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

by N. C. Reed

  “The caravan leader found himself admiring the soldier and was somewhat saddened that he had to part with him. He was almost certain that in any other time they could certainly have been friends.”

  “What happened to him?” Parno asked as Cho fell silent. “To the soldier I mean?”

  “I killed him and his family two years later after I had destroyed his famed regiment in battle and decimated his tribe, having learned their secrets and turned them against him. He recognized me as my sword fell and the look of betrayal on his face was one I will never forget.”

  “His family?” Parno looked ashen now. “Cho, why would you-”

  “Their titles, their lands, their soldiery was hereditary, you see,” Cho was looking into the flames now, obviously lost in is own past for once. “We could not spare his heirs, less they rise up one day and invoke the names of their fathers and lead a revolt against us. Naturally the mother fought to the death to protect her children. Most of them do,” he added absently, still looking into the fire. Suddenly he became aware of his surroundings again and stood.

  “So you see, young prince,” he said, his 'lecture' persona back in place, “such tactics are good to a point, but can be taken too far. Temper your need for revenge with wisdom, and where possible with mercy,” his face softened for a fraction of a second. “Always with mercy, where possible. Now,” he straightened his robe and then his back, “it is time I retired. There is still much to be done and the wise worker gets an early start.”

  “Cho, I-”

  “Good night, my prince,” Cho bowed slightly and disappeared into the night, apparently to his tent.

  Parno sat still for a long time after that, searching for all the lessons he could find in what Cho had just told him. First was the awareness that Cho Feng was at one point a leader of men, of course, and a wise one at that. A daring one as well, to head into enemy territory that contained men rumored to be demons.

  But he had scouted that area and gotten to the truth of the matter, finding out how those men maintained their illusions and then finding a way to cut through them. Literally.

  And he had been blood thirsty and remorseless while doing it, too. Parno punched at the fire harder and harder as he imagined himself being forced to kill a child or a mother, but suddenly he stopped short, looking up and then in the direction in which Cho had disappeared. An epiphany had hit him. A moment of clarity for this tale told by his teacher.

  Parno wouldn't be the one killing the mother and child. In this story, Parno would play the soldier. The soldier who lost his wife and family to a rumor. To a tale of terror that led a smart soldier to believe there had to be an answer to the problem and who had looked until he had found it.

  His men would be the soldiers forced to bear the mantle of being the fearsome warriors that couldn't be beaten. And what happened when one of his men was taken prisoner and the enemy discovered that they were just ordinary men like themselves? An enemy that had been fooled that badly would be emboldened to greater heights in order to regain their honor, would they not? And they would be motivated to commit horrendous acts against an enemy they now knew was not supernatural, or even super, but was merely well trained and disciplined.

  “There has to be a middle ground,” Parno mused as he resumed poking at the fire before him. “There has to be.”

  He would stare into the flames for a long time looking for an answer that couldn't be found there.

  ~*~

  Tom Hildebrand sat down beside his commander, his very bones seeming to ache with even that simple effort.

  “I wish we'd never asked to do this,” he moaned.

  “I've had the same thought at least a dozen times today,” Colonel Bret Chad nodded his agreement. “Look on the bright side,” he grinned tiredly.

  “There's a bright side?” Hildebrand asked, a look of feigned astonishment on his face.

  “We aren't dead yet,” Chad chuckled.

  “Yet,” Hildebrand seized on that one word. “Not yet.”

  “I didn't say it was all that bright,” Chad chuckled darkly. “But we're doing quite well according to our instructors. And our men haven't quit. They're still plugging away.”

  “Because they feel indebted to the Prince,” Hildebrand nodded. “They don't want to disappoint him. Nor do I, if I'm honest,” he admitted. “I really want us to be admitted to his Regiment.”

  “We will be,” Chad assured him. “If we earn it,” he added, getting wearily to his feet and taking his empty tray and cup with him. “That being said, I'm for a shower and then bed. My group leaves at light on The March.”

  “We go in a week,” Hildebrand nodded. “About the time the group that's out now returns I think. Good luck.”

  “Luck is for fools,” Chad snorted. “Good training. That's what we say. Good training.”

  “Good training then,” Hildebrand allowed. “At least we're doing better than that cavalry outfit,” he snorted slightly.

  “We're a cavalry outfit now, Tom,” Chad reminded him. “And yes, we are,” he smirked as much as he could in his exhausted state.

  “Sleep well,” Hildebrand told him. “I'm to the canteen and get a stiff drink and then I'm off myself.”

  ~*~

  “I have muscles aching I didn't know I had,” one trooper commented. “Where in the hell did they get this training plan of theirs?”

  “They developed it themselves,” a young lieutenant told him, stripping off his boots as he did so. “They invented all this to make their men strong. Worked, too,” he added, shaking rocks from his boots.

  “How so, sir?” another trooper asked.

  “No rank here, soldier,” the young officer shook his head. “Until we finish, we're all the same rank. Nothing recruits,” he chuckled. “And it worked because this bunch managed to crush an entire Imperial Field Army that outnumbered them ten-to-one, that's how so. These fellas that are training us, and them others that are already ahead of us, they fought with the Prince, the Marshal, at the Gap. Five thousand of them against fifty thousand Nor. Ripped their guts out, too.”

