by N. C. Reed
“You know that many of your men will likely perish, if not all of them,” Feng told him softly. “You must be prepared for that, Parno. Should you live, you will carry the guilt of their loss with you for all your days, I suspect. You cannot do so.” His eyes narrowed.
“It will cloud your judgment and your thinking. A good commander,” Feng continued, “must be a paradox of thinking, Parno. He must look after his men as he would his family but, conversely, he must be ready to sacrifice any or all of them should his duty require it. You have grown close to many of your troopers. When the time comes, will you be able to order them to their deaths?”
Parno looked at Cho for a long time, considering. Would he? Would he be able to order so many men, his men, hand-picked by himself, into a fight where some, if not all of them, would perish? The thought wasn’t a good one, and it weighed on him.
“It is one thing to train for war, my son,” Feng said softly. “It is another thing, entirely, to face that war. The men you have selected and trained, men who have helped you in this endeavor, will face death at the hands of your enemies under your command. You will face it as well, though I am confident you will survive. This despite your tendency to rush head first where the battle is hottest.”
“What makes you so sure I’ll make it?” Parno scoffed. “Because I’m a Royal? That’s no protection from death, Cho. You know that. For that matter, I may freeze in the face of the enemy, or even run if things turn bad enough.” Parno shrugged. “I’ve never been in this situation. I have no idea what I’ll do when the time comes.”
“You will do well, Parno,” Cho assured, a sad timbre in his voice. “You will come into your own when the battle is joined.”
“Just make sure you do not lose yourself in that battle.” With that warning, Feng whirled and walked away.
Parno just shook his head. He was too tired to try and make sense of Cho’s riddles tonight.
*****
Morning dawned clear and a bit cool over the Gap. The post was bustling with activity already as the garrison troopers went about their normal activities. They moved a bit quicker this morning, however, knowing that a member of the Royal Family was on the post and that the Nor were approaching in large numbers.
Parno stretched as he rose from his blankets. Landers had been scandalized that the young scion intended to sleep on the ground alongside common soldiers and had been somewhat vocal about it.
“‘I can’t have you sleeping outside, for God’s sake!’” Landers had almost screeched. “Milord,” he added hastily. “‘What will the Lord Marshall say?’”
“‘Considering that he and I despise one another, you may well get a promotion from it,’” Parno had smiled. “‘These aren’t common soldiers,’” he had added. “‘They are some of the best trained fighting men in the kingdom…and I always share my men’s hardships, Colonel. I always have.’” That had ended the discussion.
Now, as Parno eased the stiffness from his bones and muscles, he noted Landers already on his way over. Parno waited for him, accepting his breakfast tray from one of his men. The soldier offered a small greeting, then moved a good twenty feet away, where he stayed. Parno sighed, shaking his head a bit, and dug in. In the distance, the Black Sheep were going through their morning ritual of Cho Feng's exercises.
“Milord,” Landers spoke as he approached. “Might I interrupt your meal?”
“No interruption, Colonel,” Parno assured him, wolfing down his food. He was hungry. “Have a seat and tell me what’s on your mind.”
“The Nor are on my mind, milord,” Landers assured him, taking the proffered camp chair. “We may have a week at most before we see them on our door and I haven’t the slightest idea how we’re to hold them. I’ve sent warnings to Nasil, but have received no answer as yet.”
“You know the strategic situation?” Parno asked around a mouthful of steak. Landers nodded bleakly.
“Then you know that there’s no help to send at the moment…I think,” Parno kept eating as he spoke, “…that the naval force is a ruse, Colonel. I don’t think there’s any invasion force on those ships. They’re just there to force the King to reposition men that would otherwise be sent north to the front or even west to the battle on the Great River. But those are threats that must be honored, since I may be wrong,” Parno noted. “Thus, there are precious few assets to deploy here. We may be all there is.”
“We can’t possibly hold so many troops at bay here, Milord,” Landers objected quietly. “We won’t last a full day.”
“Yes, we will,” Parno corrected him. “We have no choice. If the Nor get through the Gap then we lose the heartland and probably the war. I do not intend to allow that to happen, Colonel.”
“Then what do we do?” Landers asked.
“I have a plan, Colonel,” Parno assured him. “I want you and your second to ride the area with me and with my seconds. We’ll scout the ground, you knowing it best of course, and begin constructing barricades—earthworks and the like, to help hold the Nor at arm’s length. We’ll also prepare a second line of defense, and a third if time allows.”
“We’ll construct the same for the artillery. Prepared positions, secondary and tertiary positions. Our final line will be along the fort itself. We will hold for as long as possible and if need be until the last of us falls. If we don’t then this war is lost.” Parno stood, leaving his tray on the chair he vacated.
“Let’s have a look at the land, Colonel, and then get the men to work.”
*****
“This is actually better than I expected,” Darvo commented as the command group rode the Gap, eying the terrain for defensive features.
