by N. C. Reed
“They’ve already made sure of that,” Parno smiled wanly. “I couldn’t be more proud of them. I fear they’ll bear the brunt of the fighting today before all is said and done.”
“They’ll like that,” Karls smiled. “So will I. When you need us, milord, we’ll be there.”
“I know.” Parno fell quiet for a moment and all of them ate in silence for a time. When he finished, Parno looked at his three friends.
These men were his family. They had believed in him when no one else did or would. They had helped him build his regiment, something that was meant to be a joke, into a force of fighting men that literally had no equal in the Kingdom. Each, in his own way, had contributed to that work something that Parno could not have.
Cho had taught them sword work that was far beyond what most Soulan soldiers were capable of and had taught them lessons of war learned through experiences that even Darvo couldn’t match. He had also trained them physically, giving them all the conditioning that made them tough, rugged soldiers, capable of fighting on any terrain.
Karls had brought them enthusiasm and instilled a sense of pride among the men by his own conduct. Through him and his men the Black Sheep had learned what it was to be a professional soldier and to take pride in it. They had also learned the importance of camaraderie and team work, to place the unit above themselves.
And then there was Darvo Nidiad.
Parno sighed as he contemplated the man who had been more like a father to him than a mentor. It was Darvo who had taught him how to be a man. Who had helped him survive in a hostile environment, surrounded by a father who despised him and by siblings who, more often than not, had wished him dead.
It was Darvo who kept him from worse trouble than he’d managed to get himself into and who had picked up the pieces when Parno had failed to live up to what he’d been taught. It was Darvo that he had gone to when afraid or alone. Darvo had always been there when Parno needed him.
“I want you all to know,” he spoke quietly, “that I have never had better friends, better family, than the three of you. You have all helped me to become a better man and a fair leader of men. I wish. . . .” Parno trailed off then, unsure how to say what he felt. These men, so dear to him, would probably die today. Try as he might, Parno simply could not see a way to prevent that.
“Parno,” Cho spoke just as quietly. “We know what you feel. You wear it plainly upon you, for those of us who know you well.” Darvo and Karls nodded in silent agreement.
“You grieve for what’s comin’ lad,” Darvo spoke then. “Want some way to make this unnecessary, but there is none. This had to be done. We all knew coming here that it could only end one way. We came anyway. You aren’t to blame for this.”
“I’ve been soldier since I was old enough to join the army,” Karls told him. “It’s all I know, all I’ve ever done, but until I was assigned to you, milord, I didn’t know what it meant to be a true soldier. A man willing to sacrifice everything for the cause of his people and his land. That, I learned from you.”
Parno looked at each man in turn, wondering as he had countless times, how he deserved their loyalty.
“I’m indebted to you all,” he told them. “If this is the way it has to be then I couldn’t ask for better company. Thank you.” The four of them sat in silence for a moment. The spell was broken only when Landers and the other commanders approached the fire for their morning meeting.
“I won’t mince words, gentlemen,” Parno said a few moments later as everyone gathered around him. “We aren’t likely to live out the day. You know that as well as I do.” The assembled men nodded grimly.
“What we have done, these past few days, has bought precious time for our land. Time for the army to shift in order to meet this threat. More than that, we have bloodied the enemy well, weakened them with our stand here. When the army is able to meet them they won’t be near the threat they were just five days or even two days ago. We have done what we set out to do.”
“I’m proud to be here with you. I’m honored to be among you…and this Kingdom is blessed to have you.” He paused as the men took in what he had said.
“Everyone has their assignments,” he said at last. “We’ve managed to shorten our lines and create a reserve. Our men are packed tight, behind a strong position. Captain Lars,” he looked at the artillery officer, “we’ll depend on you a great deal today, especially to prevent their artillery from becoming a factor.” The man nodded gravely, accepting that responsibility with a calm air.
“All archers will be engaged from the start,” Parno informed them. “The reserve will fire over the barricades from blind ambush so it will fall to the front line commanders to spot for them, shifting their fire as needed. If the enemy pack in tight, and I expect he will, then all archers will fall back off the line as soon as the enemy begins to reach our barricades. All swordsmen will go to the line and repel the Nor while the archers continue to thin their follow-on ranks. Captain Moore, your men will hit the first rank of mines when the Nor’s third line reaches it. Hit the last as soon as the fifth rank files in or before the enemy can obscure them, whichever comes first.” Moore likewise nodded his understanding.
“If Soulan survives this war, it will be in large part because of what we’ve done here today. Don’t forget that, and don’t let your men forget it, either. Are there any questions?” There were none. Today didn’t require much in the way of instruction.
“Then take your posts, gentlemen, and Godspeed.” The men hesitated for a moment and Parno frowned. What was wrong?
