by N. C. Reed
“I'm awake,” she promised. “We're being attacked?” she asked.
“Yes, milady,” Benson nodded. “We have to go. And we must do it quickly. We are but in the way, here.”
“Very well,” she nodded, getting to her feet. “It won't take long. Please see to it that our luggage is on top, in case young Harrel can travel with us,” she ordered. “But make sure to ask Stephanie what of her things you may need before loading her up. She will want her medical bag, I know.”
“Very good, milady,” Benson nodded. “If you need help, please call.”
“I will. Hurry to your duties while I prepare.”
-
“General,” Parno said as he walked inside. “Trouble on the horizon?”
“It does appear that way, milord,” Davies agreed. “Movement and racket all along the line and men running to get into formation. It's not just one division or one corps, but everyone. We have runners moving to every command to get our men up and into position as quietly as we can. I've already sent a runner to General Graham as well.”
“Good,” Parno nodded. “Our artillery alerted and standing by?”
“Major Lars is already making the rounds, sir,” Davies nodded.
“Then all we can do is wait,” Parno mused. “I need to get a runner off to General Allen and let him know we're under attack.”
“Already done, sir,” Davies nodded. “Our rider is waiting for enough light to see and then he's off.”
“You don't need me at all, do you?” Parno grinned.
“I'm sure we’ll find a use for you, milord,” Davies chuckled dryly. “Meanwhile, as you said. We wait.”
-
Abe Springfield watched as his men moved forward, slowly shaking down into line as they prepared to advance. Bellowing sergeants walked the lines, moving troops where they needed to be and fussing over alignments and distances.
“This is a giant clusterfuck,” he sighed quietly. Beside him, in the dark, his Chief of Staff nodded silently.
“Ten minutes and we start moving, sir,” the man reminded him.
“Yeah. Ten minutes,” Springfield sighed again.
-
Joel Vanhoose watched as his 2nd Imperial Infantry Corps staggered to their lines as division commanders got their men into position. There was no point in yelling for them to hurry since it was the 'hurrying' that was preventing them from getting things done. Men who knew better were bumbling around in the dark instead of moving where they needed to be.
“What a frigging mess,” he almost spat. “Twelve hours to prepare a move of this size! Men moving on four and five hours sleep. We’ll be lucky if this isn't a giant disaster.”
No one around him spoke one way or another, not wanting to draw his ire or say something that was derogatory of General Wilson. Such things tended to be remembered, after all.
“Sir, all division commanders are reporting on line and ready to go,” an aide reported finally. Vanhoose checked his watch by the light of a lantern and nodded.
“Eight minutes to spare,” he said quietly. “That will be a short eight minutes for some and an eternity for others,” he put his watch away. “All divisions to move forward as the dawn breaks,” he ordered. “We want to be on them before the sun is fully up.”
-
“All positions are manned and ready, sir,” a runner reported. “Scouts are returning, lighting the bonfires as they move.”
“Very good,” Davies nodded. “Lets... hmm,” he broke off, clearly thinking of something.
“What?” Parno asked. “What is it?”
“I was just examining the board, sir,” Davies replied. “If we can get them to commit, then we can use 1st Corps against their right, allowing Allen to sweep in from behind them. It's a risk, and if 4th and 5th Corps can't hold then it will be a problem, but it could present an opportunity to crush their army completely.”
“I would love to do that but... it's too much of a risk, General,” Parno sighed. “If Freeman and Herrick gave way at any point then we would lose our own lines and our camps be overrun. I think we need to stick to using 1st Corps to reinforce our line and allow Allen's men to move into the enemy rear and strike from there. We may not be able to roll up their entire flank but we should be able to do a great deal of damage. And at much less risk. I know it's tempting, but the risk is too great, General.”
“You are right, of course,” Davies nodded in resignation. “I just... I saw an opportunity to...” he trailed off and Parno nodded sympathetically.
“I know. A chance to end this. As I said, it is tempting, but we have to accept that we have limitations and live within them. This is one of those limitations. Our infantry is outnumbered two-to-one and that's after we factor in 1st Corps helping with the line. We will have to depend on Allen to do all the damage he can instead.”
“As you say, milord.”
-
Wilson looked to the east as the light grew. Satisfied, he turned to the men waiting to carry his orders.
“When they hear 'Rise and Ready', they will wait one minute. After that, start moving. Noise is not a factor since there's almost no way they don't know we're coming. Remind them of their order of march,” he stressed. “Off with you.” The six runners saluted and hurried away, their horses carrying them as fast as safely possible in the low light.
“Five minutes, Sterling, and you can start the call,” Wilson told the younger man at his side. “Today we break the Soulan Army.”
“Yes sir,” Sterling tried to sound enthusiastic. Wilson might be certain and sure of his moves, but Britton Sterling had felt a tendril of unease the first time he had heard this plan, and it had done nothing but grown since then. He was certain and sure this was a mistake, but there was no way to stop it.
And now he would, in fact, be the one to start things off.
