by N. C. Reed
“Yes sir,” the captain nodded. “As near as I can tell, it's General Crandall, sir, of the 33rd Infantry.”
“What? The 33rd is the unit we're supposed to be relieving!”
“Yes sir,” the captain nodded. “But... sir, there is sign all around us of a massive battle, yet there's nothing to suggest that battle took place other than the signs on the ground. And here in front of us is General Crandall. And sir, this was left lying on his chest, sir,” the man handed over a small object.
“A krishank,” Westcott almost spat. “Are you telling me there is absolutely no sign, anywhere, of an entire Imperial infantry division? Ten thousand men plus attachments? Nothing?”
“Nothing sir,” the captain nodded. “My men have looked for a mile in every direction including back the way we came in case we missed it. Nothing. We can't find a single sign of them anywhere other than the fact that there was definitely a battle fought here. In the last three days or less.”
“And Crandall is all that's left.” Westcott made it sound like a curse. “Get him on a horse and back to camp,” he ordered the captain, then looked at the brigadier. “We'll continue, but I want a full company on each flank and out as a vanguard. We'll try not to join them,” he nodded to Crandall's body.
“Yes sir,” the brigadier nodded and rode back to begin issuing the orders.
“Make sure that General Wilson gets that krishank,” Westcott ordered. “I'm sure there's a reason for it to be here. Maybe he'll know what it is.”
“Yes sir,” the scout captain nodded. “I'll see to it.”
“When your men are positioned, continue on,” he ordered the brigadier. “Our destination is unchanged.”
-
“You're definitely doing better at this,” Whipple said as he and Beaumont crossed the finish line together.
“Hard not to when I have to do it every day,” Beaumont wasn't breathing too hard. “It's definitely made an improvement in our men.”
“That is has,” Whipple nodded. “While we may not be the equal of the Prince's Black Sheep, we can hold our own I feel sure.” He looked at Beaumont more seriously.
“Speaking of which, did you send off your request?”
“I did,” Beaumont nodded. “Added it to dispatches last time a rider went through. He should get it in a week or less.”
“Well, we’ll see what he says,” Whipple nodded. “Meantime, about our integration...”
“Are you sure you want to do that before we hear back?” Beaumont asked. “It will mean losing your unit's history if we do. For us it's nothing more than a divisional identity that we no longer really answer to, but your men were a unit apart already.”
“There's no particular glory attached to us,” Whipple shrugged. “No real unit history, either. Just something I convinced the powers that be would work and be a good idea. And it has. They know it now and should probably be working it into another unit or even two. But saying good-bye to it won't be particularly difficult assuming we can make this work.”
“Then we'll call a meeting of regimental commanders tonight and hammer out some details,” Beaumont nodded. “The biggest problem will be breaking down who commands what.”
“Thought about that,” Whipple nodded. “Got an idea that will probably work. If we...”
-
“Milord.”
Parno looked up at the quietly spoken word to see Tinker looking down at him.
“I thought this might be welcome,” he offered a brown bottle that Parno recognized as the Tinker's own brew. He accepted it with a nod.
“Have a seat,” Parno pointed to an empty chair by his fire. It was a lonely place anymore.
“I hear that young Mister Sprigs has awakened, if only briefly,” Tinker began.
“Yes,” Parno nodded. “Ste... Doctor Corsin says that is a good sign.”
“I am glad to hear this,” Tinker nodded. “I thought this might be a good time to talk with you, milord,” he continued after a pause and a drink from his own bottle.
“About?”
“About why Jaelle refused to leave you,” Tinker said evenly and suddenly had Parno's undivided attention.
“Among our people, a very few are gifted in ways that others are not,” Tinker began by saying. “Among those few, a very, very rare number are gifted indeed with the ability to see. To actually peer into the future and see certain things. Do not mistake me. I refer not to those with globes of glass and jewels in their foreheads and other such nonsense, but real, true gifts.”
“The thing is, milord, these gifts are most usually beyond the control of those who have them. While they may see what is to come, they cannot choose what they see or where or when. All they can do is accept what is given to them. What they get is all there is.”
“Was Jaelle one of these rare few?” Parno had a sick feeling in his stomach.
“She was, indeed,” Tinker nodded. “Jaelle could occasionally see what was to be. Sometimes for herself, sometimes for others. She could see things almost as they happened, but she could not tell when those things might happen. Do you see what I am saying?”
“She knew it was coming but not when,” Parno nodded glumly.
“Yes,” Tinker's voice was firm. “She knew. She had seen it. This is why she told you she must be there. She had already seen it happen. It was where she was supposed to be.”
“Then why not tell me?” Parno asked the older man. “Why not just tell me so that we could take precautions that might have spared her! Spared Harrel!”
“Would you have believed her?” Tinker asked kindly. “If she had told you 'I have seen you die' would you have believed her?”
“I don't know,” Parno admitted.
“Or would you have sent her away and never spoken to her again?” Tinker continued.
“Probably,” Parno had to answer. He probably would have done just that.
“So, she did the only thing she could do,” Tinker explained. “She stayed as close to you as she could, waiting for the time she had seen in her vision. When it presented itself, she acted.”
