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

by N. C. Reed

  Wilson nodded absently at that, still processing the fact that Milton Fairmount, one of his oldest and most trusted friends and subordinates, was gone. Just like that.

  Death was part of being a soldier, of course. War meant casualties and Wilson knew of no way to prevent that. No one did. But officers of Fairmount's rank rarely died in combat save in a total route. It just didn't happen. Command of that stature meant by necessity that you were far behind the lines so that subordinates could find you for orders and to pass along information when needed. That distance from the fighting usually meant that it was all but impossible for you to die at the enemy's hand.

  But the Soulanie army had managed to create some kind of. . .of bottled hell, and that hell had now claimed the life of his most able Corps commander. He remembered Fairmount's reluctance the night before, his misgivings about their plan of attack. His old friend had felt uneasy. Had he had some kind of premonition concerning his impending death? Had he felt Death's icy hand upon him last night as the two of them had studied the map one last time?

  “Sir?” the runner interrupted Wilson's train of though. “Orders, sir?” he asked hesitantly. Wilson realized that he had to lay that aside for now. His friend would still be dead tonight, when he could spare the time to mourn him. Right now, his army was still engaged with a desperate enemy on their own ground.

  “Very good,” he nodded absently. “Wait here for their runner to find us and then send them back informing whoever is senior to take command of 1st Corp and continue to press the attack.”

  “Sir,” the man nodded and moved away to wait. Wilson continued to stare off toward the front, still reeling inwardly from this sudden turn of events.

  What else would go wrong today?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  -

  Stephanie sighed as her ambulance hit another rough spot along the roadway, wondering if her driver was trying to hit every hole along the route. Winnie heard her and grinned.

  “Rough ride, yes?”

  “Very,” Stephanie nodded. “I don't like to complain, but I asked for this thing to be well sprung to avoid this kind of discomfort. Ambulances are supposed to be a better ride than this so as not to make the pain worse for the wounded they carry.”

  “Good thing we aren't wounded then,” Winnie snorted to contain her laughter. The ride was rough for someone of Doctor Freeman's upbringing, but for Winnie it was just fine. Much more comfortable than her normal travel arrangements, which was usually either horseback or buckboard wagon.

  “Isn't it though,” Stephanie nodded. “Still, I can't really be that upset. I did ask for as quick a trip as was possible.”

  “You expect to make Nasil tomorrow then?” Winnie asked.

  “Hopefully by dinner if everything goes well,” Stephanie nodded. “That was why it was so important to get down off the mountain before dark so we would be able to avoid that part of the trip today. From the inn where we spent the night we can just about make Nasil by suppertime if there are no problems. And as rough as this is, it's much better than when I first made the trip to Cove. Parno has had crews working on the route all that time, trying to make the trip easier and faster. Otherwise it would add at least a day to our trip just to avoid injury to the horses and damage to the carriage.”

  “Wow,” Winnie didn't know what else to say. While she wasn't suffering the way Stephanie appeared to be, it was still noticeably rough travel.

  “Exactly,” the doctor nodded.

  “He does a lot of that kind of thing, doesn't he?” Winnie asked thoughtfully. “Working to make things better for everyone.”

  “Yes, he does,” Stephanie nodded again. “He's always thinking of his people. Remarkable really, considering how bad he's treated for the most part. Of course that's changing now that he's Lord Marshal.”

  “I'd never noted it,” Winnie admitted. “No one at Cove ever treats him poorly.”

  “They all respect him for enduring the same hardships they do,” Stephanie agreed. “And for his skill with a sword I'm sure,” she added with a frown. “At the Gap he fought on the front lines with his men, right alongside men who had been freed from prison to join him.”

  “That I knew,” Winnie confirmed. “That was all some of them talked about when they returned from the Gap. My Papa has a lot of respect for him, too. And that's unusual.”

  The two young women continued to talk to pass the time as the ambulance continued to bounce its way to the Royal City.

  *****

  Colonel Callens reined in his horse, signaling for those behind to do the same as he surveyed the area around them. His group was still five miles from the palace grounds, give or take, and that was close enough for the moment.

  “We'll stop here for now,” he ordered, dismounting. There was a stable here that was long out of use and they led their horses inside, out of sight. They would remain here until nightfall, at which time they would make their way into the city and to palace. It would be difficult enough to do without the additional burden of daylight to give them away.

  “Get some rest,” he ordered as they stripped the saddles from their mounts. “Stand watch by squads and stay out of sight. We can't afford to be seen by someone who will wonder why we're here.” He watched as his officers posted guards and divided up the responsibilities, then turned to the footman who had accompanied them.

  “You're certain you can get us inside unseen?”

  “Yes Colonel,” the man nodded. “There are ways known only to the family and one of them is known to me, shared by her Ladyship. When we enter the palace, we'll be mere yards from her door.”

  “Good,” Callens nodded. “That will make things significantly more simple.”

  “What will we do once we have her, Colonel?” the man asked, curious.

  “That will be up to her,” Callens admitted. “My own plan is to get her safely out of the palace and away, then link up with the regiment and find Prince Therron, wherever he may be. If Her Ladyship knows where he is, that would make our job much easier.”

