Parno's Gambit: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book 3

by N. C. Reed

  “As you wish,” Winnie sighed. “I think it's a mistake,” she had to add.

  “It may well be but it is my mistake to make,” Memmnon replied. “And you will have quite enough to do I should think teaching archery to so many.”

  “So I will,” she admitted. “So I will.”

  ~*~

  “We will stop at the next house,” Sherron declared. “I'm tired.”

  “No.”

  Callens' voice was calm and firm. It took Sherron McLeod a second to realize what he had said.

  “What?” her voice was sharp. “What did you say?”

  “I've knuckled under to you enough,” he said flatly. “We are being pursued whether you believe it or not, and every time we stop when we should be moving they gain on us. We will keep moving. We will keep moving until we cannot see the road. At that point we will stop, care for the horses, rest as we can and be back on the road with the sun. You will complain, but you will do as you are told. You are no longer in charge.”

  “How dare you! I am the Prince-”

  “You are nothing without Therron and we can't get to him stopping after ten miles a day for you to 'rest',” Callens cut her off flatly. “We must get to Prince Therron. Thanks to you he is now the legitimate heir for a kingdom that is at war and essentially has no leader. Enough. Make yourself comfortable in your carriage and be silent.”

  “When we get to Therron I 'll have you-”

  “Have me what?” he asked her suddenly. “Killed? Don't you think I'm already a dead man? I was standing there when you killed the King and the Crown Prince. There is no escape for me, you vile witch. I allowed you to ensnare me with your promises and hints and teases, but there is nothing for me now. And to my shame I have dragged my men, loyal soldiers of Soulan all, along with me straight to hell following your whispers and teasing.”

  Sherron looked at him, blinking.

  “So, keep your teeth together, be silent and enjoy the trip.” With that he rode ahead, leaving a sputtering Sherron McLeod behind him, speechless for the first time since he had known her.

  ~*~

  Therron McLeod was walking the beach once more, his feet bare, shirtless, he basked in the warm sun as he ambled down the beach.

  He wondered why he had ever worked so hard. This wasn't a bad life at all, he decided. True, he lacked real freedom, but other than that, living here along the ocean in a nominally temperate climate with almost eternally good weather? He had a small staff in addition to his 'guard', and the food was first rate. He had books, he had everything he could wish for other than freedom.

  Perhaps freedom was overrated? Perhaps ruling was overrated? Had he made a mistake in thinking that he really wanted to be King?

  No. His thought process came full circle as he continued his walk. It had never been about him. It had been about what was best for the Kingdom. The Kingdom needed a leader. A strong leader. His brother was not a bad man but Memmnon would never make the strong leader that Soulan needed.

  And now the army, the magnificent fighting machine he had spent years building and bending to his will was being commanded his inept younger brother. His army, his stepping stone to power in the hands of Parno of all people. He wondered how much damage his brother had done to the army already.

  Kicking the sand that was no longer so comfortable, Therron McLeod continued on his way down the beach. His temporary moment of self-doubt gone as he reminded himself that it was always about what was best for the Kingdom. Not him.

  Therron was selfless. He was willing to sacrifice for the Kingdom. He would return and take the throne from Memmnon and lead the Kingdom to victory because only he, Therron McLeod, could do that. That was what he told himself. What he had always told himself to justify what he did or planned to do.

  He had to get away from here and back to Nasil before his brothers destroyed everything. Only he could save Soulan.

  ~*~

  “Have you considered that we're going about this wrong?” Whipple asked.

  “What?” Beaumont looked around in the saddle.

  “We know where Prince Therron is, so why follow Callens? Let us go straight to the Horn and take custody of the Prince and be done with it. We can be there waiting for them when they arrive.”

  “We're gaining,” Beaumont shook his head. “We should stay on the trail.”