“I'd rather she not have and lived,” Parno said softly.
“And I am sure she knew that, milord,” Tinker smiled slightly. “I am sure that she did. Jaelle was a kind hearted young woman, but she was also a very smart one. You could have even called her beguiling, were her motives less than pure. She was smart enough to know that you would not want her in harm’s way, and even that being around you was a threat.”
“She also knew that you are important to this Kingdom, and to her people,” Tinker went on. “For her, the choice was easy. She wished you to live. Her love for you was no less real simply because it was also better for others if she died rather than you. If anything, it was a greater act of love. She could have been safe yet chose to place herself in danger believing your life more valuable than her own.” Tinker stood suddenly, looking down at the young prince.
“I shared this with you not to anger you or sadden you, but to let you know that Jaelle knew exactly what she was doing. I did not know myself until you told me what she said, but at that point it was beyond what I could do to bring her back. I am allowed only so much, and refusing her that choice is beyond my means, my Prince. Even one such as I have limits.”
“Take the life she has given you, my Prince, and use it well,” Tinker urged. “Bleed your enemies, reward your friends, love those close to you and hold them dear. That is what she wanted. That is why she did what she did.” He began walking away.
“If you have need of me, you know where I will be.”
-
“Stephanie dear, it's time we talked, you and I.”
Stephanie stifled a groan when she heard Edema's voice. She lifted her face from where it was buried in pillows and faced the older woman with a sense of resignation.
“What is it now?” she asked politely.
“I know you are vexed with me and have every right to be,” Edema nodded. “I admit as I did earl
ier that I had not realized had badly he was stung by your argument. However, the simple fact is that he still loves you, deeply. If you are ever going to take advantage of that then it must be now.”
“What?” Stephanie sat up straight, not sure she heard right.
“You heard me,” Edema nodded. “He told me himself that he is still in love with you. That as much as he might have cared for Jaelle, sweet girl that she was, he did not love her. Nor was she a substitute for you, but more a shelter for him in a time of storm. When everything seemed to be against him and everything he had thought he knew had crumbled, she offered him shelter. She was kind to him in a way few people ever have been and she asked nothing of him. She simply... gave. Practically the exact opposite of everyone he had ever known. It would have been all but impossible for him to refuse such a one. And had he done so we would be preparing his own funeral right now.”
“I know,” Stephanie nodded, her voice quiet. “I've thought of that more than once.”
“Things happen for a reason, Stephanie,” Edema told her. “We don't always get to know the reason, but that doesn't mean the reason isn't there. Had you and Parno not quarreled the way you did then Jaelle would not have been a part of his life, and... again, he would be dead. I could go on for the rest of the day about how things happen but I doubt I need to. You're too smart not to understand.”
“So instead, I'm going to talk to you the way Margolyn might have, had she lived. If you are going to love my son, then love him completely. If you are going to give yourself to him, do so completely. Because he will return the same to you. It is all he knows. Perhaps that is unfortunate in some things, this all or nothing attitude of his, but in love for that one true and special person I think it is the most fortunate thing one could ask for.”
“If you are going to do this then you will have to do it, because he won't. Indeed, I doubt he can. And if you do it then you are creating exactly the problem he refused to entertain when he first became aware of your affection for him.”
“If you are successful then there will be a scandal no doubt, but we're in the middle of a war that may last for years and we may yet be defeated. The King was murdered by his own daughter, she tried to kill the Crown Prince, was killed by a distant cousin and her brother is still on the loose trying to steal the Kingdom from the oldest brother. What's one small scandal more or less in times such as these?” Edema smiled weakly.
“You must be sure,” the older woman warned her. “I will not tolerate anything less for him, ever. You must be completely and absolutely certain before you act, because you cannot take it back. If you cannot be sure then... then forget this talk and when we go home put this all behind you as he told you. No one can make that decision for you, and that includes him. So, I am telling you now, speaking about a man I love like a son, if you want him then go and claim him, Stephanie. Let nothing stand in your way. Life is simply too short.”
“I...” Stephanie was speechless. Struck dumb by this speech.
“I will support you any way that I can regardless of your decision, but remember this,” her blue eyes turned icy. “Mistreat him in any way and I will kill you myself. As I said, one more scandal more or less will make no difference now.”
Stephanie was still trying to process Edema's first speech when the threat arrived. She swallowed hard at the sudden iciness that seemed to surround Edema Willows and nodded her understanding of the older woman's threat as well as everything else she had said.
“Well,” Edema was suddenly all smiles again. “I'm glad we had this little talk, you and I. I feel better about things already. You?”
Stephanie nodded again.
“Splendid!”
-
“We called all of you here together to tell you something we're working on,” Beaumont told the assembled regimental commanders and their seconds. “We've worked well together over the last three months or so and have the record to prove it. After this is over, we'll be put back to work wherever the Prince thinks we'll be the most use, I'm sure.”
“The two of us,” Whipple took over, “have been discussing this for some time, trying to work out the details as best we could and I'm satisfied we've done it, more or less. Our plan is to integrate the two brigades completely, making them one unit in reality as well as name. General Beaumont will continue to command and I’ll be his second.”
