Parno's Peril

by N. C. Reed

  “Wha-”

  “I'm here to take what's mine,” she told him again. “To claim what is mine for now and all time. I don't care that you had a fling with Jaelle, more especially since her being with you kept you alive. I will never be able to repay her for that. I don't care about the scandal this will cause. I don't care about the customs, about the danger or about anything else. You are mine, Parno McLeod and you always will be. And I'm here to make sure you don't ever forget it.”

  Before he could speak she had straddled him and lowered herself almost to the point of joining them. At some unknown point he seemed to have lost his towel. She held herself off him by the strength of her arms and legs, looking him in the eyes.

  “If you can't be sure, then now is the time to say so,” she told him simply. “After this, there's no going back. I won't share you and I won't be second in your heart to anyone. Understand? No one.”

  “Ah-” Parno still hadn't managed to form a real word.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don't love me and I’ll go, and we will never have this discussion again,” she continued, still hovering above him. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you do love me and we’ll never need to have this discussion again, because I’ll belong to you for the rest of my life. Second to no one, forever and ever.”

  She was so close. He could feel the heat from her body, smell the hints of perfume she had dabbed in delicate places, but... it was her eyes that hypnotized him. Even in the lantern light the almost predatory look in her eyes was intense enough to take his breath away and leave him gasping for air.

  “So, which is it to be, Parno McLeod,” she whispered huskily. “Choose.”

  Head still swimming, Parno said the only thing he could under the circumstances.

  “I love you Stephanie,” he replied honestly. “I always have.”

  Hearing that, she bent her head and kissed him furiously. As their tongues fought for supremacy, she began to slowly and gently lower herself on to him. Carefully, bit by bit, so slowly that it actually heightened the sensations both were feeling, she descended upon him until she was completely astride him, enveloping him, her weight now firmly on him and her cloak now encompassing them both. There was a slight bit of pain which she had expected, but...

  “Oh my God,” she whispered as she broke the kiss. “I-”

  “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “You brought us this far. Let me do the rest.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  -

  Parno woke slowly, almost reluctantly, his eyes blurry enough that he wondered if he'd gotten drunk the night before and forgotten it. As he started to move he became immediately aware of another presence in his bed and suddenly his eyesight was completely clear as he gazed down at the peacefully sleeping visage of Stephanie Corsin-Freeman spooned up against him. Naked. Naked and rather obviously...

  “Oh, this is so not good,” he whispered to himself.

  But it was. It had been. As he replayed the events of the previous evening over in his mind, he realized that for all intents and purposes he'd just had his wedding night. Their wedding night.

  In the middle of an army camp, in the middle of a war.

  Recognizing the number of things he needed to see to, Parno eased his way from the bed, leaving behind a blissfully sleeping woman to go and start seeing to those things.

  He bathed himself in the water that was available, then quietly called for warm water to be brought while he drained the tub. He noted a small bag set outside his tent and rightly guessed it was for his guest, pulling it inside before too many people could see it. By the time he bathed and dressed the hot water had arrived and he took it himself and poured it into the tub. The sound of water splashing was enough to wake his house guest because as he came from behind the screen with the last bucket she was sitting up in the bed, smiling. Her hair was somewhat tousled, loose and flowing around her in a sexy way he'd never seen or imagined seeing, almost like a dark curtain of hair surrounding and embracing her. She was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

  “Good morning, Parno,” she purred.

  “Good morning, Stephanie,” he smiled back at her. He crossed to the bed and kissed her gently before drawing back...

  “There is fresh hot water in the tub, and your co-conspirator has left a bag with clean clothes outside my door sometime during the night. Lord knows what she heard,” he sighed.

  “Not much since I kept biting you to keep from screaming,” Stephanie giggled. Actually giggled. He'd never heard her do it that he could recall. Maybe he had, but at least never in this situation.

  “Yes, I do seem to be covered in sores this morning,” Parno rubbed his shoulder. “But I'm sure they will heal and if they don't I know a good doctor.”

  “A good doctor?” she looked at him with a frown. “You know an excellent doctor, I’ll thank you to remember.”

  “That is, of course, what I meant,” he agreed with an amused snort of barely contained laughter. “In the meanwhile, your bag has toiletries inside and I have just filled my small tub with hot water for you, so you are all set. I need to go over to Army Headquarters and make sure no one stole the Army from me during the night but I will be back probably by lunch.”

  “It's a date then,” Stephanie nodded, rising from the bed completely bare and kissing him again. Parno drank the sight of her in, already regretting getting dressed. Stephanie let him go for several seconds before clearing her throat.

  “Going to check on the Army, weren't you?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Right!” he nodded, tearing his gaze away. “I was indeed. I will see you for lunch.”

  She was humming as she went to immerse herself in that hot water he had so sweetly provided her.

  -

  “Well?” Edema asked as Stephanie arrived 'home' to their tent in the late morning.

  “You already know how it went since I didn't come back,” Stephanie teased. “But if you must know, it went perfectly. Could not have been better in fa-.”