“I agree,” Karls nodded. “We can make a real stand here, milord.”
“I think so,” Parno replied. “Colonel, I want men working along this line,” he pointed to the spot where the Gap began to narrow into the hillside. “I want spike trenches, earthen ramparts, and roofs over the trenches with firing slits for archers, ballistae, and any other direct fire weaponry.”
“I want the trees beyond cleared for at least three hundred yards. Take what lumber you need for the barricades and leave the rest to impede our visitors.”
“Three hund. . . .” Landers almost choked. “Milord, that could take days!”
“Best get started then,” Parno ordered. “I want your men evenly divided between this initial line of defense and the free fire zone.” He turned to Karls.
“I want our men working on the second line here,” he indicated a small, though sharp, rise along the ridge. “I want our trenches on this side, but with cut-through slits to allow them to withdraw without exposing themselves to enemy fire. Consult Roda Finn and Captain Lars about where the artillery needs to be placed and make sure the positions are properly prepared. See to it as well that he has enough help to set up shop back from the front…well back from the front,” he added ruefully. He turned to the rest of the group.
“Colonel Nidiad will be in charge of the overall construction,” he informed everyone. “He has far greater experience in these matters than I do. No offense to you, Colonel Landers, is intended.”
“None taken, Milord,” Landers assured him. Darvo had been right. Landers wasn’t afraid to fight, he was simply overwhelmed by the approaching storm.
“Good then,” Parno smiled. “Darvo, once the work is finished on these lines I leave it to you as to where the third line shall be, so long as the fourth is anchored on the fort…and the fort’s exposed walls beefed up.”
“You say that as if you aren’t going to be here,” Darvo frowned.
“I’m not,” Parno’s face was neutral, but his eyes twinkled.
“Where will you be, Milord?” Karls asked in confusion.
“I’m going to take my ‘escort’,” he raised an eyebrow at Darvo over that, “and go have a look at this Nor horde for myself. I’ll meet up with Colonel Chad and see what his thoughts on the Nor are. How they’re advancing, how they look and act,
I want. . . .” What Parno wanted was cut off by a chorus of stunned objections.
“Out of the question!”
“Milord, that’s preposterous!”
“Absolutely not, lad!”
“Gentlemen,” Parno said quietly, raising a hand to stall their objections. When they had quieted, he continued.
“I intend to have a look,” he stated firmly. “It’s important to know what kind of troops we’re facing and I want to make sure that the Nor are heading in the right direction. It may be necessary for Colonel Chad to tweak them on the nose, a bit, in order for us to get them where we want them.”
“Where we want them?” Landers was shocked. “I want them gone! No offense, milord,” he added quickly.
“I want them gone as well, Colonel,” Parno chuckled, “but they’ve come a long way looking for a good fight. I’d hate for them to go home disappointed.” He looked at the men around him each in turn.
“Make no mistake, gentlemen. This may well be the deciding battle in what promises to be a long, ugly war. The Nor are not fighting as they have in the past and their army is tough, disciplined, and well trained. We aren’t going to rout them and send them running for home so easily. Not this time.”
“The only way we win is to kill so many of them that they realize the cost is simply too high to continue,” Parno told them grimly. “And Colonel,” he looked at Landers, “I know you’re concerned. So am I. But we have a few very nasty tricks up our sleeves that will rock the Nor on their heels, I believe. Not to mention buy us precious time.”
“Don’t forget that this force was broken off from the attack against General Davies” Parno pointed out. “Without their support his Corps may well be able to hold, or even take the offensive, without the aid of 1st Corps. If that’s true then we may have help soon.” He watched as understanding dawned on the faces around him.
“But we cannot, we will not, count on, nor expect, that help,” he emphasized. “Every plan we make will be made with the assumption that we will have to fight with what we have. That means two things, in particular.”
“First, we must conserve our strength. What we have may well be all we’ll have, period…thus the defensive structures I’ve just ordered. Secondly, we have to bleed this enemy army as hard and as much as possible. This won’t be one of those grand battles where awards are won and tales are born. It will be an ugly, bitter, dirty brawl, possibly to the last man.”
“The cost of failure is too high, so failure is not an option.” He looked at them all once more, seeing that they understood. Satisfied that they did, he nodded.
“Then let’s be about it.”
*****
“Lad, you had’na ought to do this,” Darvo said yet again as Parno prepared to depart. Parno looked at him.
“I have to see,” he said simply. “I need to see what’s happening. What they’re doing, how they’re acting. It might be a help when they arrive here to know how they’re trained.”
“I’m taking Berry and his troop with me,” he assured the older man, “and Lieutenant Parson’s men as well. They might prove useful.” Darvo snorted, but nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be back,” Parno said gently. “I’m just - ”
“Going to have a look, I know,” Darvo waved his hand disgustedly. “Mind you remember, without you…here…to bolster the troops, we’ll like as not be finished ‘fore the first day’s out. Don’t let that slip your mind.”
