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

  It was time to test his work.

  He went to the large pit, which had within it a large combination of things he wanted destroyed and things he didn’t want destroyed. He took one of the tiny pellets, rubbed it gently with his fingers, and let the powder descend onto the plants below.

  Time to wait.

  The next morning, when he looked into the pit, he genuinely couldn’t have been happier. All of the plants he wanted to destroy were starting to rot. The plants he didn’t want destroyed showed no signs of damage whatsoever. There was no point in delaying any further. Tonight he was going to have his work cut out for him. He smiled, pulled out a long pipe, and calmly puffed on it as he awaited nightfall. After a long, relaxing evening, it came.

  He pulled out his whistle and blew on it long and hard and then resumed calmly puffing on his pipe.

  About twenty-five minutes passed.

  Just as he was getting ready to stuff some more choice tobacco into his pipe, he heard the unmistakable flapping of wings. A pholung was coming, flying fast.

  “Sorry, Master, I took so long. I was in the eastern region of Sodorf; I came as soon as I heard you call,” it said.

  “We have much work to do, Istus,” Tristan responded laconically.

  Chapter 14

  Biltzen stretched slowly. He was tired. Very tired. Biltzen was a farmer in the southern regions of Dachwald, and he was getting up at dawn, as usual, to begin working on his farm. A large pot of coffee sat brewing over the fireplace, to which he walked to see if it was hot enough yet to drink. Seeing that it was, he poured himself a large amount into a massive mug and began sipping it slowly, savoring every sip.

  “Mmmhh,” he muttered, breaking the quiet in the room. He closed his eyes, still feeling sleepy, and waited for the coffee to produce its much-needed effects. He continued sipping it slowly and finally finished the entire mug. He put on a pair of overalls and some boots and set off towards the door to begin his daily chores.

  Although he owned the farm and had plenty of hired hands to assist him, he still preferred to get out there and get dirty right alongside them. Typically, he was the first to begin. As he opened the door, his heart nearly stopped beating inside his chest. There he stood, motionless, for at least twenty seconds, his brain refusing to believe what his eyes were reporting to it.

  “KASANIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!” he yelled out furiously at the top of his lungs. His fields had been desolated.

  His eyes incredulously surveyed what just yesterday had been rolling, lush fields of grain, rice, corn, coffee, tobacco, and many other crops, and what were now dead, lifeless, decomposing brown remnants. Not sure quite what to expect, he walked back inside the house and grabbed a large crossbow. He then set off through the fields, surveying the damage. His dog, now excited by his master’s alarm, got up and started barking loudly, anxious to know what its master had been so disturbed by and barking furiously as if to let his master know he was also furious, even if he didn’t know why. Biltzen continued traipsing through the fields, flabbergasted by the damage. Never had he seen anything like this. On the one hand, the damage looked like it might have simply been due to a disease the plants had caught, but he quickly ruled out that possibility. He had been farming all his life and was very knowledgeable about plants. He had never seen or even heard of a plant disease that could take effect so suddenly. Over the course of months, certainly; over a period of weeks, maybe; but overnight, never. This had to have been the intentional work of someone who wanted to destroy his crops. The perpetrators must have thrown some awful kind of poison all over his crops, but he couldn’t begin to think of how they could have done so on such a large scale. This would have required hundreds of men, each with bucketfuls of poison, throwing it left and right like snow in a snowball fight. Surely, his watch dog, or that of one of his hired hands, would have been awakened and alerted him if so many people had been walking through his fields at night. As for footprints, there were plenty of them, but there was no way to know if they were from the vandals or his farmhands. The fields were usually full of footprints this time of year.

  He noticed that no vegetation on his property was damaged except that which was edible. His rose bushes were fine. His grass was fine. The trees were fine. Everything was fine except for his actual crops. For a second, his angry mind considered the possibility his farmhands had been disenchanted about something and had done this. After all, they had full access to his crops. But he quickly ruled that out. He paid them decent wages and had never had any serious problems with any of them. Furthermore, these fields were their source of livelihood as well. Without them, they would starve.

