by N. C. Reed
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PO Box 50, Barto, PA 19504
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PARNO’S GAMBIT
The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book 3
by N.C. REED
Published by Creative Texts Publishers
PO Box 50
Barto, PA 19504
www.creativetexts.com
Copyright 2017 by N.C. REED
All rights reserved
Cover photos used by license.
Cover design credit: Daniel Edwards
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual names, persons, businesses, and incidents is strictly coincidental. Locations are used only in the general sense and do not represent the real place in actuality.
ISBN:
PARNO’S
GAMBIT
N.C. Reed
AS ALWAYS
For the Ranger, the Clerk, and the Chef;
It's not the same without you.
For my wife and my nephew
my sounding boards.
For those who follow Parno and
House Tyree.
PROLOGUE
-
The horses were laboring, sweat flecking off their necks and shoulders. Sherron McLeod grimaced as her hand came away from her mount's shoulder covered in horse sweat.
“Stop!” she ordered, looking at the Colonel next to her. “I want to stop!”
Callens sighed inwardly as he held up a hand, signaling the column of excellently trained soldiers behind him to slow, and then to halt. He sat his horse expectantly, waiting for Sherron to address him.
“This is disgusting!” she seethed, reaching over to wipe her hand on his trousers, cleaning them on his uniform heedless of the insult. “I'm tired of riding this beast, Callens. Get me a carriage!”
“We haven't been able to secure a carriage as yet, your Ladyship,” Callens reminded her evenly. “I have men out looking even now. So far, however, all we've managed to find are wagons. None of which have met with your approval.”
“Well, you find me a carriage and a place to sleep because I'm not going any further on this filthy beast!” she screeched at him, uncaring of how that looked to the soldiers behind her. She had never cared for what men such as they thought. They were tools, nothing more. Tools of executive privilege for people like her to use and then throw away when they were no longer useful.
“We should keep moving at least until dark, Your Ladyship,” Callens reminded her. “We have a long way to go and our lead will not be much. We have to keep moving.”
“Not today we don't,” Sherron shook her head stubbornly. “I want a bath, a bed, and then tomorrow I want a carriage! You see to that and stop telling me what we have to do, Callens. I'm the one who decides what we have to do!”
“As you wish,” he agreed. He turned to the officers behind him.
“Locate suitable quarters for the night,” he ordered. “And someone find a carriage. Send parties in all directions, as far as needed until one is found.” The officers nodded, assigning men to the orders as Callens turned back to Sherron.
“Let us move forward at a walk, then,” he suggested. “We 'll have men before us, seeking a good place for Her Ladyship to spend the evening.”
“Fine,” Sherron waved her hand in dismissal. Callens fought off another sigh and wondered if it was too late for him to abandon the spoiled princess. Then he remembered that she had sank a dagger into both the King and the Crown Prince of Soulan and shook his head minutely.
Oh, yes. It was far too late for him to go back now. He had committed himself and his men to overthrowing the rightful rule of Soulan in favor of their former liege, Prince Therron McLeod, the twin of their current charge. And in time of war, no less. He would be fortunate not to be killed on sight.
He wondered what lapse in judgment had led him to agree to this madness. He was certainly doomed. His only consolation was that it was entirely likely that he would carry Sherron McLeod with him to hell when he went.
CHAPTER ONE
-
“No.”
“But why not!”
Parno McLeod looked at the young woman before him and fought the urge to shake his head. Winnie Hubel was trying to be her normal, intimidating self and the effect of standing there, glowering, hands on her hips, really lost a little something with her wearing a dress of fine green and black trimmed silk instead of buckskins.
Of course, she still looked meaner than a wet hen, as the saying went.
“Winnie, you are not going into combat and that is final,” he told her flatly. “There will be no women serving in the front ranks of this army so long as I command it.”
“Women can fight just as well as men, Milord!” she remembered, barely, not to call him by his given name. “There's no reason not to allow it!”
“There's every reason, particularly with you!” Parno shot back, tired of this argument.
“Why with me?” she demanded.
“You know exactly why,” Parno fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You are courting the King of Soulan! Or rather, he's courting you,” he corrected, frowning. “Imagine what a fine prisoner you'd make, Winnie, if anything went wrong.”
“That's not fair,” she said quietly, looking at the floor.
“Life isn't usually fair, Winnie,” Parno nodded. “If it was, I..well, never mind,” he cut himself off. “Look, not only is combat no place for you, but. . .truth is I've come to appreciate your being with Stephanie all the time” he admitted quietly after a look around. “I'd prefer if you would remain with her, at least when you aren't dallying with Memmnon,” he couldn't resist adding.
“Dallying?” her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Does that mean what I think it means, Parno McLeod?” she demanded in a far too gentle tone.
“That would depend entirely on what you think it means,” Parno replied innocently. “I merely specified that I did not want to impose upon your courtship to ask that you protect Lady Freeman on my behalf whilst I am forced to be away from her. Nothing more.”
