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

by N. C. Reed

  “What?” Chad turned, looking at his second. “Who?”

  “Milord Parno’s, sir,” Hildebrand told him. “The prison company.”

  “Great,” Chad snorted. “That’s a big help.”

  “It’s better than none at all,” Hildebrand pointed out calmly, “and Lord Parno is fairly skilled, make no mistake. For that matter, his second is Darvo Nidiad.”

  “Ah,” Chad nodded, remembering the older man. “A good man, Darvo. But I can’t see what good a bunch of prisoner’s can do and that’s leaving aside Lord Parno’s somewhat lack luster reputation.” Chad was a loyal Soulander, but Tom Hildebrand was a friend and Chad spoke openly and honestly to him, whatever the subject.

  “His reputation is that of a fighter, sir,” Hildebrand reminded him, “and, if I may? Lord Parno was involved in a duel, a sanctioned event, in early winter last year. He was the winner. Decisively so, I might add.”

  “So?” Chad replied with a raised eyebrow. “Dueling is nothing like commanding in the field. Or fighting in the field for that matter.”

  “Normally I’d agree, sir,” Hildebrand nodded, “and my opinion of Lord Parno was much the same before the duel, I admit. But it wasn’t so much the duel, sir, as the opponent.”

  “And who was that?” Chad asked, on the edge of becoming annoyed. It wasn’t like Hildebrand to beat around the bush like this.

  “Enri Willard.”

  Chad gaped at that. The Playboy Prince had defeated Enri Willard?

  “You’re joking.”

  “No, sir, I am not,” Hildebrand shook his head. “Defeated him in open combat, and even though the contest was mortal combat, Parno, as the victor, chose to spare Enri. Rumor has it that he told Willard that Soulan needed men like him.”

  “Well. . . .” Chad considered that. He looked off into the distance toward the oncoming enemy. At this distance there was little to see other than dust but if one looked long enough, he could see the long columns winding around the narrow lanes and catch the glimpse of light reflecting on metal, banners waving.

  “Very well,” Chad replied after a moment. “Send a courier to the Prince, suggesting that he and his Forty Thieves might want to move to the gap. Though if he has any sense, he’ll run the other way.”

  “He won’t run,” Hildebrand said firmly. “If he didn’t run from single combat against Willard, he won’t run from anything.”

  “More’s the pity,” Chad shook his head. “We’ll need men like that to survive this as a kingdom.” And no one will survive this, he thought darkly, looking once more at the horde of Nor troopers.

  No one.

  *****

  They had worked through the night.

  Every hand was pressed into service. Soldiers were helping in every area under the watchful eyes of those who knew what had to be done. The hustle and activity of Cove Canton proper was increased by the frantic work being done on The Hill.

  “Be careful with that!” Finn had screeched more than once as the not quite stable liquid he called “nitro” was loaded carefully onto specially prepared wagons. Beakers hung in tufts of cotton cloth, allowing them to swing when the wagons jarred. Not too much, of course, as swinging into each other could prove just as disastrous as hitting the wagon boards.

  “Where did that name come from?” Parno had inquired as he watched the work with no small trepidation.

  “It’s what the ancients called it, milord,” Roda had answered. “I gleaned the formula from a very old text. Very old,” he frowned. “Likely the last of its kind, I fear. I have had copies prepared and the original is now in your safe.” Parno had nodded at that, glad to know that Roda was thinking ahead.

  Now as the sun began to rise in earnest, Parno looked over the column. Soldiers were literally sleeping in the saddle as they waited in formation for the word to move out. Wagons, artillery, supplies…Parno went down a mental checklist of items as he rode the column once more. He couldn’t afford to miss anything. He stopped short as he passed an ambulance.

  “What in the blazes of hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded sharply.

  “I’m going with the column,” Stephanie Corsin replied calmly. “You’ll have wounded if you fight a battle.”

  “The hell you are!” Parno almost screamed. He managed to keep his voice to a moderate bellow, but he was aghast at even the suggestion. “You get this ambulance out of the column right now, mister!” he ordered the driver. Before the man could move, however, Corsin’s small hand covered the driver’s.

  “Stay where you are,” she ordered calmly, never taking her eyes from the Prince. “We. . .I…am going. I am a doctor and the best one anywhere around. It’s useless for me to stay here when there will be men I can treat, and perhaps save, where you are going. The decision has already been made, milord.”

  “I make those decisions, Doctor!” Parno managed not to growl, “and there is no way I’m allowing you to accompany us to the Gap. I won’t tell you again to move this wagon,” he directed that at the driver.

  “You may step down,” Stephanie turned to the driver, taking the reins. “I won’t ask you to disobey the Prince’s orders.” She turned back to Parno.

  “I can drive myself.” Parno was about to launch into another fit until he looked at the doctor’s eyes. She was determined. Scared, yes. But determined.

  He sighed.

  “It’s no place for a woman, Stephanie,” he tried to reason with her, “especially a woman of your upbringing and station.” Corsin snorted at that.

