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

by N. C. Reed

  “Because it's what I would do,” Pierce shrugged. “Scouts out on all approaches, gentlemen,” he said abruptly, standing. “No man to stand guard alone or for more than two hours. We need to be rested. I have a feeling we're about to be very busy indeed.”

  ~*~

  “I'm sick and tired of playing catch up to these people,” Stone told his assembled division and brigade commanders. “We're going to put our heads together and we're going to figure a way to get some odds on our side for once,” he said as he spread a map on the ground next to his fire, securing it with small stones to act as paperweights.

  “If you've got ideas, usable ideas,” he stressed, looking up sternly, “then trot 'em out. I want to get around this bunch before they can create another bottleneck like that last one. We need to get into an open area where our lack of archers won't hurt us so bad.”

  “Where around here is that going to be, sir?” Blake asked, frowning. “This entire country is nothing but hills and dales and winding trails. I've yet to see a single open area even large enough for us to make one camp in let alone fight a battle.”

  “Then figure me a way around that,” Stone replied, gesturing to the map. “No more whining and complaining from any of you who aren't trying to solve the problem,” he warned. Stone was feeling that second shot of whiskey and it had loosened him up a bit. “I'm damned tired of seeing my men cut to pieces by these people and it's going to stop, one way or another. You're either part of the solution, or you become part of the problem.”

  Everyone in the group caught the edge in Stone's voice and a few exchanged wary glances. This was a side of Stone they rarely if ever saw. He was savagely serious at the moment and they had to tread carefully here, lest they incur the wrath that he was currently expelling toward the Soulan Army.

  Silas Weir was the first to speak.

  “If you're really serious about this, then there's only one thing I can think of that will work.” He squatted by the map and took a piece of wheat straw from his mouth, using it as a pointer.

  “We move away from that bunch entirely, cut through here away from some of these hills and move back to this Trade Road. Soulan does maintain excellent Trades all over their Kingdom. We can use them to move better and be more open. And they will play pure hell trying to block that Trade Road like they block these backwoods hill routes,” he said firmly.

  “This Trade leads straight to their capitol, albeit on the wrong side of the river,” he traced the road with the straw. “We take that road and head down it as quick as we can safely travel, tearing hell out of any and every thing we find along the way. In three, maybe four days, five at the very outside, we're sitting across the river from their 'Royal City',” he almost sneered the words. “That will give 'em something to think about.” Murmurs of agreement went through the group and Stone nodded thoughtfully.

  “Do we try and use any deceptive tactics?” he asked the group.

  “No,” Blake shook his head, falling in beside his fellow division commander. “No sir. We use our strength to our advantage for once and force them to play it our way. Our horses are smaller than theirs on the whole, but our mounts are fast, and tough. They've got staying power and can run all day if we need them to. I'm not advocating we do that, just pointing out that we can move much better if we follow Silas' plan and head to the Trade Road. If we move expeditiously, we can be around and in behind them before they realize we're even gone.”

  The murmurs were more excited this time as heads nodded around the campfire.

  “When we reach the river, what then?” Stone asked. He was getting excited himself for a change and was enjoying this planning session. I need to do this more often.

  “I think by necessity we have to play that one by ear, sir,” Jerome Baxter, the youngest of Stone's division commanders and leading his 3rd Division. There were vague rumors about Baxter's relationship to the Emperor, but Baxter was mum on the subject himself so there was no telling what was true and wasn't.

  “Why?” Stone challenged, interested in what the young man had to say.

  “Until we get there, sir, we don't know what shape we will be in, or how close the enemy may be pursuing us. We may find a good spot along the river to turn and force and engagement that will favor us over their archers,” Baxter shrugged. “There is one bridge across the river there, I believe,” he added with a thoughtful look on his face. “I don't know that it's still standing. It's very old if it is.”

  “How do you know that?” Weir demanded.

  “It's in history books,” Baxter replied. “I read it.”

  “Are you suggesting we take that bridge into the Royal City itself?” Stone asked warily.

  “No sir,” Baxter shook his head. “I would advise against that in all honesty. That city will be a nest of vipers with a bow behind every window. A force no larger than ours would not fare well there to my way of thinking.”

  “Ridiculous,” Weir snorted in derision. “If that bridge is standing, we should absolutely take it into their city and burn it down. Their army is all to the north.”

  “So who killed your men this morning, then?” Baxter gave as good as he got. “All of the Soulan Army is obviously not opposing General Wilson, sir,” he turned back to Stone before a spluttering Weir could reply. “The Soulanies believe in unorganized militia, sir. Their people who didn't already have training when the war started will definitely have it now. We do not want to face an entire city of women who can shoot a bow at least as well as any of us and are hiding behind walls and barricades,” he stressed.

  “That is a good point,” Stone nodded thoughtfully. “So we demonstrate across the river and try to throw them into a panic, or head further east after that, what?” he looked around the group.

