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

by N. C. Reed

  “Yes sir,” Riddell nodded.

  “Have Captain Ball direct us to the nearest vessel and prepare to ram,” David ordered. “Inform Major Bromley that we'll probably have work for his Marines shortly. And then prepare the proper signals for the Admiral. If these ships are empty, he has to know that in time to send the message out. Move!”

  Riddell scurried away, already shouting orders in every direction. It took only two minutes for David to feel the deck of the Ocoee shift beneath him as her Captain, Luther Ball, turned his ship toward the nearest troopship, which just happened to be the largest as well.

  “Always the show off, aren't you Luther?” David grinned slightly. Well, considering the likely outcome of the next few minutes, David didn't see the harm.

  Just this once.

  *****

  “Dammit, I want ships interdicting those ships now!” Selvey swore at the hapless signals officer.

  “Signals have been sent, Admiral,” the Commander risked saying. “All ships, defend transports and merchant hulls. Disregard losses.”

  “The Soulanies have raised the black flag, Admiral!” Merrill reported, running up to Selvey nearly breathless.

  “Mister Merrill, please remove yourself from my presence,” Selvey said far more evenly than he felt. “I cannot abide your incompetence any longer. Open your mouth again at your own peril!” he added when Merrill seemed about to speak further.

  The young Captain stood there another few seconds then stiffened to attention, whirled on his heel, and departed. Having left unsaid that the westward Soulanie battle line was about to make contact.

  He'll know soon enough, won't he? Merrill thought savagely as he made his way to the wheel deck to take command of his own ship once more.

  Behind him, Selvey continued to bellow orders to the signal section, demanding actions and information that they simply could not provide.

  *****

  “Brace, brace, BRACE!” the call went throughout the Ocoee as her target loomed large to her front. David pocketed his own glass and sat upon the deck, taking firm hold of the railing and bracing his feet against the deck rail to his front.

  Ramming was never enjoyable.

  The Ocoee slammed her iron-reinforced bow into the port side of the Imperial Transport Ship Pontoc, her nose slicing neatly through the standard wood side of her target. The Pontoc was a merchant vessel more or less, and had never been intended to be anywhere near actual naval combat.

  And she never would be again after today.

  The Ocoee scarcely slowed as she cut the Pontoc neatly in two, leaving a destroyed and sinking vessel in her wake.

  “As you will, Mister Ball!” David called down to the command deck beneath him, releasing Ball to select his own targets from that point on. Ball waved in reply and barked out orders to the two sailors manning the wheel of the Ocoee. Once more the cruiser shifted her direction, metal still screeching and wood continuing to splinter as she pulled away from the rapidly sinking Pontoc.

  David surveyed his squadron from his position on the observation deck, a grim smile decorating his face. Two of his frigates, the Greggs and the Piper, had successfully rammed transports equally as large as the Ocoee's first victim, their Captains sacrificing themselves and their ships to protect the Kingdom. Both ships were badly damaged though somehow still afloat. David ordered signals to both ships to withdraw and make for shore if possible. They had done their part for King and Country today.

  His other three cruisers had likewise made good on their targets. Two were continuing into the flock of merchant vessels, though the last, the Pinola, appeared to be hung up on her target. Marines and sailors flooded her decks attempting to clear away the damage as archers and arbalests fired bolt after arrow at the enemy, preventing them from attacking the work crews.

  There was a decided absence of soldiers among the ships they had rammed. No soldiers on the decks helping defend the ships, none in the water after their vessels had been rammed. David took the time to scan the entire area again before making his decision.

  There weren't any soldiers here, after all, he sighed. So much lost for nothing.

  “Mister Riddell!” David shouted. “Order the signal sent at once to the Admiral! Transports are empty! Raise the signal, and instruct all ships to raise it in repeat as well!”

  “Sir!” Riddell replied and made for the signal officer.

  We probably won't win the battle, David thought to himself with macabre satisfaction, but we just might win the war, now.

