Parno's Destiny: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book Two (3 page)

“They are a talkative bunch,” Karls shrugged but there was a light of devilry in his eyes.

“We don’t need to give them false hope, Karls,” Parno chided gently. “There were a great many factors working in our favor at the Gap that we will not have here.”

“I know that, milord,” Karls nodded. “But please consider. This army is about to go into battle under a new commander. One unknown to them other than, well, your ah, previous exploits, let’s call it,” he grinned. “They need to know that you’ve proven yourself on the battlefield. And there’s no better way for that to spread through this army than from the mouths of the soldiers who followed you into battle.”

“I know you don’t like to speak of it, Parno,” Karls rode closer, lowering his voice. “But your exploits at the Gap are the kind of thing that legends are made of. You fought shoulder-to-shoulder with common soldiers, in a desperate last stand where your death and theirs was averted only by the arrival of the King and his men literally at the last moment. That’s the kind of thing they write poems, songs and books about, Parno.”

“I just don’t want them thinking that we’ll be able to pull of something like that here,” Parno sighed in acceptance. “We’re not going to make a hash of this force like we did there. We don’t have the terrain on our side and more importantly we don’t have any of Roda Finn’s gadgetry with us.”

“We will soon,” Karls spoke confidently. “He won’t let us down.”

“It’s not him letting us down I worry about,” Parno said softly. “It’s us buying him the time to make his magic happen again.”

The rest of the ride was silent.

*****

“Billy, Carl, come here!” Roda shouted from the doorway of his new office.

“Yes, Master Roda,” the two answered in unison, leaving the group of workers they had been supervising with strict instructions not to touch anything until they returned.

Roda surveyed the building they occupied, on the extreme outskirts of Nasil. The building was, or had been, a foundry, and its sturdy construction was considered ideal for the dangerous work Roda and his crews would be doing.

Raw materials were still arriving in bulk, and one of his new assistants, a very bright young military engineer by the name of Theodore Belkin was in charge of the unloading and storing of the supplies.

Roda tried not to show it, but he was feeling the strain of his new position as Master Ordnance Officer for the Soulan Army. It was in fact a new position entirely, based on his own work. It was not the position itself that worried Roda, but the fact that Parno was depending upon him to produce as much ‘ordnance’ as possible, in as short a time as possible.

Prince Memmnon had been true to his word however and no expense was being spared in equipping and manning the Foundry. The name had stuck fast and Roda saw no reason to change it. He would have preferred Arsenal, a term of the Ancients, but it was of no importance.

Prince Memmnon had provided Roda with an educated and skilled workforce, many of whom were women. Roda’s conscience tinged at that, believing that women had no place in such danger, but they were strong, intelligent and willing to work in the dangerous environment for the opportunity to serve their kingdom. No one could fault their bravery or their patriotism.

Roda put those thoughts aside as his two principle assistants arrived.

“How is the training going?” he asked.

“Very well, sir,” Carl answered for them both. “Everyone here is quite intelligent and when they don’t understand have no qualms about asking for clarification. Everyone we’ve trained so far has both a steady hand and a keen eye. I don’t think we could have asked for any better material.”

“I agree, sir,” Billy nodded. “They are eager and while afraid they are not handicapped by their fear.”

“Good,” Roda nodded. “Anyone who isn’t afraid of just being in here is a fool and we don’t need them within a mile of this building. Keep that in mind as you watch them. I hate the thought of women being involved in this kind of work,” he spoke his own fear.

“I understand, sir,” Carl nodded. “But they are doing quite well. And there is a shortage of able bodied men because of the war.”

“I know,” Roda sighed. Most of the men working at the Foundry at present were either too old to serve in the ranks or disqualified by some disability or other. “How long do you estimate before we can begin production?”

“Day after tomorrow, in limited quantities,” Billy answered at once and Carl backed him up.

“Really?” Roda couldn’t hide his surprise. They’d been at it less than two weeks after all.

“Yes, sir,” Billy assured him. “We’ve reached a point in training where hands on work is soon to be required. Also, I believe that the bomb casings are already being poured as are the spike’s for the Hubbel Arrows.”