  “I’ve heard that all my life, Parno McLeod!” she shot back, her voice carrying. Neither were aware of the crowd they were drawing, “And I never have liked it. Nor have I let it stand in my way. Now, this wagon is ready to roll. You’re holding up the column, standing there arguing!”

  “They’ll make a fine couple when they’re married,” Darvo Nidiad whispered to Cho Feng as the two sat watching.

  “Indeed,” the oriental nodded. “I believe that Parno has met his match.”

  “We’re ready, lad,” Darvo called out, riding up from where he’d been watching. “On your say so.” Parno realized that Darvo was giving him a chance to save face. He wasn’t going to win. He turned back once more the Stephanie Corsin.

  “When I say it’s time for you to leave, you leave. I’ll have your promise of that, right now, or I’ll have you confined until we’re gone.” His voice was flinty and Stephanie fought to keep from wincing.

  “I promise,” she replied.

  “Let’s get moving, then,” Parno ordered at once. Darvo nodded, then motioned to Karls Willard. The younger man galloped to the front of the column, issuing orders as he went. A dozen company commanders yelled out orders. Then, finally, the column was moving. The going was jerky at first as the long line shook itself down but within minutes, things were moving nicely. Doak Parsons rode up.

  “You sent for me, milord?” the older man asked. Parno nodded.

  “Take your men and scout ahead,” the Prince ordered. “Make sure that the road is clear and there are no obstacles. We can’t afford any delays.” Parsons nodded and was gone, galloping to where his men sat waiting. Parno turned to look at Darvo.

  “Let’s get moving.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Sir, there’s a column approaching!”

  Colonel Brian Landers looked up from the report he’d been reading.

  “A column?” he asked worriedly. “From where?”

  “The south, sir,” his aide assured him. “Regimental from the look of it, though they have a sizable train.”

  “Thank God,” Landers breathed, rising to his feet. Since the message from Lieutenant Colonel Chad, Landers had been on pins and needles expecting an attack at any moment. Having stripped his command to a bare minimum to send reinforcements to General Davies, Landers had only one regiment of regulars and two under-strength battalions of Militia to hold this area.

  On paper, with no real attack expected, that had looked like
more than enough to garrison the small fortress and keep sufficient patrols out to prevent raiding party’s from roaming at will.

  In the face of a full Corps of enemy soldiers, however, it looked like spittle on a hot stove eye. Gone before you noticed it.

  “Any idea who they are?” Landers asked, hooking his sword belt around his waist and heading to the open door.

  “Not as yet, sir,” the aide replied, “but the lead banner appears to be from the House McLeod.”

  “Good God!” Landers was stunned. “Sound assembly at once! Have the Officer of the Day and Sergeant of the Guard meet me at the gates!”

  As the aide scurried away, Landers wondered what any member of the Royal Family would be doing here, especially in the face of the impending destruction of the small fort. He hurried to the gate, finding the requested men already waiting for him.

  “Make sure we’re in good shape,” he ordered the day officer, who nodded and returned to his work. He’d already been doing just that, having been interrupted by this needless summons.

  “I want the sentries sharp,” Landers ordered the Sergeant of the Guard. “See to it yourself. We don’t want anything sloppy with a member of the Royal Family along.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Sergeant replied, hurrying to inspect his posts.

  Landers walked just outside the gate and nervously awaited the arrival of the column.

  *****

  Parno was exhausted. He and his men had made good time but they were paying for it, both personally and in horseflesh. Twelve horses had already been put down and sixteen more were limping along behind the main column, lame. The men slouched in their saddles, haggard and weary.

  Three wagons had also lost wheels and would have to follow as soon as they could. Thankfully, none of them were the wagons carrying Roda Finn’s wizardry. If they had been. . . .

  Don’t even think it, Parno shook his head tiredly. Had that happened, then there wouldn’t likely have been much of a column left.

  “What is it, lad?” Darvo asked from his side. He’d seen his liege shake his head.

  “Just thinking about something useless,” Parno smiled tiredly. “One of those ‘what-if’ things. Are you as tired as I am?” he asked.

  “Probably worse,” Darvo admitted. “I’m a wee bit older than you are, laddie,” the older man winked. “Though if not for Feng’s ‘conditioning’, we’d not have any of us made it. Not this fast.”

  “You have all done well,” Feng put in from just behind Parno. He looked disgustingly fresh.

  “We’re all worn dry,” Parno agreed. “Well, most of us,” he added, looking at Feng in mock disgust. “But a good hot meal and night’s sleep will set us right. We’ll have a titan’s work ahead of us tomorrow.”

  “That we will,” Darvo agreed.

  “I’m wondering what kind of reception we’ll get from the Fort’s commander,” Parno admitted.

  “What do you mean?” Karls Willard asked from Parno’s other side.

  “Well, I’m not really in the chain of command, you know,” Parno told his subordinate, “and I’m not supposed to be here, either.”