  The Royal Navy had done her bit. It would be up to the Black Sheep Prince now.

  *****

  “David is really taking it to them, sir!” Nettles said. “Three, no five transports sunk and another damaged! Two of David's frigates appear to have rammed and are now turning away, listing.”

  “So I see, Mister Nettles,” Semmes nodded. “Is there any-”

  “Signal from Ocoee, sir!” Nettles interrupted. “Transports are empty Admiral! There are no troops! Signal being repeated by all Keyhorn ships in view! We've done it sir!”

  “Signal the cutters at once with orders to return at best speed with their orders,” Semmes said at once, a sense of urgency creeping into his voice. “Nothing is to stop them. Nothing.”

  “Yes, Admiral!” Nettles snapped and ran to obey. He would need to hurry, Semmes decided, looking forward. Wabash was about to throw her own weight around, and her target was not a transport.

  An Imperial cruiser loomed large to their fore, broadside exposed.

  “This should be interesting,” Semmes decided as the command to brace passed along the ship.

  *****

  “Hard to starboard! Engage port rowers, push!” Merrill shouted, trying to maneuver Indina out of the path of the coming Soulan cruiser. Selvey's orders had left Merrill's ship exposed in the most amateurish of ways and now Merrill and his men were about to suffer for it.

  “We're not goin' ta make it, sor!” the helmsman offered in his thick brogue. “Rudders right heavy!”

  “So I see,” Merrill nodded, suddenly calm. “Brace!” he called. “Brace for impact and prepare to repel boarders!” The call was picked up by others and ran the length of the ship.

  “Best hold on to something Spivey,” Merrill told the helmsman. “This will probably hurt.”

  *****

  Selvey wasn't looking when Wabash crashed into Indina's starboard side. He was concentrating on the battle to save the transports and had forgotten to watch the battle line. Merrill would have been doing that for him had he not been sent away, but he had, and Selvey had appointed no replacement for him.

  As a result, the blow took him completely unaware. He had ignored the Bracing call, so occupied he had been with bellowing at the signals officer with constantly changing and often conflicting orders.

  And so it was that Admiral Jason Selvey suffered a severe whiplash as Indina was rocked violently by the ramming action of the Soulan cruiser Wabash. His neck severely injured, Selvey was unable to right himself, or prevent his being catapulted into the waiting ocean beneath him. His lungs, already robbed of air by the blow he'd taken in the initial ramming, were empty when he hit the water, robbing him of any buoyancy.

  He never resurfaced and there was no one to help him as he sank into the depths of the ocean.

  *****

  The battle raged for over an hour, weapons still firing whenever they could be loaded and find a target. Archers fired and fired and fired until the barrels of bolts and arrows went dry, sweeping decks of enemy ships clear time and again, only to see sailors and marines from below take the place of those just slaughtered.

  Wooden decks were slippery with blood as ships lost their momentum and were forced to engage oars or 'tack' into the wind in order to move. The butcher's bill for this unnamed sea battle would never truly be fully known as men fell into the sea never to be seen again or fell with horrible injuries received either at the hands of the enemy or from the kind of crushing that accom
panied a close fought naval engagement such as this one.

  Semmes, blood streaming from a cut on his forehead and cradling his broken and useless left arm inside his tunic, surveyed the scene, sick at heart for the loss of so many of his men and ships.

  “Mister Nettles!” he called, only to have an unknown lieutenant appear in front of him.

  “Beg pardon, Admiral, but Mister Nettles is gone, sir,” the young man stammered.

  “I see,” Semmes fought off the wave of sadness that enveloped him at that news. “Are we capable of signaling, Lieutenant. . .”

  “Taylor, sir,” the young man supplied. “And yes sir, I believe so, sir.”

  “Then signal for all ships to disengage and make for shore bases as best they can,” Semmes ordered. “Order every ship that can to repeat and relay those orders.”

  “Right away, sir!” Taylor snapped and hurried off to get the word out.

