Parno's Gambit: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book 3

by N. C. Reed

  “Bring him,” he ordered simply. The aide nodded and signaled for the three men guarding the 'commodore' to bring the bucked and gagged man outside.

  Haskings had apparently realized the strait he was in at some point as his belligerence had ceased, replaced with fear as he tried to see around him. The troopers deposited him on the street outside, still manacled. Stone drew his own sword and stood before the pathetic troll.

  “You were caught red handed committing an act of rape in time of war,” Stone said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion. “As the senior commander of this area I have the authority to determine crime and punishment for offenses and pass sentence. Your sentence is death.”

  Haskings was still screaming protests into his gag when Stone's sword fell, cutting the man's head off cleanly.

  “Better than you deserved,” he muttered to himself. He wiped his blade on the dead man's jacket and then stood. He motioned to the body as he spoke to the senior trooper.

  “Find a pike and have his head mounted on it,” he ordered. “Burn the body along with the body of anyone else caught in the act. Collect the heads the same way. I'm going to bed.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Stone didn't look back as he made his way to the barn where he had made his quarters for the evening. He'd be damned is he slept anywhere this rotten lot might have laid their heads.

  ~*~

  Lucas Silven stumbled out of his bunk at the crowing of the cock the next morning. Going outside he doused his head in the flow of water from a well, then decided he needed a shower and fresh clothes before meeting with-

  He stopped short. There was a general here, wasn't there. Someone had cleaned up this madhouse, or at least started to, last night. And hadn't he mentioned a mission of some sort? Galvanized in a way he hadn't been in weeks, Silven picked up the pace despite his hammering head and hurried to bathe and change, his mind racing the whole time.

  It had to be an offensive along the river. Nothing else made any sense. There would be no need of his crews unless they were going to using the boats to ferry men down, or up, river. Perhaps moving supplies, he allowed, but their boats weren't designed for long treks with such loads and would be far inferior to even the worst wagons. Not that he'd refuse of course. Anything to get out of here and get his men away from this dung heap.

  In record time, he found himself standing before the town hall, where the impromptu sign was gone and Commodore Haskings head was on prominent display atop what looked like an infantry pike. Silven decided it was a good look for him and nodded.

  “Like it?”

  Silven turned to see Stone standing a few feet away, apparently sizing Silven up for size.

  “I'm ashamed to say I do, sir,” Silven admitted. “I suppose that's unbecoming of an officer of the Imperial Navy but. . .he deserved that and more.”

  “I agree,” Stone grunted. “My men should be about done rounding up the refuse around here, Captain. I'm going to tell you straight. Anyone caught in the act of rape or theft is being executed. Probably already done in fact. I hope your crews were as sterling as you said because if not then some of them will be looking just as peaked at the good Commodore, there,” he pointed at Haskings' head.

  “If they were caught in the act they deserve it, sir,” Silven shrugged. “You mentioned a mission last night? Or did I dream that?”

  “No, there's work and plenty for you and your men, Captain. I've decided to let you replace Haskings for the time being. Three of your fellow Captains have sadly lost their heads over recent events,” he deadpanned. “I'm afraid the number of commanders is dwindling rapidly.”

  “That's all right, sir,” Silven replied. “It's the men who do the work, anyway. What is it you need us to do?”

  ~*~

  “We can do it,” Silven said at once after hearing Stone outline Wilson's plan. “It means transporting the boats overland though, and that's something we can't do easily. We only had three men per boat, General. We'd never be able to carry the boats far in a day's time. Five miles if we were lucky, and I mean very lucky.” He frowned, looking at the map. “Is he wanting us to help land a force south of the Soulan Army, or use the Cumberland to threaten the capitol?”

  “The last I heard he needed you to carry enough men by the Soulan Army position to create a distraction in their rear areas,” Stone replied.

  “Then we can just pole the boats down the river,” he told the general. “Empty they aren't that hard to handle. We will need some wagons to ferry gear and supplies along side, but the boats can make the trip okay in most areas. Where they can't we can carry them.”

  Stone was impressed. His first impression of Silven hadn't been favorable, but observing the man today, after he'd been given a shot of hope, he was seeing him in a different light.

  “I will detail a battalion of cavalry to side track you back to the army's position,” he told Silven. “Their orders will be to assist you in getting there anyway they can. They can guard your train during the day then help secure your camp at night, and when necessary help haul your boats. How long you estimate until you can reach the camp?”

  “It depends on the river,” Silven said after a moment to look over the map. “There are a few areas where poling will be difficult but not impossible it looks like, but. . .other areas we 'll have to get out and carry. I don't know the river there well enough to give you a definite answer, general. Sorry.”

  “I'd rather have an honest answer,” Stone shook his head. “Best guess will do. I just something to send General Wilson by courier. Three weeks? Four?”

  “I'd say three weeks give or take three, maybe four days,” Silven replied. “I admit that's a rough guess and doesn't take into consideration bad weather and what have you, but it should be close. Again, it all depends on how strong the current is.”

  “I 'll tell him a minimum of four weeks then,” Stone said after a minute. “If you get there early, just makes you look good, what?” he grinned, probably the first time he'd done so since arriving.