  “She may well know, I don't know,” the man admitted. He waited for a moment to see if Callens wanted more, then went to his own saddle and removed a blanket. Spreading it on a bed of hay, he was soon asleep, snoring softly in a stall next to his horse.

  Callens envied the man his sleep, though not begrudgingly. He wanted to sleep as well. Knew he should be sleeping, storing it against the next few days when sleep would be at a premium. But the excitement and fear of what he was about to attempt kept him wide awake for the moment. He instead spent his time trying to review the plans he'd made so far and attempting to work out where Prince Therron might have been sent.

  He hoped Her Ladyship had managed to work that out for him.

  *****

  Sherron McLeod paced in her bed chamber, furious as ever. She had been angry for the last four days, or at least angrier than usual. Her brother had done this, and set that bastard Grey on her! Even now there were two of those bullish women constables in her apartments, watching her every move. Only here in the privacy of her actual bedchamber did she have any respite from their presence, and even then both women were immediately beyond the door.

  Two male constables were posted outside her apartment door as well, ensuring that she was truly made prisoner in her own home. It was hard to imagine that she and Therron were both prisoners while the whelp was not only free, but usurping Therron's place as commander of the army.

  She had intended to put an end to that, but had been intercepted actually on her way out. She was sure Callens had received the message and was probably even now awaiting her arrival at the meeting place. What would he do when she failed to show? She had arranged for enough supplies for ten days for his regiment, not easy to do with a war on and supplies at a premium, but she was Princess Sherron McLeod and that still carried some weight.

  But not enough to get her out her apartments and free. Her loyal staff had likewise been interred, and she had no doubt were b
eing relentlessly questioned about Sherron's activities. She snorted delicately at that thought. None of her retainers, regardless of her level of trust, had been privy to all of her thoughts and plans. Some knew more than others, but no one knew everything and none of them would betray her. At least not yet. She knew that as time wore on some would begin to crack.

  Which meant she had to get out while she could. Every day she spent languishing here was another day that Memmnon could use to secure his ascension to the throne and Parno his control over the army. She would never have believed that Therron's loyal followers would have willingly followed Parno into battle, but reports from the front indicated that not only had they done so, they had scored a great victory doing it.

  Traitors one and all!, she thought savagely. Not the rank and file, of course. The men loved Therron. Always had. He was practically one of them. But the officers! Following that whelp Parno who should have been drowned at birth. The nerve of them, treating him as well as they might Therron.

  Well, there would be time enough to root out who was guilty of treason against her beloved Therron and deal with them once she had set things to right in Nasil and placed Therron upon the throne where he belonged. With that done she would use her influence to punish anyone who had supported Parno, Memmnon or their doddering old fool of a king over Therron's rightful rule.

  Her mind turned to the task of ensuring that she had the opportunity to do just that.

  *****

  Parno tensed slightly as yet another wave of Imperial soldiers crashed against his lines. So far the Royal Army was holding, but his men were taking losses while doing so. Heavy losses in some places.

  “The artillery is sapping their strength before they get to the line or they would have swamped us by now,” Enri noted, sweeping the line with his glass.

  “Yes,” Parno nodded. “I'm afraid we're going to have to commit the reserve to the battle before long. We've suffered heavy losses and the men on the line are tiring.”

  “I would suggest doing so by no more than a brigade at the time, then,” Enri replied. “Parcel out the reserve as much as possible to keep one division intact so as to respond to a break through if needed. Allow each division to keep one full brigade in position to bolster the line if that kind of breakthrough occurs, as well.”

  “Doing that will eliminate any chance we have of a counter-attack, too,” Parno sighed, accepting the inevitable.

  “There was never much hope of that today, milord,” Enri pointed out. “We're too heavily outnumbered. Even should we throw them back today, they may well come again tomorrow. We'll need every man for the next attack. We couldn't spare any losses in a counter-attack that would likely not bear any real fruit.”

  “I know,” Parno nodded. “See to the orders, then, Brigadier,” he ordered formally. “Bolster the line in the weakest places and give our men what relief we can.”

  Sir,” Enri nodded and set about issuing orders. Parno watched dispassionately as his plans to strike back eroded with the size of his reserve.

  *****

  “We are hurting them, General,” an aide said to Wilson as he watched the battle continue.

  “Not badly enough,” he replied absently. “Our casualties are atrocious and we haven't cracked their lines yet.”

  “Our artillery has taken a beating, sir, or we would have broken them by now,” the aide insisted. “Sir, our artillery could use a chance to refit. Their losses really are heavy.”

  “I'll let the infantry know how the artillery has suffered, mister,” Wilson all but snarled. “Our men are fighting and dying at the end of Soulan swords, pikes and arrows. I think our artillery can do likewise while supporting their attack!”

  “Sir, their losses are approaching the point where they aren't any real help,” the aide pressed. “Over fifty percent of their equipment has been damaged or disabled completely. Manpower losses are less but still severe.”

  “And should I call off the attack so that the artillery can rest?” Wilson demanded. “Recall our troops and let the Soulanies have the field?” he shouted.

