Parno's Peril

by N. C. Reed

  “I'm very intrigued by this, Doctor...” she realized she couldn't remember being introduced to him.

  “Bartram, milady,” the doctor smiled. “Richard Bartram, at your service.”

  “Doctor, I'd like to incorporate this idea into the training we are giving future Army surgeons and physicians,” Stephanie told him. “Can you prepare a report for me detailing how you organized this method, and what made you think of it? Such innovative thinking is how we will save more lives.”

  “I'd be glad to, milady,” Bartram nodded. “I’ll try and prepare it for you in the next few days and forward it to you. Where should I send it?'

  “When it's prepared have it sent to Prince Parno's headquarters to be included in dispatches sent to the Palace,” Stephanie instructed. “I am now the Royal Physician so that is where my main office is located and we have established two new schools in the Royal City specifically for training field surgeons and military nurses. I also have a school at Cove Canton that trains field surgeons so it will be taught there as well.”

  “We have several of your graduates here on staff,” Bartram nodded. “I must tell you that their training has saved countless lives and limbs milady. A brilliant piece of training that is.”

  “Thank you,” Stephanie blushed under the praise. “But it was actually Prince Parno's idea to establish the school. He merely requested that I do it. I took his idea and made it real. He deserves as much credit as I do.”

  “He is an excellent Marshal,” Bartram surprised her. “He visits the hospitals regularly checking on the wellbeing of his men. Another of the reasons they respect him so.”

  “He is a good man,” Stephanie felt herself getting emotional and knew she needed to end this. “Please send me your report as soon as possible, Doctor. I look forward to reading it and implementing it into our education system. This... you have done remarkably well. To say I'm impressed is an understatement.”

  “High praise indeed from someone of your lineage, milady,” the man smiled.

  “I must go, but thank you for your time,” Stephanie shook his hand.

  “Farewell, milady.”

  Stephanie walked outside into the warming sun where the carriage was waiting, Edema sitting inside, reading.

  “Are you ready to go, dear?” she asked kindly.

  “I think so,” Stephanie nodded. “It was a valuable visit. I have learned much that I-” she stopped suddenly as a thundering horse approached the carriage from the back. The rider was wearing the livery of the Black Sheep so her escort didn't stop him but watched warily.

  “Lady Stephanie, ma'am, beggin' your pardon but there was an attack on the Prince and he has requested your presence as quickly as you can, milady!”

  “What?” Stephanie and Edema echoed on another.

  “Get aboard, ma'am,” Winters gently ordered. “We have to go.” He helped her up and was yelling instructions before the door was secured.

  “Get turned around and make best speed to the Prince's Headquarters!” he bellowed as he literally leaped into his own saddle. “Run down anyone who doesn't yield! GO!”

  The runner turned to go before them, yelling for a clear road and for everyone to make way. Inside the coach, Stephanie was already going through her bag, mind racing as she tried to separate her duty as a physician with her worry over Parno.

  “If Parno asked for you then he is at least alive and conscious,” Edema said softly. She was trying to encourage them both.

  “Yes,” Stephanie nodded. “I should have told them to prepare a place for me to work at that hospital, but... there are closer places I'm sure.”

  “You may not even need one,” Edema was trying to find anything to keep their hopes up. “He may have asked for you simply because he trusts you.”

  “Or because I'm the Royal Physician,” Stephanie nodded. “It sounds as if he was alright enough to make decisions, at least.”

  They fell silent as the coach bounced its way along the dusty dirt road leading to where Parno was waiting.

  -

  “Milord.”

  Karls was standing over Parno who was holding Jaelle in his arms, a stunned look on his face.

  “Hey, this one's still alive!” someone called. Enri Willard turned to see one of the assassins moving on the floor.

  “Take him and secure him somewhere out of here!!” Enri ordered, taking charge as Parno's Chief of Staff. “I want a minimum of four guards on him and make sure they're from the Regiment!”

  “Yes sir,” the man nodded, moving to secure the living assassin.

