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

by N. C. Reed

  “Back to our issues,” Andrews cleared the air again. “We need to find a way to make something happen if we can. And I am not going to send our cavalry all over hell's creation for what might end up being a disaster,” he added.

  “All we can do is try to take the bridge,” Riordan shrugged. “But I'll tell you right now I don't think we can do it without wrecking ourselves. We have numbers on our side that is true, but they have terrain. There's a narrow avenue of attack with only one approach and they have it locked up tight. The more men we cram onto that bridge, the easier it is for them to kill. Their artillery is sighted on that bridge and can kill dozens of our men with every shot. There's nothing waiting for us there but a massacre.” The other division commanders again murmured their agreement.

  “If our artillery could reach that far we could advance under a barrage,” Skagaran noted.

  “I'm afraid that's not a possibility, sir,” Colonel Artemis Perry spoke for the first time. He was the commanding officer of the 15th Imperial Artillery Brigade and the senior artillery officer of 2nd Army.

  “Agreed,” Lieutenant Colonel Vance Norman seconded. Commanding the 5th Imperial Engineer Battalion, Norman would have to be considered a good back up for that statement as he was undoubtedly the best engineer in 2nd Army.

  “The size of the engine needed to make any impact across the river at this point would be prohibitive,” Perry continued. “The base would have to be enormous and even then we'd be risking the whole thing tipping over if we got the counter weights wrong. And the war might well be over before we managed to get it constructed anyway,” he added with a shrug.

  “Not to mention that such a large weapon, if we could even build it, would be completely immovable,” Norman chimed in again. “It would never leave here intact and would have a very limited field of fire. We're talking adjustments in inches at best.”

  “Other than leaving it for a future enemy to use that wouldn't bother me over much,” Andrews admitted. “Having a giant trebuchet fall on me on the other hand is something I can do without,” he added wryly.

  “So we're back to trying to carry the bridge,” Riordan sighed. “Sir, we're supposed to be here demonstrating. We're doing that, keeping their men in Shelby tied down here. We've made several forays onto the bridge to no gain. I submit that Wilson's problems are of his own making, sir, and no reason for us to destroy our men to try and help him make his mistakes go away.”

  “You're assuming he has made such mistakes,” Andrews pointed out.

  “He outnumbered his enemy at least three-to-one, sir,” Skagaran replied this time. “His enemy was unprepared, or should have been, and outnumbered. He should have bowled them over and kept running. In all honesty the war should be over by now.”

  “But it isn't and we have to do our part,” Andrews' voice took on an edge. “I didn't ask you here to critique the war effort, gentlemen,” he told the group as a whole. “I'm looking for viable solutions to this problem. So put your heads together and give me something I can use. Report back to me after breakfast in the morning and bring me something workable. Dismissed!”

  Snapping to attention the men filed out in pairs, talking among themselves. Andrews waited until they were all gone before taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly in an attempt to relieve his tension.

  Damn that stupid ass Wilson anyway.

  ~*~

  “Oh, I am so glad you two are back.”

  Carl and Billy heard that phrase over and over as they walked through the Foundry, checking on what had happened while they had been away. They exchanged a glance, knowing why everyone was so-

  “Stop messing with that you moron!”

  “Oh I've missed that,” Carl sighed. “We could always just go home and come back tomorrow,” he suggested.

  “Nah,” Billy shook his head. “Too much to get done. Besides, if we're here then maybe he won't be so-”

  “Who told you to do that?!”

  “You were saying?” Carl almost smiled but couldn't quite muster the energy. It had been a long, hard journey from Shelby home to Nasil and both were tired. And neither had actually missed working for Roda Finn.

  Well, that wasn't true as both men enjoyed the work they were doing. It was Roda's explosive temper and scathing tongue they could do without if given the opportunity.

  “It's about time you two got back!” Roda yelled before Billy could reply, having caught sight of the two as they made their way over.

  “Got back as soon as we could boss,” Carl shrugged. “I take it you've had a hard time keeping up with things without us here?” he managed to get out before Roda could say anything else. Whatever screaming Finn had been about to do blew itself out as the impact of Carl's words hit home with the fussy inventor.

  “As if I actually need you two for more than just glorified messengers,” he scoffed instead. “I take it you managed somehow to ensure that the soldiers at Shelby are adequately trained? Between the two of you?”

  “Almost,” Billy fielded that one, working to keep a straight face as he did so. “I think we can expect them to get three, maybe four salvos off before one of them screws up. Not the best odds, I admit, but still it's better than noth-”

  “WHAT?” Finn lost his taciturn stance at once on hearing that. “You were supposed to stay there until they were capable of using. . .oh, I see,” Finn interrupted himself as he noted both his assistants struggling to contain laughter. “Funny man.”

  “Ah, you had to be there,” Carl shrugged it off. “They should be set,” he went on more seriously. “Test fires went off without a hitch and they all passed the exams on the first try after training. If a major attack comes, they're ready for it. We also supervised construction of a bunker to store surplus munitions in. It's well back from the line but not too far from the main battery. They had some very bright young artillery officers who grasped the concepts quickly and well.”

