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

by N. C. Reed

  His dreams were filled with them as well.

  *****

  Doak Parsons pushed his men and his horses harder than he normally would have. Partly it was his hurry to get what he’d learned into the hands of Parno McLeod but just as important was the fact that the Prince had expected him to return to Cove Canton in six weeks’ time. He’d been gone seven weeks already.

  While he knew that Parno would allow him some leeway, he didn’t want to use any more of it than he had already. He had been justified in what he’d done, he knew. Their observations along the Ohi were proof enough of that. But there was something else at stake. Something that Parsons himself was surprised to find was important to him—the young Prince had trusted him—and not just with money, either, but with something important, a job that had needed doing. Parsons found himself not wanting to let the young scion down and it had been a long, long time since Doak Parsons had worried about disappointing anyone. Anywhere.

  “Doak,” Harry James almost whispered from behind him, “the horses are about done in. We’re gonna have to stop for a while. For them, if not for us.” Parsons eased his pace, glancing at the men around him. Many were slumped in the saddle, obviously exhausted. The horses were foaming, not a good sign this time of the year. Harry was right. They had to stop.

  “All right,” Parsons agreed, reluctance in his voice. “We’ll make a camp here. Start again at first light. I think there’s an Army post a few miles east of here. We’ll see if we can trade mounts there.”

  Hating every second that it cost him, Doak Parsons dismounted and helped his men care for their trail weary mounts. No one even bothered making a fire, so tired were they. Munching on trail biscuits and drinking water from their canteens, the men fixed their bedrolls and were soon fast asleep.

  All, that is, except for Doak Parsons who lay awake, staring at the few stars visible through the tree tops overhead.

  *****

  Morning brought more bad news.

  “These two are done for,” Harry shook his head sadly. “They can walk on their own, but not carry any of us.” The two horses in question were obviously lame. Parsons didn’t bother to question James’ opinion. He was, if anything, an even better horseman than Parsons himself. If he said they were done, then they were.

  “All right,” Parsons sighed. “There’s a small town near here. I’ll head over there with a couple men and see can we find a few horses we can buy.”

  “Buy?” James couldn’t help but grin.

  “Yes, buy,” Parsons wasn’t amused. “We’re done with that and don’t forget it. None o’ you,” he looked at the men around him. “We got a chance, here, ta git clear o’ the name o’ being horse thieves and highwaymen and I don’t aim to foul it up. You all want to go solo, head on out. But, you stay with me, you do what I say. Just like always. Got that?”

  “Ease up, Doak,” one of the others said softly. “We ain’t leavin’ out and we ain’t gonna screw up. We’uns all taken a vote, ‘n decided this was what we was for. You ain’t the only one what wants a fresh start, ya know.” Parsons looked at them all for another minute, then nodded, satisfied.

  “Sorry,” he told them. “It’s just important, that’s all.”

  “We done seen them Nor just like you did, Doak,” Harry nodded. “We know what’s to stake here. We ain’t gonna abandon ya, nor the Prince neither, comes to that.”

  “Good,” Parsons finally smiled. “Harry, you stay here. You’re in charge till I get back. Stay off the trail, and outta sight. Poole, Conny, you’re with me. Let’s see can we git us some new horses.” Silently the men gathered the mounts, lame ones included, and headed out. The other three men remained, guarding their camp.

  Parsons cursed the lost time but knew there was no help for it.

  He was still cursing later than day when the small patrol was finally on its way again. Damn wranglers, he cursed under his breath—and they call me a horse thief!

  *****

  Once more Parno was staring out the window of his study. He had broken his routine today, staying inside rather than walking the camp as usual. So far he didn’t think anyone other than Sprigs had noticed.

  His eyes went back to the map before him. He didn’t know what to do. Well, no, he knew what to do, he just didn’t know of a way that he could do it, not without everything he’d gathered being summarily dismissed simply because it was he who had done it.

  He wondered, idly, where Doak Parsons was. Had the thief simply taken his money and ran? Parno doubted it. True, it was possible. Anything was. But he held out hope. He had felt, rather than known, that Parsons was worthy of the trust he’d placed in him, that the man was simply waiting for an opportunity to prove his worth.

  He likely didn’t know it himself, Parno allowed, but the Prince had given him the chance to redeem himself and be useful and that meant something to him.

  Parno would have to wait and see if his trust paid off. Meanwhile, he had a decision to make. He was tired of warring with himself over what to do. It was time to let the others in on his secret. Rising, he walked to the door of the study. When he opened it he found a soldier standing there, not quite on guard, waiting to act as a runner.

  “My compliments to Colonels Nidiad and Willows and to Master Feng,” he said to the waiting courier, “and would they join me in my study as soon as practicable?” The runner bowed, then hurried out the door to find the men in question.

  Parno returned to his desk, waiting patiently.

