by N. C. Reed
“We can order the Sunshine Squadron to join them,” Memmnon offered. “It will take some time to order the move and more still for them to make it, but it can, and should be done. As soon as possible. Perhaps,” Memmnon mused, “the two can catch the force between them.”
“I agree,” Tammon sighed. “We have no choice, really. I have also considered having the Southern Squadron moved around the Key Horn and up to support them. It would take time, however. Time we may not have.”
“It would leave the Gulf of Storms uncovered,” Memmnon commented, “but how likely is it that the Nor will have two such fleets?”
“How likely was it they would assemble an army of five hundred thousand and make an alliance with the Wild Folk?” Tammon retorted, though there was no heat in his words. Memmnon nodded.
“True,” he admitted. “We cannot take anything for granted.”
“And we cannot ignore this threat,” Tammon nodded. “Prepare the orders at once. I would like it very much if our fleet can join forces and coordinate their attack. Make sure that is in their orders. Also, order Freeman to prepare to move his forces south. We must try to determine where the Nor are likely to try and come ashore and place Freeman nearby. If we happen to catch them in the act of landing their men we could destroy that force before it can make a significant impact upon the war.”
“I will see to it at once,” Memmnon nodded, rising. Tammon looked up at his heir, his face drawn.
“It may be that you will not have to bear the burden of Rule after all, my son,” he said softly.
“Nonsense,” Memmnon scoffed, with more confidence that he felt. “We will defeat them, Father. We may lose ground for a while, but ground can be retaken. We will be the victors in the long run.”
“I fear the run may be very long indeed, Memmnon,” the King said wearily. “Very long indeed.”
*****
Lieutenant Colonel Bret Chad watched in dismay as a seemingly endless stream of Nor troops poured across the countryside of his native land. He had long since stopped trying to calculate the numbers, leaving that chore to his aides. Instead, he tried to figure a way to impede the flow of enemies into his homeland.
Chad’s 12th Mounted Infantry, Kent Militia, was in the field when the invasion had begun. A messenger had located them less than two days after the start of the war, but by the time the regiment had been able to return there was little they could do.
2nd Corps, comprised of three infantry and two cavalry divisions, along with the bulk of the Kent militia’s two mounted divisions, was steadily falling back on the Tinsee Valley, unable to stop the onslaught of invaders.
In fact, they were struggling to merely slow them. General Davies was hard pressed to keep his Corps from being enveloped as they fought to slow the enemy advance. He had dispatched messengers to Nasil requesting assistance, but no answer had yet been received.
Unable to link up with the rapidly retreating 2nd Corps, Chad had instead been shadowing the invading force, trying to determine their intentions. His mind raced as he looked for some way for his force to make an impact.
Realistically he knew their odds were slim. True, they could simply launch an attack on the enemy flank, but Chad knew that the 12th would simply melt away under so many enemy troops…and Soulan would need all the troops they had before this war was over.
“They aren’t fighting as they have in the past,” Major Tom Hildebrand, Bret’s second in command commented quietly. “Everything I’ve ever read in the histories indicates that the Nor. . . .”
“I’d say that we can forget the history books, Tom,” Chad replied darkly. “They also indicate that Nor cavalry is a joke, at best.” His hand swept the land before them, where well-ordered Nor cavalry units were moving, “Do they look inept in any way?”
“No, sir, they don’t,” Hildebrand shook his head. “What are we going to do?”
“What can we do, Tom?” came the dejected reply. Chad took his hat off and rubbed a hand across the top of his head. “We have seven hundred men, total. We’d last all of ten minutes against that lot. I won’t throw away the lives of our men in a futile gesture.”
“I wasn’t advocating that, sir,” Hildebrand replied. “But our messengers haven’t returned as yet, and. . . .”
“Beg pardon, sirs,” a young lieutenant interrupted, “but there’s something you should see.”
“What is it, Morely?” Chad inquired gently. The lad looked shaken, but then they were witnessing an invasion of their homes. Everyone was shaken. Stories at the dinner table about what great-great-grandad had done in the last war were no match for experiencing things first hand.
“A large body of this force is breaking away, sir,” the young officer informed him, “and heading this way.”
Chad and Hildebrand followed the young man to the top of the next ridge where both men gasped. A large body indeed.
“Looks like several thousand of them,” Hildebrand said softly.
“Right at fifty thousand, sir,” Marly informed him. “All mounted but only about half are true cavalry, it seems. The rest appear to be mounted infantry. They have a large supply train forming to their rear,” he pointed. Both men switched their glasses to the area, where dozens of wagons were forming into a train. Sharp eyed cavalry surrounded the train.
“Dividing their attack force,” Chad murmured. “Why would they do that?” he wondered aloud.
“Everything we’ve gotten back so far indicates they’re pushing General Davies hard. Very hard, in fact,” Hildebrand commented. “Why take that pressure off?”
