Parno's Company (The Black Sheep of Soulan Book 1)

by N. C. Reed

  “You all know the likely outcome of this battle. If we were anywhere else then I would advocate moving into the field and trying to contain the Nor with ambushes, raiding attacks, and other delaying tactics. But the simple fact is that this is the only viable choke point for us to use against them. Once through the Gap, the Nor can attack in any direction they want and we would be powerless to stop them.”

  “So we hold here, gentlemen. To the last man. We hold as long as possible, buying as much time as possible for the King to send a force sizable enough to contain this threat and then drive them back.”

  The assembled commanders all nodded their agreement. By now, no one in the Fort doubted that this was a last stand.

  “When I was learning to be a soldier,” Parno said suddenly, “part of my studies included ancient military history. There are numerous accounts of men in our same position. Fighting in terrain just like ours against overwhelming odds. In most of those accounts, the smaller commands managed to last at least three days. I expect no less from us. We can give Soulan three days in which to rally to this threat. Three priceless days that might well mean the difference between our people surviving as a free Kingdom or living the rest of their days and those of their decedents as little more than slaves.”

  “Anything else we can give them is a bonus,” Parno smiled. “It won’t mean much to us, but when this war is over and we are victorious then the historians will remember us. They’ll point to the stand we make here and say that here Soulan’s sons showed their true colors. Their true spirit.”

  “Make our people proud, gentlemen,” Parno concluded, standing. “Give them something to remember. Something to rally around. They may well need it before this war ends. See to your men.”

  The commanders saluted and broke away, heading to their various commands to make sure of their preparations. Darvo remained behind, conferring briefly with Karls Willard before the younger man hurried off to their own unit. Cho Feng, who had remained silent on the fringe of the group, closed in now near the fire and took a seat.

  The three men sat in silence for a time, each gazing into the fire, lost to his own thoughts. Finally, Darvo broke the silence.

  “You spoke well, lad,” he rumbled softly.

  “Just words,” Parno shrugged. “It’s all I had to give.”

  “Many times,” Cho spoke, “the words of a leader are all his men need in order to give more than even they themselves knew they had, my Prince.”

  “It still seems weak,” Parno shrugged again. “I’m asking them to fight and die to hold this piece of ground. Words seem cheap compared to that.”

  “You’re asking them to fight and die for their people, lad,” Darvo corrected. “If we weren’t fighting here, we’d be fighting somewhere else. At least here, where the terrain helps even the odds, we have a chance to accomplish something with that sacrifice.”

  “I agree,” Cho nodded. “This is a good place and you have no choice but to fight, Parno McLeod. Even if your own character did not demand it, you would still have no choice but to fight somewhere, if you were to survive. As the Colonel said, at least here in this place you have the chance to fight effectively.”

  “In the end, it won’t matter,” Parno said glumly. “All of these brave men will be dead in a few days and the Nor will be into the interior. After that?” Parno shrugged once more, helplessly. “I don’t know if we can win the war once they have a formation that strong behind the lines.”

  “Then we have to make sure that they don’t make it behind the lines with that strength intact,” Darvo said firmly. “We make them bleed, here and now. So that when we do fall they are nothing more than a shadow of their former selves. So weak that even a Militia division will be able to destroy them in the field…and so full of fear at what a mere five thousand have done to them that they’ll tremble before a large force.”

  Parno nodded at that. Darvo’s words mirrored his own thoughts along that line.

  “Well, I’m for bed,” he said suddenly, rising again from his chair. “I expect tomorrow to be a hard day and a long one. Wouldn’t do to face it with less than a few hours of sleep at least.”

  “Agreed,” Darvo stood as well. “Goodnight, lad. Master Feng.”

  “Sleep well, Colonel,” Cho smiled.

  “Night, Darvo,” Parno echoed. As the Colonel walked away to his own blankets, Feng eyed Parno closely.

  “Do not let your worry concern you, Parno,” he said softly. “You will do well and your men will not let you down.”

  “I’m not concerned with that,” Parno chuckled, albeit without humor. “I’m more worried about letting them down.”

  “You will not,” Cho assured him. “Rest, young Prince. I will watch for you.”

  “Cho, thank you. For everything,” Parno said earnestly. “Without you, I could never - ”

  “Do not believe that,” Cho cut him off. “I may have helped you, yes, but you would have found a way. You do not have it in you to do less. Now sleep. Tomorrow and it’s worries will be upon you soon enough. Do not borrow those problems for tonight. Sleep.”