  *****

  “Lad, what is all this?” Darvo asked as the three men sat in Parno’s study. They had waited patiently as the young Prince had ordered Sprigs to assume the guard on the door himself and post others outside. He had also closed the curtains, forcing him to light several lamps.

  “How far are we as a regiment from being combat ready?” Parno replied with his own question. The look of shock on their faces would have been comical was the situation not so dire.

  “Technically we’re as ready as any new regiment can be,” Darvo admitted reluctantly. “I’d prefer a good bit more time in drill and weapons training to be honest, but they can fight well enough now. Why?”

  “Because I think we’ll have need of them all too soon,” Parno told him flatly. “What I’m about to show you does not leave this room, understand?” When he had received nods from all he walked to where his map sat on an artist easel. Pulling the blanket from it, he stood back to let them see.

  “It is my belief, based on the intelligence you see on this map, that the Nor are planning to attack us with overwhelming strength. Probably as soon as the spring rains have ended.”

  “What?” Karls almost leaped to his feet, rushing to the map. Darvo rose slower and approached the map at a more dignified speed. Again, Cho Feng remained motionless, his face a mask.

  “Where’d you come by all this, lad?” Darvo asked five minutes later, still studying the map.

  “From talking to people who have been traveling in the north, thanks to the new trade agreements,” Parno said quietly. “From listening,” he shrugged. “People talk, Darvo.”

  “So they do,” the older man nodded, “and sometimes it’s just that. Talk.”

  “Sometimes,” Parno nodded, “but this is too many people, and too much talk, to ignore. We’re facing a serious threat.”

  “Who else knows this my lord?” Karls asked.

  “No one knows about this,” Parno indicated the map. “I suspect that anyone who has the eyes to see knows what is on it if they’re paying attention at all.”

  “How certain are you of this information, lad?” Darvo asked, his voice betraying both skepticism and concern at the same time.

  “Some of it is absolutely certain,” Parno replied confidently. “The sources in red are confirmed by more than once source. The green by trusted sources. The blue are rumors…or rumors of rumors.” Darvo nodded, pleased that Parno had used common sense in his gathering of information.

  “Lots of red on
this map,” Karls noted, “and a good bit of green as well.”

  “Yes,” Parno sighed, “there is. Too much.”

  “What do you intend to do with this, lad?” Darvo asked. Parno shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m showing it to you. I’m open to suggestions. I don’t know who I can give this to that won’t throw it aside simply because it came from me.” Darvo grunted in agreement.

  “We need to have eyes in the north,” Karls offered. “Someone who can move about and see if. . .what?” He broke off at Parno’s uncomfortable look.

  “I’ve already done that a bit,” he admitted, “and that cannot leave this room, ever. If my father or Therron found out I had asked people to go north looking at the Nor army there’s no defense I could mount that would save me.”

  “True,” Darvo nodded. “Well, I suggest that you keep at it, then,” he shrugged. “If this is even partly accurate,” he gestured to the map, “then the Nor Army is quite a bit larger than it should be in time of peace.”

  “It’s not just larger,” Parno told him, sitting for the first time since entering the room. “It’s better equipped and better trained than at any time in its history. Including,” he added softly, “in cavalry and mounted infantry.”

  “Their horsemanship is a joke,” Karls scoffed. “Always has been that I’ve ever read.”

  “For the most part,” Darvo spoke with the voice of someone who had fought Nor cavalry. Long ago, anyway.

  “Not anymore,” Parno told them. “They have hired. . . .”

  “What does WT mean?” Karls asked, then looked abashed. “Sorry, milord,” he apologized, realizing that he had interrupted.

  “Wild Tribes,” Parno ignored the intrusion. “The Nor have imported tens of thousands of horses from the West and hired members of the Wild Tribes to teach them how to employ them. Care for them. How to be trained as cavalry.”

  “What?” Darvo was stunned. “How sure are you of that?”

  “Very sure,” Parno replied firmly. “Absolutely sure. Wild Tribesmen have been seen in large numbers and in the act of training Nor horsemen. Fact, not guess,” he added.

  “Lad, that’s very bad,” Darvo said into the sudden silence. “It’s always been our Cavalry that has made the difference in the past. If the Nor can counter that, then. . . .”

  “Then they may well defeat us,” Parno nodded. “Especially if they attack by surprise, when readiness is at an all-time low and we’re thinking we’re on good terms, for once.”

  “Good Lord!” Karls exclaimed softly. “They’d roll right over us!”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Parno admitted. “Now you know why I’m asking for your input.”

  “You know not how to proceed,” Feng spoke at last. “You seek our council for that.” Parno nodded in silent agreement. Feng looked at the other two men for a moment, then rose.

  “You risk being ignored because of your status,” he agreed, “and once ignored, the hope of convincing anyone that the threat is real is likely lost.” Again Parno nodded.