  “I think Brigadier Baxter has the right idea, sir,” Wiskowski offered when no one else spoke up. “Until we see what our situation is, we can't really make a decision. I would suggest we plan for whatever contingency we can imagine between now and then and plan to counter that contingency.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, say we get there and find all of the Soulan cavalry there waiting for us,” Wiskowski shrugged. “True, it would mean we've accomplished our mission, but that won't matter to us very much if they kill us all. So what would do in the event we find ourselves outnumbered and outmatched. If we're separated in flight, where do we try to regroup? If we're unopposed, which way do we travel? If there is a way across the river, do we take it, and if so, what then? See what I mean?”

  “We generally do that anyway,” Stone nodded. “Though I hadn't imagined getting there and finding their cavalry waiting for us,” he admitted. “All right,” he handed the map to his aide as he stood, brushing off his pants. “We move as soon as it's light enough to see. We backtrack a little ways and then head west toward the Trade Route. From there it's straight on to the city or at least opposite it on the river. We destroy everything of value we find along the way unless we can take it with us. But,” he raised a finger and slowly swept it around the entire group, “we do not kill civilians, gentlemen, that are not actively engaged against us. Our men will not turn into a rabble like those sailors we cleaned out in Lovil. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes sir!” the groups answered in unison.

  “Then brief your commanders and get some rest,” Stone ordered. “Maybe tomorrow we start changing things.”

  ~*~

  “There is an old observation tower just north of here, perhaps five miles distant,” Johnson told Whipple as the two were looking over the compound. “We can post men there who can signal with smoke when and if they see Colonel Callens approaching.”

  “No,” Whipple shook his head slowly. “No, Callens and the Princess have both been here before and will know about the tower. Anyone we send there would end up killed. I won't sacrifice a man or group of men like that.”

  “I suspect from the way he talks that your General Beaumont does not share that sentime
nt,” Johnson said stiffly. “And I would not do so either. It hadn't occurred to me that the two of them know this area so well. It should have, but I'm not overly familiar with it myself.”

  “I was here several years ago,” Whipple nodded, ignoring the jab at Beaumont since Johnson was still somewhat put out by the former's attitude. “Came down with my family to visit with the King. I was just a boy though, and a lot has changed,” he admitted. “No, my idea is somewhat different,” he continued. “What I want is to…”

  ~*~

  “That will almost certainly work better than just waiting for them here,” Johnson was impressed and it showed. “And it adds the likelihood of preventing their escape, as well.”

  “And that is very important,” Whipple said grimly. “Callens and his senior officers no doubt knew what they were doing from the beginning and should all hang. His junior officers and NCOs were likely roped into this without being aware, but. . .they have to know by now what they're doing is wrong. We can't take the chance that the rot has spread through the entire regiment. It's a waste, and at the worst possible time,” he shook his head.

  “Do you think he knew she would kill the King?” Johnson asked. It was still too new to him to not speak of it in a near whisper.

  “Doesn't matter now,” Whipple shrugged. “If he didn't know, then he certainly should have either stopped her, or failing that should have taken her into custody and turned himself in with her. That's what a man with any honor would have done. Instead he stood by while she next tried to kill the Crown Prince, and then took her out of the palace intending to bring her here and free her traitor brother. That's beyond what I can forgive him for.”

  “Me too,” Johnson agreed. “Set the trap every day until they show up, then?” he changed the subject to something more appealing.

  “We need to be in place no later than an hour after light,” Whipple nodded. “Be prepared to wait until at least dusk, as well. I don't think they will travel after dusk, especially in this country. You lighting the last few miles of road at night will allow us to get back inside without trouble. Our biggest threat comes from discovery by scouts. Our advantage is that he doesn't know we know where he's going. Or that Prince Memmnon is now King Memmnon, for that matter.”

  “We'll get them.”

  ~*~

  “Hard riding the next two days will see us arrive the day after,” Callens told his assembled officers. “Two more nights of discomfort and we can spend at least a couple nights in a bed,” he grinned wearily. Some tried to smile back but most had a hollow-eyed look about them. Word had spread gradually through the entire unit about the King and Crown Prince. Those who had been roped into this were still stunned and not a little angry at suddenly being branded traitors and not even knowing it.

  “I know some of you are concerned, and I understand,” Callens said softly. “Know that we did the right thing. We need Marshal McLeod leading the Army in time of war, not that sniveling weasel, Parno.”

  “Beg pardon sir, but that 'sniveling weasel' has led the army to its only two victories,” one young lieutenant said. More than one head nodded in agreement and Callens saw it.

  “Using troops trained by the Marshal and led by men he chose,” Callens nodded. “Even a blind squirrel will find a nut on occasion,” he tried again to smile. “While he may have done well at the tactical level, his strategic thinking will be far too short sighted. We can't risk him being in command.”

  He could tell that most of them were unconvinced and made a note to mention it to his company commanders in private, but then several of them didn't look overly happy either. They had supported him freeing the Marshal, but not killing the King and Crown Prince. Too late they realized that they had crossed a line they couldn't return from.

  “Let’s get moving,” Callens ordered, unable to think of anything else to try and persuade them with.

  He walked to the carriage where Sherron McLeod was waiting, impatient as ever.

  “Are we going now?” she asked in a huff. She'd been in one for two weeks or so.