  “There's no reason to chase after them, Buford,” Whipple persisted. “We can force an engagement there and run them to ground. There won't be any way for them to take the Prince, and that's the main thing. He is the only legitimate threat to the throne.”

  “She killed the King!” Beaumont shot back. “And Callens helped! We are not going to let them go!”

  “I'm not suggesting that we let them go,” Whipple fought to prevent his exasperation showing. “We won't be letting anyone go. We 'll simply be setting a trap for the people we want by using the person they want as bait!”

  Beaumont had his mouth open to reply when Whipple's comment seemed to hit home.

  “See what I mean?” Whipple seized on the moment. “We let them come to us. They don't know we're after them. They don't know that Prince Memmnon is now King. They think the Kingdom is in tatters because she killed the King and the Crown Prince. They intend to return to Nasil as conquering heroes and place Therron on the throne.”

  That was all true. Beaumont knew that. He also recognized that he was intent on catching the Princess and Callens because of the murder of his Sovereign.

  “I see what you mean,” he admitted, almost against his will. “What if they don't go to the Horn?” he asked.

  “Where else can they go?” Whipple countered. “They have to have Therron to survive. They literally have no choice but to go to him and free him. They can't make it without him.”

  Also true.

  “How much damage can Callens do if we let him continue running unchecked?” Beaumont asked.

  “As news spreads?” Whipple asked. “There's only so much he can do. True, he has an elite unit that can cause a great deal of damage, but it's still one regiment. That's all. And once we secure Therron, then we can ride them down and kill them all.”

  At times like this Beaumont was reminded that Whipple, for all his noble suave, was underneath his calm exterior a violent man who lived for combat.

  “All right,” he made a decision based on Whipple's argument. “Lets head for the Horn now. No more delay and no more tracking. We 'll get ahead of them if we can and be waiting for them. And kill them all,” he repeated, much to Whipple's obvious delight.

  “Now you're talking!”

  ~*~

  It took three days instead of two to get the resettlement groups on the road but they were finally moving. Wagons drawn by horses that were not capable of combat and by oxen that would double as plow animals when the refugees began to plant were loaded to the gills with seed, tools, tarps, clothing and anything else that Winnie and the others could imagine them needing. There was some grumbling among them as they moved out, many feeling they should have been allowed to stay in the Royal City. The simple truth was that there wasn't enough room for them. Refugees were still pouring in though the number was slowing as the bulk of those displaced by the invasion found their way somewhere safer. Many had found places with family further south, others had found work with the booming war economy.

  But many more had nowhere to go. Nowhere except into the mass of refugees that were headed for places like Nasil. Places where they assumed safety awaited.

  In that same three days Winnie had secured numerous bows and a goodly supply of arrows suitable for practice. A total of one hundred and eighty-seven women from those remaining behind and from women living in the city had stepped forward to ask for training in archery.

  Stephanie had found an even dozen women and five men unable to serve in the army that were interested in the nurse training, including Sarah Williams. All of them were higher than average educated and showed promise. Even now they were being in
ducted into the school. Winnie had hired eleven women from the refugees with small children that would be staying to open and maintain a childcare facility for those who were participating in any part of the war effort.

  A part of this massive operation that was kept secret was the secretion of Royal Constables into each group as refugees. Their mission was simple; keep an eye on the groups and inform Sebastian Grey of any rabble-rousing activity among the refugees.

  The Prince taking Havrel Denton into custody and making him talk had been a stroke of great fortune. He had readily given up over a dozen lower and mid level spies and agents that had been secreted in Nasil alone before the war began. Each of those in turn were slowly being convinced to give up others that they knew not only in Nasil but in other cities as well. Grey's constables were even now following up on that new information and rolling up small cells of agents that were waiting for the right moment to strike. With hard work and vigilance he felt they would be able to continue to make progress before the agents in place could cause the havoc they were in place to create.

  Of course that was in a perfect world. Grey didn't believe in perfect. For that matter he didn't really believe in good fortune. It stung that the Prince had uncovered the initial spy by simply realizing that this was a man who was set on causing problems wherever he could.

