “You’re an example to us all of courage and fortitude.”

  “Thank you. I just want to see Sodorf. I no longer feel that I can rightly call this accursed country anything but the armpit of evil spirits. I curse having been born here! I want to go back to the land of the Sodorfians and never again look upon the face of a Dachwaldian!”

  “I understand your sentiments, Aisendall.”

  After a few minutes they once again picked up the pace and continued on their trek towards Sodorf. Polunk paid close attention to the map. So far it seemed like they were following the course that Feiklen had given to them. They plodded onw
ards, taking only a few short rests here and there. Polunk began to grow a bit worried, as he knew the sun would be rising soon. He knew it would be too risky to camp out in the open during the daytime. They had to find shelter. The problem was that in the southern parts of Dachwald there weren’t really any large forests. There were clusters of trees here and there, but nothing like the heavily wooded northern regions. Unless they could get some shelter from the sun they would never be able to get any sleep whatsoever, and if they didn’t, it wouldn’t take long before they got so tired they couldn’t continue. And he didn’t want to leave anyone behind. He was already beginning to feel attached to these people. He wanted more than anything to successfully bring them across the border to safety.

  (but you’ve got to keep moving!)

  Having traveled through this particular area a few times years ago, he knew there was a clump of trees not too far from here. It wouldn’t be too much longer before the sun began to rise. If that happened, they would be in immense danger.

  “We must make it another mile tonight!” he said to his fellow escapees urgently. “If we don’t, we’ll be stuck out here exposed to passing patrols and Dachwaldian civilians who will report us!” This succeeded in putting a burr under their saddle, and they all picked up the pace immediately. Fortunately, just as the sun began its slow, and ironically beautiful, ascent they reached a small clump of trees. It perhaps was not large enough to be properly called a forest, but it provided some cover.

  “This is not going to be your most comfortable sleep ever,” he said to them. “In fact, it’s gonna be hard to sleep at all, but you must try,” he exhorted. “If you don’t, you will probably fall behind tomorrow, and although it grieves me to say it, if anyone does fall behind tomorrow, or any day for that matter, that person will be left behind.”

  They nodded.

  To try to avoid becoming too itchy from the plants and other foliage on the ground, they cleared away the vegetation in the areas they would sleep so their bodies would have little or no contact with the bothersome plants. Then, they took their shirts off and put them over their faces to try to shield themselves from the sun. They were partially successful. They rotated shifts keeping lookout, each one lasting only about a half hour. This would be enough to keep watch until sunset.

  As they hunkered down to get some rest, Kihlgun and his Moscorians were watching from an adjacent hill. They weren’t worried about the sun. They were nearly invisible, blending in perfectly with the grassy hill, even without forest cover.

  “We have to listen to what they’re saying,” Kihlgun said. “I’ll go first. Keep an eye out. If it looks like I’m about to give away my position, make the sound of a pholung. If I hear that, I’ll stop moving until I hear it again, which will mean it is safe.”

  Holding his crossbow to the side, still covered underneath his grassy netting, he started advancing close to where Polunk and the rest of the Sodorfian escapees were hunkered down.

  Polunk happened to be the one currently on watch. He had chosen this because he wanted to show leadership, and he thought this would be a good way to continue instilling confidence and support in the people escaping with him—people that had put quite a bit of trust in him. There was another reason, however. He knew they were most likely being watched at this very moment, and he wanted to personally see if their stalkers were visible.

  He scanned the horizon. The sunrise was beautiful, and so was the countryside. The irony did not escape him.

  (how is it that a country so sublime, a country with so many beautiful streams, waterfalls, mountains, valleys, animals, forests could contain a people with such cruel hatred?)

  It was quite baffling to him. He thought about the Great Famine and the effects that it had had on the country. It certainly had changed things. Although he had often suspected that beneath the ostensible smiles and friendliness he had received from Dachwaldians there was a certain amount of dislike towards him, at least he had never felt in danger around them before the Great Famine. In fact, he was amazed, having read some of Dachwald’s history, at just how peaceful the Dachwaldians had become. When he read about the mass murders and the enslavement that had occurred during the Seven Years War he had been horrified. Although he did not always find Dachwaldians to be particularly warm towards Sodorfians, nor towards each other, for that matter, he found the disparity between the Dachwaldians that he knew, worked with, and did business with and the cruel, bloodthirsty monsters described in books on the Seven Years War so great that he was inclined to think that perhaps the history of the war had been exaggerated.

  (but you now know it certainly wasn’t; if anything the Dachwaldian enormities were surely downplayed!)