  “Really,” the first trooper mused. “That had to take some tough men,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Well, you 'll note that the instructors are doing all this right alongside us and not even breathing hard,” the young lieutenant said as he fell into his blankets, exhausted. “One day, assuming we live through this, we 'll be able to do that. Think how much that will mean on the battlefield when we have to face the Nor again.”

  “True that,” the second trooper said, falling into his own bedroll. “I can already tell a difference.”

  “I guess if I could feel anything I could too,” the first chuckled darkly. “Ah well, I didn't die today. I 'll take it.”

  The other two didn't hear him, already snoring with exhaustion. He followed them seconds later.

  CHAPTER NINE

  -

  General Brent Stone was in a foul mood when he and his men reached the area outside Lovil where a certain piss-ant Naval Commodore had made his very comfortable camp. He and his sailors had apparently been enjoying themselves immensely in their time there, terrorizing the populace that hadn't had the opportunity or the foresight to flee before the war started. Sailors were running through the small town even now chasing women who were clearly unwilling, carrying goods that clearly weren't theirs.

  Seeing the damage to people and infrastructure almost made him snap and order the entire bunch put to the sword. Only the knowledge that Wilson needed them kept him from it.

  “Get the first regiment in line up here and get this bunch under control,” he snapped to his aide, who nodded and turned his horse to gallop back down the line. “Come with me,” he ordered his escort company grimly. The men followed him, their own anger up at seeing how these naval buffoons had taken advantage of their hard work and bloodshed.

  Stone drew rein before what had once been the town hall of a small Soulan town in Kenty province. A hand painted sign now dec
lared it to be the '1st Imperial River Force Headquarters'. Two men stood guard at the door and eyed the troopers warily as half dismounted, holding reins for the rest. Stone took the steps two at a time. A look of mild incredulity crossed his face as the two stepped before him, blocking the door.

  “Commodore said no visitors, horse soldier,” one said, his tone just beneath where it would have gotten him whipped for insolence.

  “Did he?” Stone asked gently. “How 'bout that?” he turned to his men. “Commodore said no visitors, boys. Guess we 'll have to come back later, eh?”

  He then grabbed the speaker by the throat and threw him down the stairs, two of his men taking the other and following suit.

  “Let 'em go,” Stone ordered as the two ran off into the growing dusk, his men set to pursue. He stormed into the 'office', looking around him. The place was a pig sty. Half eaten meals still sitting on desks, trash everywhere strewn on the floor and the smell...

  “Open the windows,” he ordered, then held his hand up for everyone to halt.

  “Did anyone else hear that?” he asked suddenly. Again he heard a muffled sound, almost like…

  “Turn this place out, now!” he ordered the men behind him. As two of them moved to open windows, the rest started kicking in doors. The third door open elicited a startled yell.

  “General!” the trooper called stepping back and grasping his sword. Moving to the door, Stone looked inside and froze for an instant.

  Lying on a bed was a girl that might have been fifteen, tied spread eagle to the metal frame and naked as the day she was born. Beside the bed was a man struggling to get into a pair of naval uniform trousers, cursing and sputtering all the while.

  “Take him,” Stone ordered calmly, belying his fury. He grabbed a nearby trooper.

  “Go and find a woman,” he ordered. “One with some age on her, and preferably one with some medical expertise assuming this lot hasn't killed her. Bring her here at once. Kill anyone who tries to stop you.”

  “Sir,” the trooper nodded and ran out the door. He had seen inside the room.

  “You two,” he pointed to the two nearest men as two others drug the struggling naval officer from the room. “Order Colonel Hill to start gathering this lot up and put them somewhere under guard. Kill anyone who resists. Regardless of rank.”

  “Yes sir,” the men nodded and ran for the door, eager to be away from their General's icy calm. That was always a bad sign.

  “I 'll kill you for this!” the naval man was stammering. “I 'll have you know I'm-”

  “Dead,” Stone turned to him, eyes flinty. “You're dead. The penalty for rape is death. I was going to ask your name but I don't really care. A unmarked grave on foreign soil is still too good for you.”

  “Now you see here!” the man yelled, still in the grasp of two beefy troopers. “Who do you think you are!”

  “I'm Major General Brent Stone, Imperial Cavalry Corps,” Stone replied evenly. “You may have heard me say I don't care who you are. I assume though that you're Commodore Hacking?”

  “Haskings!” the man corrected.

  “Who's your second in command?” Stone demanded. “He may be about to get a promotion.”

  ~*~

  Captain Lucas Silven was slowly drinking himself into a stupor when he heard a commotion at the

  canteen door. He looked up to see a quartet of cavalry men walk into the place and start throwing sailors outside. Another foursome soon joined them and in record time the canteen was clear except for him. A large sergeant flanked by two privates walked to his table.

  “Please tell me you're here to stop this,” Silven said softly, corking the bottle he'd been drinking from.

  “We are indeed,” the sergeant nodded. “Are you Silven?”

