Parno's Destiny: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book Two

by N. C. Reed

“I have seen the Nor army, Stephanie,” she said softly. “In my travels north to their lands with my husband, during out time of ‘peace’. They are better equipped, better trained, than any Nor army in recent or ancient history. Their Emperor intends to destroy our kingdom and has poured vast resources into his attempt. And he has allied with the Wild Tribes of the west to do it,” she finished, her voice taking on a new edge.

  “What?” both younger women gasped. Tales of the Wildmen had been used to frighten Soulan children for generations.

  “I have seen them,” Edema nodded. “I have watched them training Nor cavalry. This war was not an accident, nor was it something that was started on the spur of the moment. Long and careful planning went into this attack. There have been many wars in the past between north and south, but this one. . .this one may well be the last,” she declared.

  “I believe that there will only be one surviving kingdom from this war,” Edema told them. “May God be merciful to Soulan that it is we who survive.”

  *****

  “The Emperor wants to know why we are not attacking.”

  Lt. General Gerald Wilson, commander of Norland’s 1st Field Army, looked up from his desk and the dispatched he had been studying. The house that he had commandeered for his headquarters was comfortable and he had taken one of the larger rooms for his office.

  Standing just inside the door to his office leaning almost insolently against the door frame, General Charles Daly, his Chief of Staff, stood as if he was waiting for an answer. The fact that Daly was far and away his subordinate in rank was offset by Daly’s kinship to the Emperor. Not for the first time, Wilson found himself wanting to arrange a battlefield death, meritorious of course, for Daly. But that would cause political complications Wilson could ill afford.

  “We will be attacking again soon, Charles,” Wilson settled for saying, forcing his voice to sound amiable. “Brasher’s complete and total defeat, no, destruction, has forced us to re-evaluate our position and modify some of our plans. Once we’ve made sure our flank and our line of supply and communication are secure, we’ll resume our march south.”

  “The Emperor doesn’t like excuses,” Daly replied. “He doesn’t respond well to them. He wants action. He wants results.”

  “And he will get them,” Wilson worked not to grate out. “But we must ensure our position and the safety of our army before we go any further into enemy territory. Prudence dictates these actions, lest disaster befall us.”

  “Prudence,” Daly repeated slowly, as if testing the word. “I’m not sure the Emperor will understand the difference between prudence and reluctance. Or cowardice,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

  “Would he better understand our becoming stranded in enemy territory with our lines cut off and the army that he has worked so hard to train and equip be starved to death, destroyed in battle, or, at best, forced to withdraw if possible to avoid those things?” Wilson snapped. “Our rate of advance depended upon Brasher’s success. That idiot walked right into a hornet’s nest and kicked it over, leading to the destruction of his entire army! The remains of which are little better than rabble now and useless to us in any form. As a result, General, our flank is exposed. Unless we see to the security of that flank, which was to be provided by Brasher’s forces, we risk a Soulan counterattack driving around us and disrupting out supply lines.”

  “Do I need remind you that this is spring time? There are no crops to forage on and little stores left in the areas we already occupy after the winter’s end. We need those supplies to keep this army fed. Supplied with arrows, with medical supplies, with forage for our animals. Without those supplies, not only can we not advance we cannot win this war! Surely your education at the Imperial War Academy taught you such things.” Daly’s face flushed red at the jibe.

  Wilson was gambling a bit, but only a bit he believed. The Emperor was a man of little understanding. He did not suffer fools, nor failure. But the current Emperor was also perhaps the smartest in recent generations. He had chosen his leaders, excepting Brasher perhaps, carefully. Men that knew what had to be done and knew how to do it. Wilson was convinced that Emperor Bane would recognize the intelligence of Wilson’s caution and agree with it.

  It was possible that Daly’s reports would convince the Emperor that Wilson was slacking, but that was a chance that Wilson was forced to take. In either case, he had nothing to lose. If he attacked before securing his position, already so deep into enemy territory, lost the army and somehow survived, he and his entire family would be executed for his failure.