  “And get the rest of this trash out of here,” Enri added to another soldier as he pointed to the two dead assassins. With a nod the man began grabbing passing soldiers to assist in removing the dead.

  “No one gets near him from now on that we don't know personally!” Enri yelled. “We should have been doing that all along!”

  “Parno,” Karls ignored his brother as he tried again to speak to his friend. “Parno, are you okay?”

  “I'm not hurt,” Parno assured him softly. “Bring the army to a full alert,” he added. “This was an Imperial assassination attempt. If they think it was successful they may attack. A show of readiness might stop them.”

  “Sound the alarm,” Enri ordered a sergeant that stood by waiting for orders. “All men to posts, prepare for attack. And have someone find General Davies at once!”

  “Sir!” the man saluted and ran to carry out his orders. In less than a minute a bugle began blaring 'To Post', and it was picked up by others and repeated all through the army. In less than ten minutes the army would be ready to receive an attack should it come.

  “Parno, you need to get up,” Karls kept trying. “You can't keep sitting there. Let me help you.”

  Parno looked up at him. It was clear that now that things had calmed down, if that was the proper phrase, that he was sliding into shock. Not at his own near death, but that of Jaelle and possibly of Harrel Sprigs.

  “Help me?” Parno repeated. “Everyone who helps me dies. Why would anyone want to help me?”

  “Because you're important to them, Parno,” Karls said gently. “Let me take her, okay?” he asked. “I'll send someone to the Inn for Tinker and let him bring someone to clean her up. Okay?”

  “I... she just jumped in front of me,” Parno explained, never offering to move. “How is Harrel?”

  “He's breathing, but it's ragged,” Karls said. “We've sent people looking for Stephanie. They should have located her by now. We've laid Harrel on your desk and tried to make him comfortable. The knife is keeping him from losing much blood from the wound, but he's bleeding from his mouth, which means he has internal injuries. I'm sure Stephanie can fix him, but Parno you have to get up. We can't move Harrel very far in his condition. She will need to try and operate on him in here. I've already got people fetching supplies and equipment for her. Now let me take her and get on your feet.”

  “No,” Parno shook his head. “No, I'll do it.” He struggled to get to his feet with Jaelle's limp form in his arms but was unable to manage it.

  “Parno,” Karls kept his voice soft. “Friend... brother,” he said more firmly. “Let me help you. Let us all help you. We failed you today, I know, but we won't ever again, I swear to you. Just let me help you,” he extended his hand. “Take my hand, brother. I'm always here for you.”

  Parno looked at him for a long moment but finally reached up almost timidly and took the firm grip offered him. Karls pulled him to his feet even with Jaelle still clutched to him. She wasn't very big, really.

  “She's so frail,” Parno said as he gathered her in his arms, princess style. “How can someone so small and so frail be so strong, Karls?” he asked.

  “Her spirit is bigger than she is, brother,” Karls whispered. “Come on. I'll take you to your tent and we can lay her out there. I'll send a runner to the Inn.”

  “Yeah,” Parno nodded. “I tried to get her to go you know,” Parno told him. “Tried to ge
t her to see.”

  “I know,” Karls kept his voice calm. “I know.” He looked at his brother as he went passed.

  “Send someone to 1st Corps to find Cho. He needs to be here.”

  “Right,” Enri nodded.

  -

  “All divisions report on line and ready, sir,” Britton Sterling reported.

  “Very good,” Wilson nodded. “Any sign of activity over there?” That was usually how he referred to the Soulan lines.

  “They sounded the alarm shortly before we did, sir,” Sterling nodded. “They're on line now, apparently at full readiness according to our scouts.”

  “So whatever Smith was doing failed then,” Wilson mused aloud.

  “Sir?”

  “Nothing,” Wilson hadn't realized he had spoken out loud. “Keep the men on alert for an hour or so, then begin a staggered stand down. Drop us by twenty-five percent every hour. If they don't move by then, they aren't going to, not this late in the day,” he looked at the sun overhead. “I want to know the minute there's any movement in their camp outside of normal.”

