by N. C. Reed
“How many men can we mount?” he demanded tersely. The two men considered that for less than a minute.
“With our regiment,” Strong answered, “the House Regiment, and the men we mounted from the City Guard, we can muster around twenty-five hundred mounted troopers, sire.”
“I want them ready to ride in five minutes,” Tammon ordered. “The wagons are to follow at best speed, horses and wagons are not to be spared. Move!” he bellowed. Both men scurried to obey. Tammon turned back to Sprigs.
“You will ride with me,” he ordered, “and tell me of my son.”
Scant minutes later, the countryside around them thundered with the sound of over two thousand horses racing across the land as fast as their riders could coax them.
At their head, Tammon McLeod rode in silence, digesting what Sprigs had told him of Parno’s efforts over the past week. His face was grim and gaunt.
Parno had been alive, and his force holding, two hours ago. He hoped, he prayed, that would still be the case when he and his men arrived.
There was much he needed to say to his youngest son.
*****
Stephanie Freeman-Corsin watched as the last of the wounded were loaded on the wagons.
The last that can be moved without killing them, she reminded herself. So many men lost. She shook her head. No time for that now.
“Ma’am.”
She turned, seeing Lieutenant Parsons holding the reins of her own horse. Her personal ambulance she had turned over to the wounded. Taking the reins, she climbed aboard.
“We’ll see you, and them, safely home, ma’am,” Parsons promised.
“I know,” she smiled weakly. “I’m just sorry to be leaving so many in need.”
“I understand, ma’am,” Parson’s nodded. He wasn’t happy himself, but orders were orders, and these had come directly from the Prince.
“Head’em out!” Parsons called. He nodded to one of his subordinates, Stephanie couldn’t recall his name, and that man and three others set out at a gallop ahead of the small wagon train.
She made sure that everyone was loaded and moving, then kneed her horse alongside Parsons’. As the wagon train started rolling she didn’t look back.
It required more effort than she’d imagined.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Parno watched through his glass as the Nor reformed across the battlefield. He could only imagine what shape the enemy troops were in, but fervently hoped it was bad.
“They look tired,” he commented quietly to Cho Feng, who stood by his side. The oriental nodded.
“They are near the end of their usefulness,” he observed. “They have lost faith in themselves and their commander. Only fear of reprisal keeps them going.”
“I wish they feared us more than they feared him,” Parno muttered. “If they hit us again with everything they have left we’ll likely be finished.”
“I must agree,” Cho replied calmly. He looked at the sky, gauging the time until dark. “There is sufficient light remaining to mount a coordinated attack and follow it through. Time is very much on their side, my young Prince.”
“I know,” Parno sighed. “I’d love to be able to hold them one more day,” he added forlornly, “but I just don’t see that happening.”
“Nor do I,” Cho agreed. “We will see.”
“Sooner rather than later, it appears,” Parno told him, lowering his glass. “Seems they’ve gotten their infusion of courage. Here they come.” He turned to his runners.
“Order Captain Lars to use the remaining explosive rounds as soon as the enemy is in range, then continuous fire for as long as possible. Notify your respective commands that the enemy is about to make a major push against our position.” The runners all saluted and hurried off to find their commanders.
Parno watched them go then turned his attention to the line below. His men were dirty, exhausted, and just plain worn out. They had fought bravely but they, too, were near the end of their rope. Casualties had been horrendous during this day’s fighting already with well less than half of their number still able to make muster. The dead were being stacked like cord wood behind the lines and the wounded were spread upon the ground inside the small fort itself, there being no more room for them in the makeshift hospitals and tents.
Over two thousand men lost in the last three days. It was small comfort that the Nor had lost many times that, if their count was anything like accurate. Nor dead littered the battlefield so heavily that Parno could have walked across the field without placing his feet upon the ground. The awful effect of Roda Finn’s gadgetry. Had it not been for Finn’s weaponry, the Nor would simply have rolled over them and kept going.
But not now.
The once strong enemy army had been bled mightily by the small force of Soulan soldiers. Estimates were that the Soulan defense had cost the Nor commander fully half of his command. Scouts reported that the fire had also destroyed a great deal of their train. Those who were left when the battle finally ended would be short of everything.
Maybe they’ll starve, he thought bleakly. It wasn’t harvest season so foraging would be difficult. This area was sparsely populated to begin with and the raging battle had warned most of the country side to flee. The small farmsteads in this area would yield little in the way of sustenance for the Nor troops. In that weakened condition his father should be able to run the remainder to ground, at least he fervently hoped so.
“Don’t let this be for nothing”, he prayed silently. “Don’t let all these brave men die for nothing.”
“They are coming, my prince,” Cho said softly, bringing Parno back to the present. He nodded.
“Now we’ll see, I suppose.”
