Parno's Company (The Black Sheep of Soulan Book 1)

by N. C. Reed

“Gentlemen,” the heavily scarred Sergeant of the Guard spoke quietly but firmly, “this contest is mortal combat. Each man is expected to acquit himself honorably as set forth in the Rules of Conduct. Any violations of that will be dealt with severely. I trust I make myself clear?”

  Bran Holfurt had been the Sergeant of the Palace Guard for nearly ten years. He had held the King’s Sword himself for seven years. As such, he was the judge and referee for such contests. He had little patience with weaklings, or with backstabbers.

  “You do, Sergeant,” Parno bowed slightly.

  “Of course,” Enri Willard almost snarled. The old veteran smirked.

  “See that you do, gentlemen,” he warned. “The contest will begin when I drop the flag. Each man will now go to his end of the court and brief his seconds. Luck to you both.”

  “It won’t be a matter of luck,” Willard sneered.

  “Indeed,” the old NCO nodded. Parno said nothing, but turned his back, walking to where Cho and Karls were waiting.

  “Milord,” Karls began, but Parno stopped him with a hand.

  “I will do all that I can, Karls,” Parno promised sincerely.

  “I know that,” Willard snorted. “I was about to direct your attention to the stands.” Parno followed the nod, looking to where the crowd was thinner.

  Therron sat with Sherron, to the left of the King. Edward Willows sat beside Therron.

  But on the right hand of the King sat Memmnon McLeod, and with him was Edema Willows.

  “One would think,” Karls almost smiled, “that the Crown Prince is not in agreement with the Lord Marshall.”

  “One would, indeed,” Parno nodded thoughtfully, then he turned his attention to business.

  “Fight well,” Feng said simply. Karls nodded his agreement and Parno smiled.

  “I am indebted to you both, my friends,” he said earnestly. “No man ever had better to stand beside him.”

  With that Parno whirled and walked into the court.

  *****

  Tammon McLeod sat pensively, watching the drama unfold. Twice he had considered ordering the fight halted and dismissing the charges of Edward Willows out of hand. Memmnon had advised against it, however.

  “If you do,” the Crown Prince had warned, “then Parno is ruined. He will forever be followed by the charge that you acted thus to save him. Is he so reviled by you that you would do such? To your own son?”

  Tammon had been angry at that, but agreed. Parno was, apparently, in the right in this instance and he deserved the opportunity to prove his innocence. But what chance did he have against Enri Willard? He voiced that concern to Memmnon during the discussion.

  “Consider that Karls Willard asked of Parno that he, if possible, spare the life of his brother, the holder of the King’s Sword,” was all that Memmnon had said. Tammon had started at that, but Memmnon would say no more.

  Tammon was still undecided about Therron’s actions in all this and more to the point, what he, the King, was going to do about them. There was little doubt in his mind that Therron had worked devilishly hard to mousetrap Parno into this. In his anger the normally wary Parno had not seen, until too late, the trap laid for him.

  The signal from the Sergeant brought Tammon back to the present.

  *****

  As the flag dropped, Parno advanced casually onto the court. Willard did likewise and the two men met near the center.

  Enri struck almost contemptuously at Parno, clearly expecting an easy victory. Parno deftly turned the attack aside and struck back. Hard. Enri just barely managed to prevent from being skewered on Parno’s blade and looked at the Prince in anger.

  “Should take your swordsmanship more seriously, Captain,” Parno said calmly. “Have to set a good example, after all.”

  Enraged, Willard set in with a purpose, unleashing a series of furious strokes that had overwhelmed more than one opponent in the opening seconds of such contests.

  But not Parno McLeod. The young Prince parried each blow deftly—with his own sword in some cases—not even bothering to use his shield. With each block or parry, Willard simply became more enraged.

  “Calmly, now,” Parno chided mockingly. “Won’t do for the Lord Marshall to see his Champion out of sorts, will it?”

  “I’ll kill you, you little piss-ant!” Enri Willard hissed.

  “You’ll try, I’m sure,” Parno shrugged, at least as much as one could do so in the armor he wore. “So far, I’m not impressed.”

  Again, Enri Willard struck out with a flurry of blows. Again, Parno easily parried them. The crowd was beginning to murmur a bit, having half expected the contest to be over with in the first two minutes. It seemed, however, that this wasn’t going to be the case.

  Tammon McLeod shot a glance at Memmnon, who looked on, his face carefully neutral.

  *****

  Across the way, Cho Feng smiled. He could not hear what was being said, but he recognized what the young Prince was doing.

  “What is he doing?” Karls almost wailed.

  “He is winning,” Feng replied serenely.

  *****

  “Why won’t you fight?” Enri demanded, his breathing ragged.

  “I am,” Parno smiled. “I just fight differently than you do…and,” Parno added, “I promised your brother I’d try not to kill you.”

  “He told me that,” Enri snarled. “As if you could! You’ve yet to even make an attempt! Do you even know how to kill a man?”