Roda nodded, knowing this was true. Other foundries were already tooling to pour the thousands of smaller iron balls needed for the mines and the arrows.

“We need to be producing quickly, but we can’t afford any mistakes,” Roda stressed.

“Any kind of accident here would not only set us back in supporting the Lord Marshall but also cost us trained workers. I cannot stress enough the importance of safety. Neither can you,” he added.

“It’s our first rule, sir,” Carl promised. “And the people sent to us really are quite bright, Master Finn. We’re very fortunate in that.”

“Good,” Roda nodded, his voice more confident. “Then we’ll prepare to begin limited production day after morrow, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” both assistants answered in unison.

“All right then, back to it,” he shooed them away. “We’ve no time to waste.”

He watched as the two hurried back to their prospective teams, already shouting for various workers to attend to them. Roda turned back to his own office, satisfied that things in the Foundry were well in hand. Despite his often ill treatment of his chief assistants he trusted them to handle their work. Carl and Billy had been with him from the beginning, when they worked in cramped conditions at Cove Canton. They knew their business of building, or at least assembling, the ‘ordnance’ as well as he did.

Which left Roda free to do something no one was better at than he was. Design new weapons.             

His ballista rounds had been a disappointment. When they worked, they worked quite well. When they didn’t, the results were catastrophic. A round had exploded on its rail at the Gap, causing a rupture in the fortifications that nearly resulted in the loss of the entire line. As a result, the weapons were removed from use.

Since then, Roda had been trying to figure a way to make use of the weapons that would ensure the safety of the artillerymen and still be effective. Using them as direct fire weapons on the ballista was out. Nothing Roda could think of had made the weapons more reliable or safer to use.

He was still convinced however that the weapons could be used. Perhaps not in their current state, but in some way. A more or less directed weapon that, when fired, would fall among the enemy and cause maximum damage as well as shock value. The weapons worked, in so far as causing damage. It was the delivery system that was unreliable. Even dangerous.

A casual conversation with Cho Feng had given Roda an idea, one that he had shared with no one else as yet. Not because of any trust issues but because he simply wasn’t sure it would work. And he had yet to develop a plan, or even an
idea
of a plan, to develop it.

Thus it was that Billy and Carl would supervise the work in the Foundry for now, while Roda went back to his design table. There had to be a way to make his idea work. Soulan needed every advantage it could get.
Parno McLeod
needed it. And Roda Finn promised
himself
if no one else that he would
not
fail Parno McLeod.

CHAPTER THREE

-

Stephanie Corsin-Freeman arrived at Cumberland House just before lunch. Edema Willows was sitting on the front porch with Dahlia Nidiad and both rose to wave at the carriage. Stephanie’s escort, ten men from the Black Sheep who were well enough to work but not yet well enough to stand the rigors of combat, rode around to the corral where the Willows’ servants waited to help care for the horses and see to lunch for the men.

“Hello, dear,” Edema kissed Stephanie’s cheek lightly. “How was the ride over?”

“Uneventful,” Stephanie smiled. “Hello, Dahlia,” Stephanie smiled.

“Hello, Doctor,” Dahlia smiled slightly in return. The young woman was still suffering from the death of her father at the Gap. Add to that was the fact that Karls Willard, whom she had grown very fond of, was now far to the west with Parno and Dahlia had little to be happy about these days.

“Dahlia, please call me Stephanie,” the doctor insisted. “We’re practically the same age for goodness sake and it’s not like we don’t know each other!”

“Yes, Stephanie,” Dahlia smiled again, perhaps a bit brighter this time.

“We’ll be having lunch soon, dear,” Edema told Stephanie. “I assume you’ll be joining us? Perhaps stay the night?”

“Would it be an imposition if I did?” Stephanie asked. “I would like to talk to you about something rather. . .personal,” he cheeks colored. Edema smiled.

“You are never an imposition, dear, you know that,” the older woman assured her. There was little doubt in her mind what the young doctor wanted to talk about.

“Then, yes, I will. Will the escort be a problem?” She was not allowed to go anywhere off the Canton without an escort. By orders of Parno himself. While Stephanie wielded a good deal of power herself, no one would dare defy Parno McLeod. Especially not where Lady Corsin-Freeman’s safety was concerned.

