by N. C. Reed
“Great ghosts!” Finn cried happily. “That is a remarkable idea, Master Archer! Simply remarkable!” Finn ran off immediately toward his workshop.
“It is?” Hubbel asked Finn’s back. Then louder, “Hey! Is we done here or what?” When there was no answer, Hubbel shook his head sadly and followed the eccentric inventor into the workshop.
Warily. He paused at the door just as he’d seen the Prince do the first time he’d brought Hubbel ‘up on the hill’ and then only after an oath that Hubbel had thought was about to include his daughter’s virtue not to speak of what he was about to see.
Once he’d had a look at Roda Finn’s workshop, though, Hubbel had seen the absolute need for such secrecy. Finn was irritable, fussy, hard to please or to even tolerate, but the things he could do, that he could make happen, were nothing short of extraordinary.
Satisfied that his life was in no immediate danger, (couldn’t be sure of that, of course, but it looked clear for now), Hubbel walked into the shop. Finn’s two assistants were crowded around the little man, watching as he hastily drew designs on a piece of parchment.
“Why not use a fuse,” the taller one, Billy was his name, wasn’t it? was saying. “Just light it up, then fire it off.”
“And if it burns to quickly?” Carl, the other one, demanded. “Or blows out in flight?” Hubbel walked over to the table as the two argued, looking at the paper. It was a diagram he noted, and it looked an awful lot like an. . . .
“Is that a arra’?” he asked cautiously. Finn nodded without looking up.
“That it is, Master Archer,” Finn told him, still scribbling furiously. “As I said, it’s a remarkable idea. One worth study.”
“You plannin’ on puttin’ that. . .that stuff,” he pointed toward the field outside, “on a arra’?”
“Yes,” Finn nodded, looking up. “Why so surprised, Master Hubbel? It was your idea, after all.”
“I did’na mean to do sumthin’ o’ this sort!” Hubbel snapped. “Thing be like ta blow a man’s head or arm off!”
“Oh, tut,” Finn waved the objections aside. “Not at all. Well,” Finn paused, calculating. “Well, probably not, anyway,” he said finally and went back to work. Carl and Billy were still arguing over the best way to make the thing work.
“I still say that a fuse. . . .”
“Hey!” Hubbel’s booming voice stopped the two in mid word. “Stop yer yammerin’ a minute and help out, ‘stead o’ just runnin’ off at the mouth, like.” He looked down at Finn.
“Lookie here, Roda,” he said firmly. “Ah ain’t a firin’ that thing if’n it’s already lit. Period.” Finn looked up at him.
“Then what?” Roda demanded. “You have an idea?” That caught Hubbel off guard.
“Well, I ain’t. . . .” He trailed off suddenly, as an idea did come to mind.
“Then we’ll just have to work with what we. . . .” Now it was Finn who trailed off as Hubbel took up a pencil and started scratching on the same paper as Finn was using.
“What are you. . .?” he stopped as Hubbel’s sketch took shape. When it was finished, he looked up at Finn.
“How’s ‘bout that?”
*****
“Very well, Roda, I’m here,” Parno said warily. “What did you want?” Parno was nearly exhausted. There were a thousand and seventeen things to do every day as they worked to prepare the regiment for war. Coming here meant that at least a hundred of them would go unfinished today.
“I know you’re busy, milord,” Finn nodded, with none of his usual sarcasm. “It’s just. . .well, you needed to see this. It may change your plans somewhat.” With that, he nodded to Hubbel.
“Anytime you’re ready, Master Archer.” Hubbel, standing again at the forward barricade, nodded, and turned.
“Roda, I’ve seen your mines,” Parno protested tiredly. “I know they work, that’s why I asked you to make so many of them. . . .”
“I know, milord,” Finn said agreeably. “And we’re set to start producing them soon. Day after tomorrow, perhaps. But this. . .please to duck, milord,” he added, pulling Parno down with him.
“Firin’!” Parno heard Hubbel yell. Two seconds later he heard a smaller explosion than one normally heard when visiting Roda Finn’s playground. He rose, cautiously, and glanced around, careful to expose no more of himself than needed to see.
“What happened?” he asked, a worried tinge in his voice. “Did it. . .misfire?” Parno almost gulped out. Misfires, as Roda called them, were the worst, the absolute worst thing that could happen here. . . .
“No, milord,” Finn was standing. “There was no misfire. Come and see.” With that, Roda joined Whip Hubbel and the two of them started off down the range. Parno hurried to catch up.
“So what happened?” he demanded. “I came up here, Roda, because you told me you had something new that I needed to see!”
“See, then,” Roda smiled, his arm sweeping to the target area. Parno looked, seeing one ‘scarecrow soldier’ blown in half, and the rest. . .he looked again. The one was dead, had he been a soldier, that was evident and the ‘soldier’ to either side was also wounded…or dead, depending.