  “Of course, General,” Sterling. “Sir, if I may-”

  “You may not,” Wilson shook his head. “I'm sorry, but I can't tell you. Just... keep watching.”

  “Yes sir.”

  -

  Tinker kept his face expressionless as the runner dressed in the Prince's livery dismounted in front of the Inn.

  “Mister Tinker,” the man nodded.

  “You have need of me?” Tinker asked.

  “I... yes sir,” the man nodded. “There was an attack on the Prince not long ago, sir. Imperial assassins.”

  “Is the Prince injured?”

  “No, sir, but... Miss Jaelle, she... well sir she...” the man was trying and Tinker had mercy on him.

  “She is gone,” he said softly.

  “She saved him,” the man nodded. “She jumped in front of him. Took a blade meant for him.”

  “I see,” Tinker sighed. “We will be along shortly,” he told the man. “I will bring someone to see to her.”

  “Sir,” the runner nodded. “Mister Tinker, sir, I'm... I'm right sorry, sir. She was a brave girl.”

  “That she was,” Tinker nodded. “That she was.”

  -

  Stephanie had the carriage door open and was outside before it was stopped good, walking straight into Parno's command tent.

  And straight into a mass of organized bedlam.

  “What is going on here?” she demanded.

  “Milady,” Enri Willard appeared. “Over here, please,” he practically pulled her toward the desk. She was startled to see Harrel Sprigs lying face down on the table, blood seeping from his mouth.

  “Is Parno...?” she looked at Enri.

  “He's fine,” Enri lied only slightly. “Harrel fought off the assassins alone, but...” he held up one of the krishank blades for her to see.

  “One of these is buried in his back,” Enri explained. Stephanie looked at the knife and wanted to recoil in horror. A long weapon with a blade approaching twelve inches and in the shape of a triangle set over another triangle, somewhat like the design of a warped six-point star. One triangle was a set of razor edges, wickedly curved and meant to slice flesh in such a way as to make repair difficult at best. Along the edges of the overlaying triangle were a series of angled spikes with a sharp edge on the point side. Designed to enter flesh easily enough but tear it apart on exit. Truly an assassin's weapon.

  “My God,” she breathed. “If anyone tried to remove it-”

  “That's why we didn't,” Enri assured her. “His Majesty noted the blades being used and directed that no one but you be allowed to touch it. His instructions were very clear. You and you alone were to be trusted with this.”

  Stephanie felt a quiver in her heart even as she went to Harrel's side. Parno still had this much trust in her, at least.

  “I will need assistance and some-” she stopped as the tent opened again to admit a young bespectacled surgeon, two orderlies carrying bags and boxes and two nurses carrying more.

  “Milady,” the young surgeon bowed slightly. “We shall be ready momentarily,” he promised without preamble.

  “Very well,” she nodded, removing her jacket. “I need a gown. In fact, I need to change,” she started for the carriage. “This will hamper me. Have my things taken back to the guest quarters at once. We won't be leaving today after all. I shall return in five minutes,” she told the surgeon.

  “We’ll be ready,” he promised, already working.

  -

  Once Edema realized that Parno wasn't the one they had called Stephanie to work on, she began looking for him. Two stone-faced troopers followed her every step but didn't hinder her. She finally found someone who had seen Parno carrying Jaelle to his tent with Karls Willard alongside him. Edema felt a knot in her throat as she realized what must have happened.

  “No, please no,” she whispered as she hurried to his tent. She didn't bother knocking or announcing herself but instead walked right inside.

  Parno had laid Jaelle out on his bed and was sitting beside her on the floor. One look was all Edema needed to see that the girl was far beyond any help. She looked at Karls Willard.

  “She took a knife meant for him,” he whispered to her. “Harrel killed or disabled all the assassins but he's in bad shape. Parno is alright,” he promised. “No, he's not alright, but he's uninjured,” he amended after a brief pause.

  “The blood-”

  “It's hers,” Karls nodded. “He's not hurt.”

  She nodded and crossed the room to where Parno sat and knelt down beside him.

