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

by N. C. Reed

  Tomorrow would see them do something no other Imperial Army command had ever accomplished, but he was under no illusions that doing so would be easy. The Soulanies would fight like a mother wolf over her cubs to protect their 'kingdom'.

  How many of his men would gather around their fires tomorrow night, looking at empty places where their friends and mess mates were sitting tonight?

  He tried not to think about that as he got ready to turn in. Tomorrow would be a long day, and be here far too soon.

  ~*~

  Not so many crow flight miles from where Stone was getting ready for bed, Nelson Pierce was staring into the open flames of his own fire as his men bedded down and cared for their horses by torch light. They had ridden until it was literally dangerous to keep going along the darkened back roads they were taking to try and arrive at the Royal City as soon after the enemy as possible.

  “We're doing the best we can, sir,” Whit said quietly as he walked to Pierce's fire.

  “Men are doing fine,” Pierce nodded. “Couldn't ask for more, or for better from them.”

  “They won't be there too far ahead of us,” Whit tried again.

  “Any ahead of us is too much, Colonel,” Pierce sighed. “Still, it's all that can be done. Once I let them get by us, it was predetermined that they would be able to inflict at least some damage. I just hope our riders got through with a warning.”

  “They were our best riders, mounted on our best horses and each leading a remount,” Whit reasoned. “There's no reason to think that our men, who know these hills as well as any man living, didn't get there well ahead of the enemy, sir.”

  “I hope they got to Cove Canton as quickly,” Pierce added with a nod. “Whatever help they can send may well make the difference.”

  ~*~

  “We could keep going,” Hildebrand said quietly. “Might make the city by or even before daybreak.”

  “I thought on it,” Chad nodded in the dark. “But if we did, and then can't get inside the defenses, our men and horses will be too tired to fight out in the open. It would be hard on them even from behind the defenses.”

  “It might have been once,” Hildebrand pointed out. “But in case you haven't noticed, none of the men are suffering from hard travel, Bret. They're holding up well and so are their horses for now. I will admit that their horses will likely be tired if we ride all night, but assuming they pull everyone into the fortress, then if we can get inside it won't matter about the horses. Our men would be well able to stand to fight after just one night's ride.”

  Chad considered that. It was true that the training they had only just finished had left them in excellent physical condition. There was every reason to think that as slow as they would have to proceed in the dark, moving by torch light, their men would be more than able to fight come morning. Even the horses would likely be in decent shape, though that in no way meant they would be able to spend a day carrying a rider in combat.

  Still, if they could make it before the enemy raid, and get inside the fortifications, that would go a long way toward stiffening the city's defenses and boosting the morale of the people inside. Would their contribution from inside those defenses be any better than if they were outside the walls, fighting on horseback? Hildebrand had been right in that their men alone, unsupported, wouldn't be very effective against so many.

  But inside they would become force multipliers, wouldn't they? Well trained, combat experienced men who were all experts with sword and bow and lance. Conditioned to be able to fight for hours or even days on end with little in the way of rest, food or even water. To fight on foot or from horseback against a numerically superior foe and do so with every expectation of victory.

  They'd done it before, after all.

  “Call a fifteen-minute rest,” he ordered suddenly. “Pass the word for officers call at the end of that break.”

  “Yes sir.”

  ~*~

  A half-day's ride behind Chad, Preston Wilbanks cursed the onset of dark as it had forced his men to halt. Making camp, his men were sitting at ease, in no way tired after two days hard ride so far. He shook his head in amazement at how much difference their conditioning had made.

  If only they had some light! His men could easily continue on into the late evening and still be able to function the next day. He longed for the hunter's moon to be shining above them, but knew he might as well wish to already be in Nasil ready to defend the Royal City. The road through here was strewn with rocks and uneven patches that simply waited for the chance to hobble horses and men alike in the dark. Even torch light would be insufficient.