  “You’re a Prince,” Willard said stiffly. “You can be anywhere in the Kingdom you wish…and you have a regiment of fighting men to back you,” he added.

  “We’re here to fight the Nor, not our own people,” Parno chided good naturedly, “but thanks.” Willard snorted, but said nothing.

  “Colonel Landers isn’t a bad sort,” Darvo supplied. “He’s not a real lion, if you know what I mean, but he knows his duty and does it. I expect he’s ready to fight if needed.”

  “I expected nothing less,” Parno assured him. “I meant how will he react to my being here? It’s tantamount to removing him from command, you know.”

  “If the Nor strike here, he’ll be glad he’s not in command,” Darvo predicted.

  *****

  Landers frowned as the column drew close. Troopers sagged in their saddles and their formation was loose and sloppy. Not what he’d expect to see from a royal regiment.

  The haggard column drew to a halt near the gate and three riders approached, a fourth trailing slightly behind. Landers was shocked to see that the fourth man was foreign looking.

  He placed his attention on the other three, all wearing the uniform of the Soulan Military. The uniforms were dusty, with collars open. The three men drew reign less than twenty feet from the gate where Landers stood.

  “Colonel Landers?” the youngest asked, giving Landers a start. He’d assumed that the older man, the colonel, was in command.

  “Yes,” he replied. “And you are?”

  “My name is Parno McLeod,” the young man smiled tiredly. “This is my regiment. We’ll be bivouacking with you for a time. I hope that doesn’t present a problem.”

  “Of course not, Milord,” Landers gasped out. “We had no word of your coming, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s because we’re not supposed to be here,” Parno told him bluntly.

  “I see,” Landers replied. “I. . .I confess that I hoped you were here to reinforce the post, milord. We’ve had dispatches from the field that a large body of Nor are heading this way.”

  “Is that a fact?” Parno asked, eyes twinkling. He looked to the older man, who frowned, and then to his younger subordinate, who smirked. Parno turned back to Landers.

  “How long before they arrive, do you think?” he asked, seemingly unconcerned by the news.

  “Less than a week at best,” Landers told him. “There is a militia unit in the field, the 12th Kent Mounted Infantry, keeping tabs on them, slowing them where they can.”

  “Excellent,” Parno smiled. “Best news I’ve had all day, in fact.” Parno dismounted, followed by his men.

  “Colonel, I need you to assign men to care for our horses and I’d like your mess to prepare a good hot meal for my men. We’ll bed down to recover from our little trip and tomorrow we’ll start preparing a reception for our visitors from the north. Will that be a problem?”

  “Not at all!” Landers assured him, turning to the Sergeant of the Guard. “Turn out the 8th Mounted at once. Have them see to Lord Parno’s horses and baggage train then. . . .”

  “We’ll see to the train, Colonel,” Parno interrupted politely. “No offense, but there’s some things in there that require special handling. Something your men aren’t trained for.”

  “But they will be, soon,” he added, smiling. “Very soon, indeed.”

  *****

  “That’s the last of it, milord,” Roda Finn reported quietly. The trip had worn on the fussy little inventor, but his eyes were still sharp. “I’ve got some of Colonel Landers’ men working on a bunker for the explosives. Should be ready by early morning, tomorrow.”

  “So long as we don’t get blown up,” Parno nodded tiredly. Most of his men had already been dismissed to eat, bathe, and rest. He looked around.

  “I’ve asked Colonel Landers to post his best men on guard around the wagons,” he assured Roda. “Their orders are to keep everyone at least one hundred feet away, including themselves…best we can do for tonight. Now get something to eat, my fussy friend, and rest. You look like hell, Roda,” he added with a smile.

  “You don’t look any better, milord,” Finn assured him. “You should rest, too. We’ll need you sharp when the time comes.”

  “I intend to,” Parno promised. He turned to the men still with him. Sergeant Berry was standing not far from him.

  “Get some food and some rest,” he ordered. When Berry hesitated, Parno chuckled.

  “I’m safe enough, here, I think,” he told them. They all looked somewhat shamefaced. “It’s okay, and I appreciate it, but we’ve got a man’s work ahead of us starting dawn tomorrow. You need to be ready for it. Now go.”

  The men stiffened to attention and turned away. Parno watched them go, catching sight of Cho Feng approaching as the men left.

  “You look well, Master Feng,” Parno commented dryly. “Just anothe
r ride in the country, aye?”

  “I am accustomed to hardship,” Feng smiled benignly, “and this wasn’t much of a ride. I was disappointed that the men seemed so fatigued,” he added with a frown. “Perhaps I should increase my training regimen.”

  “I think the time for training is long since passed, my friend,” Parno laughed softly. “Starting tomorrow, we see if the training has paid dividends.”

  “It will,” Feng assured him. He looked at his liege with shadowed eyes. “You think you are ready for this?”

  “I have no idea,” Parno didn’t bother to lie. “I guess I’ll have to be.”