  But Grey was a man who learned from his mistakes, hence the constables seeded into the refugee groups, and the others even now circulating through Nasil and the outlying areas. Looking for people who were trying create strife among the Kingdom's citizens or cause trouble for the Crown. He might be caught by surprise, but it wouldn't be because he wasn't looking.

  ~*~

  “There are five dangerous faults that can and usually will have an effect upon a general,” Cho spoke calmly. “What are they?”

  “Recklessness-” Parno began.

  “Why?” Cho cut him off.

  “It can lead the army to destruction. Rushing headlong into a situation results in being susceptible to traps that can destroy the army. Even if the army survives, their confidence in their leader will be shot.”

  “Continue.”

  “Cowardice leads to capture,” Parno continued. “The loss of the army, even surrendering intact because we lack the courage to fight. Because the leader lacks the courage to fight,” he clarified.

  “A quick temper. Reacting to an insult without thinking can lead to recklessness. If the leader can be provoked by mere insults into committing his forces without planning then he invited defeat. A tendency I have in personal matters,” he sighed.

  “Good,” Cho nodded. “Next?”

  “A delicate honor that can be shamed into rash behavior,” Parno sighed. “Such as the way I tend to jump into things without thinking. These last two are definite failings of mine.”

  “The fact that you recognize that means it can be overcome,” Cho assured him. “Go on.”

  “Being overly solicitous of the army,” Parno concluded. “Of the men that make up the army,” he amended. “I can't. . .I can't be afraid to spend them. I shouldn't waste them, but I can't be afraid to use them for fear of losing them.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees.

  “I concocted this. . .this gambit, this gamble, because I was afraid of losing my army, or of doing so much damage to it that it would be ineffective. How is that different from being overly solicitous? How is it different from being cowardly? It's too late to change now, really, but did I, have I done the right thing?”

  “Is it over solicitous of the army to worry that they would lose sufficient strength in the planned offensive to no longer be effective? Where was your concern?”

  “It was in preserving the army until we could meet the enemy with some kind of parity,” Parno nodded.

  “As to cowardice, you have personally led more than one action despite calls from all involved that you not do so,” Cho looked rather smug this time. “You have faults my Prince, rest assured. However, cowardice has never been among them.”

  “Thanks. I think,” Parno grimaced. “I hope that this works,” he sighed. “If we can keep them off balance until we can get some better organization, and some better training, then I think we have a chance to really take it to them. The problem is that once we do, we can't let up. We have to keep the pressure on and make them break. I want them streaming back into Norland telling tales of superhuman soldiers who tore through their ranks and left them decimated.”

  “You wish to use their defeat to spread fear and panic among the northerners,” Cho said rather than asked.

  “Yes,” Parno nodded. “I want them terrified,” he said said savagely. “I want them so afraid of Soulan troopers that when I take my army across those same bridges they run for their lives. That their army, what's left of it, is quaking in their boots from fear of facing the same soldiers who destroyed their greatest army in an age and sent them reeling.” He looked up at Cho.

  “That kind of fear can only help my cause. Fear will swell our ranks in their minds, give us numbers greater than we could ever really have. They will spread the rumors of our 'witchcraft,” he snorted, “and of how we routed and destroyed their armies, and the Nor will think 'surely there must be more of them than we can see. How else could they have done all this.'”

  “A good strategy that can be very effective if employed properly,” Cho nodded, his face a mask. Parno didn't miss that.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I have said nothing,” Cho told him, looking directly into his eyes.

  “Cho, you are my most trusted adviser, and my teacher,” Parno said softly into the fire lit night. “With Darvo gone, you are all that I have to depend on when it comes to preventing me from making a costly error. From doing something that I can't undo. You can't do that when you don't talk to me.”