  So regardless of his men's ability to continue on, they had no choice but to stop for the evening, still well over a day's ride from their destination. As he sat dejectedly by his fire, he wondered how Chad and his men were doing.

  Maybe they were further along. He hoped so. Because there wasn't a damn thing he could do tonight to get his men any closer until morning.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  -

  Scouting was dangerous work in the best of times. In times of war it was inherently more dangerous. At night, it was infinitely worse. Every sound could be an enemy. Every movement made noise, but it could be an animal as easy as a man. Experience would enable a man to tell the difference, but fear and anxiety could take that experience away when it was needed most.

  With work likely to be going on right up until the moment of attack, Colonel Stang had expressed to his scout parties how important their mission was. Warning of any imminent attack in a timely manner was absolutely imperative to the safety of work parties outside the walls as well as the people within those walls so long as the gates were still open.

  His most inexperienced scouts were to the east of the city, the direction least likely to see an enemy approach in the hours before daybreak. It was also the most likely direction that help would appear from, and the young men stationed on that side of the city knew this.

  Carl Sweet was sixteen years old, just old enough to have been inducted into the militia ahead of the military buildup in preparation for the war. Still technically in training, he had remained in Nasil as part of the City Guard when the rest of the military had gone north. He had been happy and sad at the same time. Sad because he wasn't doing his part, happy that he might live to be a year older. It was a paradox he didn't have enough life experience to understand yet, but he still knew it was there.

  Being sent to the least likely area to see enemy presence had presented him with another paradox, this one a bit of shame faced relief that he would not have to potentially face a horde of enemy horsemen as they rode into the city bent on death and destruction. Yet, he didn't want to be seen as cowardly or be thought of a someone who would allow his fear to prevent him from doing his duty.

  He spoke of these things to no one, not realizing that he didn't have to, as every man around him had almost the same feelings. And many of them the same concerns, not wanting to allow their desire for self preservation to stand in the way of their serving their kingdom or their fellow man.

  He needn't have worried over much, since at sixteen no one really expected him to have everything figured. It was completely natural to feel fear, and at sixteen even more so. He was just beginning to live so fear of dying was only natural.

  So Carl Sweet lay atop the roof of a three story building on the eastern side of Nasil, shivering in the pre-dawn cold as he stood his watch. He wished for a source of heat, even if it was just a small barrel burning sticks and twigs, but he even if it wouldn't have been a risk of fire, the light would be visible for miles in this darkened area of the city. So he huddled wrapped in his blanket as he listened more than looked for anyone approaching his post.

  As dawn came closer the air seemed to grow correspondingly colder, forcing young Carl to retreat further and further into his blankets for warmth. It also made him sleepy, and it became a struggle for the young man to stay awake, a struggle he was gradually losing.

&nbs
p; And so it was that the group of horsemen were right on top of him when the sound of their approach jerked Carl wide awake and saw him on his feet before he'd even thought about what he was doing.

  “Halt!” he cried at once, never thinking about what he would do if this were an enemy.

  Below him a half-dozen bows were instantly trained on his position. The horsemen were illuminated by torches burning all down their line and Carl knew a moment of fear as he wondered if this was the enemy, come to burn the city.

  “Identify yourself,” he called more calmly, his heart still racing and the beat sounding like war drums in his ears.

  “I'm Colonel Bret Chad,” a voice floated calmly up to him. “Prince Parno's Black Sheep, Third Battalion.”

  “Sir?” Carl blurted as the words sank in. “Are you serious?”

  “I'm rarely not serious, son,” the voice sounded mirthful despite the reply. “Who might you be?”

  “I'm Private Carl Sweet of the City Guard, sir!” Carl almost snapped to attention even in the dark. “This is Scouting Post number Eleven, sir!”

  “Well, Private Carl Sweet of Scouting Post number Eleven, can you pass us into the city or do we need an escort, or what?”