  “Let's not get into too much detail, dear,” Edema caught her before she could go further. “A simple worked or didn't will suffice. Good for you. For both of you.”

  “I never imagined my wedding night would be in the middle of an army camp on the front lines of a great war,” the younger woman sighed. “My life has the strangest turns in it.”

  “A product of falling for Parno, no doubt,” Edema laughed.

  “I have to go and check on Harrel,” Stephanie said as she picked up her bag. “I'm having lunch with Parno. What are you doing today?”

  “I... have an idea I'm trying to put together,” Edema was almost mysterious. “No idea if it will work or if it's even practicable, but once I've got it sorted a bit further I’ll probably want you to look at it. See what you think.”

  “I'd be glad to.”

  -

  “Are you telling me that the only sign you can find of an entire Imperial Infantry division is the body of its commanding General and this damn dagger?” Wilson was yelling by the time he finished his sentence.

  “The ground is littered with sign of a battle, sir, but... just that. Nothing else. No equipment, no bodies, nothing. Just General Crandall's body in the road with that... thing,” he pointed to the krishank.

  “Damn you, Smith,” Wilson muttered to himself. “This is all your doing.” He looked at the man in front of him.

  “Get a fresh horse and head back to your unit. Tell General Westcott that when he reaches Unity he is to overnight there and then return with General Taylor's 16th Infantry. Write that up for him to carry with him,” Wilson told Sterling, who nodded and started writing.

  “Can't even hold a simple exercise,” Wilson muttered, looking out the window. “What else is this going to cost us?” he wondered.

  -

  General Westcott examined Unity with a clear look of distaste, his mind fighting to take in the sight even as his lead brigade deployed around him.


  “Looks as if the town caught fire during a battle sir,” one of his scouts reported, returning from riding through what was left. “There are still a few smoldering embers spread around but the fires are mostly out. I found a few bodies here and there but... identification just isn't possible. They're burned too badly.”

  “Any sign of Taylor and his men?” Westcott asked quietly. He already knew the answer but had to ask, for form's sake if nothing else.

  “Afraid not, sir,” the scout confirmed Westcott's thoughts. “It looks like the most of the fighting was done in the town square. Most of that area is pretty well tore up.”

  “Sir!” another voice broke in as a second scout came galloping up to him, a small cloud of dust following.

  “Sir, I... I think we found General Taylor. Sir,” the man saluted as if he didn't know what else to do.

  “You think?” Westcott repeated. “Did you find him or not?” he demanded.

  “We found a body in a general's uniform, sir,” the scout replied. “He was hanging from an arch over the main street leading in from the north, sir. And he had this tied to his hand,” the scout handed over the second krishank that Westcott had seen in as many days.

  “Perfect,” he muttered. “Cut him down,” he ordered. “Get a detail together to dig enough grave space for what we found. Keep one brigade on watch and ready at all times. As soon as we can clean away this mess, we're on the road out of here. We're going back.”

  “Sir?” his second in command was startled. “Sir, our orders-”

  “This place is a damn death trap,” Westcott said softly. “Hell, this whole road is one long abattoir. We are not going to sit inside it one second longer than we have to. Understand?”

  “Yes sir,” the man saluted and started issuing orders.

  “Wilson can come out here himself if he doesn't like it,” Westcott ignored the colonel after that, thinking of the things he had found. He wasn't about to lose his entire division the same way Crandall and Taylor had. Not if he could help it.

  -

  Parno looked at the proposal in his hands with more than a little appreciation. He and Karls had discussed whether or not to allow inclusions into the Black Sheep and had never come to a decision they were happy with. Now Beaumont and Whipple might have solved that problem, or at least given Parno a litmus test.

  Beaumont and Whipple were loyal to Parno, and more than that they were loyal to the Crown. He had twice sent them on special missions, one of them distasteful in the extreme, and both times they had performed brilliantly. Both had likewise done extremely well during the cavalry engagement Parno himself had led. They were smart and capable, and their men were loyal.

  “You wanted to see me?” Karls asked, entering the small tent Parno had appropriated as his 'office'.

  “Take a look at this,” he handed the proposal to Karls. “Tell me what you think.” Karls read quickly, then looked at Parno.

  “House troops?” he asked. “You can't roll them into the Regiment. There's too many of them. And their plan is to create a short division, combining their two brigades. The idea itself has merit but... how do you apply them? And this still doesn't answer the question of whether or not we're going to allow applicants for placement into the Regiment itself. We're getting more and more requests all the time from officers and enlisted alike. Have been since we arrived, to be honest.”

  “I still don't know about that,” Parno admitted. “I do know that Beaumont and Whipple work well together and their men were already a cut above. They're breezing through the workouts at the Canton I'm told and will graduate far ahead of schedule. Having such a unit at my beckon call that isn't attached to a parent unit or doesn't have to be pulled from a line unit... it has a certain appeal.”

  “I'm sure it does,” Karls almost snorted. “Up until now that's what the Black Sheep have been for.”

  “I think we’ll need to keep the Sheep close to home for a while,” Parno commented. Karls nodded at that without comment.