-
“This is so needlessly complicated considering how fast it was laid on,” General Darrell Thomas muttered. His Imperial 3rd Corps was once again listed as the reserve, something he was growing weary of but didn't dare say so. Right now, his men were spread behind the main line, ready by division to plug any hole or take advantage of any break in the Soulan lines. He supposed he should be honored by that, since it meant his men were being trusted to prosecute the attack to the fullest.
“Get runners to all division commanders with these stupid orders,” he told his Chief of Staff. “No telling how long we have, so hurry.” Thomas' divisions were necessarily more isolated from their brethren than the assaulting units, since they needed to be able to respond quickly anywhere on the battlefield. It was necessary but it also made his issuing orders and keeping control of his troops much more difficult. Again, he shook his head, but resisted the urge to curse Wilson. Son-of-bitch just might have someone listening, after all.
“Stand by.”
-
Anthony Felds touch flint and steel together and lit the final bonfire between the two armies, one closest to the Imperial lines. As soon as it was going he turned and disappeared into the darkness behind him even as he heard an arrow impact the ground where he'd just been.
“Definitely time to go,” he nodded to himself. He had overstayed his welcome.
-
Parno had taken the time to return to his tent and saw the carriage pull in just as he was making his way there. Benson and several men in uniform were throwing bags on top of the carriage and lashing them down. Even as he watched, Stephanie emerged from the tent that Harrel had been recuperating in, two stretcher bearers following her with Harrel Sprigs.
“I can walk,” Sprigs was saying.
“You need to save that strength, Harrel,” Stephanie told him. “Captain!”
“Milady?” Simmons was there at once.
“I need someone to pack Captain Sprigs' belongings as rapidly as possible,” she told him. “His tent is the smaller one closest to Pa... the Marshal's tent,” she pointed. “Please have two good men collect his things. Ask them to
leave nothing behind.”
“At once, milady.” Simmons hurried away, calling names as he went.
“Thank you, milady,” Sprigs told her softly.
“Of course,” Stephanie smiled down at him even as Parno walked up.
“Milord,” Sprigs nodded.
“I'm glad you're able to leave here, Harrel,” Parno smiled. “I'm already missing your steady presence, you know.” He took Harrel's hand gently in his own.
“Yes,” Stephanie tried to lighten the mood. “Poor man has to do his own reading and paperwork now.” Sprigs laughed in spite of himself and Parno chuckled as well.
“Concentrate on getting well,” Parno told his secretary. “I’ll need you back to work as soon as possible. Be safe, Harrel,” he gave him one final pat on the back.
“Thank you, milord.” The two orderlies were gently assisting Harrel to his feet and they bodily loaded him into the carriage that had once been an ambulance anyway. Soon he was nestled in a pile of cushions and heavy quilts that made a soft bed. The simple movement had exhausted him however, and soon he was asleep. Stephanie turned to Parno.
“I wish I were staying with you,” she said softly.
“And I'm glad you're going,” he shook his head. She sighed sadly as she shook her head.
“You really do need to work on how you say things, my dear husband-to-be,” she told him. “You should have said something like 'it's too dangerous, love of my life, and I need you to be safe so that I can save the realm and come home to you as soon as it's done'. Or... something like that,” she made a shooing motion with her hand that reminded him of Edema.
“I've said all that and more many times over,” Parno reminded her, hugging her close. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “Please, be safe. Pay attention to those around you and use your escort. I'm begging you, both of you. All three of you counting Dolly. I need to know you're all safe. You three and a few close friends are literally all I have, Stephanie Freeman-Corsin. Or is it Corsin-Freeman?” He asked suddenly. “I've been meaning to ask since I've heard both before.”
“They are literally interchangeable. All the way back to the original Freeman and Corsin under Tyree. They married and here we are. There was always a mild rivalry between them and each always insisted their last name was the 'legal' name. Hence the hyphen, and even that didn't work as they began then to argue over whose name was to be on the back of the hyphen. So, from the very beginning it depended on who was talking. As for me, I answer to either, especially if it's you calling,” she smiled softly at him.
“Soon you’ll need another hyphen,” Parno smiled. “To add McLeod.”
“No more hyphens,” she shook her head. “Just McLeod is fine. Please don't do anything stupid,” she changed the subject abruptly.
“I'm afraid those days are definitely over,” he promised. “Now load up. He comes Edema. You have to go.”
“Goodbye,” she kissed him quickly but gently on the lips. “Please, please take care,” she added one last time before stepping up into the carriage. Parno turned to Edema, who despite the urgency looked as fresh and put together as she always did.
“Even though you shouldn't have been here, it has been a joy to have you visit,” Parno smiled at his surrogate mother and received a brilliant smile in return.
“Please be safe, dear boy,” she caressed his face gently. “Don't take so many chances. Promise me?”
“I promise,” he nodded, a faint smile this time, but still there.
“Then we must be away,” she blinked back tears. “I love you child,” she whispered as she kissed each cheek. “Remember that always.”
“I love you too,” Parno promised. “We’ll see each other soon.”
“From your lips to God's ear,” Edema nodded and then without another word turned and took the hand offered her, stepping into the coach. Benson secured the door and bumped it with his fist.
“Ready!”
