by N. C. Reed
“No, we look for the source,” Darvo told him, “but we do it quietly. If word of this reaches our men they may well start looking at each other in a new light. We’ve managed to build a good regiment here, despite all my worries to the contrary. I don’t want the camaraderie they’ve established between themselves, and us, destroyed by what might even be a lie.”
“What?” Parno and Karls echoed one another.
“Have you considered, lad, that Therron said that just to make you look for his spy? Destroying your unit in the process?” Parno’s look of shock was answer enough.
“I thought as much,” Darvo nodded firmly.
“But Memmnon knew of the spy as well,” Parno told him, remembering the final exchange between himself and his oldest brother.
“Did he?” Darvo asked. “Or did he know only that Therron assured him he had someone keeping an eye on you?”
Parno blinked hard at that one. He had not considered anything like that at all.
“See then,” Darvo managed not to smirk. “We don’t know that we truly have a spy among us, only your brother’s word, and forgive my saying so, milord, but if your brother the Marshall told me the sun rose in the east, I’d want to see it myself, first.”
Parno broke out laughing at that, though Willard wisely remained silent. When Parno finally calmed his laughter he walked over to Darvo and embraced the older man.
“Ahh, Darvo, my oldest and dearest friend. What would I do without you?”
“You’d stay in trouble and be on the run most of the time,” Darvo assured him, returning the hug tightly. “Why do you think I’ve stayed with you all this time, lad?”
“Thank you, my friend,” Parno said sincerely. He dropped his hands to his side.
“Well, then,” he looked at both of his seconds. “Since we’re not even sure there is something to do something about, I want our training regimen increased and I want our storehouses full as soon as possible. Make sure our horses are in good shape and that our saddlery and tack are as well.”
“I want everything in our inventory ready for war as soon as possible.”
“I thought we weren’t to be a part of. . . .” Karls started to object.
“I’ve never been very good at following orders, Karls. You should know that by now,” he smiled. “We’ll not be attached to any of the Corps, true, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t be fighting.” His face turned serious.
“This isn’t going to be like the previous wars, my friends. The Nor will hit us hard, with numbers we can’t begin to match. Before our land and people are safe again, we’ll have need of every fighting man and every weapon we possess.”
*****
Parno struggled to maintain his decorum.
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked.
“I asked if you would dine with me this evening,” Stephanie Corsin repeated, smiling nervously. “You do eat don’t you?”
“Of course I eat!” Parno replied, only realizing afterward that she was baiting him.
“Well, then have dinner with me tonight,” she said again. “I want to celebrate. The hospital is officially finished, as of an hour ago.”
“Really? That’s good news indeed,” Parno said earnestly.
“I didn’t expect you to be quite that enthused,” Stephanie smiled sweetly. “You are full of surprises, Prince.” Parno realized that he’d almost slipped. She would know soon enough, of course.
“Well, I’m glad to see that things are progressing,” he covered himself lamely, “and now with the construction finished that should leave time for assembling an adequate staff for training,” Parno tried to smile encouragingly.
“Never let up, do you?” Stephanie sighed.
“I can’t afford to,” Parno said without thinking. The woman eyed him closely for a moment.
“Is something wrong, Parno?” she asked quietly. “You’ve been very. . .tense, for lack of a better word, for weeks. Is there something I can do to help?”
“Finishing the hospital helps,” Parno again smiled, putting more effort into it. “And, though I can’t credit why you would ask, I’d be delighted to dine with you.”
“Thank you,” she rewarded him with another smile. “I’ll expect you to call at seven this evening, unless that is not a good time.”
“Seven it is,” Parno nodded. “I’ll be there.”
*****
Parno was hungrier than he had thought…or else the food was extremely good.
“Mrs. Downs is a great cook,” Parno said around a mouthful of beef steak. It was so tender one hardly needed a knife to cut it and the morsels threatened to melt in one’s mouth.
“I’m glad you like it,” Stephanie smiled, “and I’ll have you know that I cooked this wonderful repast, Parno McLeod, thank you very much.”
“You did?” Parno froze. “Uh, it’s um, good.”
“You don’t have to act so surprised,” she feigned hurt, “I can cook you know.”
“You sure can,” Parno agreed. “I haven’t eaten this good in. . .well, I don’t know, exactly.” Stephanie’s laughter rang across the room and Parno felt warmed by it somehow.
“Thank you, My Lord,” she bowed lightly. “A high compliment.”
“Soldier food isn’t always appealing, I admit, but it’s always filling. At least here it is.” he added laughing.
“I’ve seen the care you take with your men, Prince,” Stephanie said more seriously. “They are very lucky to have you.”
“Remind them of that next time it’s March Day,” Parno chuckled.