  “What you propose is not an unknown method of warfare in my Kingdom,” Cho said suddenly, his voice crisp. His hands clasped behind him, he began to pace slowly about the fire. Parno recognized this as his lecture mode, or at least one of them, but. . .there was something different about it.

  “You seek to use terror to aid your cause,” he said flatly. “It is an ages old tactic that has worked effectively in many realms, when used correctly. But there is a price, young prince, for using such tactics. A heavy price that is sometimes, most times, difficult to pay. In fact you will never truly stop paying for it.”

  “How so?” Parno frowned.

  “The use of terror as a military and political weapon is almost as old as warfare and politics itself. Used to spread fear of oneself into areas before an invasion, it can clear non-combatants away and even cause armies to retreat without offering a defense because they fear to engage such a fearsome and deadly foe.”

  “Good,” Parno nodded. “That's what I want!”

  “It can also lead disparate and otherwise unfriendly groups to band together against you,” Cho told him. “Using the adage, 'the enemy of my enemy must be my friend'. This is not always true.”

  “I can't see how it would ever be,” Parno shook his head. “An enemy is an enemy. Period.”

  “That alone makes you more intelligent that the majority of leaders in times past or present,” Cho actually smiled serenely at hearing his protege speak so. “But this is not the price I speak of, though it too can be problematic.”

  “Stories spread by your own mouth will soon become embellished by others, eager to be heard and to be believed. They will enhance your reputation to the point that some will see no hope of stopping you and many will even take their own lives and the lives of their offspring to 'spare' them from your wicked and depraved ways. To prevent their children from being sacrificed to your dark gods, and their flesh from being consumed by your demon soldiers.”

  “Hold on now!” Parno objected. “Who said anything about sacrifices and demons?”

  “You want the enemy to fear you and your 'witchcraft', do you not?” Cho answered. “You wish the Nor to tremble at your name
and bow at your feet, no? To be too afraid to stand against you and your men in combat? To think you. . .superhuman was the word used I believe. To think of you as unbeatable. Their people and land as indefensible. Their future as hopeless.”

  “Sounds so much worse when you say it,” Parno muttered, poking the small fire with a stick.

  “As I said, the tactic is not unsound, but it can get out of hand.” He paused, his head down for a moment. When he looked up again, he face was once more like a mask.

  “There was once rumored to be a regiment of great prowess in the highlands near the border of my kingdom. A land of great warriors, these were greater still. So powerful that their leader only made use of them in times of great need. He could not risk calling upon them for minor things it was said, as they might well turn their wrath upon him.”

  “Neighbors to the north grew bold one season and looked south to fair fields and fresh water, and women. They coveted what this smaller kingdom had, yet the presence of this great war tribe made them hesitate. What good would it do to launch a successful campaign only to have them unleashed upon you when it seemed victory was in your grasp?”

  “Finally, a small group of men ventured south disguised as traders and craftsmen. They would spy out this good land and see what they could see. For many weeks, they traveled and visited many towns, plying their trades as if they were really what they seemed. And one day, they encountered a man in an odd uniform. He bore the mark of this feared and hated regiment, and many of the men began to panic.”

  “He was just one man, however, and the leader of the caravan managed to calm them. Even engaged the man in conversation. He discovered that the man was just as human as he was, much to his surprise. With a wife, children, a small farm of his own. He had a few hands work the farm for him as he rode to supervise the area assigned to him and ensure that all was well.”

  “The caravan leader managed to convince the soldier to dine with him in a local inn, where he plied him with liquor well into the night, and with strong drink the great soldier revealed the truth about his famed regiment. They were not demons at all, but merely a tribe of well trained men who worked together, trained together and fought as a group rather than as individuals once the battle was joined. They were better trained and equipped, nothing more. Not bigger or stronger, not strengthened by dark powers or human sacrifice, just. . .hard fighters who were willing to do whatever it took to protect their land. A charge they had never failed in. Ever.”