  “How are you my sweet boy?” she asked gently.

  “Why are you still here?” he asked. “Oh. If you're here then Stephanie is here, I guess. Is she-”

  “She's tending to young Harrel,” Edema nodded. “Went right to work as soon as we got here.” She turned to Karls.

  “Have hot water brought and get an aide to lay him out a clean uniform,” she ordered.

  “Yes ma'am,” Karls didn't hesitate to obey. As he left, Edema turned back to Parno.

  “My dear, dear boy,” she rubbed his face gently. “We have to get you out of those bloody clothes, Parno, and get you cleaned up.”

  “I'm fine,” he said blankly. “I'm the only one who didn't get hurt. Not a scratch.”

  “I know, dear child,” Edema's voice was soothing. “But we need to get you cleaned up. It's not good for you to sit like this. I'm having water brought and I will help you, but you can't keep sitting here like this. You have to get up, Parno. You have to move and you need to clean yourself up.”

  The tent flap opened again and she saw Tinker step inside followed by two women she didn't know. One had obviously been crying and went straight to Jaelle's side. The other followed more slowly, tears streaking her own face. Tinker nodded to Edema and knelt beside her.

  “My Prince,” he said softly. “We will care for her. She is in good hands, I promise you. There are things that must be done and they,” he nodded to the two women, “will do them. You must see to yourself.”

  “Tinker, I begged her to go,” Parno said, as if he hadn't heard a word said to him. “I told her she couldn't stay. That it wasn't safe. Why didn't she listen to me? Why didn't she go?”

  Edema had never heard Parno sound so desperate and neither had Tinker. They shared a look of concern before Tinker spoke again.

  “We will speak of that at a later time, my Prince,” he said simply. “It is of no concern at the moment. Let us see to her while you see to yourself. You must take care of yourself, my Prince. There can be no doubt among the Army that you are still here.”

  “I don't care about the Army,” Parno said numbly. “I... I don't care.”

  “You must care because you have no choice,” a new voice filled the tent, ringing with power and authority. Edema and Tinker turned to see Cho Feng standing in the doorway.

  “On your feet my Prince,”
Cho ordered. “Do not disgrace her sacrifice in such a way as to say you do not care. Do not disgrace what Harrel has done for you this day. Get up! Make yourself presentable!”

  Edema seemed as if she was about to attack Cho Feng when Tinker grasped her arm. She turned to see him shaking his head, looking at Parno. She looked back at her adopted son and saw his face showing the first sign of emotion she had seen since entering.

  “Get up!” Cho's voice raised a bit more. “Get on your feet, Warlord!”

  Parno got to his feet, fighting to control his emotions.

  “Clean yourself,” Cho ordered. “Do not force us to do it for you. It is a hard thing, I know. Our way of life is hard. Easy times make us forget, but war is harsh! Full of danger and loss with death lurking at every turn! But there is an enemy to face and there is an Army that must be led. Now make yourself presentable and allow Tinker and his women to see to this poor child. This young woman who has given herself in your stead, that you may live on. If you cannot live for yourself then you must at least live for her and for young Harrel.”

  “Alright,” Parno's voice sounded alert for the first time. “I hear you.” He began to unbutton his jacket. The same jacket Jaelle had patched for him.

  “Don't get rid of it,” he ordered as Edema took it. “She... she fixed it for me.”

  “Of course not, my dear boy,” Edema agreed, placing the jacket nearby. Next was his blood-soaked shirt, leaving him bare chested.

  “Tinker I am so sorry,” he said softly, almost a whisper. “I am so very sorry.”

  “Do not be, my Prince,” Tinker patted the younger man's shoulder. “It is as it was destined to be. Do not concern yourself with this for now. Make yourself presentable as Master Feng has said, and then we can speak of this at a later time.”

  “Come, child,” Edema ordered as aides arrived with hot water. She led him to the far side of the tent where a dressing screen was sitting. She instructed the aides to empty the water into the small tub and then sent them away with orders to get his clean clothing prepared.