*****
Tammon McLeod drew reign as one of his scouts appeared in front of his column. The King halted his horse, irritated by the pause.
“What?” he demanded gruffly.
“Sire,” the scout swallowed nervously. “We have encountered the leading elements of two Soulan divisions, the 6th Cavalry, and the 5th Mounted. They are on their way to the Gap as well, by order of the Lord Marshall.”
“Excellent,” Tammon smiled for the first time in days. “When will the rest of 1st Corps be up?”
“Sire, they are alone,” the scout reported. “Those two divisions are all that are coming.” Tammon looked at the scout for a moment, his eyes ablaze.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, his voice deadly calm.
“Yes, Sire,” the scout nodded nervously. “They claim they were sent to investigate a rumor of Nor activity in the area.”
“Take me to them. At once,” Tammon ordered. A rumor? He had ordered Therron to send the entire Corps to the Gap at once. His son had disobeyed him.
And now the Kingdom lay in peril because of it.
As he followed the scout toward the newly arriving troops, Tammon made a decision. His second son had defied him. Openly. He couldn’t allow that to stand. Once this trouble was seen to, he would have to reign Therron in. His face was hard as he rode.
At least he would no longer be leaving the problem for Memmnon to deal with.
Less than twenty minutes later, Tammon McLeod, followed by his own men, emerged into a small clearing where the bulk of two divisions of Soulan’s finest soldiers sat waiting. Everyone snapped up straight at the sight of the King, but Tammon ignored that. He rode directly to the head of their column, stopping his horse in front of the Generals commanding the two divisions.
“I understand that you are the only part of 1st Corps ordered to the Gap. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Sire,” General Thomas, senior of the two division commanders replied. “That is so.”
“Who issued that order?” Tammon asked, eyes narrowing. Thomas looked nervously to his counterpart, then back to his King.
“L. . .Lord Marshall Therron, sire,” was the shaky reply. Tammon’s eyes hardened at that. So it was true.
“Very well,” he nodded. “We have no ti
me to waste, General. We are but a short ride from. . .” He broke off as that strange rumbling came to him once more and the ground trembled slightly.
“We must hurry,” Tammon instructed. “Have your men follow, General, and be prepared to fight as soon as we reach the field.”
“Yes, sire!” the two generals replied in unison and turned to their aides and runners.
“Move out!” Tammon called loudly and spurred his horse savagely. The great beast leaped forward, unaccustomed to such treatment. But it knew who it’s master was and went willingly.
Now with over twelve thousand troops at his back, Tammon McLeod raced once more for the Gap. With luck, they could get there in the next hour. He only hoped that was soon enough for his son…and his Kingdom.
*****
“Milord, they’re pressing the left very hard,” a runner informed Parno. “Colonel Chad says he may not be able to hold the line.” Parno nodded and turned to one of his own runners.
“Order Colonel Willard to detach Captain Seymour to support Colonel Chad.” The two runners departed, leaving Parno behind with Cho Feng.
“We won’t be able to hold much longer, Cho,” Parno said softly. “The Nor aren’t going to stop this time and I’m fresh out of tricks.”
“It has been a great battle, my prince,” Cho replied. “One worthy of pen and ink. You should be proud.” Parno looked at Cho.
“Proud? Proud?” Parno’s voice rose slightly. “I’ve killed or ordered killed thousands of men in the last three days, Cho. Ordered good me to die rather than give ground! What in hell is there to be proud about?”
“Your humanity has survived, I see,” Cho surprised him by smiling. “That is good, Parno. It is often the first casualty of war. But yes, you should be proud. You have served your people well here. Your men have served you well. That is the mark of a great leader, Parno McLeod. Don’t forget that.”
“No more time than I have left, I’ll probably be able to keep it in mind,” Parno remarked dryly. “There’s no. . . .” He was cut off as a breathless runner hurried to him.
“Colonel Landers reports that the right is in danger, milord!” he gasped out. “We have lost too many men to hold the Nor at bay.” Parno turned to order reinforcements for the right, but before he could speak, he heard the cracking of timber. Turning, he saw a portion of the line crumble before his eyes and Nor began to pour through the opening.
“Black Sheep! FORWARD!” he heard Karls Willard cry, and then the regiment was among the Nor, fighting desperately. Parno sighed and drew his sword. Beside him, Cho Feng drew his own blades.
“It’s time, my prince,” he said solemnly.
Parno nodded. “So it is.”
Without another word, the two men leapt from the small observation point and headed for the battle.
*****
Across the field now out in the open since the hellish witch weapons had fallen silent, General Brasher smiled in triumph.
“We’ve done it!” he cried to no one on particular. “Order all commands to head for that breach, widen it, and press the attack to the hilt!” His runners rushed to obey.