Simmons' men were already moving slowly forward, a small screen of scouts already on the road while another squad was standing by to flank the column as it left the camp. Behind the carriage came Pike's men, the young Captain nodded in silence as he passed Parno, an unspoken promise from the professional soldier. Parno returned it and then turned away, unwilling to watch them out of sight.
He had work to do this morning.
-
“Nor are moving, milord,” Davies informed him as he arrived at the observation tower. “And there may be a problem,” he added with a frown.
“What kind of problem?” Parno asked. Davies indicated the telescope mounted on the tower.
“Have a look.” Parno did that and saw at once what Davies was concerned about.
“Well,” he drew the word out. “Smart buggers aren't they then? That's all right, though. We have a plan for that.”
“We do?” Davies asked.
“Oh, indeed we do,” Parno nodded. “Runners!”
-
It was a simple plan, but Wilson was rather proud of it. To counter the explosive weapons being used by his enemy he had ordered the front ranks of every advancing division to open their intervals and place more room between each man. Moreover, each succeeding rank would be off center to the rank before and behind it. Wide open intervals would prevent those damnable new weapons from ripping his men apart before they could close with the enemy.
“I feel good about this Sterling,” Wilson smiled. “I really do.”
“Yes sir.”
-
“Archers to the fore!” the call went all down the line. “Cross bows front!”
At that call, every man trained to use a bow, even if it wasn't his primary weapon, moved to the front of the fortifications. They realized at once what was happening even without explanation. The Marshal had anticipated this and had made a plan to counter it. Now it was up to them to see it done.
The first volley would be the Hubel arrows, fired from thousands of bows all down the Soulan lines. Parno wanted the Nor behind the first ranks to realize they weren't actually safe. If they saw the men in front being torn apart even with the wider interval then they would hesitate. Slow down, perhaps even stop in confusion.
At least, that was what he hoped would happen.
“Crossbows! Take aim!” The call was repeated all down the line as every cross bow on the line appeared atop the fortifications.
“Now,” was the simple command and a bugle began to blow. The signal to fire crossbows.
Over five thousand crossbows from the eight divisions along the line fired more or less in unison, their firing lanes restricted to only what was in front of their position within a ten-degree arc.
“Longbows!” the call came next, before the sound of the cross bows had even halted. “Take aim!”
Thirty thousand long bows give or take were raised now, each with one of the deadly Hubel arrows nocked and ready. Parno watched from the tower, the battle out of his hands now.
“Now,” the simple command was repeated and a higher tone was produced by the horn. This was the signal to commence firing and open the battle in earnest.
The sound of bowstrings being released was audible all along the fortifications as a cloud of arrows lofted from the line headed for the Imperial soldiers. Thousands of arrows carrying the small but deadly 'warheads' developed by Roda Finn and Whip Hubel.
A second volley, this one of regular arrows, was in the air before the Hubel arrows landed, and the battle was truly joined.
-
“Why aren't they using their artillery?” Wilson asked. No sooner had the words left his mouth than thousands of small explosions rippled along his front ranks, felling Imperial soldiers in windrows.
“What the hell was that?” Wilson demanded. In the din of the last battle no one had heard the smaller explosions or even noticed them other than those unlucky enough to be struck by one. Soldiers who survived and reported the strange impacts were written off as being in shock from the rolling barrages that had
claimed so many of their brethren and never reported up the line.
The Imperial Army was paying for that mistake now in blood.
-
“You hear that?” Gerald Allen asked, looking at Milton Vaughan.
“Sounds like thunder,” he nodded. “Didn't the Marshal say-,”
“Rider coming!” Vaughan's question was interrupted. “Rider coming!”
Two minutes later a courier literally slid to a stop before Allen, producing a note from Davies. Allen took is and read quickly, nodding in satisfaction.
“Please tell the General we’ll be moving in ten minutes,” Allen instructed the rider. “I estimate we can be where he wants us in less than two hours.”
“Sir,” the man snapped a salute and reined his horse around, galloping away.
“The line is under attack by the entire Imperial Army,” Allen told Vaughan. “Everything. We're to ride to this location and prepare to take them in flank. Get your men moving now while I brief the others as they pass. Stay out of sight, with a good gait just shy of a gallop. We need to conserve our horses for the battle. If we play this right we may start ending the war today!”
“Sir,” Vaughan nodded and then looked at his bugler.
“Canter forward,” he said simply and the bugler raised his horn to his lips. Vaughan didn't wait but set off for the battlefield, his small escort following along with his staff. His soldiers followed in column of four.
On their way to war in earnest.
-
“Compliments to Mister Lars and he may open fire now with one salvo before switching to a mixture of pitch and stone. Remind him not to use my reserve without my orders.”
“Sir,” the runner nodded and took off, replaced at once by another man standing by for orders.
“They aren't holding anything back,” Davies estimated as he viewed the battlefield. “I think they have one corps spread along the rear in reserve, but they've left little to nothing behind.”
“Good,” Parno nodded. “That's excellent.”
“Sir?” Davies turned to look at Parno.
“I have a little treat for our northern friends, assuming they emptied their camp,” Parno gave him a predatory smile. He turned to the man waiting behind him. He pulled a small map from his tunic and opened it, showing it to the runner.