“Of course not,” Edema assured her. “We were always accustomed to Parno’s escort.” Edema’s face faltered for just a second at the thought of those happier times, but she recovered quickly. “I’ll have Benson see to their quartering. And you shouldn’t be so put out by them, dear. There is a possibility of marauders in this area after all.”

Stephanie nodded, understanding Edema’s meaning. It was possible that Nor troopers who had survived the battle at the Gap could be roaming the countryside, though no one had seen or heard of any so far.

Stephanie followed the other two women through the grand house out onto the veranda where lunch was waiting for them. The three of them talked pleasantly while consuming the light lunch, exchanging items of news and discussing recent events. Finally, with the meal finished, Edema leaned back in her seat and smiled at the young physician.

“So, you’ve set your cap for Parno, have you?” Her tone was conversational and it took Stephanie a minute to realize what the older woman had said.

“I beg your pardon?” was her instant reply, eyes darting toward Dahlia.

“Oh, please,” the younger woman raised a hand to ward off objection. “Parno and I were raised together. It’s not like I’d want him around all the time.” A bright smile robbed her words of any sting and Stephanie found herself smiling in return.

“Am I so obvious?” she asked, hating the heat on her face.

“Well, perhaps not to strangers,” Edema admitted. “However, let’s be honest, dear. Your arguments are the stuff of legend among the people at Cove Canton.” Stephanie’s face grew even redder at that, realizing the truth of the statement.

“He is just so. . .so. . . .” she sputtered.

“Obstinate?” Dahlia supplied. “Pig-headed? Stubborn? Immovable? Stop me when I get warm,” she laughed.

“So you
do
know him well,” Stephanie sighed and Dahlia laughed out loud. Edema was secretly thrilled to hear the sound of the girl laughing. She had been through a great deal of late and this was the first time Edema had heard Dahlia laugh since the younger woman had come to stay at Cumberland House.

“I do, indeed,” Dahlia nodded, unaware of Edema’s scrutiny. “And I’m guessing you’ve got it pretty bad or you wouldn’t be here.”

“What makes you say that?” Stephanie asked.

“You’re here to ask Edema what to do about him,” Dahlia said, as if she was announcing some great state secret.

“I might as well be wearing a sign,” Stephanie grumped, leaning back in her chair. “I tried to make him take me with him west, but he flatly refused.”

“As well he should have,” Edema said at once. “The campaign field is no place for a woman, Stephanie.”

“I was with him at the Gap!” Stephanie complained. “How much worse could it be?”

“You were there for a few days of fighting, the rest was camp life,” Edema reminded her. “The battle in the west is being fought daily. There will be no down time, no waiting, no privacy of any kind. You have no business being there.” She leaned forward.

“And you would be a distraction that Parno does not need. Not now.”

“What?” Stephanie spluttered.

“Oh, my dear girl,” Edema leaned back again, fanning herself slightly. “It’s obvious that he cares for you very much.”

“It’s not so obvious to me,” she admitted.

“Yes it is,” Dahlia almost giggled. “Face it, Stephanie. You’ve met someone who is just as stubborn as you are and isn’t cowed by your family’s name or influence.”

Stephanie’s face clouded as she heard that, not wanting to admit that it might,
might
mind you, be true.

“I’m afraid Dahlia has you pegged, dear girl,” Edema smiled gently. “She and I know Parno fairly well, she much better than I. If we can see his concern, his attraction to you, then I assure you it’s there.”

“Then why wouldn’t he-” Stephanie began, but stopped as she realized the question had already been answered. Parno didn’t need the distraction of her being with him in the field. Intellectually, she knew that to be true.

“Stephanie, the best way you can help Parno now is to finish the work you’ve started at Cove Canton,” Edema interrupted her thoughts. “He needs, his
army
will need, the people you train to treat their sick and wounded. Without you, without your students, men who might otherwise live will almost certainly die. Men that Soulan needs right now more than ever.” Edema paused, as if considering her next words carefully. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision of some kind.

“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 1
st
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.”