  Before Enri could add his smirk, Parno struck. His motions were swift, and timed, and Enri Willard could only barely parry them. The crowd’s murmuring grew as the Prince struck again and again. Each time, the Lord Marshall’s champion only barely managed to protect himself.

  “How’s that?” Parno asked finally, his breathing still as calm as it had been before the battle.

  “You haven’t touched me,” Willard sneered, but his eyes now had a worried look.

  “I haven’t tried to, yet…but I will,” Parno assured him.

  *****

  “Parno is playing with him!” Tammon hissed to his oldest son. “Enri Willard is the most feared swordsman in the Kingdom and Parno is playing with him! Taunting him, if I’m any judge!”

  Memmnon nodded, hiding a smile at the near pride Tammon’s voice held for the youngest scion of the House McLeod.

  “You knew he was this good?” Tammon demanded, almost angry.

  “No,” Memmnon admitted. “I knew he was better than Enri, but I had no idea how much better.”

  *****

  Therron’s reaction was a bit different. His open faced sneer of disdain had turned gradually to a look of mingled shock and anger. He had been certain that today would be the last he saw of his hated sibling. Therron had worked things just so the day before, trapping the younger Prince into a duel with Enri Willard. He had expected Parno to withdraw, leaving him stained forever with the charges against him. Enough to expel even a Prince.

  Not only had he not withdrawn, he was, even now, making a fool of the Lord Marshall’s Sword Champion!

  “Milord?” Edward Willows said nervously.

  “Silence!” Therron hissed, his gaze never leaving the court.

  *****

  After twenty minutes of combat, Enri Willard was winded. Parno shook his head sadly.

  “Not used to fighting a real battle, are you, Enri?” he taunted. “Not accustomed to having to work for it, are you?”

  “I’ve never lost a contest,” Willard managed to snarl, “and I won’t lose this one, either!” With that, Willard lunged at Parno, both hands on his sword, the point aimed squarely at Parno’s mid-section. Parno watched the blow coming and deftly sidestepped it. Before Enri could recover, Parno struck him at the base of his helmet with the pommel of his sword.

  The elder Willard fell unceremoniously to the ground, head spinning from the blow. He immediately rolled, trying to avoid the blow he expected to his back. As he did so, however, he found himself looking up into the face of Parn
o McLeod, the Prince’s sword laying across Willard’s neck.

  “Yield, Enri,” Parno ordered softly. “I beg you. Do not make me slay you with your brother watching. You are fighting to defend a man who is unworthy of your service and who has laid false charges at the foot of the throne. Yield, I beg you, and let me spare your life. Soulan need’s men like you.”

  Willard glared up at Parno for a moment, eyes clearing. He read nothing but sincerity on the face of Parno McLeod…and mercy.

  Enri Willard had fought in many such contests as this one. So many, in fact, that he would have been hard pressed to place a number on them. In every one he had been triumphant and he had never offered, nor been offered, mercy of any kind.

  Did that make him a better warrior than the young man standing over him now? A young man literally holding his life in his hands? Realization dawned on Willard then that it did not make him a superior warrior. He had been soundly beaten here today and Parno McLeod had every right, even an obligation under the rules of conduct, to take his life.

  And yet, he hadn’t. At least not yet.

  “Karls was right,” he grinned bleakly. “You are better than I am and you do have honor. I thank you for the chance to live, Parno McLeod. I’m honored by it, but you may as well kill me, Prince,” he said finally. “My entire reputation, my career, is built upon my swordplay. If I yield to you, then I am done. My position demands that I - ”

  “That you die?” Parno looked aghast. “I think not, Enri. Your position demands that you fight. You have done so. It is not your fault that we meet here today. You are a pawn. A pawn of two men who planned to trap me into a fight I could not win, or see me dishonored. There is no fault in you for this. Nor blame.” Parno leaned forward.

  “Do not let them take your life and deprive your King of your service, Enri Willard. Do not grant them even a seed of victory this day. Yield in this matter and live to serve your liege another day.”

  Willard looked at Parno for a long moment, silent. Then his head lay back upon the ground.

  “Sergeant,” he called softly, and the grizzled NCO took the five steps that separated him from the combatants.

  “Sir,” Holfurt replied.

  “I yield to Prince Parno McLeod, Sergeant.” Holfurt looked to Parno.

  “Terms of the contest are mortal combat, My Prince,” he reminded him gently.

  “As the victor am I not entitled to spare a good man for another day?” Parno asked. Holfurt almost smiled. Almost.

  “Indeed you are, Milord,” he replied. “Indeed you are. Are you then, satisfied with the contest?”

  “That remains to be seen,” Parno said darkly. “I will not kill this man, however, to right the wrongs that have led us here this day. Make the call, Sergeant.” Holfurt looked at Parno for a moment, no sign of surprise showing. He nodded, then turned to walk back to the podium before the courtyard throne.

  Parno bent down, extending a hand to the beaten Enri Willard.

  “Come, Captain,” Parno smiled. “Fighting is dusty work. First drink is on me.” Willard looked up at Parno, surprise evident on his face. Then, he chuckled softly, a faint smile playing across his weary face.