“You don't really expect me to believe that do you?” she demanded, arms crossing beneath her breasts, a move that again wasn't nearly as imposing in a cleavage bearing gown as it might have been in a leather shirt. He admitted it was attractive, though.
“Are you insinuating that the Crown Prince of Soulan would lie, Miss Hubel?” Parno asked with mock severity. Winnie's reaction was priceless as she apparently finally remembered who she was talking to.
“Er, no Milord,” she managed not to stammer. “Of course not.”
“Good,” he nodded firmly, fighting to keep from laughing. “Now. There will be no more discussion of your going to the front in order to participate in the fighting. The Nor do not take prisoners as a rule, Winifred,” he told her more seriously. “I'm sure they would make an exception in the case of an attractive young woman, of course. More to the point, they might be just as likely to trade you to the Wildmen who are working in concert with them.” He paused to let that sink in.
“I can't allow that, Winnie,” he finished softly, yet firmly. “And if you have any respect
for me at all, you will not only stop asking, you will stop trying to subvert others into this plan as well. Leave it be, and do not attempt to get yourself there by other means.”
Winnie blinked at that direct appeal, her face showing a bit of shock. No one had so directly spoken to her about this up to now.
“You think you know what you'd be in for, but you don't, Winnie,” Parno continued. “Don't ever imagine that seeing the wounded in the hospital at Cove, or here, can compare to the screams you would hear at the front, or in battle. There is blood everywhere you look and no matter how hard you try you can't wash it away. Limbs cut off, hacked off, innards of men lying all over the ground, on the floor of the hospital, if you're fortunate enough to have a floor. Sleeping on the ground when you sleep at all, a hot bowl of oatmeal the best meal you 'll have for days at a time. Watching someone you've trained with and marched with, ate besides, slept besides, stood guard with, dying right in front of you as they beg you to save them.” He stopped suddenly, aware that he'd been speaking too much.
“So, I ask you, please. No more.” He looked at her solidly. “No. More. Allow Memmnon to court you. Be with Stephanie when she needs you. Stop dreaming of this notion. The only way you will do it is to defy me, and that would break Memmnon's heart, even if nothing happened to you.”
“I...” Winnie tried to speak but couldn't manage it.
“Now,” he took a breath, trying to clear the images from his own head. “I believe you have a luncheon to attend, and I have reports to look at. Since we both have our duties, we should be about them wouldn't you say?”
“Y…yes, milord,” Winnie nodded shakily and left Parno's office without another word.
“Please, let this be the end of it,” Parno whispered, his eyes closed as he looked to the heavens. “Please.”
~*~
Parno did have reports to look at, that was true. Most were compilations of other reports, given to other people, but a few were to him alone. Like the one he was looking at now.
Mister Parsons had returned from his adventure behind enemy lines to report that at least thirty thousand new troops were headed into the front along the Tinsee River. Were probably already there, Parno told himself, thinking of the time it had taken the message to get to him. He looked at the map on his wall, lips pursed.
While his estimate was that this new army would not make good on all Imperial losses, it would help. More to the point, the advantage that Parno had hoped to gain by pulling 4th and 5th Corps to the front would be blunted by this new Imperial force's arrival along with the necessity of pulling 2nd Corps out of the line for refit. Enri Willard had been right in his observation that 2nd Corps was fought out. They had borne the brunt of the Imperial assault from day one and their losses had left them a shell of the Corps' former strength. Until their losses could be replaced and their wounded returned to duty, it was better for them to be out of line.
Those new soldiers might put 2nd Corps back up to strength, but raw recruits wouldn't replace the fighting strength of the well trained and experienced soldiers lost in battle. He sighed, rubbing his temple.
He would still have sufficient forces to hold against a renewed Imperial assault, but would not have the ability to launch his own offensive as he had planned. Which meant that the Imperial presence on Soulan soil would continue for the time being.
And all of this was almost secondary this afternoon despite the disaster it represented.
A week ago he had dispatched a unit he badly needed at the front to hunt down his brother Therron's regiment. The regiment that had freed his insane sister from her confinement, allowed her to kill the King of Soulan and nearly kill the Crown Prince. Even now Memmnon was working half-days and needed a cane to walk on. Parno snorted to himself. One of the reasons that Memmnon was working half-days had probably just left his office in a tiff. He shook his head again. As if he didn't have enough troubles.
In any event, Parno had sent Brigadier Generals Beaumont and Whipple to chase down Therron's traitorous regiment, commanded by a Colonel named Frank Callens, and destroy it. It was almost certain that they were on the way to the Key Horn to free Parno's exiled brother, Therron. His twin, Sherron, had managed to get the location of the disgraced Prince from King Tammon McLeod before she had murdered him in his own bed and there was no doubt she would try to free him. Her plan all along had been to seat Therron on the throne rather than Memmnon. She would not stop until Therron was King, or she and he were both dead.