  “I'm all for looking good,” Silven snorted, then remembered himself. “Sir,” he added.

  “I 'll give you today to get things organized and ready. I want you on your way tomorrow,” Stone ordered.

  “Yes sir.”

  ~*~

  Newly promoted Brigadier Nelson Pierce watched as the wagons assigned to his command labored over rough areas of the trail. He had known it would be difficult, especially ferrying men, horses, wagons and supplies across the river and yet the ferrying was beginning to look as if it was the easy part of this journey.

  Roads he remembered being in fairly good shape had become scant trails that his pioneers had to cut trees from to allow the wagons to pass. That slowed his advance and tired his horses and draft teams more quickly. But there was little help for it. His men wouldn't be very effective without their gear and supplies. Still, he had other issues to deal with as well.

  “Major Bradfield,” he told the man next to him. “You will take your battalion and move ahead of us. Carry three days provisions and scout the area well ahead. If you can find a better route than the one we are on, secure it and send back runners to guide us forward. We 'll continue on this road until we hear from you. I 'll expect you back in three days if you've found no better going than we have here.”

  “Yes sir,” the man sketched a salute and spurred his horse down the line. Soon his men were moving back up the road past the wagons and then moving off into the distance. Pierce nodded at their efficiency. Next order of business was the infantry.

  “Colonel, you know your assignment and the rendezvous point. You will take your gear from here and move your regiment into position, awaiting the River Guard and River Artillery force if they are not already in place. They will be along, so establish your camp and set watch. I've assigned a company of cavalry to use as scouts so you should be able to keep good watch along the river and still man your posts. Remember to keep enough of the cavalry back to send warning to
me and to Nasil should a large boat force attempt to pass you. They 'll be working against the current so they should be slower. We can't let the capitol be taken by surprise.”

  “Sir,” the infantry man nodded. “Understood.”

  “Godspeed then, Colonel, and good hunting,” Pierce said, returning the man's salute. Less than an hour later the infantry regiment broke away from the column, heading for the river post assigned them earlier, flanked and led by the reinforced cavalry company he'd sent along with them.

  His two immediate needs seen to, he turned to the pair of scouts he'd employed who were familiar with the area they were headed into.

  “You know what I want,” he told them. “Stay out of sight for the most part, other than when you speak to people. If they've seen or heard of enemy troops raiding, I want to know it. I expect you to meet up with us somewhere along the line in a week's time with whatever news you have. Understood?”

  “Sir,” the older man, all of nineteen, nodded.

  “Off you go then,” he ordered with a wave, and the two civilian dressed men took off, galloping ahead toward the column's ultimate destination; Springfield.

  Pierce, satisfied he'd done all he could do for the moment, rode forward with a small escort to see what the Pioneer captain thought about their expected progress. Once he had a better idea of how long this might take, he'd need to send a courier back to the Marshal and General Davies.

  Right now, though, it was a hell of a mess that he hadn't expected.

  ~*~

  Major Billy Bilbrey was sweating. And with good reason he felt.

  Pushing and pulling on wagon after wagon of the questionably stable compounds needed to make Roda Finn's 'gadgets' work was enough to make anyone sweat a little however, and Bilbrey was very new to those gadgets. Four weeks ago he had been Captain Bilbrey, commanding a three catapult battery in 2nd Corps.

  Taken from the retiring 2nd Corps artillery units that were on their way to Cove, Bilbrey had been given an abbreviated course in the handling, firing and maintenance of said 'ordnance' by the fussy inventor himself before loading the men and machines he would need for his new job onto barges to cross the Cumberland and begin an overland trek into the Central Highlands. The ox drawn carts and carriages were stable enough for most things, but not for something that could literally explode in their face.

  An enterprising young engineer in Nasil had developed a new axle spring for the carriages and wagons however that was working pretty well so far. Based on old technology from before the dying, the design used heated steel and iron in layers beneath the axle to give a slight 'spring' to the vehicles, which in turn kept them from rocking quite so violently. Even so however it was a slow and painstaking business to move that kind of equipment and supplies forward at more than a snail's pace.

  He was supposed to link up with an infantry regiment along the river and then stand in support of the River Guard as they patrolled the Cumberland against an incursion by Imperial troops. He had fired his new weapons exactly a half dozen time, twice with the special munitions they were designed for. They had performed flawlessly those six times, but that was before they had been subjected to this over land jostling. Would they still perform so well once they arrived and were set up along the river?

  Bilbrey wiped the sweat from his face with an already wet rag as he imagined the carnage one of those things could create among his men if something went wrong. The potential was devastating to put it mildly. He could vividly remember seeing the effects of similar weapons on the battlefield after all, and to call it horrifying was far too lenient. Fascinating to be sure, but still horrifying.

  Of course, if he happened to hit one of the Imperial boats should they venture down the Cumberland, then they would probably think a dragon had bitten them on the ass. He grinned in spite of his worry at that happy thought.

  Be almost worth all this, he decided.

  Meanwhile, he sweated.

  ~*~

  “I heard you got a courier in?”