“Why, indeed,” Chad nodded in agreement. “Let’s see where they go.”
*****
By dawn the next morning it was clear where the Nor were headed.
“They’re going for the gap,” Hildebrand said firmly. “With 2nd Corp reeling the way is open and by now, sir, 1st Corps could already be on their way to reinforce them.”
“Then the 4th Corps will have to come up from Lana to stop this outfit,” Chad noted. “Very well, then. Let’s get messengers ready to ride. I’ll draft the message at once and have aides copy it. I want two messengers each to 4th Corps, Nasil, and General Davies.”
“Meanwhile,” he turned to Hildebrand, “I want eyes on this column at all times. That won’t be easy since they’ll have a screen out. See to it that our men are prepared and warn them to take no chances. At this point we need information, not heroes.”
“Sir,” Hildebrand nodded, and left to carry out his orders.
“Send for my aide, Corporal,” Chad ordered.
*****
Parno McLeod stalked from one end of his porch to the other, stopped for a moment to allow his angry gaze to linger on the horizon, then whirled to stalk to the other end of the porch. This ritual was now a common sight in Cove Canton. Since his return from Nasil where he was informed that he and his men wouldn’t be needed to combat the impending invasion, Parno had been in an ill mood even at the best of times. At less than the best of times, it was much, much, worse.
Knowing that the Nor were planning to attack just made it worse. Parno was being forced to sit idly by as his whole kingdom struggled to prepare as quickly as possible for the pending invasion. With their own preparations already made, there was little to do in Cove Canton…so he stalked, and he worried, and he fumed. Perhaps not all the time, but enough of it that everyone knew not to bother him when he was like this.
“Lad, you’re wearing a hole in that porch, you know,” Darvo Nidiad’s voice floated to him from below. Okay, almost everyone.
“I’ll have another built to replace it, then,” Parno snorted angrily, without missing a stride. Stalk, pause, whirl, repeat. Stalk, pause, whirl, repeat. It was almost a dance, Nidiad decided. Wouldn’t do to say that, of course.
“Lad, there’s no sense in working yourself into a fit over this,” Nidiad was becoming exasperated himself. Parno had been in this funk for weeks. It was well into spring and his Prince’s anger
had abated not one whit that he could see.
“I’m trying to work myself out of a fit,” Parno shot back. “I’m mad as hell and I don’t want to be around anyone while the potential for me to make an ass of myself exists…and so long as I’m mad, the potential exists.”
Nidiad didn’t reply to that, seeing the sense in what Parno was saying. It was a twisted kind of sense, but sense nonetheless.
“Rider approaching!” a call from the camp’s gate announced. Several men headed that way, including the Officer of the Day. The camp expected a messenger any day now with word that Soulan was once again at war with Norland.
Parno descended the steps off the porch and he and Darvo began walking that way. Parno saw Captain Hamm confer momentarily with the courier, then wave him on. The courier handed the reins of his horse to a nearby trooper and accompanied the Captain to where Parno and Darvo stood.
“Milord,” the courier bowed, offering Parno a dispatch envelope. “My Lord Memmnon’s compliments, sir.” Parno snorted lightly, but took the envelope.
“Get yourself a meal, lad,” Darvo ordered the courier. The man bowed again and set off for the mess. Meanwhile, Parno quickly read the dispatch.
“Damn it!” Parno swore loudly, slapping the envelope against his leg. “Read this,” he told Nidiad disgustedly.
“They’re moving 4th Corps to the south?” Nidiad blurted, reading the dispatch.
“To counter a possible coastal landing along the Sunshine Coast,” Parno nodded. “Leaving nothing in the heartland.”
“‘This move is based on intelligence that a large fleet of enemy vessels has been observed some thirty miles off shore, effectively maintaining station off our coast’,” Darvo quoted. “They’re moving the entire Corps on what might happen?”
“That’s what it says,” Parno almost spat. “All my warnings of protecting the
heartland. . . Why didn’t they bring 5th Corps east from Moble?” Parno wondered.
“If this force goes around the peninsula and hits the Gulf Coast, 5th Corps will have to stop them,” Darvo replied, though Parno knew that. He studied his young liege closely.
“We need to be cautious,” Darvo warned quietly. “We need eyes in the field, lad. Someone keeping an eye on what’s happening about. We’re only a two, maybe three day ride from the Gap of Cumberland.”
“Don’t I know it,” Parno agreed. “Very well. Find Karls. Let’s get around the map table and see if we can get this sorted out.”
*****
An hour later, the three men responsible for leading the Regiment were finishing their planning when another rider was announced. Parno, Karls, and Darvo walked out onto the porch once more as a breathless rider made his way to the steps below. He bowed shortly and presented his pouch.
“My Lord.”
“Have you any word, son?” Darvo asked, as Parno opened the pouch.
