Parno's Peril

by N. C. Reed

  “I don't know but for rumors, sir,” the man admitted. “General Wilson had to be taken to medical, but I don't know for what. It happened while we were attacking.”

  “Attacking?” Venable hadn't liked anything he'd been told so far, and he especially didn't like this. “Why the hell were we-,” he stopped himself short and opened the message. Baxter resisted the urge to look over his shoulder as Venable read through the message quickly and then again more slowly. His sharp inhalation of breath told Baxter that the news wasn't just limited to Wilson's health. Venable finished and handed the message to Baxter without comment.

  Baxter read the terse message from Abe Springfield in silence just as Venable had. The losses to the army, the dire shape of the army and their camp, their supply problem, everything.

  “This... this is a disaster,” Baxter kept his voice low as he spoke, not wanting to stir trouble.

  “And then some,” Venable let out a breath he hadn't been aware he had been holding. “There's no point in starting back now, we'd not get far and the men are tired. We’ll make minimal camp tonight and leave with the light tomorrow. We’ll stay together. Either of our commands alone will invite attack so we’ll stay together.” He looked as if he expected Baxter to argue.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Baxter nodded. “I’ll still set out patrols to clear the area. This may be part of a larger scheme, and they know we're out here.”

  “Good point,” Venable nodded. “I’ll have camp established and we’ll eat early. It's a three-day forced march back and that's without the heavy train we have. We’ll be lucky to make it in four days. And we’ll be in danger every step of it.”

  -

  Parno looked at his map once more, preparing to turn in for the evening.

  He was so tempted to send his cavalry after the group to the east. So much so that he had already written the orders out. Twice. Each time he had torn them to shreds, and that had lasted about thirty minutes before he had started thinking about it again.

  Like right now.

  It would be so easy. His cavalry, catching them by surprise, riding them down. Perhaps take a mounted infantry division to add to their numbers, add in Wilbanks, even the Black Sheep. An all-out effort to destroy this group before they could reunite with what was left with the main Imperial army.

  But each time he held off. Each time he thought about the casualties he would be bringing on his own men and how many men and horses he might lose. Fifty thousand infantry and another twelve thousand cavalry would make for major battle. Even if they could catch them by surprise, which they wouldn't if the cavalry were even partly on the job.

  But it was so tempting...

  He abruptly stood, shaking his head. No, he wasn't going to give in. He had a good plan, he was in a good position and he was reasonably certain that his enemy was going to depart. They might wait for the group from Unity, or the spot where Unity once stood anyway, but he doubted they would wait for anything else.

  No. He wasn't going to give in. He was going to bed. He would go to bed and he would get up tomorrow and see what the world looked like. With one last, long look at the map he turned off the lantern hanging in the center of the tent and left.

  -

  During the night a new line of thunderstorms developed over the western plains. While not nearly as strong as the line a few weeks prior, the one that had seen Parno return to the Hogshead Inn for more comfortable accommodations, this line was still strong and brought heavy rain with it. Rain that turned the ground to mud beneath soldiers who were camping in the open because of the minimal camp established near the empty, ash covered ground that had once been Unity.

  Rain that fell none too gently on the circled wagons of the train that included Winnie Hubel and the people helping her with her mission. Winnie had lowered the small shutters on the windows of her carriage to keep the water out and lay listening to the rain drumming on the top. It was very similar to the sound of rain beating down on the roof of the small cabin she had grown up in. She found it to be a comfortable and calming sound, even with the slight wind rocking her carriage. The wind whistling through the narrow openings she had left in the shutters cooled the carriage and helped her fall into a deep and restful sleep.

  In an inn now two days ride from the front, Stephanie someday-to-be McLeod heard the same sound and could not help but think about the last storm that seemed to blow her and Edema into the army camp. The same rain that had made them a day late arriving and had probably meant they had been there when Parno was almost assassinated, save only by the intervention of Harrel Sprigs, who was sleeping, she hoped, in the next room. Had it not been for the last storm she would have been gone when the assassins struck. While Parno would likely have survived thanks to Harrel, it was unlikely that the young secretary would have been so fortunate. As she drifted to sleep, she wondered idly if this rain would bring something useful with it.