  Bret Chad looked up to see Tom Hildebrand standing over him, a look of hopefulness on his face.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “We've been advised that we're 'on call' as a backstop to a force that's moving into the Highlands north of the river Cumberland. Protecting against an incursion by the Nor. No movement orders as yet, just telling us that we may be tasked to assist if they call for it. Nelson Pierce is in command. Been promoted to Brigadier, no less.”

  “Is he now?” Hildebrand raised an eyebrow. “Good for him!” Both had known Pierce for some time and thought highly of him.

  “He knows we're here and available, so he may well call for us,” Chad nodded. “We're closer than almost anyone else to his proposed HQ in Springfield.”

  “So, we might just get some action then,” Hildebrand rubbed his hands together slightly. “Be a shame to miss out on all this good training though,” he tried to look regretful and failed miserably.

  “They don't need us yet,” Chad laughed. “Which means the 'good training' will continue for now, sorry.”

  “Well, we can always hope,” Hildebrand sighed as he sat down heavily on the bench across from his commanding officer.

  “You realize that 'hope' would include another incursion by the enemy into our territory?” Chad asked, eyebrows raised.

  “I know,” Hildebrand nodded. “Terrible choice we have. Die in combat or die in training.”

  Laughter rolled up and down the table at that. Trust Tom Hildebrand to make light of the most serious situations.

  ~*~

  “What do you think, Arlen?”

  General Roland Raines was watching his artillery chief as he evaluated the new artillery munitions that had arrived from Nasil. The two men that had accompanied the supply train had taken great pains to explain and then demonstrate the new 'ordnance'. Raines like the sound of the word, he decided. Very military and very intimidating.

  “I think they 'll be a great asset if they don't blow up in our face,” Brigadier Arlen Foss replied grimly. “The striking power is unlike anything I've even imagined. Coupled with pitch pine and the like it's almost impossible to imagine the carnage this can cause.”

  “It could help us beat back a determined attack,” Raines nodded. His command had been weakened by the stripping of one of his cavalry divisions for use in the valley campaign, but the two militia outfits had been good ones, and helped greatly to replace the lost combat power. That didn't change the fact that he was still severely outnumbered. His best estimates of the enemy forces across the river placed him at a two, perhaps three-to-one disadvantage in numbers. There was no way to know for sure since part of that force was Tribal Warriors who didn't assemble or fight in anything like standard units the way the Imperials or Soulan Army did. Best guess was just that; a guess.

  “It could,” Foss agreed, albeit reluctantly. “Could also kill an entire crew if it blows up on the rails. Could set the bridge afire and destroy it completely, too.”

  “My orders allow that if it will prevent a major incursion into the delta by the enemy,” Raines informed him. “I don't want to, since the Prince wants it intact if possible, but he did say that if it looked as if we were losing it to burn it.”

  “I suppose if the fire's not too hot the frames will be okay,” Foss sighed. “We can always plank it and use it again. Probably,” he qualified hesitantly.

  “We 'll worry about that if and when we have to,” Raines decided. “And those mines will help us as well, so long as our crossbowmen can hit the mark. What about them? What did you think?”

  “Immensely destructive,” Foss said at once. “Shards and balls of iron propelled like that? In nearly every direction around them? Kill or maim dozens at a time every time you fire one off. We can have the bridge lined with them all the way out to the edge of where our men can hit.”

  “No,” Raines shook his head. “No, we 'll keep them in close, just in case. I don't want any of them being taken by the enemy and studied. We 'll sac
rifice some range in order to try and ensure that the enemy doesn't get a good look. And we can cover the mouth of the bridge on our side to saturate it if they make it this far. Firing them off as needed and conserving them against a renewed attack. This will be an archery engagement so long as we can keep it that way. Archery and artillery, keeping the enemy at arm's length as much as possible. We have to hold, and we need to conserve our strength.”

  “We need the enemy's cooperation to do that, sir,” Foss reminded him.

  “To a degree, yes,” Raines admitted. “But so long as we maintain our discipline, and use our weapons to our advantage, we have the chance of making it happen. At least for now. We don't have to do this forever. We just need to buy the Marshal some time.”

  “How much time, sir?” Foss asked, his look dubious.

  “As much as we can,” Raines looked out across the river. “As much as we possibly can.”

  ~*~

  “How goes the resettlement, Winifred?” Memmnon asked over supper. The refugee 'trains' had been on the move for five days in most cases. Even now new ones were being formed as refugees continued to enter the capitol.

  “We've had word that the first two have reached their destination and are working to get land cleared for planting. It's a race against the seasons, now,” she shrugged. “Hopefully they can do it. Once the crops are planted, they will alternate between building shelters and laying in stores for the winter, such as wood for fires. If gas or oil pockets can be found then each group has workmen who can use those resources to provide lighting and other conveniences. It's all we can do.”

  “And your training program?” the King asked.

  “Not bad for just a few days,” she admitted. “Most of the women are young and strong and are used to working. It's a different set of muscles to use a bow all day but all it takes is conditioning. We 'll work on that most of the first two or three weeks, even as we also cover the fundamentals of aiming and firing. We should have them sufficiently trained in two months that they could man the walls in case of an attack.”