“Nors are across the Ohi, sir,” the courier replied shakily. “In great numbers. Word has reached the Capital that a force from the Wild Lands is attempting to force the bridge over the Great River at Shelby. Again, in great numbers, sir.” Using horsemen to ferry messages was the quickest way to communicate but in this case, the second dispatch had arrived before the first.
The war had already begun!
“Great Kingdom,” Darvo breathed. He ordered the young rider to get some food then looked at Parno.
“You were right, lad. The Nors have made an alliance with the Wild Folk.”
“It’s worse than that,” Parno told him, tossing the pouch to his mentor. “2nd Corps is already retreating and General Davies is asking for 1st Corps to come to his assistance. He reports that the overwhelming numbers are too great to stand against without ‘substantial’ reinforcement. 1st Corps, according to this,” he pointed to the letter, “is already on the way to him.”
“And the 3rd is engaged with the Wild Folk,” Karls muttered. “With the 4th going south, maybe already moving south, that leaves the Heartland completely vulnerable to attack.”
“Long planning went into this,” Darvo agreed. “They’re hitting us in too many places at once and with greater numbers than we can hold off.”
“If they manage to get a force on the coast before 4th Corp can get into position. . . .” Karls began.
“And if they hit the Cumberland?” Parno demanded. “They can cut straight through to Nasil and control the entire Tinsee Valley! After that it’s a just a matter of isolating and eliminating individual forces. We’ll be beaten.”
“Why would they come through the Cumberland when their attack on the west is going so well?” Karls protested. “It makes no sense.”
“They know that the closer they get to Nasil, the harder the fighting will be,” Parno told him, “and the flat lands favor our cavalry, despite their improvement in that area. They’ve already managed to lure 1st Corps out of Nasil and have forced the King to reposition 4th Corps farther to the south.” Parno broke off, his eyes growing distant.
“What are you thinking, lad?” Darvo asked softly.
“That those ships are a ruse,” Parno looked straight at him. “They’re empty. There’s no attack force landing on the shores. Those ships only have one purpose and according to the message we received not an hour ago, they’ve already accomplished that mission.”
“But if they aren’t empty, then. . . .”
“Then 4th Corps, and the 5th, will be there to stop them, won’t they?” Parno shot back. “While how many Nor troops flood through the Gap?” He looked at Karls.
“What’s at the Gap?” he demanded.
“There’s an old fortress there, of course,” Karls stammered, caught off guard by his Prince’s sudden fire. “A brigade of militia is stationed there but may well have sent the bulk of their forces west by now.”
“Perfect,” Parno nodded, looking again off into the distance. Suddenly he turned to his two subordinates.
“I want this entire regiment ready to ride by morning. War footing. Remounts, rations, everything. Understood?”
“Lad, we’ve no orders. . . .” Darvo broke off at the look on his Prince’s face.
“Ready…by...morning.” Parno bit each word off.
“Aye, Milord,” Darvo dipped his head, and he and Karls set out.
*****
Colonel Chad watched in dismay as the Nor vanguard continued to make better time than he’d thought possible.
“At this rate they may well reach the Gap in less than a week,” Hildebrand commented from his side. “Certainly less than two.”
“We’ve got to slow them down,” Chad agreed. “But how?”
“There are several bridges that we can destroy,” Hildebrand pointed out. “That won’t stop them, of course, but. . . .”
“But it might slow them down,” Chad nodded. He’d been thinking on that as well. “But slowing them isn’t going to be enough. Once that lot,” his hand swept toward the general direction of the invader’s advance, “hits the Gap, they’ll have a clear field before them.”
“There’s the fort at the gap, sir,” Hildebrand pointed out. “Might take them a few days to. . . .”
“They’ll just bowl it over,” Chad snorted. “There’s nothing there but a token force, anyway. The bulk of the troops stationed there were sent west to General Davies, according to our last report.”
“We can bolster them with our own men,” Hildebrand said softly. Bret turned to look at him.
“If it comes to that, we will,” he told his second, voice firm and unyielding. “But that won’t help much. We have to get someone. . . .”
“Beg pardon, sirs,” Marly spoke, walking up to the two men at a quick pace. “There’s a rider, sir. Dispatches,” he added, offering the courier envelope to his commander.
Chad opened the dispatch, and began reading. “Damn it!” he swore suddenly.
“Sir?” Hildebrand looked at him.
“1st Corps is already in the field, on its way to support Davies!” Chad almos
t spat out. “There’s no one left in the region to stop this lot and they won’t even know of them for another day, at least. There’s no way for our riders to reach them before then.”
“Officer’s call, Mister Morley,” Hildebrand told the lieutenant. “All company commanders, their seconds, and senior NCO’s. Fifteen minutes.”
“Sir,” the younger man saluted, and scurried away.
“We’ll have to get working on those bridges today,” Chad muttered, “and start making our way to the Gap. There’s no one else.”
“Sir, begging your pardon,” Hildebrand said hesitantly. “But there is one other post near the Gap.”