“What was that?” he asked. “You did this with one arrow?” he demanded of Hubbel. The archer nodded, smiling.
“Did at that, muhlord,” came the reply. Parno looked at the damage again, then back to Roda.
“Okay. Show me.”
Finn produced another arrow from Hubbel’s quiver and handed it to Parno. He took it hesitantly, knowing from experience that anything in Finn’s shop, possession, or vicinity could explode without warning at any time. He examined it carefully.
The arrow looked quite unremarkable at the rear. Knock, flights, good straight wood. As it neared the front, however, Parno noted that there was no arrowhead. Instead, the arrow swelled a bit, and ended in a blunt, flat, tip. Similar to a nail.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“Ah. . .we don’t, that is we haven’t thought of a name for it, seeing as how we just sort of cobbled it together.”
“Then what is it?” Parno repeated.
“Well, it’s an explodin’ arro, muhlord, to be simple ‘bout it,” Hubbel saved Finn from further embarrassment. “Reason it looks so odd, we needed sumthin’ that would force thuh flint inta thuh powder, oncet it hit thuh target.” Parno looked at the man stupidly for a moment. Then his eyes widened.
“You mean to tell me that you can make arrows like this?” he was almost beside himself. “Arrows that almost any of my archers can use, without killing himself or someone next to him?”
“Ah, yes, milord,” Finn nodded. “That’s. . .that’s essentially the case. Design still needs some adjustment, of course, so that we can produce them in large numbers, but. . . .”
“Roda, you’re a genius!” Parno exclaimed. Finn’s blush of pleasure was interrupted by the clearing of a rough throat. He looked at the large archer next to him and then hurriedly back to Parno.
“Milord, it was Master Hubbel who came up with this idea,” he told the Prince hurriedly, “and with the design that makes it useable,” he added. “All I did was build it as he drew it.”
“Thank you, Whip,” Parno smiled at the big man. “This. . .this is a great help to us. A very great help, I think. I want as many as we can get. Don’t slack on the other things, mind you,” Parno warned. “I’ll get more help, if needed but I want as many of these as can be made before. . .” Parno caught himself but the other two simply nodded.
“We git it,” was all Hubbel said. Finn nodded.
“Good. I have to get back,” Parno said, returning the arrow to Hubbel’s hand. “This is marvelous. Make me hundreds of them, Roda. Hundreds!” And with that the Prince was gone, leaving the other two men watching after him.
“Think he liked it,” Hubbel nodded firmly.
“So it would appear.”
*****
One week after his return from Nasil Parno had assembled the members o
f his ‘staff’ for a dinner at his quarters. He was reluctant to tell anyone what was happening before it was absolutely necessary, but already people were commenting about the increased training regimen and the need to get so many items organized, repaired or replaced. New boots, spare uniforms, reworked saddles—the list was endless. There was no way to hide the fact that the regiment was outfitting for something.
As stewards cleared away the dishes, Parno looked around the table. Doctor Corsin was there, along with Jason Pearl. Darvo, Karls, Cho Feng, and Roda Finn rounded out the ‘council’.
Parno considered again the words he would use. Soon, he would have to inform the rest of the regiment, certainly the officers of the battalions and companies who would lead the men into battle and help spur their training. Better, he had decided, to share what he knew with those now seated at the table now. He needed their input, their advice, and most of all, their support.
With the stewards work done, they departed, leaving the assembled diners to their wine and ale. Parno took a drought of his own mug, then tapped lightly on the table with his knuckles to attract everyone’s attention. Conversation died out as the assembly looked in his direction.
“I suppose you are wondering why you’re here,” he smiled slightly. “I wish we had done this more,” he admitted. “I’ve had a very pleasant evening. Truth be known, however, there is an ulterior motive.” Everyone was paying attention now.
“Intelligence has been presented to the Crown that indicates the Nor will attack us in great, perhaps overwhelming, strength—as soon as the spring rains subside.” He knew no way to soften the blow, so simply dumped the information before them. Startled gasps, sharp intakes of breath, and shouts of exclamation rounded the table only after five seconds of stunned silence.
“Quiet down,” Parno raised his hands. “Quiet down!” As the furor decreased, Parno waited for everyone to settle before continuing.
“I know this is a shock,” he said quietly. “It was to me as well.” That wasn’t quite true, but no one needed to know that. “With things going so well in recent months, no one was expecting something like this. As it is, through hard work, we have some warning. While we could all wish for more, let us be grateful for the time we have to prepare.” He stood.
“All around the realm, every military command in Soulan is preparing for war. They aren’t aware, except at the command level, that that’s what they’re doing, but they are. And, so are we.” He saw a few heads nod as the dots began to connect concerning the last week of flurried preparation.
“I have asked all of you here tonight as my friends, my advisers, and as citizens of this Kingdom,” Parno continued. “There is much to be done in the coming months to prepare this regiment, indeed, this post, for the coming war.”
“My Lord,” Corsin asked hesitantly, raising her hand.
