Parno's Peril

by N. C. Reed

  “I am wide open to suggestions at the moment,” he admitted. “I've tried to cover what I can, but I'm not going to fool myself that I know everything. So, if you have ideas, trot them out. Now is absolutely the time for it.”

  Silence reined for a moment as the others digested what he had said. Moxie was the first to speak, surprising himself as much as the others.

  “We can't try to surrender,” he said gently. “Soulanies aren't accepting any surrender. Whatever we do, that has to be off the table.”

  “Agreed,” Springfield nodded. “They're ruthless bastards this time around, though I can't blame them. If they were invading us, I'd be the same way.” Heads nodded at that.

  “If we can salvage the wagon wheels and axles then we can just use logs to build platforms on them,” Vanhoose said finally. “Pile blankets in there to soften the ride, maybe pine boughs beneath that, try to cushion the ride as much as possible. We don't have enough axles even if we save all of them to need all the horses, so plan to use eight or ten horses per wagon and that might take some strain off them. We could move more and move faster that way.”

  “Good idea,” Springfield encouraged. “Whatever we can salvage will help.”

  “We may can get wheels and axles from some of the artillery, too,” Thomas suggested. “Even if they aren't normal wagon wheels, it beats nothing.”

  “Also true,” Springfield nodded. “Hadn't thought of that. Good idea.”

  “Nothing says we won't be attacked on the way home,” Figg hated to bring it up. “It's a long and dangerous trip back to the Ohi. Moving like we're talking about might take two weeks or more. That's a long time for southern cavalry to be riding up our ass.”

  “Nothing we can do about that,” Springfield shrugged. “It's a valid point but there's still nothing we can do. We will use Baxter to the front and Venable to the rear to try and protect us as much as possible, but that's really all we can do.”

  “We might send a man with a flag of truce to let the Soulanie Marshal know what we're doing,” Kelby suggested. “Tell them we're leaving and ask for safe passage north.”

  “Never happen,” Thomas said at once and both Vanhoose and Springfield nodded in agreement. “They won't pass up the chance to completely destroy us if they can. All that would do is set us up better for them to tear apart.”

  “I have to agree,” Springfield said when Thomas fell silent. “They’ll know in a few days anyway. If they're inclined to let us go, then they will without our asking. If not, there's no need to give them extra time to cut us off.”

  “Have the able-bodied men cut saplings to make stretchers from blankets and tent canvas,” Moxie threw in. “We have thousands of men who aren't injured that can carry a man on a stretcher between them. It will be difficult, but it can be done. We can also rig travois behind individual horses to pull men behind, or what little supplies or equipment we can save. Tent canvas works but a strong wooden frame will help the canvas last. It only has to make it to the Ohi, after all.”

  “Damn good idea,” Springfield enthused. “Another I hadn't thought of and it will work, too. Alright, we seem to have the start of a working plan here. Good ideas to follow up on and gives us plenty to keep the men busy. We start at daybreak trying to get out of here. Assuming we can get Venable and Baxter back here in five days, I want us ready to go no later than the day after, once they've had time to rest. Meanwhile, we need to try and feed our men. I’ll work on that in the morning. Probably be horse meat,” he admitted. “But we should still have some cattle somewhere back there, so that's a start. We can slaughter them and start smoking them over open fires. We’ll jerk some of it in strips and give them to the men to carry on the road north. Get some sleep gentlemen,” he stood, ending the meeting.

  “We're still in a battle, and we better win this one.”

  -

  “Will we stay another day, milady, or do you plan to leave in the morning?” Case asked as dark neared.

  “What do you think?” she asked him. “What do all of you think? Are they far enough along that we can let them finish on their own?”

  “I think so,” the old engineer nodded. “They have some good hands and they know their business. We've set out a good plan and provided tools they didn't have enough of. They've too few able bodies, honestly, but Mister Garrett's men have cut trees for two days and we've hauled them all in close. They have the raw materials to finish what we've started.”