  “So, what is your opinion?” Parno asked again.

  “I don't have a problem with them being called Black Sheep if you don't,” Karls admitted. “But we need a special badge to identify those who were at the Gap. They deserve that much and more.”

  “Agreed,” Parno nodded. “I've considered using ribbons or badges for every major engagement that can be added to a uniform. What do you think of that? To help build morale among the line units.”

  “Make those who don't have badges want them,” Karls nodded. “That's not a bad idea. But how far do you intend to extend the name Black Sheep inside the Army?”

  “I don't know, but if I do this then not much further,” Parno admitted. “It needs to be small enough to make men work for it.”

  “Agreed,” Karls nodded once more. “Will the Regiment be rolled into…”

  “No,” Parno was quick to shake his head. “No, the Black Sheep, and you, answer directly to me and no one else. No one else,” he emphasized. “That doesn't change, I don't care who it is. Very well, I think I will approve this and see how well it works.” He made a few quick strokes with a pen, then looked up.

  “How is Graham and 1st Corps hanging in?” he asked.

  “Quite well,” Karls nodded. “They will finish far ahead of schedule at this rate. They didn't need any basic instruction at all and were already proficient with sword and lance and horse. Archery for all is presenting a training issue but we're working it and it's coming along. Hand-to-hand is a bit slower, but none of us caught on any faster. I'd say no more than another month and you’ll have an entire Corps trained nearly to our standards and ready for service.”

  “That might be the best news we could get on the war front,” Parno breathed a sigh of relief. “Now if the enemy will give us that month, we’ll be in much better shape.”

  -

  “Any more word from Westcott?” Wilson wanted to know.

  “Nothing so far, sir,” Sterling shook his head. “I can send-”

  “No,” Wilson shook his own head, cutting the younger man off. “No, let’s don't jog his elbow any. We expect him to command, so let him command. Besides, if he is in trouble one courier won't be of any help.”

  “Very good sir.”

  -

  “It's almost dark,” Westcott examined the sun. His men had just force marched at least five miles back to the east of Unity. They had to be exhausted and he felt for them, he did. He also feared for them. Something had happened to both Crandall and now Taylor's entire divisions. He didn't want the same fate falling on his own men.

  “We’ll make a cold camp here,” he told his assembled commanders. “Regiments to camp in line of battle down both sides of the road. Double watches with pickets no further than fifty yards out. Get it done so they can be settled in before dark.”

  The various commanders broke away, headed back their units to pass along those orders. Westcott watched them go, hoping he hadn't passed his fear along to them. The night would be long enough as it was.

  -

  “Large body of horsemen approaching from the west,” a picket courier announced to the Sergeant of the Guard.

  “Report up the line,” the sergeant ordered. “Likely our men returning, but we’ll take no chances. Sound the alert!”

  Men began running to their posts, positioning for an attack. The sergeant knew that the Norland cavalry was supposed to be in Lovil, sick as dogs, so any large body of horsemen should be their own returning. But with the heathen Tribals attached to the northern army, it paid not to take chances.

  “Hello the camp!” a voice called from the dark. “1st Corps, Soulan Cavalry returning!”

  “Come forward and be recognized!” the sergeant bellowed back, hand caressing his sword. That hand relaxed as men wearing the army of the Soulan Army appeared into the torchlight, one wearing the stars of a general.

  “General Gerald Allen, commanding 1st Cavalry Corp, returning from mission,” he reported, returning the sergea
nt's salute.

  “Welcome back sir,” the guard replied. “You’ll be heading to your old billets?”

  “Yes, but we have a train of captured goods and wagons of wounded as well that we need to see to,” Allen nodded.

  “I’ll notify the Hospital Corps then, sir.”

  “And I will be riding to see General Davies.”

  “Sir.”

  -

  “One thousand three hundred and fifty-nine dead, two thousand, six hundred seventy-two wounded. Some of the wounded will return within the week or less, some won't return at all,” Allen finished his report.

  “But you destroyed completely two Imperial Infantry divisions, General,” Davies nodded. “According to your records that amounts to just over twenty-two thousand men, all of them dead and the bodies disposed of in such a way as to make it look as if they just disappeared!” Davies hand slapped his desk. “I'd give a pretty gold coin to see the look on the face of the Imperial commander when he hears that, I would!” He looked up at Allen.

  “I know you feel your losses, General,” his voice softened. “I felt every one of mine as we retreated from Lovil. It never seemed to stop. But remember that we didn't start this war and did all we could to prevent it. You have thirteen hundred and fifty-nine dead but they have over twenty-two thousand! That's the damage you did to them, General. Remember that. Try to always remember that. You spent your men well and that's all a soldier can ask. That his commander spends him well.”

  “Yes sir,” Allen nodded, actually feeling a bit better.

  “I will expect your full report day after tomorrow,” Davies returned to business. “Until then your men are on rest depending on enemy action. Dismissed, General.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Allen snapped to and departed.

  “How do you bastards like that, ay?” Davies turned to the north and asked the dark.