  Rain that made Parno McLeod, laying in his tent on the floor because there was a leak over his bed, think of a young woman he had known a mere few days but who had made a great difference in his life, giving her own in place of his.

  Rain that soaked Abe Springfield to the bone because he refused to take one of the few remaining tents when so many men under his nominal command were laying in the open, staying dry any way they could. Rain that would make roads muddy and hard to travel on for at least two days, including the roads traveled by Venable and Baxter returning to the main camp, assuming they followed his orders at all.

  Rain that washed the paint from Blue Dog's body as he lay under a stand of pine trees with some of his warriors, the others spread over several acres of thick woods, all the protection they required from the elements. He pictured the Imperial map Wilson had shown him in his mind, drawing a line from where they were to a large dot on that map that indicated a large population of people. People who would have no warriors to speak of and perhaps many women and much loot. He smiled faintly as random drops of rain fell on him through the leaves. The raiders moon would be soon indeed. And this storm would blow clouds from the sky. He would sleep well knowing that in a day or two he and his men would be headed for a rich target.

  Rain fell, thunder crashed and lightning filled the sky. Not as violently as earlier but impressive no less. Memmnon McLeod watched that lightning and felt a keen sense of absence that Winnie Hubel left when she wasn't present. He wished she was here with him, but if wishes were granted then he would still be Crown Prince and there would be no war. He closed the balcony doors as the rain began to lash at the palace, leaning his head against the cool glass even as he reached to close the shutters to protect that same glass. He would sleep, eventually, but it would not be restful. He might be comfortable, but he would not be content.

  Misery for some, comfort for others, and rain for them all. All night long.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  -

  “What a morning,” Case sighed as he watched the train struggle to get moving. While the road was hard surfaced and resistant to rain, their campsite was not. Wagon crews struggle to get horses into their traces and then to get wagons moving in the mud. Eventually the men of Lieutenant Garrett's company used ropes with their horses to pull the wagons onto the road. Finally, two hours later than planned, the wagon train was once more on its way.

  “It is indeed,” Winnie nodded, riding beside him. “Not as bad as that last one, though. The one that kept us from leaving on time.”

  “No, I don't think so either,” Case agreed. “The road is a good one, so while we're a little late getting started, it shouldn't hold us back any more.”

  “Another day to Jason then?” she asked him.

  “Today and tomorrow,” Case nodded. “We may make Jason by tomorrow evening, in fact, if we can make good time. If nothing else we should be close tomorrow night.”

  “Sounds good.”

  -

  “Well, this is a fine morning indeed,” Karls Willard said, sarcasm dripping from his
voice.

  “So, it is,” Parno nodded absently, not taking note of the sarcasm.

  “Rain is a necessary element for nature as well as man,” Cho Feng pointed out serenely. “While it is often something to be endured, it is also beneficial.”

  “Always so cheerful,” Karls sighed. “Why are you always so cheerful? Why is he always so cheerful?” he turned to Parno. “Why do we have to put up with that? All that... cheerfulness.”

  “One must look for the good in life, young warrior,” Cho smiled brighter if that was possible. “To counter the dark times, one must have some light.”

  “Well, I need coffee before I can worry about light,” Karls replied. “And maybe something to eat, too.”

  “Nourishment is a necessary component for a warrior, particularly in time of war.”

  Karls just shook his head as he accepted a bowl from a steward and sat down. Feng already had a bowl of mostly fruit. Parno had already had a bowl of raisin and apple mixed with oatmeal but found himself still hungry and asked for more. The steward nodded, hiding his surprise, and took the bowl to get more for the Marshal.

  “You are preoccupied this morning,” Cho mentioned, watching Parno from across the fire.

  “I guess,” he admitted with a nod. “I've been thinking about what to do next.”

  “What do you mean?” Karls asked. “We should definitely press our advantage, shouldn't we?”