  “I’ll take you up on that, Milord,” Willard smiled and allowed Parno to pull him to his feet.

  *****

  “Your Highness!” Holfurt boomed. “Enri Willard has yielded in this matter, accepting the offer of Prince Parno. By the Rules of Conduct, Prince Parno is the victor. This matter is decided!”

  “Very well, Sergeant,” Tammon nodded. “Both parties will approach the bench.”

  Parno and Enri walked to the bench together, Parno helping a still rather unsteady Willard. Tammon looked at his son for a moment and Parno thought, just for a moment, that his father looked almost proud of him.

  “In the matter of Edward Willows’ charges against the Lady Edema, the throne finds in favor of the Lady.”

  “Edward Willows!”

  Willows came forth slowly, his face pale.

  “You have made grave accusations, Duke,” Tammon rumbled. “Are you prepared to withdraw them as publicly as they were made? Your only other recourse is to now face Parno yourself,” he added. Willows looked askance toward Therron McLeod only to find that the Lord Marshall had already gone. He looked back to Tammon.

  “I am, My King,” Willows almost trembled.

  “Lady Edema,” Tammon turned to look at Edema Willows. “Are you willing to accept this withdrawal?” Edema looked to Parno, who shrugged. She looked to Memmnon, who nodded gently and then to her husband, who looked stricken.

  “If the charges are withdrawn as publicly as they were made, including an apology to my staff, then yes, Your Majesty. I accept.” Finally Tammon looked to Parno.

  “And you?” he demanded gruffly. “Are you satisfied with this?” Parno almost snorted.

  “I would prefer to have his head,” Parno said easily and several gasps were heard from the crowd. “I’d ask for his bollocks, but he has none. I care not for any opinion concerning myself, thus I will allow the Lady’s answer to be mine. So long as she is accepting, and held blameless, I will call this encounter closed.”

  “So be it,” Tammon nodded, and again, Parno thought he saw the faint look of pride in his father’s eyes. “Duke Edward,” Tammon ordered, “you have amends to make, it seems. I’d suggest you get on with it.”

  Parno turned to see Karls and Cho Feng hurrying across the yard, both smiling.

  “Well done, young Prince,” Cho said when he reached Parno’s side.

  “Thank you, Cho,” Parno murmured, conscious of the still present crowd and the talk racing through it.

  “Thank you, Milord,” Karls said earnestly.

  “Not necessary,” Parno assured him, smiling. “You are my dear friend, Karls. Whatever I can do for you, I shall. Always.”

  “I am glad to see you well, Enri,” Karls said, venturing a smile. His brother returned it, albeit a bit weakly.

  “Next time you offer me advice, little brother, I’ll take it.”

  “Good,” the younger Willard snorted. “About time, too.”

  “You can discuss that later,” Parno smiled. “Right now, I owe the Captain a drink. And want one myself, now that I think on it. You two want to join us?”

  *****

  The four men sat in Parno’s apartments, gathered around a table. Parno and Enri Willard had both bathed and were wearing fresh garments. There was an open bottle before them, the level within it steadily dropping.

  “I had no idea that you were so adept with a blade, Prince,” Enri said, his voice not quite slurring.

  “I told you,” Karls objected to that, his own voice not quite steady.

  “So you did,” Enri nodded, “but I didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t have, had I not seen it for myself.”

  “I had a good teacher,” Parno shrugged indifferently.

  “Can’t teach a man who hasn’t the ability,” Enri scowled, sounding somewhat like Cho Feng, Parno thought. “I’ve taught many a man to wield a sword, Milord. For them that haven’t the ability, the “touch” if you will, no amount of training can make more than a fair hand with a blade. You are, without question, the finest swordsman in the Kingdom.”

  “I don’t think that’s the case,” Parno rebuffed the compliment gently. “You were over confident, that’s all. Were we to meet again, things would be different.”

  “I think not,” Enri shook his head. “I gave you the best I had today, Milord. True, I was arrogant and careless at first, but not for long. Yet you stood that off with little or no effort. I might possibly last longer, were we to meet again, but the outcome would be the same. At least I hope it would be the same,” he added with a laugh, “and not end with me skewered on your blade.”

  “I don’t expect it to happen again,” Parno said softly.

  Enri nodded firmly. “Of that, you may rest assured. My father taught me that respect has to be earned, not given. You earned that respect, today, Pa
rno McLeod,” Willard said, raising his glass. “You are more worthy of your name, your heritage, than the brother whom I serve.”

  “Enri,” Karls hissed. “You should not speak so!”

  “I won’t other than here,” Enri assured him, “but I will not mince words tonight, little brother. Prince Parno spared me when he was under no obligation to do so and his brother sought to entrap him into a duel which he believed his younger brother was unable to win. Another man, someone with less honor, would have taken my life for spite.” He looked back to Parno.

  “I thank you, Prince Parno, for my life—and for a lesson in humility that was long overdue.”