“I won’t,” Parno slapped the older man’s shoulder lightly. “See you in a few days.”
Parno took enough time to pen a letter to Memmnon, explaining the situation to him as Parno knew it to be and then handed the letter to Sprigs. The young lieutenant hurried to find a courier to carry it at once to Nasil.
Ten minutes later Parno and his small column headed north, himself and Cho Feng in the lead.
*****
“We are being watched, my Prince.”
Cho Feng’s warning was given quietly, his voice carrying only far enough to be heard by his young liege. Parno nodded and turned slightly in his saddle, addressing the troop of men trailing him.
“Be on your guard,” he ordered softly. “But remember, the men around us are probably ours, so let’s not shoot them.” Soft chuckles drifted up through the ranks as the word was passed. Hands drifted to swords and safeties were removed from already loaded crossbows. They had been on the trail for two days, riding as hard as they dared. Even now, Parsons and his men were out, scouting the fringes on both sides.
“I think they are trying to decide who we are,” Feng observed. “They are cautious.”
“I don’t blame them,” Parno nodded. “They’ve been in the field for over a week or more. I’d imagine they’ve all grown eyes in the back of their heads by now.”
“Indeed,” Feng smiled. Parno suddenly drew up, raising a hand to halt his small column.
“Show yourselves!” he called loudly. “My name is Parno McLeod, of Soulan.”
“Thanks be to God!” he heard a voice call from somewhere in the woods. “Move forward, lads,” the voice ordered. Five men emerged from the woods, cautiously despite the call from Parno. A grizzled older man approached Parno and bowed.
“Master Sergeant Gris Buford, 12th Kent Mounted Infantry, Milord,” he spoke softly. “We are guard post number seven,” he indicated his men.
“Good work, Sergeant,” Parno smiled. “We only noticed you a few minutes ago.”
“You shouldn’a noticed us at all,” the sergeant looked pained. “Beggin’ pardon, milord.”
“Most wouldn’t have,” Parno agreed. “You and your men are very good. I need to see your commander, Sergeant. Can you have a rider escort us there?”
“At once, sire,” Buford nodded, turning. “Peterson! Escort the Prince to Colonel Chad’s Command post!”
“Aye, Sergeant,” a young trooper came forward. “This way, gents, if you please,” the young man indicated a narrow trail. Parno nodded to the Sergeant and followed. Just inside the woods again, Peterson stopped long enough to mount his horse.
“Follow me, milord,” the young man spoke quietly. “The Colonel’s about a half mile distant, or at least his tent will be,” he added. “Colonel’s like to be out watching the Nor. Likes to see for himself, you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Parno hid a smile. “That’s why I’m here.”
Parno’s small column followed the young trooper along the trail in single file.
Nice place for an ambush, Parno thought. The Nor would string through here in much the same fashion as he and his men were. A few well-placed bolts would drop many of them, the men laying the ambush mounted and gone before the Nor could react.
The column broke into a small clearing a few moments later, where some few tents were scattered about. Parno looked around the encampment, liking what he saw. Only the barest necessities, ready to pull down and be on the move in minutes. Either Colonel Chad had been a good commander prior to the invasion or he’d learned on the fly in a hurry.
Either one spoke well of him, Parno decided. As they approached the camp Peterson halted to answer a challenge.
“Halt and identify!” a voice called from their front.
“Trooper Peterson, with Prince Parno McLeod and party,” Peterson replied calmly, his voice softer than the challenge. He turned to Parno.
“Wouldn’t do for the Nor to hear me say that, sire.”
“Good job, Trooper,” Parno complimented him and the young man blushed at the praise.
“Advance for Recognition,” a new voice ordered. Peterson led the column into the camp itself where a Major was waiting.
“Major Hildebrand, sir,” Peterson saluted. “Prince Parno McLeod, by way of Post Number Seven.”
“Good job, Trooper Peterson,” Major Hildebrand returned to the salute. “You’re relieved and may return to your post.” Peterson saluted again and turned his horse.
“Pleasure to meet you, milord,” he murmured, then was
gone, back the way he had come.
“Welcome, milord,” Hildebrand stepped forward and bowed. “I must admit we’re relieved to see you…or anyone.”
“We can dispense with the amenities, Colonel,” Parno replied, dismounting. “Glad to meet you,” he extended his hand. Hildebrand took it in surprise.
“I wanted to see what you fellows had turned up around here,” Parno spoke pleasantly. “I understand you’ve been shadowing this force for several days.”
“Just under a week, milord,” Hildebrand nodded. “We’re working to slow them down where possible and to gather all the intelligence we can about their movements, command structure, and column.”
“That is outstanding!” Parno exclaimed. “Excellent work. I’d like to see them for myself and I’d also like your opinion, and your Colonel’s, on what you’ve seen so far.”