  “Sir, I'll be down in just a second and take you in myself!” Carl promised. Grabbing his gear, he bounded down the steps in rear of the building where his horse was tethered. It was the work of only a few seconds for him to tighten the straps on his saddle and then Chad and his men could hear the horse moving down the alley.

  “Are you sure it's okay for you to leave your post, soldier?” Tom Hildebrand asked.

  “Sir, in the event of help arriving, or of my getting sight of enemy approaching, I was to return to the city and report in person. No reason not to take you gents with me. I'm sure I'll be sent back as soon they take my report.”

  “Detail two men to stand guard here for one hour,” Hildebrand ordered a man behind him, who nodded and went to do so. “They are to come in when Private Sweet returns, or at the end of that hour. Let them know what his orders were.”

  “Lets go then, Private,” Chad said after Hildebrand was finished. “We've been riding all night and we're tired and hungry and our horses need to be fed and rested.”

  “Sir, yes sir!” Sweet almost yelled and took off at nearly a gallop toward the palace, his fear forgotten with a battalion of the Prince's Own now alongside.

  ~*~

  “Sergeant of the Guard!” the call was soft for all that it carried. “Water Gate reports movement to the east. Horses coming. Many horses!”

  “Right then,” the Sergeant stood. “Go and get the Captain, then start passing the word to prepare to stand to. Don't wake the lads until the last minute, but get the on watch troops awake and aware. Go on now,” he shooed. The half-dozen men took off for each destination as the Sergeant made his way to the Water Gate, so called because the road that ran through that gate lead to the river. He could hear the horses himself by the time he got near the gate and waved to the sentry as he tried to make a report. The two waited together as the gas lamps in the city streets illuminated the front of the column, showing a large body of troopers behind the front rank.

  “Sergeant, those are Dynasty colors,” the sentry said softly.

  “Really?” came the sarcastic reply. “I had thought sure they were the Emperor's Bloody Guards!”

  The sentry muttered under his breath at that but otherwise remained silent. He was just trying to help. He'd let the damn sergeant figure things out for himself from now on.

  “Column halt!” a quiet command went up along with a raised hand. The column slowed and then halted not a spear's throw from the gate.

  “Sergeant of the Guard, reporting from Scout Post Eleven,” a very young voice came from the dark. “Reporting arrival of Prince Parno's Own Third Battalion, along the East Road!”

  “Thank the Maker,” the sentry murmured softly.

  “Amen,” the sergeant agreed. “Approach and be recognized!” he called. Carl Sweet road forward with Colonel Chad and four troopers as escort.

  “Sergeant,” Chad nodded his head. “I assume you have room for my men and horses inside? We've ridden a long way and could use a meal and some rest in case we're attacked this morning.”

  “Yes sir!” the sergeant saluted. “Open the gate! Pass the word to stand down! Captain Winters to the Water Gate!” he called out to the night behind him.

  Ten minutes later the men of Parno's Own were stripping saddles from tired horses and hoping that they got a hot breakfast cooked by the palace kitchen.

  “Colonel!” Captain Winters exclaimed as he entered the stables. “Man, am I glad to see you, sir!” he extended his hand and Chad took it.

  “Captain,” he nodded. “Looks like you all have been busy of late.”

  “That we have, sir,” Winters nodded. “We're about as prepared as we can be at this point. Having your command inside will sure make things stronger. We hadn't counted on any help before maybe this time tomorrow at the best. By tomorrow I don't mean this morning, either,” he amended.

  “We rode through the night by torch light,” Chad told him. “We were already down to the better roads and we weren't tired, so we pushed on. Lost a man and three horses, but we might have lost more than that just trying to get inside tomorrow if we'd gotten here too late.”

  “True,” Winters nodded. “We've no idea as yet how strong a force we're facing, just that the Brigadier in command noted it was 'considerable'. They had blunted the enemy's advance in the hills north of here, but that meant the way around their flank was open. Nor stole a march on 'em and was a day gone before they realized it. If the time is right the way we've got it, they should be here today.”