  “We are,” he said simply. “We will stop briefly for lunch to rest the horses and allow for a break. Then back on the road until dark. If we make good enough time today, we should be there by noon, day after tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Sherron crossed her arms in defiance. “When I see Therron, don't think I'm not going to tell him how you've treated me, either,” she threatened.

  “Do as you please,” he sighed, mounting his horse. “I really couldn't care less.” He spurred his horse forward, moving away before she could answer.

  Sherron McLeod watched him go, a small smile tugging at her lips. Callens was a real man, she decided. It really was too bad that her plans didn't include him. She would have enjoyed it immensely.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  -

  Parno was standing on the observation tower looking north toward the Imperial lines. The Nor had been quiet and that was suspicious. He had learned enough from Darvo and now Cho to know that it had to be costing a literal fortune for the Nor to keep such a large army in the field. Holding it idle had to hurt.

  So why weren't they moving, or trying to move at least? The answer to that eluded him save for one option; they were moving and he just couldn't see it. He had tried to cover everything as best he could, but his men were spread thin everywhere. He was gambling by trying to retrain two corps at once, but so far it was paying off. So far being the key phrase. He knew it couldn't last, but didn't know of anything else he could do. No one else seemed to know of anything either, or at least they hadn't brought it to his attention yet.

  He stored the scope he'd been using and headed down, mind still turning over his limited options. There really wasn't much else he could do. There were places he absolutely had to defend, and that meant that his army was spread out. He didn't have the strength to attack, and might, barely, have the strength to hold his ground, but that was about it. There wasn't much left.

  “Sir, we've got riders coming,” Berry told him as he hit the ground. Parno looked to see two men riding quickly toward him. They slid to a halt, dust flying past as one dismounted.

  “Cavalry returning, milord,” one reported. “Be here in another half-hour or so, most like.”

  “Did they look beat up?” Parno was pensive.

  “Looked tired but that as all we could tell, sir,” the man admitted.

  “Very well,” the young Marshal nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Sir!” the man saluted and then was back in the saddle, the two returning the way they had come.

  “Well, lets go and wait for them.”

  ~*~

  General Allen was both pleased and not with his mission. They had managed to stop the boat force, that was true. But in the remaining time he'd had for this mission he had not found another single worthwhile target. He didn't know if the Nor were limiting their supply runs or if they just didn't happen to see them, but his command had no luck whatever in locating another target. He was still thinking on that when he drew rein before the Marshal's tent and dismounted, joined by his division commanders.

  “Go ahead inside, sirs,” Sprigs informed them. “He's expecting you.” The men did just that, finding the Marshal at his field desk, reading.

  “Sir,” Allen reported for them all. “Cavalry detachment returning.”

  “At east gentlemen,” Parno said easily. “You all look hale. Everything go all right?”

  “You were right about the boats, sir,” Allen said without fanfare. “We had an amazing stroke of luck when our scouts located a group of boats moving down, well up river,” he corrected, “escorted by a battalion of cavalry with their baggage train. We dispatched the cavalry and a good many of the boat crews. As a result the boats turned back north and fled with the current.”

  “Excellent!” Parno clapped his hands together once. “That is great good news, Generals!” he enthused. “Your losses?” he asked carefully.

  “Forty-one wound
ed, eleven killed sir,” Allen reported. “We caught them without scouts out and took them by surprise. General Vaughan and his men did I should say,” he amended with a nod to the huge Vaughan.

  “Good work,” Parno nodded. “Did you see anything else of note?”

  “No sir, and that seems to be note worthy of itself,” Allen admitted. “We seen nothing. Not a single train of any kind, not a patrol, nothing. Maybe it was the timing, sir, but it seemed damned odd to have an army in enemy territory and not at least have patrols out.”

  “So it does,” Parno mused. “Very well then,” he stood. “Go and see to your commands. I'll expect your reports day after tomorrow. That should give you time to rest and see to your men properly. Please report back then, say about ten,” he motioned at Sprigs who nodded and wrote the appointment down.

  “Will do, Marshal,” Allen nodded. All of them came to attention. “With your permission?”

  “Carry on,” Parno nodded. The men departed, leaving Parno feeling much better about his day and hoping it wasn't premature.

  ~*~

  “Not a sign of them nowhere,” the scout reported to Pierce. “Trail leads back the way they came. We followed it nearly ten miles but nothing. Still moving. We turned back to report, but figure you may want us to head back out and trail 'em.”

  “Yes,” Pierce nodded his agreement. He silently cursed his own complacency that had saw him sit and wait with scouts deployed for the Nor to come to him the day before. They hadn't, so today he had dispatched scouts to take a look at them. They had just returned to report they had found nothing.

  “This is bad,” he told Whit after the scouts were gone. “Damn it! I sat here yesterday waiting, thinking they had to come after us, and they haven't!”

  “Maybe they're going back,” Whit shrugged, though his tone indicated he didn't believe that.

  “You know as well as I do they aren't going back until they've done some damage,” Pierce snorted. “They're taking a page from our book this time and running us ragged. Only they have the numbers to do it all over the place and we don't. Where in the hell are they?”