“What about us?” one of Whipple's archers asked, hand raised. “What happens to us?”
“As to your rank, nothing,” Beaumont answered that one. “The plan is a fairly simple one but we think it will be effective. We will essentially swap half regiments. The result will be a regiment that has half swords or lancers and half mounted archers. That organization will run throughout the... hmm,” he trailed off, thinking. It was too big to be a brigade, but not large enough to be a true division.
“Demi-division,” Whipple supplied. “We aren't quite a division, but far more than a brigade. Since we're an independent command that shouldn't matter. Speaking of which, there's one more thing.”
“I've sent a request to the Prince,” Beaumont announced. “Asking that we be taken into his service in our new configuration and become part of his personal command.”
“You mean become Black Sheep?” another man asked.
“I don't know that we’ll actually be called Black Sheep, since that name may be reserved for those who fought at the Gap, I don't know. But I have asked that we be assigned to him personally to carry out such orders as he deems needed or necessary. We're already doing it anyway so making it official is just the last step. Does anyone have any objections to what you've heard so far?”
“I don't know much about archery,” one of Beaumont's men said hesitantly. “I'm not sure I'd know how to deploy archers.”
“You will when we're done,” Whipple promised. “Just as my men will know how to deploy horse mounted swordsmen and lancers. We’ll also assign ranking officers from each unit in their specialty. Once we get shook down and accustomed to operating together, it should be fine.”
“We can do this,” Beaumont promised. “We can do this and we can be of great service to the Prince, as we already have. And if we can't be known as Black Sheep then we’ll just pick our own name. How about that?” he grinned.
Grins answered him. His men liked the idea.
-
Stephanie took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. This was not what she'd had in mind for her-
“Are you sure about this?” Edema broke into her thoughts again.
“Will you please stop asking me that?” she replied in exasperation. “It's difficult enough without that constant distraction!”
“Sorry,” Edema apologized. “I will make sure the arrangements are made.”
“Thank you,” the young doctor nodded. “And yes, just so you know; I'm sure. I always have been.”
-
Parno made use of the small tub that Jaelle had arranged for, bathing the dust from his body at the end of the day. His mind ran to many things but mostly hovered over what Tinker had said to him coupled with thoughts about Stephanie and the things Edema had said about her.
How did things get so muddled and messed up like this? Where was the certainty in life that others seemed to enjoy? He often thought of himself as cursed to live in a perpetual state of confusion and unsteadiness. When he did, at least when he caught himself doing it, he stopped, refusing to participate in anything like self-pity. He had taught himself long ago that self-pity was a weakness, and he didn't allow himself such weaknesses. He couldn't because others would take advantage of those weaknesses, exploit them, use them against him. He shook his head at a life that made a small boy adopt such ideas in order to protect himself.
He stood up from the tub and took his towel, drying himself off, shaking out his short hair before ruffing it with the towel. He went to the small table where his few toiletries were found and combed out his hair, then applied a small amount of cologne he had receiv
ed as a gift long ago from a woman he should not have been associated with. Whose name in fact he could not remember. How many women could he say that of? He didn't know, to be honest. So many of them had been drunken trysts that meant nothing to him because he couldn't remember them.
“I really am a mess,” he said aloud, blowing out a long exhale.
“I've said the same thing more than once about both of us,” a female voice said behind him and Parno twisted at once, hand going to a small blade he kept hidden beside the dressing table.
Standing behind him in the shadows thrown by his shuttered lantern was a cloaked figure, silent and still in the face of his sword.
“You won't need that particular weapon tonight, Parno McLeod,” the figure said softly as feminine hands emerged from the cloak to lower the hood, revealing Stephanie Corsin-Freeman, her hair pulled up into a bun that could be concealed by the hood.
“Stephanie?” Parno's surprise was complete. “I have to say you are the last person I was expecting,” he managed to add despite his astonishment at her presence.
“I can see that,” she nodded, a faint smile on her face. At that point Parno realized he was holding a short sword pointed in her direction. A second later he realized he was also completely naked. He placed the sword on the table and grabbed the towel, hastily wrapping it around himself.
“Don't do that on my account,” she told him.
“It's not on... that's not... what are you doing here?” he finally managed to demand.
“I'm here to claim what's mine,” she told him simply. “Sit,” she pointed to a straight-backed chair near the middle of his large tent. For a second she thought he would refuse, but then he moved to the chair and sat down.
“I love you,” she told him plainly. “I think I have since the second time I met you, but I'm not sure. I just know that at some point you became the one person I can't live without.” She moved closer to him.
“I placed a great demand on you, a great burden at a time when you already had more on you than you could handle. That was wrong of me, selfish of me I suppose, and I am so very sorry. I said hateful things to you that I didn't mean because I was hurt and angry and I wanted you to see it. You left Nasil thinking I no longer loved you and didn't want to be with you. You could not be more wrong. You could never be more wrong.” She stopped in front of him and opened the cloak, revealing that she was wearing the scantest of lingerie beneath it and nothing else.