“Sir,” Landers spoke then. “The men asked me to speak for everyone, milord,” he explained. “We. . .we wanted you to know, Parno McLeod, of the House McLeod, that we are honored to have fought by your side. We will proudly carry your banner today and give for it the last full measure of ourselves in its service. We have never served a finer officer, sir.” As one man, the group of commanders slowly saluted. Parno looked at them for a long moment, then drew himself erect and returned their honor.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” he said softly.
“Everyone to your posts,” Landers ordered, and the men filed away, heading into the darkness to prepare their commands.
“Good bye, Parno,” Karls waited until the others had gone. “Die well.” Parno took his hand, then embraced him as well.
“And you, Karls. And you.” The younger man then followed the others into the dark, leaving only Cho and Darvo with him.
“Well, I don’t aim to hug you,” Darvo sniffed airily. Parno laughed.
“Nor do I,” Cho smiled, a soft and knowing smile. “It is unseemly.”
“C’mon, you two,” Parno started for the smaller tower that had been erected during the night. It was almost time.
*****
Across the field, Norland’s General Brasher looked at his men, even now forming in line of battle out of sight of the small fort in the Gap. He frowned as he recalled his second’s review of their line of battle.
After the first two days battle and the fire the night before the Norland 3rd Field Army could field slightly less than twenty-five thousand men, roughly half of his original force.
Brasher swore violently at that realization. A pitiful handful of southern soldiers had decimated his once proud fighting force, using the terrain and their sorcery to kill and maim his men as they tried to carry the enemy position.
His men had suffered greatly, though Brasher was less concerned with their suffering than with the loss to his strength. Many of his men still lived but were so horribly maimed that they would never again be useful to Norland. Men missing limbs, blinded by fragments of those barbarous weapons, and burned beyond recognition. All of them lay even now in crowded tent hospitals or on the ground outside the overflowing tents.
“We’re almost into line, sir,” his second appeared out of the dark, carrying a shielded battle lantern. “Ten more minutes and we’ll be ready to advance.”
“Fine,” Brasher nodd
ed curtly. “I want the men to maintain complete silence. Have their officers strip the men of anything that might rattle or might trip them up. I want us to advance under cover of darkness. Get as close as we can to their wall before sun-up. In fact, if we can hit their wall before sun-up, that would be even better.”
“Very good, sir,” the other man replied. “I’ll see to it at once.”
Brasher watched him depart, then turned his gaze south toward the Gap. He would throw everything he had at the Southrons today. Every man who was able to move under his own power.
Today, the line would break under the weight of his troops.
Once that was done, he would mount every able-bodied man on horseback and head straight for the Soulan capital of Nasil, capturing it. With their capital gone, the southerners would break and he, Brasher, would be hailed as a hero of Norland. His failure to break the Gap yesterday would lie forgotten under the lapel of victory in Nasil. In fact, the hard fought battle might even add to his stature, proving him as a man who would not fail even under the most adverse of conditions.
Yes. Today would be a day of glory.
He smiled at that thought, even as his troops began moving forward. He watched carefully, satisfied that, for once, his orders were being followed. Men moved quietly, seeming to glide over the ground rather than make contact with it. Anyone who made noise during the advance would be executed on the spot by his order. He wanted nothing to warn the southerners that he was coming.
Coming to destroy them all.
*****
Soulan scouts were spread all over the battlefield, watching and listening for anything that might indicate that the Nor were coming in the dark. Prince Parno had instructed them himself, warning them that the duty was as important as it was hazardous. They had taken his warnings to heart and were lying quiet and still.
Once scout was far afield, having crawled carefully out on his belly some one hundred yards to the front of the original battle line. Anthony Felds had been raised in the mountains of Eastern Tinsee and had been taught the value of stillness and patience from the time he was able to walk.
As he lay in the dark, eyes long accustomed to hunting in the dark scanned the field before him. He knew that he was the farthest out of all the scouts, having heard the others as they fell out of line to take up positions. His senses were strained now as he controlled his breathing, working to keep his own heartbeat from hammering in his ears. Suddenly he stiffened slightly and raised his head.
Until this instant, he had been hearing the chirping of crickets and night fowl as they prowled the battlefield. Burned over ground and fallen soldiers had left easy pickings for them and they had returned during the night after the battle had ended.
Now they had gone silent. Felds knew that only one thing would cause that.
Suddenly he heard a flock of birds take flight to his front, catching a fleeting glimpse of their outlines against the sky. A muffled exclamation carried to him, followed by a groan and the sound of a body hitting the ground.
The Nor were coming.
Felds turned at once and began to make his way back to the lines. He worked his way carefully through the obstacles of fallen timber and fallen bodies until he was within fifty yards of the lines, then stood in a crouch, running silently over the ground. As he went he gave a warbling cry, mimicking a night bird’s call. Replies came from all around as the other scouts acknowledged his call and likewise began making their way back.