“I’ve seen that,” the doctor frowned slightly, “and treated the blisters that arise from it as well. Tell me, it is really necessary to push them so hard?”
“It is if they are to be able to do it when it counts,” Parno shrugged. “By doing it now, over and over, then they’ll be able to should a time come when they have to do it and also manage to arrive to where they are going while they are still in some condition to fight if need be.”
“It always comes down to that, doesn’t it?” Stephanie said softly. “Fighting.”
“Well, they tell me that’s what an Army is for,” Parno grinned slightly. “That and absorbing tax money,” he added, laughing a little.
“I had no idea how expensive it was to maintain an army until I came here,” she admitted. “It makes me wonder why we do it with things so peaceful.”
“Training an army takes time,” Parno said guardedly. “If you wait until you need to train one then it’s generally too late.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “Do we need one?”
“We might,” he nodded. “Anything can happen over time.”
“What is happening?” she asked. Parno stopped eating now, giving her his undivided attention.
“I see now why you asked me to dinner,” he joked, his grin robbing the words of any sting.
“I invited you to share my celebration,” Stephanie didn’t quite huff, “but I’m not blind. I’ve seen the flurry of activity around here. Most of the older soldiers are grumbling slightly. Something about ‘winter camp rules’ and the like. Apparently winter time is considered ‘down’ time for most soldiers.”
“For those already trained,” Parno nodded, choosing his words with care. “These men are doing well but their training isn’t finished so we have to keep working. Once the training is complete then we can slow down to something akin to maintenance levels. Allow the men to keep their conditioning, keep up their training, but not have to push quite so hard.”
“Stick before carrot?” she grinned.
“Something like that. So, are you satisfied with how the hospital turned out?”
Talking about the hospital allowed Parno to keep the discussion away from the preparations for the rest of meal. Finally, Parno rose.
“I thank you, Lady, for a fine evening. I must take my leave, though. It has been a long day and will be another tomorrow.” He moved to the door and she followed.
“It was in every way my pleasure,” Parno smiled. Suddenly, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly.
“Mine too,” she flushed at her forwardness. “Goodnight, Parno.” With that she closed the door, leaving a stunned Parno McLeod on the porch.
*****
“Draw!”
Winnie Hubbel watched with eyes like those of a hawk as the company before her—Archery Company “A”—drew their bows yet again. They had been at it for over an hour.
“Hold!” Captain Gregory Franklin ordered. He was the commander of the company, but he was taking his cues from Winnie today.
The girl sighed as she watched a few of the men. Their arms were starting to tremble ever so slightly. It could be fatigue, she allowed, but the truth was, these men were not yet conditioned properly to using a long bow for extended periods of time.
Archery wasn’t as easy as it looked. Drawing and holding the bow took strength, but more than that it took proper conditioning of a particular set of muscles. Muscles that most people didn’t use on a regular basis.
Hence, this exercise. Three times each day, each company held an hour drill where the archers simply drew their bows, held them for fifteen tics, and then eased them back into position. There was a ten tic break between each draw. The work was demanding, but it was paying off.
When she had started this program only three weeks ago, not a single man in “A” Company had been able to complete the hour. Now all but a handful could and that handful were improving each day.
“Release!” Franklin ordered, and the men, almost in unison, eased the strings back to the battery, or rest, position. She nodded as each one released a held breath as he did so.
“You’re doing well, Captain,” Winnie said softly. “I’ll be back, likely. Headin’ ta check on t’others.” Franklin nodded, not allowing her words to distract him from his count.
“DRAW!”
Satisfied that things here were going well, Winnie started across the grounds to where Archery Company “C” was training. Unlike companies A and B, these men were shooting and it was part of her job to make sure they were learning and performing correctly.
She shook her head at that, a slight smile coming to her face. Here she was, a seventeen year old girl, working as a training instructor in an army camp. Could life be any more ironic?
Women didn’t serve in the army. Legends told of a time when they had, before the Dying, but that was all they were. Legends. Winnie didn’t believe them and she didn’t want to be in the army, regardless. She knew her limitations. As an archer, she was one of the best around. In fact, only her father, of the men around her, was better.
Thinking of her father, Winnie frowned slightly. He was supposed to be training these men, with her assisting him. Yet, for the third straight day in a row, Whip Hubbel was nowhere to be found.
She knew where he was, of course. Whip never hid much from his daughter. He was ‘up on the hill’. Without thought, her gaze drifted to the collection of buildings on the small rise north of the fort. Even at nearly a mile, some of the buildings and towers were visible.
No one much knew what went on up there. The few that did flatly refused to comment and asking too many questions of them drew unwanted attention from Parno McLeod himself…and no one wanted that.