  “General Wilbanks will be no more than a day behind us with his division, just out of training at Cove Canton,” Chad remarked. “So assuming we can hold out for today, we should get some relief tomorrow at some point.”

  “Probable that the force following the Nor will arrive by or even before then as well,” Winters informed him. “They were trying to cut the enemy's time down by going through the back roads and such, but that means they won't be able to ride even until dusk. In those hills that's just asking for men and horses to die.”

  “So, we've got help coming, but not until-”

  “Captain!” Mason Stang's voice cut Chad off. “I understand we've had-” he stopped as he noted the activity around the stable area.

  “Colonel Bret Chad, Prince Parno's Regiment,” Chad said simply as he offered his hand. He didn't have to brag and he knew it. He wouldn't have anyway, but knowing it wasn't needful was satisfying.

  “Damn glad to see you, Colonel,” Stang shook his hand heartily. “How in the world did you make here so quick, and in the dark to boot?”

  “We ride longer than this in training,” Chad shrugged. “The distance wasn't that great. The darkness was a challenge, but we came in by torchlight. What's the situation, Colonel? I have seven companies of effectives, just under nine hundred men. All combat veterans.”

  Stang tried not to gape and was barely successful. He had been openly doubtful of Winter's statements concerning the Prince's Own and their ability to move and fight above and beyond regular units but. . .if Chad and his men had made the trip from Cove Canton…

  “When did you leave Cove Canton, Colonel?” he asked politely.

  “Two mornings past, now,” Chad said after reminding himself this was the third morning. “We left twenty minutes after we got the message.”

  “Very impressive, Colonel,” Stang complimented.

  “It's normal for us,” Chad shrugged easily. “Any idea of the force we face?”

  “Not as yet,” Stang admitted, deciding to pass over the 'normal for us' statement. It was probably true and there was no question these men were here, after all. “We hope to get at least some idea of their strength as they come into the city. I expect them to separate at that point so we may not get a chance to evaluate their
numbers after that.”

  “Like as not,” Chad nodded, thinking. “Are you planning to oppose them outside the walls at all?”

  “No,” Stang shook his head. “We need every man just to man the walls. Your arrival will help us do that, but we are still woefully undermanned. This place is meant to be defended by a division of troops, and we have a short brigade, many of whom are City Guard, Constables and what have you. The Palace Guard and King's Own are the only professional soldiers in the city, and few of them have seen combat.”

  “All of my men have,” Chad said again. “Let us eat and rest for a bit and we'll be ready to stand posts. I'd prefer not to have to until we have enemy contact if that's all right. We've been in the saddle for almost twenty-four hours.”

  “Of course,” Stang nodded. “Let’s see to getting you a hot meal.”

  ~*~

  Roda Finn, Whip Hubel and a half dozen others were not there to see Chad and his men entering the palace fortifications. Instead they were visiting their ninth storehouse since the King had approved Roda's plan.

  “And this will deny the enemy the contents of the storehouses?” he had asked.

  “Yes sir, but in doing so will almost certainly destroy them,” Roda had replied, on his very best behavior for this meeting. “But killing some of their people in the meanwhile, Sire,” he added.

  “How do you plan to do this?” Memmnon was curious.

  “I will implant a number of devices at each place that are linked to the doors as a trap spring of sorts, which will fire the charges set along-”

  “Roda, give 'im the short version!” Whip all but hissed.

  “I am going to plant mines inside the storehouses and lace them with the magnesium sulfate that I've been experimenting with,” Roda semi-glared at Whip before returning his gaze to the King. “The mines will kill or severely injure anyone close to them and with the proper materials around them will start a fire as well. The magnesium will prevent them from putting the fire out. It will also have a terrible impact on anyone it hits. Someone who escapes being killed might well wish to have died instead should they find themselves coated in burning magnesium sulfate.”