  “I am Captain Silven, yes,” the man stood up slowly, straight despite his alcohol intake. “Who sent you?” he asked. “Someone with authority I hope?”

  “General Stone, Imperial Cavalry Corps,” the sergeant replied. “He wants to see you.”

  “Why?” Silven asked. “I couldn't stop this,” he waved an arm around him. “I tried, mind you, as did some others, but. . .too many of the men sided with Commodore Haskings. We aren't all bad people, you know,” the Captain said sadly. “Some of us are men of honor, despite what you see here. There simply weren't enough of us. When the army left, the Commodore and those like him. . .well,” he shook his head. “Where is the General?” he asked, taking his cap and setting it on his head. “I must make my manners to him.”

  “We 'll take you to him.”

  ~*~

  Stone looked up at Lucas Silven, his fury at Haskings taking a back seat as he looked at the beaten man before him.

  “I must apologize for my disrepair, General,” Silven said very correctly. “I'm afraid that I have taken to drink in order to get through the days here, surrounded by debauchery as I am. Or was. My compliments to your men for being able to do what I am my boat crews could not,” he added.

  “And just why was that, Captain?” Stone asked.

  “I command the equivalent of three of your companies, General,” Stone replied. “All good men. None of them would have been engaged in the embarrassing behavior you saw on display when you arrived. However, the Commodore's command was just under five thousand men in total. The few crew commanders who thought as I did were simply too few to stop the activity that the Commodore endorsed. We have a number of dead and injured men to prove that,” he added. “Including two Captains. Perhaps we should have tried harder, but we total less than a quarter of the entire command between us. Not enough,” he shrugged. “Not enough for men who are not nearly so well trained in hand-to-hand warfare as your men undoubtedly are. And we were defeated in detail, more or less,” he added. “Commodore Haskings knew who would object and made sure they could not do so.”

  “You could have sent word to someone!” Stone half stood, his anger getting the best of him.

  “Sent three men, General,” Silven nodded. “One by horse and two by foot when horses weren't available. The horse returned without a rider.” The implications of that were pretty clear, even through Stone's anger.

  “I'm told you're next senior to Haskings,” Stone said suddenly. There was no point pursuing this line. He would put an end to Haskings soon enough.

  “I have that dubious honor, yes,” Silven nodded. “Will you execute us, General?” he asked. “We deserve it. All of us.”

  “Even those not guilty of crimes, Captain?” Stone asked, eyebrows rising.

  “No,” Silven shook his head. “No, my men and many others are guilty of no crimes, General. Myself on the other hand, I have allowed Haskings to use his rank to defile and deface our honor as well as this small haven. I should have allowed him to kill me rather than doing nothing.”

  “Why didn't you?” Stone demanded.

  “Because he would have killed my men as well,” Silven shrugged, his liquor hitting him hard now. “My men are good men, General, despite the company they are forced to keep. They deserve better than being killed for no other reason than their Captain is a coward.”

  “Doing what's best for your men isn't cowardice, Captain,” Stone said quietly. “Go to your quarters and sleep your drunk off. When you wake, you 'll find things in better repair. At which point you will take command of this rabble and take them south to assist General Wilson with a new operation along the river. I 'll give you the details in the morning.”

  “Sir,” Silven snapped a painfully correct salute which Stone returned and then turned to stumble out of the office.

  “See to it he gets safely where he's going and then post a guard on his door,” Stone told the sergeant quietly. “That might be the only good man in this devil's den.”

  “Sir,” the sergeant nodded his agreement and followed the naval officer from the room. Stone got to his feet and walked out into the foyer and across to the room where the old mid-wife was tending the girl.

  “How is she?” he ask
ed gently from the door.

  “She 'll never have children,” the old woman spat harshly, looking up at Stone with hate filled eyes. “Why is it you devils come here, anyway?” she demanded. “Is this all your kind is good for?”

  “I'm afraid some of us, yes,” he nodded sadly. “I daresay there are such among your own kind,” he added.

  “Not like this,” she shook her head. “Nothing like this. It's no wonder our men beat you like children in war. None of you deserve the title of 'man'. Heathen swine!”

  “Please see to her as best you can,” Stone didn't berate the woman. She was right, after all. “Whatever she needs that I can provide, I will. My surgeon should be along shortly if you need and will accept his assistance. And it won't help, but I intend to kill the man who did this to her within the hour. It isn't enough, but it's all I can do at this point. I can't undo it.”

  “You 'll get yours soon enough,” the old woman promised him.

  “I imagine you're right,” he agreed and left her before she could say anything else. He stepped outside, grateful for the fresh air after being in that foul office for so long. A work gang taken from the sailors was even now clearing it away under the watchful eye of his aide.

  Why did we come here? he asked himself suddenly. Why do we come here and give men like this a chance to do such damage?

  He knew the southerners thought of them as heathens and miscreants at best, and with examples like this why shouldn't they? He closed his eyes against the memory of that girl, that child, and the fear on her face. Even through his exhaustion his fury boiled up again and suddenly he was unwilling to waste the time for the formality of a trial. He turned back to the door behind him.