The Nor would find Soulan ready and waiting when they came to call.
*****
“You’re certain, lad?” Darvo Nidiad asked Felds. The young man nodded quickly.
“Aye, Colonel. They’re coming. No idea of the number, but it’s a flock of ’em, sure enough.”
“Well done, boy,” Darvo clapped the young man on the shoulder. “Get to your unit, then.” Felds beamed at the compliment and hurried to rejoin his outfit. Darvo turned to Parno.
“What about it, lad?” Parno turned to the artillery runner.
“Order Captain Lars to launch the pitch with the first volley, then open up with special rounds until further notice.” The young man bowed quickly in acknowledgment and ran to obey. Parno turned to the other runners.
“Pass the word, Nor are advancing. Quickly now!” The others scattered to their respective areas carrying the Prince’s orders.
Parno, Darvo, and Cho remained on the small tower, waiting for the battle to join. The wait wasn’t long. Sounds of artillery pieces being fired echoed across the line and half-barrels of flaming pitch sailed overhead on their way to the Nor lines.
The flaming pitch fell deep inside the lines of the advancing enemy, illuminating the entire area. Parno looked on in shock at the sheer number of troops arrayed against him.
“They aren’t playing today, lad,” Darvo said grimly. “He’s hitting us with everything at once.” Parno nodded. The three watched in silence as once again Nor troops scattered, many aflame with the pitch that had covered them. Orders were bellowed down the line as Soulan archers were ordered to prepare to fire.
The artillery cycled quickly and another salvo sailed over the line toward the enemy. This time instead of fire a line of explosions walked its way across the Nor troops, falling farther along the battlefield into the follow-on ranks. Parno had ordered Lars to concentrate his fire not on the front ranks, but on those coming up in support. It would fall to his soldiers to halt those Nor who reached the line.
As the first exploding rounds fell behind them, the front ranks of the Nor advance, still recovering from the effect of the pitch, were hit by thousands of arrows as the first volley of archery fire swept their ranks. Though the darkness and the distance prevented accurate aimed fire, the Nor were packed in so tight that it was hard to miss. Several of the enemy were struck by more than one arrow, but the front ranks were cut up badly by the volley. Another was on the way before the first had finished its flight.
“We’re in it now,” Darvo’s comment was almost lost as another, more ragged volley of artillery took flight. Faster crews were getting their shots off quicker than some of their counter parts, but all the rounds were aimed at a particular point along the battlefield so the effect was not diminished greatly.
“So we are,” Parno replied. He felt almost sick looking across the fire illuminated ground before him, seeing tens of thousands of enemy soldiers coming toward his thin lines.
We’ll never last the day, he thought gloomily. We’ll be lucky to last the morning.
But his troopers were fighting hard. Flight after flight of arrows sailed into the oncoming horde of enemy and the artillery continued to loft Roda Finn’s ‘bombs’ into the following ranks.
No one had thought to tell the Soulan troops that they couldn’t do the impossible.
*****
Across the way General Brasher cursed as his plan fell apart. He didn’t know what had happened but the southern line had known his men were coming. His men had been attacked before getting even half way across the distance between themselves and the Soulan lines.
He watched through his glass as him men fought to continue against the southern wizardry and archery. His men fell in windrows, lying in heaps like wheat to be harvested, but they were still pushing. Still moving forward. The butcher’s bill for this would be higher than he’d hoped and while he didn’t care about the lives of his individual soldiers, he needed enough of them to continue his campaign.
If they were quick enough, broke through fast enough, then he would have his ultimate victory. Either way, this outpost would fall.
*****
The sun was beginning to light the eastern sky into dawn as Parno watched the battle unfold before him. Even as he watched Moore’s men rose up, launching their bolts at the first line of mines. The newly reorganized Nor lines were ripped again as forty-one of the clay jars exploded in their midst, showering the troops near them with iron shards. Other crossbow armed archers were on the wall now, firing directly into
the front ranks of the oncoming horde whilst their longbow armed companions continued to shower those behind with arrows. Moore’s men quickly reloaded and awaited their next command to fire. Once the last mines were detonated they would join the others shooting individual Nor soldiers.
Even as the Nor tried to reform Moore’s men rose again and hit the last group. The effect was instantaneous. Those Nor in the front ranks who had survived to this point were routed and turned to flee. Many, if not most, were cut down by their own men. Parno shrugged mentally at that. He didn’t care what stopped them, so long as they were stopped.
“We’re getting our licks in, anyway,” Darvo noted, his eyes scanning the battlefield. “They’re already routing up front and they’ve not even reached the lines yet.”