  Semmes could only guess at his losses, but he knew that the Soulan Royal navy was essentially destroyed. True, the Gulf Squadron was not involved in this action, but her two cruisers and nine frigates were no match for a true combat squadron, the Gulf ships more concerned with smuggling and pirates than with invading Imperials.

  Semmes had taken fifteen cruisers and twenty-one frigates into this battle. Not a single ship was undamaged. Many were already gone, sinking beneath the depths of the ocean. The Wabash was still afloat but was listing slightly and had suffered twice from fires. Other ships were either equally damaged or worse off than his flagship.

  Semmes counted a few hulls, but stopped as he realized his fleet had lost at least twenty vessels. Twenty ships completely gone, many taking a large part of their crews with them.

  Crews. That made him think of the men in the water, the men still on board ships that would not be able to make enough way to escape. Their fate was as sealed as if they were already beneath the waves.

  But he could not save those men. They were beyond his help at the moment, and probably for all time. All he could do was save what he could of his command. His men and ships had accomplished their mission. The cutters carrying the message to Lord Parno were long out of sight, making their best speed for shore with the news of what he had paid so dearly to learn. What his men had paid so dear a price to know.

  He continued to watch as Wabash heeled around, making toward Savannah. She might make it or she might not, Semmes didn't know. He did know that many berths at Savannah, Jackson and Minimi would be empty for a long time to come.

  But at least now the troops held motionless by the threat of this Imperial fleet could move north. Semmes hoped it was worth it.

  He really, really did.

  He would not realize it when he lost consciousness and fell to the deck.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  -

  Parno and his men made their way into Nasil without fanfare, just ahead of dusk and nearing exhaustion. Moving at once to the barracks near the palace, Parno's men were met by members of the Palace Guard and the King's own, men moving to take over the care of tired horses for the tired men who had ridden them.

  Parno made his way to the palace without pause, trailed by Enri Willard, Cho Feng and Harrel Sprigs. Memmnon was already in the council chamber when Parno arrived, having been made aware of his brother's arrival minutes before.

  “Hello, Parno,” Memmnon smiled slightly, embracing his younger brother slightly. “You look worn out.”

  “Nearly so,” Parno admitted with a nod as he sat down heavily. He looked to where the others waited.

  “Well, sit down,” he ordered and the three took seats of their own, Parno shaking his head at their hesitation.

  “How are things in the west?” Memmnon asked, settling into his own chair.

  “Raines has done an excellent job,” Parno said at once. “One reason I'm here so quickly. He has no need of me there. Well, he did have one issue that I solved for him,” Parno amended, “but he needs no assistance in keeping the Nor at bay. He's fine.”

  “I'm glad to hear that,” Memmnon nodded. “We also received word of your victory at Dreeden,” the elder McLeod frowned. “Parno, you simply cannot continue to take such risks. Not at a time like this. We absolutely cannot spare you-”

  “I've already had this lecture,” Parno cut him off with a raised hand. “Multiple times, in fact,” he shot a glare at his trio of followers. “That was a necessary risk I took. And no, I like as not won't be doing it again. I've too much to do elsewhere. But we needed a victory to raise the army's morale and set the Nor back on their heels. We got it.”

  “Yes, a very great victory by any standard you care to apply,” Memmnon nodded. “Well done, brother. Well done. I was not criticizing your actions as much as your risk.”

  “I was never in any danger,” Parno rolled his eyes.

  “The after action reports indicated that your regiment was involved in combat with Tribal cavalry!” Memmnon objected.

  “Not with me leading them,” Parno replied. “That was Karls. Outnumbered probably three-to-two or so at that. Caught them flanking the rearguard and tore them limb from limb.”

  “Really?” Memmnon leaned forward, his eagerness apparent as he seemed to forget his 'lecture' to his younger brother.

  “Really,” Parno nodded firmly. “Our men are their equal or perhaps their superior, with the training regimen that Cho Feng and. . .and Darvo developed for the Black Sheep.”

  “I understand you have a new group undergoing that same training now?” Memmnon asked.