  “We're going to, but I'm trying to figure the best way to do that,” Parno agreed. “There is still a sizable force to the west. Probably near Unity. The Nor should recall them now, may already have in fact, but I can't be sure of that until we see movement from them. And reports of them would take a day to reach us at best. Right now, they're over there,” he pointed north to the Nor lines, “scratching for food and I hope trying to get ready to head home. That is the best-case scenario.”

  “My problem,” Parno continued, “is trying to decide if I should make an attack on the returning column or let them team up with what's left of the Imperial Army over there. If I let them get back, then it will be harder to kill as many of them as we can before they can escape. But attacking them, even on the road, is sure to lead to many casualties. Would it be more costly to attack them alone, or wait until they are part of what's left of that lot over there?” he motioned to the north.

  “I see your point,” Karls nodded slowly. “Be nice if we could end the war, wouldn't it?” he asked out of nowhere.

  “So, it would,” Parno didn't look at him and Cho didn't miss that.

  “The more you kill now the less you kill later, is that it?” Cho asked.

  “Yes,” Parno admitted. “I want to kill them all,” he added with a ruthlessness that sounded strange but wasn't out of place. “I want it to look as if the land swallowed their army completely and left nothing. If they want to do this again they would need an entirely new army. Start from scratch.”

  “That would be awesome,” Karls agreed, enthused by the idea. “Can we? Destroy them, I mean?”

  “Maybe,” Parno nodded slowly once more. “If we can get our artillery around them, maybe with mounted infantry in support, and catch them on their return home. We could at least force one last engagement, and a decisive one at that. Perhaps even more so than yesterday. For that matter,” he plucked at his bottom lip, “Graham's men should be up to a hard forced march, and they're strong enough to protect the artillery... but, there's a problem,” he sighed as he thought his plan through.

  “And that would be?” Karls asked. “Cause I like the sound of that plan just fine, myself.”

  “It is ridiculously unsafe to transport Roda's gadgets,” Parno reminded him. “Doing so quickly and over rough terrain is just asking for a calamity. A calamity of epic proportions, no less.”

  “Hadn't thought of that,” Karls admitted, his early excitement now in abeyance. “And I don't relish facing those numbers without the special artillery,” he added.

  “Nor do I,” Parno agreed. “We'd still have the Hubel arrows, but I honestly don't know how many are still in stock.”

  “What about the mines?” Karls asked. “They aren't so hard to carry. Place them on both sides of the road with crossbows waiting, detonate them as the Imps are even with them, and then let the cavalry sweep in to finish the job.”

  “I don't know how many mines we have, either,” Parno had to admit. “We didn't use them in the attack so there are some still in the field, but I don't know what's left in storage. I do like the notion, though,” he added, smiling ruefully at Karls. “Why not make a plan that uses that idea? I need it no later than tomorrow, though.”

  “Sure, I can do that,” Karls agreed.

  “Meanwhile, we need more information on what the enemy is doing,” Parno accepted his bowl from the steward as he returned with more breakfast for the Marshal. “I’ll have to see what we can come up with.”

  -

  “We here,” Blue Dog used a stick to make an X on the muddy ground. “Three days ride maybe to here,” he made another X. “This,” he indicated the second X, “is large Southmans city. Women, stock, much loot. We wait for raider moon and then we go. We rest here today, maybe tomorrow, too. We want ground to be hard enough to allow hard riding. Fast riding. We move and camp around here,” he hit a spot near the second X, the one that represented the large city. “Then we hit city at daybreak. Have all day to raid, and then all night to ride. Be long gone before Southmans know we here. They all busy with Northmans right now. Good time for Lakonati to make war and take trophies. Agree?” He looked around at the faces circling him. All nodded.

  “Rest men today,” Blue Dog repeated. “Tomorrow too, maybe. We hunt, we prepare for long move. We take enough, we cross over and go home with what we catch, eh?” Smiles came to him at that.