“You aren’t in school, Doctor,” Parno replied, though he smiled to rob the words of any sting. “Say what you have to say.” Corsin still flushed slightly, but managed to smile.
“How certain are we of this?” she asked bluntly.
“Absolutely,” Parno replied just as bluntly. “The evidence presented to the Crown was irrefutable. The Nor have been preparing for war all along. Their diplomatic outreaches of the past two years or so were simply the final preparations of the implementation of the plan.”
“What are we to do?” Pearl asked, looking worriedly around.
“We are to prepare to defend our Kingdom, Professor Pearl,” Parno said calmly. “Your work, indeed, the work of everyone here at this table, has just become ten times more important that it was a week ago. This is not just a problem for the soldiers, but for those of you who support them as well. We need you now, more than ever.”
“I take it that not everyone is aware of this problem?” Roda asked.
“No, and that is how it must stay, at least for now,” Parno replied. “I know that many of you will be tempted to tell others, especially loved ones, about this. I ask you not to, not yet. If word were to leak out that we are aware of their plans, they may choose to strike at once. If that happened, they would bowl over us with little effort.”
Again, startled gasps rounded the table. No one had expected to hear that from a member of the ruling dynasty.
“I know,” Parno nodded, “but their efforts on the diplomatic front have been very successful. Our readiness and preparedness are at an all-time low. We need this quiet time to strengthen ourselves so we can be as prepared as possible when the attack comes.”
“If we are successful and the Nor take note when spring comes, then perhaps they will deem the attack to be too risky, too costly, to pursue.”
In truth there was exactly zero chance that would happen, but the civilians didn’t and couldn’t know that. Parno decided that little white lie wouldn’t hurt anything.
“And so, I ask you to turn your attention to what we need, here and now, to be prepared for what is likely to come. I want each of you, in turn, to review your area of expertise for us all, outlining problems, shortages, preparations, anything that might be important. There is a great collections of minds at this table. Use it. Doctor Corsin, I’d like you to go first. How prepared are we, for example, to care for mass casualties? Will our current stores allow for that? And our medical personnel?” Corsin stood.
“Well, milord. . . .”
The meeting turned technical at that point. Comments sparked other comments and the occasional argument while the talk continued well into the late evening. As the evening began to wane, Parno called their attention.
“I’ve given you a great deal to think about,” he told them. “Let us retire and face this problem tomorrow with clear heads. Remember that this information is not to be repeated outside this room.” The assembled guests rose and began to leave. Doctor Corsin hesitated, waiting for everyone else to leave. When they were alone, she turned to him.
“How sure, really, are you of this, My Lord?” she asked, hesitantly.
“Please, call me Parno,” the prince told her, though there was no smile. “Everyone who was seated here tonight does so.”
“Very well, M. . .Parno. How certain?”
“Completely,” he told her. “There is no doubt.” She nodded, dumbly. For a moment she looked weak, even seemed to waiver a bit on her feet. Parno reached out to take her by the arm, steadying her.
“Are you all right, Doctor?” he asked, concern in his voice. She smiled weakly.
“If I am to call you Parno, then the least you can do is call me Stephanie.”
“Are you all right, Stephanie, then,” Parno asked again, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
“I. . .I don’t know,” she admitted. “I never once imagined that. . .I mean, things were going so well. What has happened to change all that?”
“It hasn’t changed,” Parno shrugged. The two sat back down. “The Nor have never had any peaceful intentions, Stephanie. This entire charade has been but with one purpose, to blind us to the coming storm until it was too late.”
“Have they succeeded?” she asked bluntly. Parno studied her for a moment, then shrugged again.
“Possibly,” he admitted. “I won’t lie to you, the danger is very great. The Nor Army is vast and much improved over previous forces they have fielded against us. They have made allies, for now at least, of the Wildmen of the western territories.” Corsin’s eyes betrayed her fear at that. Wildmen were the bogey men used by all parents to keep their children in line. The stories were only partially embellishments.
“What will we do?” she wondered aloud.
“We will fight,” Parno said simply. “Defend this land and it’s people. To the last man if needed. We can do nothing else.”
Corsin looked at him closely, as if seeing him for the first time. She nodded finally, her own courage seeming to take strength from his quiet certainty.
“I’m sorry, Parno,” she stood suddenly. “I have imposed upon you. Please forgive me. Just
the worry of a woman, I suppose.”
“Nonsense,” he rose as well, accompanying her to the door. “We all have the right to be worried. Man, woman, makes no difference.”
“Thank you,” she smiled again. Gathering her shawl, she started outside.
“Wait,” Parno said suddenly, before he thought, “and I’ll walk you to your cabin.”
“That isn’t necessary Parno,” Stephanie replied.
“I know,” he smiled, taking his own jacket and ensuring that Sprigs knew he would be out, “but I want to. Besides, I promised Memmnon that I would make sure nothing happened to you.”