He would beat this ragged bunch of Southrons and then nothing would stand between him and the Soulan capital. He would win this war for his Emperor and reap the benefits.
Smiling, he urged his own horse forward, wanting to see the final defeat of this cursed position for himself. His guard followed nervously.
*****
“We’re losing the position, milord!” Karls called to Parno over the din of battle. “There are too many of them to hold!”
The barricade had failed in another position now, near the center. Landers’ men had lost over half of their remaining strength trying to stem the initial breach and now staggered back under the weight of this new push.
Parno considered his options for a few seconds, then started snapping orders.
“Order all commands to fall back and form a box!” he ordered his runners. “Militia and provisional battalions to form second ranks, except for Chad’s men, who will form on the first rank! Move!” The runners all took off as fast as their feet would carry them.
Parno looked at Karls. “Form a box!” he shouted, and the younger man nodded. Parno looked to where Landers was still leading his men in an attempt to hold the Nor at bay.
“Landers! Fall back and form a box!” he called. The colonel nodded in reply, then stiffened, a puzzled look upon his face. Parno noticed a pike point protruding from his chest.
“Brian!” Parno called, forcing his way forward. He arrived just as the grinning Nor soldier jerked the pike from Landers’ body. The colonel fell to his knees, blood streaming from his mouth and nose. Enraged, Parno flung himself at the Nor soldier, who tried to bring the long pike to bear on his new target.
Parno’s sword bit deep into the pike shaft, slicing it cleanly off. Before the Nor could react, Parno’s blade flashed again and the Nor’s head went sailing. Kneeling by Landers, Parno tried to help the man to his feet.
“No. . .no time, mi...milord,” Landers gasped, blood frothing around his mouth. “I’m done. . .done for.”
“You’ll be fine!” Parno shouted. “Just hold on until I can. . . .”
“Leave me, Parno,” Brian Landers smiled up at him. “It has been my greatest honor to serve you, milord. . . .” Landers eyes glazed and with one final cough of blood, he went still. Parno let him go, rising.
“Fall back!” he shouted through tears of rage. “Fall back and form a box, men!” The soldiers around him began to retreat, their numbers dwindling steadily. As Parno watched two Nor approached him, swords swinging. Parno almost smiled.
He stepped forward, feinting suddenly at the man on the left, then striking at the man on the right. His sword bit deep into the man’s side, and Parno twisted the blade in his hand, widening the wound. The other Nor took advantage of that to strike, but Parno was far too fast. His blade slid from his first target and blocked the incoming slash, then snaked out toward the Nor’s throat. The man managed to deflect the blow enough to save his throat, the blade sinking instead into his shoulder at the seam of his armor. He grimaced, but managed to pull himself free of Parno’s blade. The prince followed him, however, and this time sank his blade nearly hilt deep into the man’s belly. He fell as if boned.
“Milord!” Parno turned at the cry, just in time to see two more Nor bearing down on him, with three more behind. Parno set himself but before he could attack, Cho Feng’s swords flashed in from the side, slicing one man to his backbone and tearing a chunk of flesh from the neck of another. A Soulan trooper, seeing his liege in peril, attacked from the side, felling another of the attackers, but then falling himself as one of the remaining Nor ran him through from behind.
Parno leaped forward, catching the back stabber with his sword still caught and taking his head off with a broad sweep. He turned in time to see Cho take the last one, slicing the man’s arm nearly off.
“Let’s go!” Parno ordered, and the slight oriental man nodded, following. The two of them raced toward what remained of the small force that had fought so hard for so long. Now in a box, backs to one another, with a second rank inside it, the balance of Parno’s forces prepared for one final stand.
Without a word, the front rank made room for Parno and Cho Feng. He smiled at the men around him, nodding. Then the Nor were upon them and there was no time for anything other than the battle.
*****
This time Tammon didn’t halt the column when the scout appeared. The man galloped toward the column, slowing and turning his horse to fall in beside his King.
“Sire! The men at the Fort are still fighting! They are sorely pressed, and have lost their line, but are still fighting!”
“Forward at a gallop, Colonel,” the King ordered, spurring his horse again.
“Column, gallop!” Strong yelled. If either General took offense to the Colonel being the one giving the orders, they remained silent about it.
Artificial thunder shook the ground as the hooves of over ten thousand warhorses pounded the landscape, riding hard in hopes of arriving before the battle was over.
At their head rode their King, his face set in a mask of determination.
*****
Parno had lost sight of the battle, fighting in the front line along with soldiers from private to sergeant. He would not retreat any further.
“Milord, you should be to the middle ground!” one shouted.
“I can see better from here!” Parno threw back, smiling. His blood and grime covered face looked more like a demon than a Prince of the Realm. He no longer cared.