But despite the secrecy, everyone knew that something was going on up there. Odd rumbles, some that literally shook the earth beneath her feet, were not uncommon. On more than one occasion fire had broken out in the small compound ‘up on the hill’.
Winnie shook her head again.
Not my job, she told herself firmly, and that put the ironic smile back on her face. She had a job.
And Company C was waiting.
*****
It might have amused Winnie Hubbel to have been with her father at the moment or at least to have seen what he was doing.
“I don’t trust this here gimmick o’ yers, perfesser,” Hubbel’s voice was skeptical.
“Trust isn’t an issue, my good archer,” Roda Finn assured him. “All I need for you to do is fire this arrow,” Finn held up the arrow, “into that clay jar,” he pointed downrange, “so that I may observe what happens. I assume you can hit the jar?” Roda baited.
Hubble’s face contorted slightly.
“At this range?” he scoffed. “Could like as not throw the arro’ inta it,” he informed Roda Finn.
“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Finn warned. “There’s a reason why you’re shooting from behind this barricade. Oh,” he added, having been turning to go, “and do remember to drop behind the barricade as soon as you let fly. Very important, Master Archer. Very important.” With that the fussy little man waddled to his own barricade.
Which, Hubbel noted, was several yards behind his own. Shaking his head, Hubbel raised his bow, knocking the arrow into place. He didn’t know what was so special about this arrow, anyway. It wasn’t especially well made, though it did have a chipped flint arrowhead. It wasn’t done very well, Hubbel noted, being too blunt and still too thick, but it would fly straight enough for this.
Hubbel let fly, watching the arrow heading downrange. Suddenly, he remembered Finn’s warning and dove down to the ground.
Narrowly escaping injury.
The clay jar exploded as the arrow pierced it’s side, flinging small metal objects of all description in every direction. Hubbel felt and heard the impacts on the barrier in front of him.
“Yes!” he heard, and looked up to see Finn dancing…or trying to dance. Hubbel almost laughed until he remembered the explosion.
“Are you tryin’ ta git me kilt!” he roared, coming up from the ground in a flash of anger.
“Oh, tut,” Finn waved away the much larger man’s anger. “I told you, get behind the barricade. Perfectly safe there. And look!” he pointed downrange. “Look what your arrow did!” Curiosity won out over rage and Hubble looked downrange to where the jar had been setting only to see that the block of wood it had been perched on was gone, as was a good hunk of the dirt below it. Likewise most of the small shrubs that had been around it were gone as well as the scarecrows dressed in armor, which Hubble had really wondered about.
“Great Day!” was all the grizzled bow master could manage, looking at the damage.
“Indeed, indeed,” Roda Finn was pleased. “Of course, very few, if any, among the Prince’s soldiers will have your skill, so using the longbow won’t be possible. However, I should think that a cross bowman with some skill should be able to put a flint tipped dart into that jar at, what? Say, fifty steps?” Hubbel thought about that for a moment, then nodded.
“Shouldn’t be any trouble,” he agreed finally. “Not for a man with a steady eye and hand.”
“Wonderful!” Finn enthused, hastily scribbling notes in a small journal. “Thank you, Master Archer, for your assistance in this.”
“Wasn’t like I’s given a choice, Finn,” Hubbel growled. “Prince said ta me, ‘go up on the hill and help out Roda Finn’.”
“Yes, I know,” Finn nodded, eying the archer speculatively. “Still, never hurts to let someone know how much you appreciate their help and I do appreciate it. There isn’t another archer in this entire organization who could do the things you’re doing with that bow.” Hubbel nodded, slightly appeased at the commentary on his skills.
“What now?” Hubbel demanded.
“We need to do it again,” Finn admitted. “Several times, in fact. I have to make sure that this wasn’t a fluke and then make sure that the device works every time before we can start making them in any quantity.”
“I’d say it works, right enough,” Hubbel nodded.
“Once,” Finn reminded him. “That isn’t sufficient. It has to work every time, or at least as close to every time as we can possibly get it,” he added, frowning. “Some will fail, of course. It’s inevitable, given what we’re worki
ng with, but I haven’t figured out anything better at this point. Of course, you being the expert, you may see something I don’t. Do you see a way to make this better? Easier?”
“Not just at thuh moment,” Hubbel admitted. “Whatcha call that thing, anyhow?”
“A mine,” Finn smiled. “Not a true mine as the ancients reckoned such things, of course, but as close as I can come. For now,” he added.
“Be a fine thing, man could make somethin’ as that fer a arra’,” Hubbel mused, looking down at his bow. “Couldn’ be suh large, o’ course. But sumthin ta, you know, make folks yonder,” his head nodded to the north, “think twice. Know what ah mean? What?” This last came as he glanced at the inventor, only to see him staring back, eyes wide.