  Behind him two buglers snapped to attention at hearing that shout and brought their horns to their lips. Surprised by the order, they nonetheless began blowing the notes for the recall.

  *****

  General Darrell Thomas had just committed his final brigade to action against a section of the southern line that showed some weakness when the bugle calls began passing up and down the line. His head snapped around as the notes of Recall sounded.

  “What the hell!” he exclaimed, looking around at his staff officers as if for confirmation that he was going insane.

  “Sir, that's the recall,” one aide supplied helpfully.

  “No shit?” Thomas shot back with feigned incredulity. “And here I thought it was the bloody charge!” The man's face turned beet red but he made no further comment.

  “This has got to be a mistake!” Thomas yelled, but all around him buglers heard the call and picked it up, continuing to sound Recall until it was passing all down the line. Thomas shook his head in disbelief, but. . . .

  “We don't have any choice, now!” he called out to his staff. “The whole army will be falling back. Issue orders to grab any of our wounded we can reach and try to fall back in order. Be just our luck the southerners will pick this opportunity to counter-attack.”

  The Imperial Army was withdrawing for the first time since the war had begun.

  *****

  “What have you done!” Wilson screamed at the two buglers as they abruptly stopped blowing, suddenly fearful of their General's ire.

  “What the hell do you think you're doing?” Wilson demanded.

  “Sir, begging your pardon, sir, but you said sound Recall and give the southerners the field, sir!” the senior bugler stammered. “We both heard the order and sounded Recall as ordered, sir!” he added.

  “I gave no such orders!” Wilson bellowed.

  “Sir, you did, sir!” the man managed to hold his ground despite his fear. “Sir, you said 'Recall our troops and let the Soulanies have the field', sir. Your exact words, sir!”

  Wilson was on the verge of apoplexy. He looked at the two buglers in wonder, realizing what had happened and wondering how he could possibly have two dumber men assigned to him as buglers.

  “Arrest them both!” he bellowed to his escort, who promptly surrounded both men and led the still protesting buglers away.

  “Sir, it was an honest mistake I'm sure,” his aide offered, but cut off at a glare from Wilson.

  “You want to join them?” he screamed in rage. The man wilted and fell silent.

  “Jesus, Mother and Joseph,” Wilson shook his head. “I am surrounded by morons. Nothing but morons on my payroll, everywhere I look!”

  He continued to bemoan the intelligence of his help as his army slowly broke contact and returned to their own lines, still under a withering fire from the southern army. There was nothing he could do to stop their withdrawal now. His army was tired, suffering from heavy losses and no doubt shocked not only by the ferocity of the southern defense but by the abrupt and unexpected Recall order. There would be no marshaling them, or continuing the battle. Not now.

  The attack was over for today.

  *****

  “What the hell?” Parno exclaimed as he saw the Nor begin to disengage and pull back. “What are they doing?” he asked aloud.

  “They are withdrawing,” Enri said, somewhat unnecessarily.

  “I can see that,” Parno managed not to be sarcastic. “But why? We had hurt them, but they were on the verge of breaking us!”

  “I don't think it was that bad, milord,” Enri said automatically.

  “Why stop?” Parno mused, ignoring Enri's mild protest. “This makes no sense at all!”

  “I don't know, sir,” Enri shrugged.

  “Perhaps it was an error,” Cho Feng offered quietly.

  “A mistake?” Parno looked incredulous. “That's a big mistake!”<
br />
  “It does happen,” Feng shrugged somewhat philosophically. “There is no surety in war save death and destruction, my Prince. Wars are fought by men, and men make mistakes. Or, their general may simply have lost his nerve. That, too, happens in war.”

  “Their losses were piling up,” Enri agreed. “And their artillery had been battered severely thanks to your man, Lars. Maybe his nerve did break,” he shrugged helplessly. He didn't know what had happened any more than Parno did.

  “Gather our cavalry at once!” Parno ordered, excitement blooming. “We can order them to attack their retreating army and hound them all the way back to their lines!”

  Neither man moved and Parno frowned.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Milord,” Enri was hesitant. “Milord, our two cavalry divisions that were in reserve were already broken up and moved into line to bolster our defense. The third was on our extreme left, spread to cover our flank from attack. The division from General Raines' army is in the rear areas providing security against raids. I. . .it would take at least an hour, more likely two, to gather the force together, and even then we would need to brief the commanders. Sir, it would be best to call this a victory and be happy with it.”

  “I concur, My Lord,” Cho Feng said carefully. “Your men are tired and our own losses are heavy. There is nothing that says the Nor will not try again tomorrow. For all we know they have a large force in reserve still. For that matter they may try again later today if they have sufficient fresh forces to hand. I would suggest that a more prudent action would be to consolidate our position and give our men a chance to rest while we see to our wounded and dead, my Prince.”

  Parno's face reddened as he listened, angry at this defiance. But as the words both men spoke sank in, he was forced to admit they were correct. His desire to attack had outweighed his good sense for once. He had seen only a chance to punish the Nor even more, not the risk he would incur while doing so.