  So, he was gambling on the best chance he had for success. That the Emperor would accept his own dispatches over those of Daly and be willing to give Wilson the time he needed to ensure not only the safety of his command but the success of the invasion as well.

  “I’m sure the Emperor will have something to say about that,” Daly’s voice brought Wilson back to the current conversation.

  “I’m sure he will, but until then I have work to do, Brigadier,” Wilson emphasized Daly’s rank. “You are dismissed.” With that Wilson returned his attention to the dispatches on his desk, patently ignoring Daly’s presence.

  For his part, Daly’s face flushed deeper still, his face contorting in anger. Still, he had little choice for the present but to observe the structure of command. Leaving the office in a snit, he prepared to return to his own quarters where he would prepare a new dispatch for the Emperor. A dispatch in which he would detail at length the failures of General Wilson to follow his guidance and resume the attack, as well as his casual disrespect for a member of the Imperial Family.

  *****

  “Welcome back, milord,” General Davies stood stiffly outside his own headquarters tent, watching Parno and his ‘staff’ dismount. Their horses were quickly taken away to be cared for by enlisted men.

  “General, please relax,” Parno said softly. “I’m not going to bite you, I promise.” A slight grin robbed the words of any sting and Davies found himself letting out a long, slow breath.

  “Sorry, milord,” he said.

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” Parno assured him. “I know how Therron is. I really don’t stand on pomp and circumstance, General. Let’s step inside, shall we?” he suggested, looking around.

  “Your man Parson has returned, milord,” Davies informed him, guessing correctly at who Parno was looking for.

  “Karls, please have someone find Doak and get him here,” Parno ordered. Karls nodded, stepping back outside.

  “How was your ride, milord?” Davies asked.

  “Informative,” Parno nodded. “I’m pleased, overall, with what I’ve seen. The men are in good shape, and still in relatively good spirits. I’m impressed, General. You and your officers are to be commended.”

  “Thank you, milord,” Davies said simply. He wasn’t the kind of man who preened. Before anything else could be said, Karls returned with Parsons trailing.

  “Milord,” Parsons nodded, moving to the map, taking out his notebook. “You were right, sir,” he looked at Davies. “For whatever reason, the Nor right is not entrenched, not fortified in any way, and basically in camp mode.” He used a pencil to trace a line along he enemy front.

  “We followed their line back east for almost three miles, sir,” he continued, this time to Parno. “We were careful, and I’m fair certain the Nor never knew we were about. They have pickets out, but only a little way from their main lines, usually no more than two hundred yards. There are huge gaps in the coverage of their pickets, milord, sometimes as much as a quarter mile.” He paused, collecting his thoughts.

  “Either the commander of that sector is an idiot, or he’s lazy, or he just outright thinks there’s no chance of an attack against his part of the line. His men are drilling, all infantry that we could see, but there’s no real sense of urgency about them. Like they’re going through the motions.”

  “Their discipline is lousy, sir, not only with their pickets and watches, but just o
verall. The men are not undisciplined, really, it’s just the way the camp is being run. The officers appear to be taking their cues from their General and are not enforcing any kind of discipline among their men when it comes to noise, light, or movement. It’s as if they don’t care if we know where they are or what they’re doing.”

  “Do they have any sentry posts or pickets covering their open flank?” Parno asked. “Out to the west of their position?”

  “No sir,” Parsons shook his head. “Just the same standard watches, two hundred or so yard out, give or take. We slipped around their flank for almost a mile, looking for just such a thing. Nothing.”

  Parno considered this, examining the information that Parsons had brought back for him. He made no mention of the absence of Parsons' normally thick accent. Doak Parsons was an enigma to most who knew him. Darvo had known something about his past, but had never shared that information with Parno. Parno wasn’t going to ask.

  “Milord, General Graham will be arriving soon,” Davies interrupted Parno’s train of thought.