  (without them . . . you’ll starve)

  He quickly brushed that thought aside angrily. He fixed problems. Problems didn’t fix him. And he quickly returned to his analysis of who might have done this and how this vandalism could affect his farmhands. Not only would they be without food, he would not be able to pay them. No, it couldn’t have been them. This was the work of an organized group of thugs—which gang, however, he had no clue. There weren’t many gangs in Dachwald, at least that he could think of. Plus, most gangs he had heard of preferred to rob people. He had never heard of a gang that took an interest in damaging crops. He thought hard but couldn’t figure out who would benefit. Wild teenagers? This was too much work for them. He’d been one himself once, and he knew teenage mischief. Crapping on a front porch, stealing a stash of whiskey from your best friend’s dad and drinking until you puked your guts out, or sneaking into a window at night to spend a little unsupervised time with a farmer’s daughter. His mind briefly started to try and remember which of these sins he had long ago committed, but he quickly shut it off. No, whoever did this job had been up all night, and even the most spiteful of teenagers would have lost steam after poisoning the first row of plants. No, this was a good job someone had done.

  He quickly ruled out the possibility of a rival farmer. There was no surplus of crops that would make another farmer desperate enough to destroy another’s crops so that his would be sure to sell.

  Biltzen started walking upstairs to alert his wife to the situation. His wife, Gretten, was already running down the stairs, having heard him screaming.

  “Dear, what in the world has happened?!” she asked.

  Between curses and shouts he managed to tell her what he knew, which wasn’t a lot, and she then set off to see for herself. She turned pale and felt knots in her stomach as the horrible scene revealed itself to her.

  By this time there were hundreds of farmhands walking around, ashen with shock, surveying the horrific damage.

  Biltzen turned to his spouse, “Gretten, I must go to Milfred’s fields and see if he’s suffered similar damage.”

  They kissed goodbye, and Biltzen then went to the barn, mounted his fastest horse, and set off for Milfred’s, looking like a sheriff on a mission to catch a gang of notorious bank robbers. Mixed feelings raced through his mind as he approached Milfred’s fields and saw the horrendous damage. A small part of him was secretly relieved he wasn’t the only one who had suffered, but for the most part he felt sad seeing Milfred’s loss. As he approached Milfred’s home, he saw Milfred staring incredulously at the damage before him.

  “There must have been hundreds of the scoundrels. Maybe THOUSANDS of ‘em! They must have been out all night destroying my crops with some horrendous poison. I’m ruined!” Milfred said to himself.

  “Milfred!” Biltzen yelled as he approached.

  Milfred turned and saw his friend approaching.

  “Look at what some unholy sons of Kasani did to my crops! I’ll fill ‘em full of arrows if I find ‘em,” he yelled at Biltzen.

  “They got my crops too! I thought for sure I was the only one, but I can see I was wrong!”

  “Who possibly could’ve done this?! Why would anyone do this?! This is madness!”

  “I don’t know either,” said Biltzen; “I think we need to ride to some of our other neighbors’ farms a
nd see if the vandals stopped by to say hello there as well.”

  “I’ll say!” Milfred replied.

  They set off towards Sinizen’s fields, which bordered Milfred’s. They arrived after about an hour of hard riding and saw similar devastation. Unfortunately, Sinizen wasn’t there, but his wife, Gladsen, was, and she informed them he had ridden off to check on his neighbors’ fields.

  “This’s so awful,” Gladsen sobbed; “almost everything’s ruined. What’re we gonna eat?”

  “I don’t know,” Biltzen said, “but you’re welcome to what we have.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, “and you’re welcome to the little food that we have remaining. In fact, you must be hungry after all of that riding. Please, let me fix you something to eat,” she said.

  “We greatly appreciate the offer,” Biltzen said, “but we really must hurry. We need to go to Castle Dachwald and report this crime. However, perhaps if you could give us a glass of water and some bread to take with us, we would be immensely grateful.”

  “My pleasure,” she responded.

  Gladsen led them into the house, wiping the tears away from her eyes as she walked. She gave them a cold glass of water and some bread for their journey.