  “Good, good,” Finn's anger was no longer in evidence. “I need you two to resume supervision of this bunch,” Finn waved toward the factory floor. “I have a project I'm working on for the Marshal and another I'm still developing that I need time to perfect. Something that just might give us an edge in this conflict, and we can use one about now.”

  “That is true, sir,” Billy nodded. “We'll make a round and make sure everything is ship-shape. Anything we need to know?”

  “Everything is still running as it was when you departed- ARE YOU INSANE?!” he cut himself off to screech at someone. “Put that down before you kill us all!”

  “How about we go and check on things while you work on your projects, sir,” Billy suggested even as Carl ran to where a young woman, frightened nearly out of her skin by Roda's screech, had come close to dropping a prepared charge that would have severely damaged the Foundry and killed her and many of her fellow workers.

  “I tell you I can't manage to turn an eye away for a second without someone almost killing us all,” Finn sighed in exasperation. “What were you saying?” he asked Billy. “Just now?”

  “I said let us handle this while you work on your projects sir,” Billy repeated dutifully. “We can keep things going here and allow you to work on developing new items.”

  “Yes, that would be an excellent idea,” Finn nodded absently. “I have a great deal of work to get done.”

  “Well you go ahead then, sir, and leave this to us.”

  There was almost movement of air around him from the collective sigh on the factory floor as Finn returned to his office and left his two chief assistants to carry on.

  “So glad to be back,” Billy shook his head. “Really I am.”

  ~*~

  Lucas Silven was standing in the bow of his boat, holding a burning torch to help illuminate the water before him. Leading the rest of the boats down river in the dark, Silven was doing his best to avoid the many obstacles that a river set practically in the wilderness could present to a detail like his.

  They had apparently
left the southern cavalry behind them finally after the horsemen had followed them for miles, occasionally lofting arrows at the boats when one veered to close to the western shore. Without food or water, let alone medical supplies for his wounded, Silven had little choice but to continue on down river in hopes of reaching help at some point before hitting the Ohi. Shirts torn into strips and soaked in the tar/pitch solution used to help seal boats and keep them water tight had been wrapped around a half-dozen sturdy limbs to make expedient torches to help the see and stay together. Silven had one in the lead, George Stenopolous had one in the drag boat, three more were distributed around the other boats and the last one lay next to him as a back-up to the one in his hand.

  He again cursed Stone, Greeley and Wilson all as he looked for dangers lurking in his path. Twenty-two of his wounded had already died as they made their way down river and many more would undoubtedly perish before their trip ended. And there was exactly not a damn thing he could do to help them that he wasn't doing right that second. He couldn't even make them comfortable in their suffering.

  From behind the moaning cry of a young man in serious pain floated across the water just then, reminding Silven of just how helpless he was where his wounded were concerned.

  He hated this country. He hated the heat, he hated the bugs, and he most of all hated the fact that he was anywhere within two hundred miles of where he was right this minute.

  I wish we never had come here, he thought bitterly. I think if I got the chance to kill the Emperor for sending us here, I'd do it and hang the consequences.

  It might or might not have surprised him to know that he was far from the only Imperial officer having those thoughts that very evening.

  ~*~

  Oh, I so hate this cursed country.

  Brent Stone took of his hat and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, then wiped the narrow cloth sweatband inside the hat before replacing it on his head.

  Hot during the day time, and now that the sun has set it's already getting cold, he shook his head in disgust.

  Today had been disappointing to say the least. The butcher's bill had been high today yet again. The initial ambush had been nothing compared to Weir's losses in the main engagement. He had established a field hospital on a small abandoned farm, leaving two surgeons and a full company of cavalry to stand guard. Five hundred seventy-nine men dead, another seven hundred fourteen wounded, with at least one hundred of that number likely to die in the next two days or sooner.

  His belated acceptance of the situation had led to their only tactical success as his men had raced down the road they had chosen to confront another brush and felled tree road block only to find it abandoned, the enemy already gone.

  Axes flying, his men had made fairly quick work of the pile of trees and other detritus, clearing the road in two hours. Continuing down the road hoping to force an engagement, Stone had finally been forced to call a halt as the sun sank behind the trees and the lighting fell to dangerous levels for travel in strange territory. They had seen not a single sign of Soulan military activity since the ambush on the road.

  Stone took a drink from the small flask he had taken from his saddlebags, allowing the very small sip of whiskey to burn his throat. He placed the cap and stored the flask without even thinking of taking another drink from it, no matter how bad he might want it. Drunk generals made stupid mistakes, and he was making plenty of stupid mistakes already.

  The confidence he had worked so hard to instill in his men leading up to the war was now gone. The war had started well but in their first major cavalry engagement they had been soundly beaten in a battle they should have won but for southern horse archers. And the fact that southern war chargers were much larger and stronger than their own. Imperial cavalry horses were wiry, fast and tough, descended as they were in part from the hardy breeds of wild horses on the western plains, but they were also small. He had seen more than one Imperial horse and rider simply bowled over by a Soulanie cavalryman riding such a large beast.