  “Very well,” Parno nodded. General Arnold Graham was the commander of 1st Corps, and a very close friend of Therron McLeod. Parno did not anticipate the meeting being a pleasant one, the war notwithstanding.

  “Milord?” Parsons asked, clearly uncomfortable with so many high ranking individuals around him.

  “Thank you, Mister Parsons,” Parno grinned. Parsons shook his head at their private joke and left the tent to rejoin his own men.

  “What are you thinking, milord?” Enri Willard asked, leaning on the map table, and studying the layout.

  “I’m going to take three cavalry divisions and attack their right flank,” Parno said calmly. So calmly, so matter-of-fact, that it took a moment for it to sink in.

  “You’re going to take?” Davies managed to speak first. “Milord, that’s. . .surely you can’t mean to lead the attack yourself?”

  “Well, I won’t be in the front, no,” Parno shook his head. “But yes, I’ll be in command. I want to take the-” he continued, about to lay out his plans.

  “Sir, that’s not. . .you can’t just go about leading cavalry charges, milord,” Enri Willard cut him off. “You’re not a regimental commander anymore, sir. You’re the Lord Marshall of the entire Soulan Army!”

  “I seem to remember my father telling me that,” Parno replied calmly. “I also seem to remember from my own education that the title of Lord Marshall means I’m in charge. I give the orders.” His tone was light, but Parno’s eyes were dark and serious.

  “I’ll have the Black Sheep there to keep him safe,” Karls offered to the conversation. “We’ll look after him right enough.”

  “I hadn’t planned on them participating,” Parno informed him.

  “We won’t be,” Karls replied. “We’ll be surrounding you.” His statement was flat and simple.

  “That won’t be necessary, Karls,” Parno shook his head. “I will-”

  “If you’re going, so are we,” Karls cut him off. “Milord,” he added, seeing the look of consternation on Davies’ face as well as his own brother’s. “I mean it Parno,” he added, seeing the look on his commander’s face. “You are not going without us and that is final.”

  Parno looked at Karls for a long moment, gauging his reply. Karls withstood the scrutiny without flinching. He had learned from Darvo Nidiad how to deal with Parno. Finally, Parno smiled slightly.

  “Darvo would be proud of you, Karls,” he said softly and Karls’ stiffened in pride at the simple statement.

  “Very well, Karls,” Parno chuckled. “You and the Sheep will ride with me as my guard.”

  “I knew that,” Karls nodded in satisfaction. Davies and Enri Willard exchanged a look but remained silent. Before anything else could be given into the conversation, the sound of several horses approaching could be heard.

  “I imagine that will be General Graham,” Parno said into the silence. Two minutes later Parno’s guess proved correct as Graham stalked into the tent, glowering at everyone and everything around him. He eyed Parno almost caustically. Parno simply returned his gaze with a neutral expression.

  “How is it that you are here and what has happened to Marshall Therron?” Graham demanded without so much as a hello.

  “I’m here at the command of the King of Soulan,” Parno replied gently, almost mockingly. “Therron is on his way back to Nasil, probably there by now, in the care of the Inspector General by order of the King. Would you like to join him?” Parno allowed an edge to creep into his voice as he spoke those last words, eyeing Graham steadily.

  “Why has the King made this change?” Graham demanded.

  “I asked you a question, General,” Parno’s voice was deadly soft and his eyes were shining brightly. Both Willard brothers recognized that look and stood a little straighter, cautious now.

  “I expect an answer,” Parno continued, never taking his eyes from Graham’s. The staring contest lasted nearly a full minute but it was Graham who broke eye contact first.

  “I have no way to answer since I am unaware of why Marshall Therron is gone,” Graham said finally.

  “He is gone, as you put it, because he refused a direct order from his Sovereign,” Parno informed Graham calmly. Graham’s eyebrows rose.

  “Is this about what happened at the Gap?” he asked.