  “Many of them already were proficient with a bow, including a lot of the women,” Winnie nodded. “We've provided them with extra bows as well as arrows, and they know how to make more. One woman told me cane is plentiful around here and that will make decent arrows. Not great perhaps, but not bad, either. Arrowheads might be scarce but we left a mold for the blacksmiths to use and they have raw materials.”

  “We've provided three dozen people who asked with swords and made sure they can use them,” Conway offered. “They aren't good enough for militia, but they can at least defend themselves. But let’s be honest here,” he looked around the group. “A raid the size of the one that hit Nasil comes through here, none of this will last more than about ten minutes. The first eight of which will be the Nor bastards looking the place over, pardon my language,” he nodded to Winnie.

  “The best this will do is help protect them against small raiding parties and give them a fighting chance against any Tribals that come this far down. We've set them up pretty well. They either will or won't finish. They have to be willing to invest in their own safety at least as much as we do.”

  “True,” Case agreed. “And we have started them on the right road. Are we all in agreement that they should be fine on their own?” Heads nodded around the circle. Case looked at Winnie.

  “I would suggest we be on our way come morning then,” he told her.

  “I agree,” she nodded. “Make it happen then. We’ll make all preparations we can before bedtime and be ready to roll right after breakfast. Thank you all,” she said, effectively dismissing the group.

  “Three days to Jason?” she asked Case.

  “Roughly,” he nodded. “Depends on how good a time we make. But no more than four for certain, unless there's a problem with the bridges.”

  “No more ferry?” she asked.

  “No more ferry.”

  “Good.”

  -

  It was an exhausted bunch that stopped at the small inn along the road to Nasil, having ridden hard to escape whatever attack was happening. It was difficult for Stephanie and for Edema not to know what had happened, but they had to accept it. They would know as soon as word reached the palace. That was all they could hope for.

  Harrel was exhausted just from travel and was placed in a room with a pair of young lieutenants who would look out for him. Stephanie checked his condition and helped him eat, then tucked him in for the evening.

  There was very little discussion of the events of the day as the tired group ate, washed and then trooped to bed. With both escorts there was no shortage of manpower and the guard was strong during the night, just in case.

  Despite her fatigue, sleep did not come to Stephanie Corsin-Freeman for a long time.

  -

  Parno read the remainder of the preliminary reports from his corps commanders while he ate supper, nodding on occasion and frowning upon others. Things had gone very well, but not as well as he had hoped for. Still, as Enri had said, they had done well.

  It was strange to go to an empty tent that evening. He had come to expect Stephanie to be there when he arrived and had enjoyed talking with her about their day. He had never felt lonely in camp until now. Before his tent was just a place he came to sleep at night. For the last two weeks or so, it had almost been a home. It had felt right to come into the tent and find her reading or brushing her long hair or... just waiting for him to arrive.

  Tonight, it felt wrong. He stripped out of his uniform and dropped across his bed, assuming he wouldn't sleep at all. Yet a
s he stretched out the fatigue and stress hit him and he was asleep in mere minutes.

  He would dream of home tonight. Of the smell of food cooking, the sound of happiness in a home, something he had never known. He would dream of mundane days and romantic evenings and children running through the yard.

  Tonight, he would dream of peace.

  -

  Memmnon wondered why he was edgy. He had no idea what was happening, anywhere. That wasn't unusual, but it was annoying. He missed Winifred. More than he had imagined he would, and he hadn't thought that possible. He had dined with her father the past two nights, the two talking pleasantly of anything other than the fact that she wasn't there. He absence ate at him, but there was no help for that.

  He stood on his balcony overlooking the city and wondered where she was. What she was doing. Perhaps she was asleep already. He had no way to know any of that either.

  It amazed him how as King, he knew so little of what was going on. He decided he would have to get used to that as well.