  His remarks to his men about their losses not mattering had been ill timed, but he had managed to do at least some damage control over that. He hadn't meant it in the way it had sounded, but he was sure that some resentment lingered even now and he couldn't fault his men for it. They deserved to be able to know that their general was not callous in his regard for them when committing them to battle. The Imperial Army had long had that very reputation and was at least partly responsible for the fact that Imperial Army had never, not once, won a war.

  Not that anyone ever admitted to that, he snorted to himself. All that propaganda and pomp about the might of the Imperial war machine and how we were destined to rule the ancient land again. He had took part in it too. Had even allowed himself to believe it to a certain extent. But the truth was that all that propaganda was just that; a fairy tale invented by the Empire and her bureaucrats to convince the people that their great, grand military machine was worth having higher taxes and making do with less of everything that made life bearable.

  This time was supposed to be different. So much time and money invested to make sure that it was different. Yet here he sat, in enemy territory, losses to his once proud 1st Cavalry Corps mounting and without a single victory to show for it. Not a single accomplishment they could call their own unless one counted having his ass handed to him twice now. Why shouldn't his men lose confidence in him considering all that?

  Who could blame them for not wanting to follow me, or take my orders anymore? he thought bleakly. He sat for a moment staring into the small blaze before him, feeling his despair all the way to his bones.

  On top of everything he was sure that the commander of the Soulanie units he was facing was sitting somewhere comfortable right then, laughing his ass off at how he'd made a fool of the Imperial cavalry.

  On second thought I think I will have that second drink.

  ~*~

  General Stone might have been surprised to find that he was wrong on at least one count.

  “Not a bad day, eh General?” someone said as the officers of Pierce's combined commands met at his fire.

  “No, not at all,” Pierce's voice as deceptively mild. “Unless you count the fact that five days worth of fortification work was lost in the space of one afternoon, we're on the run from a force that outnumbers us at least five-to-one and likely more, and we're all that stands between them and their showing up across the river from the Palace!” The Brigadier's voice had gotten steadily louder and more stringent as he spoke until his last few savage words were just short of yelling.

  “Sir, we inflicted well over five hundred casualties on the enemy without a single loss to ourselves!” one battalion commander objected. “Surely that counts for something!”

  “If they couldn't spare that number and not miss them I'd agree with you, Major,” Pierce nodded. “Trouble is, they can. And we lost not only our initial positions but our fall back position as well. We're just damn fortunate that we were able to outdistance them so they couldn't force us to engagement. Had they done so, I doubt we'd be sitting here so pleased with ourselves this evening!”

  That appeared to somber the group a bit at least, he was pleased to see.

  “We can expect them to come knocking right after daybreak tomorrow gentlemen and I'd imagine they'll be some pissed at us after today, what do you think?”

  “Probably,” Whit nodded. As the senior officer following Pierce he was technically the second in command. “And I agree, today was just short of a disaster for all that we won. There is such a thing as losing the war even when you win the battles,” he reminded them.

  If the group had turned more serious after Pierce's tongue lashing, they were downright macabre after Whit's declaration.

  “Orders, sir?” Whit turned to Pierce, satisfied that he had helped put a period on the momentary elation of the lower ranking commanders.

  “We have to wait and see what they do,” Pierce sighed. “We don't have the strength to attack t
hem directly so all we can do is try to react to what they do and try to slow them down. We're facing a losing battle here and that isn't going to change. If they do make a drive for Nasil, I don't see a way to stop them short of the city and the defenses there,” he admitted. “In that event, we would bleed them as much as we could to buy time for the city to prepare, and then fall back on the city to add our strength to theirs.”

  “Can we get any help?” one clueless battalion commander asked.

  “We're all there is,” Pierce said flatly. “This attack is almost certainly meant to draw some of the army away from the front in the west. We were sent because we were all independent commands and not part of any larger unit. I have sent a message to one unit that might be able to lend a hand, but even assuming they can get here their numbers won't be a tithe of what we need to even things out. Still, whatever help we can get is better than nothing,” he admitted.

  “Do you think they're headed for Nasil?” Whit asked.

  “Possibly,” Pierce nodded. “Threatening the Royal City would almost guarantee a response from the Royal Army and that has to be the goal of this little foray. Remember they intended to use the army destroyed at the Gap to threaten the capitol. Failing that, I think now they're just trying to present a possible threat and get the Marshal to react to it.”

  “Will he?” someone asked.

  “He already has,” Whit replied to that one. “We're his reaction. It's our job to make sure this bunch can't do too much damage.”

  “Right,” Pierce nodded. “And I could wrong in my assumption, as well. This may be nothing more than a raid, or a reconnaissance in force where they get a look at this part of the Kingdom to see what their options are. But I think they will threaten the capitol if they get the chance,” he insisted.

  “Why?” another officer asked.