  “You know,” she said, “if you’re gonna travel all the way to Castle Dachwald, you’re gonna have to camp at least one night, if not two, on your way there. Please, Milfred, you must take a sword with you and a bow and arrow. You never know what kinds of ruffians you might come across at night. In fact, I’ll have some of the farmhands go with you. There’s safety in numbers, and although they certainly aren’t warriors, they know some of the basics of swordsmanship. You’ll be at least a little bit safer if you go with them.”

  “Agreed,” Milfred replied, “but we must hurry.”

  “Certainly,” she responded. “Wait here.”

  Gladsen went outside and then returned about a half hour later.

  “I’ve gathered ten men to accompany you on your journey,” she said.

  Milfred and Biltzen looked at the farmhands. She had spoken the truth when she said they weren’t warriors, but, then again, neither were they.

  “They’ll do,” Biltzen said.

  Each of the ten farmhands had a sword with him.

  “We must leave immediately for Dachwald. We’ll alert the city officials and find out how widespread the damage is,” he continued.

  The twelve men got on their horses and began the fifty-mile journey to Dachwald, which lay roughly north-northeast of their current location. As they rode along the road, they saw almost nothing but damaged crops.

  “They, who ever they may be, are going to pay dearly for this!” Filzgor, one of the ten farmhands, growled.

  As they rode their horses along the road, they saw many people standing out in their yards overlooking the damage as though they were observing the handiwork of a hurricane. They talked to some of them along the way as they traveled and were asked by several people, as they plodded along the road, whether they had suffered any damages or if they were just passersby. They mentioned their losses briefly and told them they were on their way to Castle Dachwald to see if a militia or posse could be organized to catch and hang the perpetrators from the nearest, and, preferably tallest, available tree.

  As they got closer to Castle Dachwald, they saw less disarray and started to consider the possibility that maybe the damage hadn’t been so widespread after all. By mid-afternoon of the next day, they could see Castle Dachwald off in the distance.

  Towers jutted into the air. Battlements stretched out endlessly in the horizon, offering an intimidating display of power to anyone approaching. Although most of them had seen Castle Dachwald several times before, they never ceased to be amazed each time their eyes surveyed this awesome fortress. Its defenses had not been tested for centuries, but they were still there nonetheless. Waiting. The fortress itself was located on top of a large hill, and it towered above the low valley that surrounded it like a giant standing in a shallow stream.

  In the valley small villages and military checkpoints dotted the large landscape like randomly planted shrubs in a large lawn. The city officials and most of the soldiers lived in the fortress itself; everyone else lived in the surrounding small towns, like servants not privileged enough to sleep in their master’s house. Small dirt roads connected each of the towns in the large, beautiful valley like intricate threads of a large spider web. Even from afar, signs of life and movement could be detected. Wagons being pulled by horses, peddling small commodities. People tending their gardens. Others working sweatily in blacksmith shops. Still others in taverns. All completely oblivious to the wave of mysterious destruction that had crashed onto the large southern farms.

  Biltzen, Milfred, and the other ten were dead tired by this time from the horseback riding, but they were no less focused on their mission than they had been when they first started out on their journey. Anger is a powerful energizer, whatever the poets may say about love. As they descended into the valley, their stern faces spoke to all onlookers: Stay the Kasani away from us.

  They listened.

  As the group began to get close to the gate, several Dachwaldian soldiers approached them.

  “I’ll handle this,” Biltzen said, and moved his horse to the front of the group.

  Biltzen was slightly wealthier than Milfred, and his name was more recognized throughout Dachwald, so he had the best chance of winning entry into the castle.

  “Halt,” the soldier commanded.

  The twelve stopped, Biltzen at the head of the group. The soldier had on a helmet, a short sword, and steel boots with sharp points on the end. His helmet left most of his face exposed, but a narrow piece of steel descended from the top of the helmet to protect his nose. Chain mail armor covered his upper torso, arms, even his hands.

  “What business have you here?” he demanded gruffly.