  Just as he had to become accustomed to so many other things. His mind flitted briefly to Therron, and even more briefly to Sherron. Where was his wayward brother tonight? What lies was he telling to whoever would listen? What difference would it make? He shook his head slowly. It made no difference. Just something else he couldn't know.

  Surrendering to that fact, he retired for the evening, telling himself as he did so, just as he did every evening, that tomorrow would be better.

  Sometimes it even was.

  -

  Therron looked at the glowing lights of the Coastal Provincial Coalition governor's mansion with great delight. Finally, he was here! His carefully prepared presentation would be placed before the governor before the night was over, and he would finally be able to get the assistance he needed. Soon, very soon he would be on his way home to assume the throne.

  The young captain leading his escort led them around to the side entrance of the mansion grounds, where the horses could be left and what baggage they had could be taken by the staff. Therron wasn't pleased to be taken to such a lowborn entrance but decided to hold his tongue for now. He could complain about that when he saw the governor. Just as he would complain about that Colonel. They would soon learn that even here the McLeod family wielded power. Great power indeed.

  Therron left his horse with one of 'his' marines and marched toward the nearest door, walking into the mansion without even waiting to be announced. The entrance way was one for staff and residents, as evidenced by boots and cloaks left in the small foyer. Therron ignored that, tracking mud into the immaculate mansion without a care, walking steadily through the great house.

  “You there!” he pointed to the first person he saw. “Take me to the governor! At once! Tell him that Prince Therron McLeod is here to see him at once!”

  The man looked nonplussed for a moment and was clearly trying to formulate a reply. Therron didn't give him time.

  “What is it man!” Therron demanded. “Speak, damn you!” Being spoken to so harshly seemed to remind the man of who and where he was, as he straightened himself to his full height, face reddening under such treatment.

  “Good sir,” the man's cultured voice was in contrast to Therron's bellowing. “The governor is not in the mansion at present. As you are a visiting dignitary I can provide you with a suite upstairs and the opportunity to...” he paused and looked Therron's disheveled appearance over with a jaundiced eye, “clean yourself and your clothing.”

  Therron almost goggled at the treatment this mere servant dared to show him. Striding forward in a determined manner, he stopped a mere hand's width from the man.

  “How dare you! How dare you speak to me in such a manner! Now I demand you take me to the governor! At once do you hear!”

  “Sir, as I said, the governor is not in,” the man replied calmly. “He is-”

  “When will he be 'in'?” Therron demanded.

  “He and the government are scheduled to return in two months time, sir,” the man took great relish in saying.

  “Then I... did you say two months!” Therron's mouth caught up to his hearing.

  “I did indeed, sir,” the man nodded. “The governor and most of the government are presently at the summer mansion to the south. It tends to be cooler there are it is on the ocean front. They shall return here in the autumn. I should think two months, give or take two weeks or so. It depends on travel time.”

  Therron gaped at the response as he realized what he'd been told. He had to have been within a few days of this summer mansion when that bastard colonel had sent him here!

  “I demand to be taken to this summer mansion at once!” Therron yelled.

  “I'm afraid that won't be possible, sir,” Therron heard and whirled to see his escort commander standing behind him in the doorway.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “My orders were to deliver you here to the mansion, and keep you here until such time as the governor returns, or sends for you. We are here, and here we shall stay.”

  “And I say we're leaving in the morning and moving to this summer mansion!” Therron exploded. “You knew the governor wasn't here, damn you! Have the men ready to ride at daybreak!”

  “No.”

  Therron had turned away from the captain when he heard that simple reply. He turned slowly back to face the younger man, his face purple with rage.

  “What did you say?” he asked in what he assumed was a threatening manner.

  “I said no,” the captain seemed to take great relish in saying. “My orders stand, sir. Orders issued by a member of the Counsel itself and a member of the family of regents. His orders can only be over ridden by the governor himself. Those orders were to bring you here, at your request, and keep you here safely until the governor arrived. So, I suggest you make yourself comfortable and avail yourself of the amenities of the governor's home. Because you will be here for some time.” He walked to the man Therron had been dressing down as Therron looked on the verge of apoplexy.