  “Yes, a full brigade of cavalry,” Parno replied. “They should be well under way by now, but it's not a quick process. It should go faster for them since they have basic instruction already behind them. That will speed things along. Also, many of the Sheep had to learn horsemanship which is something else that won't be a problem.”

  “As we train new instructors, we'll be extending the ground training to infantry units as well,” he finished. “Again, not a rapid process, but one well worth the efforts.”

  “You proved that at the Gap,” Memmnon nodded. “Your man Finn has been working almost non-stop since his arrival, by the way,” the Crown Prince changed the subject. “We've provided him with everything he's asked for and given him the old foundry south of the city proper. He requested something out of 'blast range' of the city and its occupants. I am not familiar with that term, to be honest,” he admitted.

  “Many of Roda's toys can be. . .explosive, I think, is the word we use to describe them,” he looked to Sprigs for confirmation and received a nod. “The damage his inventions can cause is somewhat mind boggling, to be honest,” he returned his attention to his brother.

  “These are the 'sorcery' you used at the Gap, I take it,” Memmnon grinned at the term.

  “I've heard that the Nor describe it so,” Parno grinned back tiredly. “Truth is it's nothing but pure science. Practices of the ancients that Roda and others like him have dug up from the ruins.”

  “Yes, such as the. . .semaphore, I think the term was, towers and signals. We're still consulting with the Royal engineers about their construction, but I admit it looks promising. Learning the signals may require some degree of schooling, but the theory is very intriguing. If successful it could literally transform the way important information is passed.”

  “We'll need to guard the codes closely,” Parno warned. “Only the most loyal and trustworthy of men should be given that training.”

  “A sound suggestion,” Memmnon agreed. “I will see to it. What are your plans now?” he asked.

  “I will sleep tonight,” Parno laughed dryly. “Tomorrow I will see Roda Finn. I have an engineer I stole from Raines that I will want to confer with the Royal Engineer Corps for information. He constructed a model of the Great River for Raines that is an excellent tool with many uses, not all of the military. I want him given whatever he needs to construct such a model of the Tinsee Valley, and eventually the Ohi as well. Once we've cleared the Nor from our lands, we wi
ll develop a new military command for that area and such a model will be beneficial for the commander there.”

  “I received your orders combining 1st and 2nd Corps under Davies' command,” Memmnon mentioned. “How did Graham respond to that? He was one of Therron's favorites, you may know.”

  “He made that apparent,” Parno nodded. “General Graham and I reached an understanding. He will respect my authority and show his loyalty to the King, and as a reward for doing so I won't kill him.”

  The words were spoken flatly, a simple declaration. From his tone, Parno might just as easily have told him brother that he'd acquired a new horse.

  “I see,” Memmnon settled for saying. “I'm sure that will work for now,” he added for lack of anything else to say.

  “If it doesn't, I'll destroy him and place someone else in command of 1st Corps,” Parno shrugged as if it were of no consequence. “I have organized a new unit that should already be behind enemy lines, harassing their lines of communication. Since it's nowhere near harvest, the Nor must depend on supplies from their lands to sustain them. Beaumont and Whipple will interdict those lines when and where possible, while also destroying isolated units they encounter.”

  “A sound strategy,” Memmnon nodded.

  “It is my hope that their actions, along with the successful attack we launched before I departed, will stall their offensive long enough to prepare offensive movements of our own. At the least it should, hopefully, give Roda more time to resupply our artillery and train them to use their new weapons.”

  “You believe you will be able to launch an offensive?” Memmnon asked, surprised.

  “If Admiral Semmes has been successful, or will be at any rate, then yes, I will,” Parno replied. “I will be bringing both 4th and 5th Corps north, save for some militia units that will patrol the shores and the southern leg of the Great River. With their strength added to 1st Army, yes, we will launch an attack. I'd prefer, in all honesty, to absorb a Nor offensive using Roda's weaponry before we attack, but I've no idea if that will come to pass. We will have to see what happens.”