  “I am Biltzen, landowner of one of the largest farms in the southern regions of Dachwald. Nearly all of my crops were destroyed overnight. Exactly what caused the destruction . . . I don’t know. Milfred here also owns a large amount of land; his crops were nearly completely decimated. He also doesn’t know what caused this destruction, although we both know it must have been the work of a large, determined group of hooligans or worse. On our way here, we passed dozens upon dozens of badly damaged large farms. These ten farmhands here with me work on the farm of Sinizen, whose lands lie adjacent to those of Milfred; the crops on the lands of their master were also nearly completely annihilated. We demand justice!! Now open the gate so we can talk to someone whose rank is high enough to organize a unit to track down and destroy the vandals!!”

  The soldier’s face betrayed his shock. He had been in the Vechengschaft for about three years, and the most action he had seen consisted of breaking up a few minor brawls in the local taverns and dealing with the occasional bear or wolves that came too close to the area for comfort.

  He began to stammer slightly, and then simply said, “Wait here.”

  He walked over to a group of soldiers next to the large fortress gate, saluting as he got closer. The face of the soldier he was speaking to looked skeptical as he listened. That’s a good one! it seemed to say. At the end of their conversation, punctuated by several hand gestures in the direction of the twelve, the higher-ranking soldier said a few final words, walked into the fortress, and disappeared.

  Biltzen was growing impatient.

  About twenty minutes later—which seemed like an eternity—the soldier returned to the open gate and motioned them to come forward. They got back on their horses and headed towards the gate. When they arrived, the soldier said gruffly, “Just you two,” pointing at Milfred and Biltzen; “the others stay here. You, dismount.”

  Milfred and Biltzen dismounted and followed the soldier. As they did so, a group of ten soldiers began to follow them, standing on either side of Milfred and Biltzen. The interior of the castle was as awe-inspiring as its exterior. Maybe more so.r />
  Neither Milfred nor Biltzen had been inside before. Typically non-military and non-political personnel weren’t allowed in.

  They walked towards a building about thirty feet tall made of stone. On the outside, above the door entrance, was a large coat of arms. The soldier approached the door and knocked. After a gruff “Come in,” the soldier opened the door and led Milfred and Biltzen inside.

  The soldier that had been leading them did not merely salute, but dropped to one knee and faced the ground as he addressed the officer: “Captain, these are the two men.”

  Biltzen and Milfred immediately followed suit, not rising until the soldier did the same.

  Addressing Biltzen and Milfred, he said, “My name is Mindgkor, and I am a captain in the Vechengschaft. I have heard your names; they say you are two of the largest producers of agriculture in our great country. I’m very sad to hear of the horrible attack you two have suffered. As you may know, however, the Vechengschaft is severely understaffed, as it has been for some time, owing in large part to the pacifistic feelings among the Dachwaldians. Some question the need for the Vechengschaft altogether. I fear my commanding officer would not permit me to award you more than a dozen soldiers. Without proof of a large number of farms having been attacked, I wouldn’t be authorized to dispatch a unit of troops much larger than that.”

  “Sir,” Biltzen began, “whatever number of troops you can provide will be highly appreciated. But it looks like most or maybe all of the farms in the south have been utterly destroyed or at least have suffered severe damage. Most farmers and farmhands Milfred and I passed on our journey here informed us they had seen no gradual build-up of damage but had simply woke up this mornin’ to find their crops annihilated. This was my experience as well. Yesterday, my crops was just as pretty as ever. Today, I wake up and find ‘em all rotted to hell. I’ve seen diseases hit crops before, but not this quick. No way. Whoever did this deal . . . there must’ve been thousands of ‘em. Just where in Kasani thousands of rascals came from to poison our crops is beyond me, but they came from somewhere. One thing that seems for sure though was they must’ve thought they wasn’t gonna suffer for what they done. Do you see what I’m drivin’ at? It had to be foreigners. Dachwaldians ain’t gonna do that ‘cuz if they did, how’re they gonna eat?! I’m afraid that if you provide us with just a dozen-or-so soldiers we might catch the vandals, but bringin’ ‘em before the law would be a whole ’nother story.”