  “My orders, sir,” the young captain said respectfully.

  “Good work,” the man accepted the scrolls with a nod, eyeing the seals on them. “We will take things from here. You and your men should rest for a day or so and then return to your post.”

  “Yes sir,” the captain snapped a salute off and whirled to leave.

  “Before you speak again, let me introduce myself,” the man before Therron said quietly. “I am Brigadier Norman Read Standish-Prescott, commander of the House Guard here at the mansion, and in charge of quarters until the governor's return. So, let me repeat my offer of a suite upstairs and a chance to freshen up. A meal can be sent up to your room, though it won't be anything fancy, I'm afraid, as most of the kitchen staff have gone home for the day. Still, we should have some leftovers remaining from dinner. Hunley!” he called out louder. In seconds a man in a dark suit appeared.

  “Yes, Brigadier?”

  “This is Therron McLeod, Prince of Soulan,” Prescott's voice was amused rather than angry. “Set him up in the VIP suite on the second floor. He will be with us until the governor returns, at least. Then have Belinda prepare him a plate from the what remains of evening mess and take it up to his room. Extend him every courtesy of course,” his voice reeked of sarcasm.

  “At once, sir,” the man bowed slightly. “If you will follow me, Prince McLeod?”

  Therron fumed at such cavalier treatment.

  “Do you have any idea who I am?” he asked softly.

  “Of course, I do,” Prescott scoffed. “You already told me who you were. Funny thing is, this is my cousin Nathan Standish's seal,” he indicated the parchment in his hand. “His post is less than two days ride from the summer enclave. I have to wonder why he didn't tell you that.”

  Therron's mouth worked but no words would come. Standish had tried to talk to him but Therron had interrupted him with his demands.

  “Nathan is the Governor's son, though I doubt you knew that,” Pre
scott continued. “Standish is his mother's maiden name. My sister,” Prescott's eyes darkened. “He uses it to avoid any hint of favoritism. I'm curious now to see what Nathan has included in this message. I'm sure it will explain why he thought it better to send you here rather than Directly to see Governor James.”

  “James?” Therron finally managed to speak. “What happened to-,”

  “To Picon?” Prescott smiled. “Governor Picon had a fondness for the ladies, I'm afraid, and a habit of not taking 'no' for an answer. Unfortunately, he refused to take 'no' for an answer from the wrong young woman and her father killed him. Quite the scandal as you can imagine. Anyway, Nathan Hailey James is now the Governor of the CPC and head of the Governor's Council. One of the reasons he went early to the summer enclave was to organize his new government. I'm sure if he gets the details ironed out early he’ll be back sooner. Meanwhile, Hunley will show you to your room. Do have a pleasant evening... Prince.”

  With that Prescott turned his back on Therron and departed, leaving him alone with the butler.

  “If you will, sir?” Hunley prompted.

  Therron followed the man without another word, stunned at the retinue of revelations he'd just been handed. Charleston gone. He had pissed off the new Governor's son, and now apparently his brother-in-law, too. And he was still almost three months from speaking to the governor.

  With every step he climbed behind the butler, he felt his chances of becoming King of Soulan falling behind him. By the time he arrived in the suite assigned him, he knew that any hope of his getting assistance from the CPC was probably gone. And even if he did get it, in three months it would be far, far too late to matter.

  All this way. All this bloody way, sleeping on rocks and trees, eaten alive by mosquitoes and other bugs. Eating horrible food while in the saddle... all for nothing.

  All for nothing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  -

  Parno was awake before breakfast and took the opportunity to walk through the camps. Once he would have done so alone or with just Harrel, but no more. Now he was surrounded by no less than twenty men, all looking as if another assassin was going to jump out from behind a tree any minute.