  “Then there is only one course for you to follow,” Feng shrugged lightly. “You must continue to gather information while preparing this regiment for combat. Only when you have overwhelming evidence can you approach your brother, Memmnon.”

  “Memmnon was the one I was thinking of,” Parno admitted. “He will at least listen, before throwing me out.”

  “And yet, this action creates another problem,” Feng continued, as if Parno hadn’t spoken. “Wait too long and the time needed to prepare will not be available. Reveal your secret too early and risk being ridiculed, and the warning lost. An elegant quandary, to be sure.”

  “So how do I decide when to go and speak to Memmnon?” Parno asked. The other three sat silently, pondering the problem. Finally, Darvo spoke.

  “I would estimate that the Army would need a minimum of three months to transfer to a war footing without alerting the Nor that we know they’re up to something,” the seasoned veteran observed, obviously thinking hard on what readying the army would entail. “There’s training to be stepped up, supplies to be gathered—any number of things. And,” he added, frowning, “it will be difficult to do some things quietly. Field rations, for instance, will require large numbers of cattle to be slaughtered for jerky, tons of flour for field biscuits, and we can forget such items as parched corn, that late in winter. There simply won’t be enough grain for it.”

  “And then there’s the horses,” Karls added, also thinking hard. “Forage will be difficult to come by in the early spring. Grass won’t be available for grazing in any large quantity and hay will be gone—used up during the winter. The horses will also be coming off lean times in some cases as garrison commanders try to stretch their stores.”

  “The Quartermaster Corps will definitely have their work cut out for them,” Darvo nodded in agreement, “and then there’s leather. Saddles will need to be re-worked, reins and rigging re-strung. All that takes leather and in large quantity as well.”

  “Weapons, scabbards…hell, even boots,” Karls shook his head. “I mean, there are literally hundreds of items we take for granted in peacetime that will become vital in war. And while we’re at war, getting those items will become more difficult than in peacetime. Getting them to the men who need them even more so,” he added.

  “Agreed,” Parno nodded, his gloom growing. “Even if we started now we’d be hard pressed to be fully prepared in time, and starting now, except for us, is not going to happen. There’s no way I can think of to convince Memmnon, let alone my father, with only what I have now.”

  The others fell into silence again, mulling over the few options they had.

  “Perhaps someone else could present this information?” Karls offered. “Someone that the King would be more inclined to hear?”

  “That’s what Memmnon’s for,” Parno told him. “If I can convince Memmnon then he can probably convince Father, providing he doesn’t turn a deaf ear once he knows it came from me originally, and that’s the problem,” Parno continued darkly. “Anyone we approach about this will eventually have to admit where they got their information. Finding someone who can talk to the King won’t in and of itself help us.”

  Karls nodded in understanding and set back again.

  “Without risk, there is no gain,” Feng said finally. “Taking your information to your brother is a risk. He may not even believe it himself. The only solution is to work to erase any possible doubt of what you believe you know to be the facts. How you present this information to Prince Memmnon may have a direct bearing on whether or not he accepts it as true, and upon how he, in turn, approaches the King with it.”

  “I have one more patrol to hear from,” Parno told them at last. “They are overdue, even now. It may be that they won’t return.”

  “Parsons?” Darvo asked. Parno nodded.

  “I asked him to take five of his men and nose about—here in Soulan only,” he added. “Find and talk to people who had been to Norland recently and see what they could glean from them, without revealing the why, of course.”

  “Parsons is the kind of man for that work, right enough,” Darvo surprised Parno with that. “I know he’s a criminal but men like him, they keep their word. If he’s overdue he may simply be following a lead or a hunch. He could also have fallen victim to foul play or an accident,” he added with a shrug, “life is uncertain, lad, for all of us.”

  “I know,” Parno nodded, hiding his relief that Darvo, at least, agreed with his own assessment of Parsons. “I’m hoping to see him soon.”

  “Then I suggest we wait and see what he has to say,” Darvo said firmly.

  “For how long?” Karls asked. “We need to set a time frame for when we must act on this, regardless. We can’t wait too long for the reasons we mentioned and for others as well.”

  “One week,” Parno said firmly. “If he isn’t here in one week then I will assume that he isn’t coming back
. After that, I’ll take what I have now and ride to Nasil. I will lay the entire thing on Memmnon’s desk. Once I’ve done that, I’ve done all that I can.” He stood.

  “Meanwhile we must begin preparing this unit for war. We have a head start over everyone else. Don’t waste it.”

  *****

  Three days later a weary and saddle sore Doak Parsons led his men through the gates at Cove Canton. The guards were shocked at the bedraggled look the men wore and the horses looked as if they would be useless as mounts in the future.

  In truth, that was possible. Once they had secured re-mounts Parsons and his men had rode as far into the night as they could and broke camp well before dawn the next morning. That pattern had been followed for three days running. All of them, men and horses alike, were at the end of their rope.