  He had previously felt perhaps his people, having been the victors, rewrote the history in such a way as to excessively demonize the Dachwaldians and make themselves look completely righteous and unblemished. This was what he thought. However, after the famine he had noticed a change.

  Sure, everyone was suffering. But, at first there was almost an improvement in the relations between Sodorfians and Dachwaldians living in Dachwald. Mostly during the period of time where people were hopeful Sodorf was going to help out, be a good neighbor—show the hatchet was buried once and for all. But then came the disastrous diplomatic mission. It had been the talk all over Dachwald. Rumors abounded like mosquitoes during the summertime. Some thought the Dachwaldians had attacked the Sodorfians and thereby turned a would-be ally into a determined enemy, or at the very least one who was determined not to lift a finger. But most Dachwaldians believed the whole thing had been caused by the Sodorfians and the attack that had occurred just south of the border was rigged and planned by them so they could sit back and watch the Dachwaldians starve to death while managing to look justified in their inaction. An even more cynical group thought it was the precursor to Sodorfian invasion—the Sodorfians having slaughtered their own to rally the populace.

  As more and more people died of hunger, less people began to look at the Sodorfians favorably. Everywhere—in newspapers, taverns, business meetings—people were beginning to talk about how bad Sodorfians were. How they were to blame for all the suffering. They also criticized the pacifism and lack of initiative of the Dachwaldian government. He was amazed at the timing of the assassination of King Duchenwald and his senators. It occurred at a time when discontent inside Dachwald was becoming so great many believed the country had one foot on revolution and the other on a banana peel. In fact, many of his former business partners had shunned him and said they themselves wanted to overthrow the government. They had enough money to fill a house with, but no food to buy with it. Not much anyway. So they suffered equally, even though they were much richer than many people in Dachwald. And they didn’t dare travel to Sodorf to buy food; they knew that would be a death wish surer than starvation could ever aspire to be. Dachwald hadn’t had commercial ties with any neighboring countries for centuries, and no one dared travel outside of Dachwald.

  As soon as General Sivingdon came forward and gave that patriotic speech and laid at the feet of his subjects the head of their ineffectual king, he knew Sodorfians were going to be in grave danger. The farmer was about to welcome the wolf right into the hen house. He had put the S on all of his shirts, hoping that compliance with the new laws would somehow save him.

  (that was about as smart as a hen rolling over onto its stomach and hoping the wolf wouldn’t bite because it had obediently identified itself as a hen)

  Kihlgun continued slithering towards the unsuspecting escapees like a python approaching a family of resting mice. As hard as Polunk was watching, he didn’t detect the stealthy slithering of this human python. Finally, his turn was over. He was replaced. He went and collapsed on the ground. Within seconds he was asleep.

  This continued for several days. The Moscorians were a little bit frustrated with the situation. At night, when the Sodorfians were talking a little bit amongst themselves as they traveled, the Moscorians couldn’t ge
t too close, as it was impossible to get within earshot of their light whispers while they were moving without being seen. And during the day, when they settled down to sleep, the Sodorfians didn’t talk at all. The Moscorians noticed one Sodorfian kept watch, while the rest slept, and there were no deviations from this. Night after night. So they didn’t really have any way of knowing whether Polunk had told them that the escape had been permitted. Kihlgun was growing suspicious.

  Perhaps Polunk told them the escape had been planned. Perhaps it might be safer to just go ahead and take all of them out.

  (but that’s no good; you NEED them to get across, and you have your orders)

  Finally, on the fourth day, he got his chance. It just so happened that by the fourth night the Sodorfians had become a little bit more confident they were really going to make it, so they took the chance of conversing a little before getting some shut-eye. Kihglun slithered towards them, and to his surprise and relief, after listening to numerous conversations over a period of several hours, not only did it appear they were uninformed that the whole escape had been rigged, they seemed unaware they were being followed.

  This is good, he thought. Less than a day left.

  He stealthily slithered back to his companions, and another Moscorian, Dergonnen, went down to take his place surveilling the escapees. Kihlgun knew that this coming night they would reach the border.

  Too bad for Polunk; HE won’t be making it.

  As heartless as he was, he couldn’t help feeling just a tad bit sorry that poor Polunk was going to make it this far just to be slaughtered and that furthermore the last thing he would see would be everyone else making it to safety.

  Oh well, he’s a Sodorfian. Those that die now will be the lucky ones.

  He ordered one of the most swift-footed Moscorians to sprint ahead and alert the Moscorian party located just north of the border that the escaping Sodorfians were about to reach their destination.