  “Send hunters to take game or Southman cows. We eat good while we dry meat for ride. Check horses, check weapons. Make sure we ready in two days. No more. Go.”

  They went, leaving Blue Dog to look at his rough sketch. He had lost a great deal of his reputation when the southern cavalry had intercepted their attack on the disorganized cavalry still on the field. He had lost many warriors and horses for no gain of any kind.

  As a war chief, Blue Dog's power, his authority, was dependent on his ability to provide good targets for his men. Failing that, he needed to make his men rich through raiding. Hitting soft targets was an excellent way to do that.

  His numbers had swelled again with recent additions from across the river and he now had over nine hundred warriors. Warriors who were well trained and experienced in the ways of war. They would follow him a little longer simply because he had always done well. One failure would not end him as a war leader. Continued failure would, however.

  But with a soft target like this, there would be no failure.

  -

  Lieutenant Colonel Aubrey Jae Winburn shook his head in disgust as he shook the mud from his boots before mounting his horse. Last night's rain hadn't been too hard on them for the most part, taking shelter in abandoned barns and houses, but the mud was still there. As he settled himself into the saddle, Captain Cam Benn, the commander of the Pioneer company Winburn and his men were protecting, rode up beside him.

  “Morning, Colonel,” the engineer greeted. “Lovely weather we're having, what?”

  Winburn had to smile at that. Benn just had a way about him that made you want to like him. It seemed he was always in a good mood, even when he had every reason not to be.

  “It’ll do until we get some good weather,” Winburn replied with a chuckle. “Your boys ready to go?”

  “We are,” Benn nodded. “Don't see any need for it as yet, though. Tell me, Colonel, where are we supposed to wait for news of any movement south?” Winburn pulled a small but detailed map from his tunic and opened.

  “Here,” he pointed to a bridge over a small river. “About a half day ride from Jason. Word will reach us there if any southern movement is seen out of the Imps at U
nity. Rider should reach us in a day, which gives us at least three days to do whatever damage we can.”

  “Should have been here,” Benn said, examining the map and pointing a location much further north. “Good place to drop a bridge and prevent their movement. That's marsh country. Very difficult to maneuver in.”

  “It's also right on top of the Imps, and they have about a regiment of Tribals running around somewhere,” Winburn informed him. “We can handle the Tribals, so long as we aren't caught unprepared. Handling sixty thousand Nor is a bit more than we can take on alone.”

  “Well, yes,” Benn took the information in stride. “This is also a good place,” he indicated the meeting place. “Not quite as good but completely doable. And we can certainly wreck it in less than a day.”

  “That's outstanding,” Winburn nodded. “We should get there this afternoon late, maybe. We can make camp unless there are more abandoned areas nearby. Then, we wait to hear one way or the other.” Winburn replaced the map in his tunic pocket.

  “Sounds good,” Benn nodded. “Well, let’s get this circus moving, what do you say?” he grinned.

  “I say yes,” Winburn had to chuckle again. “Let’s ride.”

  -

  Abe Springfield listened to the chief medical officer as he rattled off a list of 'demands' that 'had to be met' in order for him to 'insure the wellbeing of the troops'. Finally, Springfield just held up a hand and silenced the man.

  “Doctor, has it occurred to you that I have no way to provide those things right now?” he asked calmly. “That we are so badly in need of supplies due to enemy action that saw a great many of your own colleagues killed as well as seventy-five percent of our support staff and some ninety percent of our supplies?” The doctor hesitated before answering.

  “I knew that many of the other doctors had perished,” he admitted. “I was not aware of the meager supply issues. I thought we were simply not doing a good job distributing them.”

  “Can't distribute what you don't have,” Springfield shrugged. “Right now, I'm trying to figure a way to move our wounded north when we go. We have almost no wagons, few horses that are serviceable, and no way to feed our men save for a small ration of beef. Beef that has to be stretched way to far because all of our meal, flour and beans were destroyed by the enemy. Had they seen the cattle I'm sure they would have taken them just like they did the trace horses from the wagons and artillery park.” Springfield stood, hands at his side.