  “I can’t see how that concerns you, really,” Parno said easily. “But since you asked, yes it is. Because of Therron’s actions, or lack thereof, we nearly lost the war before it was truly underway. His planning ignored a dagger aimed right at the heart of Soulan itself. His insubordination could have sealed our doom, General. And that is why the King has acted as he has. Does that satisfy your need for information?” The question sounded innocent enough, but anyone listening would know better.

  “I suppose it has to be, then,” Graham said.

  “Know this, General, right now,” Parno’s voice was like ice. “If you ever dare address me again as you just have, I’ll kill you. If you ever question me again, except in the form of giving me advice, I’ll kill you. And if you ever, just once, act in any way that is contrary to the well-being of the Kingdom of Soulan, I. Will. Kill. You. Do you understand me, General?”

  A look of astonishment appeared on Graham’s face as he listened, slowly being replaced with red faced anger. He actually took a step forward toward Parno until he noticed that the prince had his hand on his sword. Graham looked at Parno, perhaps really looked at him for the first time. While outwardly calm, the young Marshall’s eyes were alight with violence. Graham realized for the first time that he might have made a mistake.

  He had intended to confront the younger prince, intimidate him and perhaps even threaten to lead a revolt. He realized suddenly that he was as close to death as he had been in quite some time.

  “General, I asked if you understood me,” Parno’s voice was almost a whisper. “I won’t ask again.”

  “I understand, milord,” Graham managed to choke out. Parno allowed his sword hand to relax.

  “Now that we’ve established who is in command here,” Parno said calmly, “you’re just in time to be briefed on our first offensive action against the Nor.”

  “Offensive?” Graham almost stammered.

  “Yes,” Parno nodded, turning back to the map table. “We’re going to attack the Nor right flank. They have left it open and basically unguarded. Up until now, they’ve had things pretty much their own way. Already they’ve pushed several hundred miles into our territory.”

  “There’s a price to pay for that,” the young Lord Marshall said softly. “And we start making them pay tomorrow morning.”

  *****

  Parno left the tent an hour later, leaving the movement of the units assigned to the attack to the Corp commanders and Enri Willard. The calm he’d felt when facing Graham was gone now, replaced with a cold fury at the insolence of the man.

  Parno had expected trouble of course. Therron had made sure that he w
as popular with his top generals as well as many of the more socialite nobles in and around Nasil. In doing so, the middle McLeod brother had sought to secure himself in a position of power through sheer personality cult if nothing else.

  His popularity among so many high ranking officers would ensure his control of the army even in a coup or revolt. The support of petty nobles would help him politically when, and, or if such a move was made. Parno was fairly sure now that Graham was one of the men that Therron had depended on the most. As commander of 1st Corp, Graham had a powerful force at his command normally stationed in and around Nasil in a number of small cantons. With Graham’s support, Therron would have found it very easy to secure the city and declare himself King, presenting a fait accompli to the kingdom at large.

  But Graham’s support alone would not have been enough. Parno frowned at that thought. One army corps, no matter how powerful, was not enough to ensure success of anything, not with four more equally powerful forces as part of Soulan’s standing army, supported by the militia forces of the various provinces.

  Parno didn’t like his brother Therron but had to admit that the former Lord Marshall was in no way dumb. Foolish yes, but he was an intelligent man with a good education. He would know that 1st Corp would not be enough. He would have needed more.

  Much more.

  Another corps commander? Davies could be ruled out based on his friendship to Tammon McLeod. He would never have supported Therron’s move against the King.

  General Raines, the 3rd Corp commander could almost certainly be ruled out as well. His family had served in the Soulan Army for more generations than anyone could remember without resorting to records. His loyalty as well as that of his family were beyond question. Also, Raines and Memmnon had attended the Soulan Military school together and remained close friends to his day. No, Raines’ loyalty was assured.

  That left General Freeman’s 4th Corp, and General Herrick’s 5th Corps. Parno knew neither man personally and knew very little about them in general. It had never seemed needful to know anything about them, so he’d never bothered.