Parno meant for it to be the latter and the men he had sent after them had orders to make it so.
Warrants had been issued for both of them and Memmnon had allowed the news of the King's assassination to be distributed throughout the kingdom so that all would know the depths of Sherron's depravity and Therron's treason. Hopefully that would force any others who would lend them aid to abandon the twins, leaving them alone in their quest.
Investigators were still plumbing the depths of Therron's plot to assume the throne. Sherron's plot as well, Parno decided. There was no separating the two at this point it seemed, and he didn't bother. Sherron might have planted the bug in Therron's ear, but he had pursued it knowing it was treason. He had managed to enroll at least one provincial governor in his scheme and where there was one there could be others. Atop that, Parno was almost certain that General Graham, commander of 1st Corps, had been enlisted. He couldn't prove it, and he wasn't positive about his suspicions, but the fact that he had them at all was troublesome.
Graham had tried to challenge Parno as soon as he had taken command of the army in Therron's place. Parno had crushed him in minutes, putting the man firmly in his place, but. . .the doubt lingered, even now. The army had been Therron's for a long time. Long enough for him to have made many friends among the nobles in the officer corps and perhaps gain their support in his bid.
Parno had taken steps to root out the rot in the army but that took time. Time he wasn't sure he had. He hoped, again, that the news of the twin's treachery would dampen the desires of any of the army to support them. Assuming the throne ahead of his brother was one thing, but murder of the king, that was something else all together. Parno had to hope that most of the men in the army, whether officer or enlisted, would draw a line there and refuse to back Therron.
If they didn't, then his promise to his father might not be. . . .
“Parno?” a feminine voice broke quietly into his thoughts. He looked up to find Stephanie Freeman standing at his door. She was as usual these days wearing a dress of green and black colors, signifying her place in the McLeod family, as yet undefined but no less real. On her left breast, she wore a broach that displayed the McLeod crest, something he'd had made for her in the days after Tammon's funeral. As the at least temporary Royal Physician following the death of her uncle at Sherron's hand, she was more than just Parno's 'affianced', as Winnie had put it. And of course, she was also the friend and more or less patron of the young woman now being seriously courted by the new King of Soulan.
“Come in,” Parno waved her inside, standing to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, which she returned.
“You look tired, Parno,” she said, looking at his drawn face.
“I suppose I am,” he nodded. “But I'm never too tired for you,” he smiled and she blushed prettily.
“It's past noon hour, Parno,” she reminded him. “You must be hungry by now.”
“Is it?” Parno didn't have to feign surprise. Had he been drifting that long? “I honestly hadn't noticed. Have you eaten?” he asked and she shook her head.
“Well, we can't have that,” Parno told her. “Let's go and see what we can dig up in the kitchen, shall we?” he offered his arm, and she took it, smiling.
And so Parno escorted his Lady to lunch, leaving his troubles behind him if only for a short while.
~*~
General Henry Herrick was not in a good mood. Saddle sore and dirty, tired beyond reason, he followed his escort into the camp of the Soulan 1st
Army. His men were strung out for miles behind him, still marching after being on the road for just under three weeks. His orders had been to make the best possible time north, leaving behind only one militia division of cavalry and a smattering of guard units while bringing the rest of his 4th Corps to the western front as quickly as human and horse flesh would allow.
Well, here we are, he thought to himself as he took in the sprawling camp before him. He was surprised to see so many able-bodied men in the rear if his men were so 'urgently needed' on this front. He saw a small city of what could only be hospital tents in the distance, reminding himself that the war had been raging here for some time.
“Direct me to General Davies' headquarters, soldier,” he ordered a passing sergeant, who stiffened and saluted.
“Straight ahead down this path, Sir,” the man pointed. “You're about a mile distant, as yet, but it's right along this here roadway. Can't miss it, mind you sir.”
“Thank you,” Herrick nodded and continued on his way. A mile distant? How far was this camp spread out, anyway?
Fifteen minutes later his men drew reign before a large tent that showed signs of hurried movement all around. Herrick dismounted along with his aide and tossed his reins to an enlisted man who served as a runner.
Casting a disparaging eye around him at what appeared to be disorganized chaos, Herrick entered what he assumed was the command tent, followed by his aide. He expected the men inside to snap to attention at his arrival, but other than a few glances to confirm who he was, no one made any note of it. Frowning, he walked to the large table in the center of the tent where he could see Davies pouring over reports.
“And you're certain of the numbers?” he was asking a rather disheveled looking man who was wearing more dust than Herrick himself was at the moment.
“No sir,” the man shook his head. “We're reasonably certain about the minimum number,” he stressed. “We can't account for what might lie beyond them, if anything at all. We tried for two days to get around them but their scouts seem to be learning as they go along. They're screening their movement very well, and Lord Parno ordered us not be seen doin' our looking.”