  “Very well,” Parno managed to smile. “Goodnight, Cho.”

  “Sleep well, young Prince.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Parno was awake long before dawn. He bathed and dressed quickly then walked forward to the Command Post. He saw that civilian volunteers and kitchen workers were scurrying back and forth with the breakfast meal for those men on the main line and nodded in satisfaction. He took a similar bowl from a passing steward and wolfed down the hot oatmeal, surprised at his hunger. Darvo Nidiad appeared out of the darkness, his visage illuminated by the dim battle lantern in the small enclosure.

  “Mornin’ lad,” he said gruffly, voice still stiff with sleep.

  “Morning, Darvo,” Parno smiled in reply. He felt better with a few hours of sleep and a full belly. “Sleep well?”

  “I’m getting too old to sleep on the ground,” the older man grumbled.

  “You’ve gotten spoiled, living the good life down in Cove, that’s all,” Parno jibed.

  “It’s too early for your sass, lad,” Darvo warned. Parno laughed at that.

  “Okay, old timer, I’ll cut you some slack. For now,” he added. Darvo glowered at him a moment then turned his attention to his own bowl of oatmeal.

  “This ain’t bad,” he murmured, chewing in satisfaction.

  “Sticks to the ribs,” Parno nodded. “I’m glad they were able to get the men fed.”

  “You ordered it done, lad,” Darvo chuckled. “It wasn’t a suggestion, far as they were concerned.”

  “As long as the men get fed,” Parno replied absently. “That’s the main concern. Any news overnight?”

  “None that I’ve been made aware of,” Darvo shook his head, “and the lookouts and scouts report all quiet, so far. I think the fires kept them away, after all.”

  “I hope so,” Parno breathed. “Do you think the Nor will wait for full light?”

  “No idea,” Darvo shrugged. “I would, but that bunch don’t seem to think as we do and they seem far too willing to sacrifice their own men. I don’t like that much.”

  “I noticed that myself,” Parno agreed. “Though it doesn’t really bother me. Every man they waste is one less to send against us.”

  “True. But it doesn’t speak well of the man in charge. If he’s that brutal to his own, what can our people expect?”

  “All the more reason to fight like demons,” Parno replied firmly. “Might be a boost to our men to think along those lines.” Before Darvo could reply, a runner appeared out of the dark.

  “Captain Mathis’ compliments, milord, and he believes the Nor are preparing. We cannot see, as yet, but the noise carries in the stillness.”

  “Very well,” Parno replied. “I’m going to take a look,” he told Darvo. “Or a listen, as it were. Pass the word to all commands to be alert.” Darvo nodded and turned to the runners. Parno followed Mathis’ runner back
to the front. He found Captain Mathis leaning over the parapet, straining to see or hear anything.

  “Milord,” he said softly, seeing Parno below him. “Sorry to bother you but I think it’s soon to be show time.”

  “No bother at all, Captain,” Parno grinned. “I was wondering how I’d pass the time.” Mathis grinned slightly as Parno eased up beside him. “What have you got?”

  “Listen carefully, milord,” Mathis replied. Parno listened, ears straining. The faint sound of metal striking metal came from before them.

  “Hear that?” Mathis almost hissed. “Been a bit of that now, last few minutes at least. I’ve heard voices as well, though not loud enough to make out any words. They’re gettin’ ready, I’m sure of it. The fires have burned down low enough that our visibility is the lowest it’s been all night, too.” Parno looked then to the fires he’d had set. They had, indeed, burned down to mere embers during the night.

  “Good work, Captain,” Parno told the man. “Keep a sharp lookout. I’ve already had the word passed to be alert. I’m going to go see if we can do something about the light.”

  “Milord,” Mathis nodded in reply, never taking his eyes off the terrain before him. Parno made his way swiftly back to his post, sending a runner off to collect Captain Lars. Lars was in the command post in less than three minutes.

  “Milord?”

  “Captain, we’re hearing some light noise to our front,” Parno told him. “I’d like you to loft a few pitch cauldrons over, preferably in the same area as you engaged their artillery in yesterday. Might lob a few stones over, as well. Just for variety.”

  “Aye, milord,” Lars grinned. “I’ll see to it. Take about five minutes with the pitch.”

  “Send the pitch first,” Parno added. “I’d like to see what they’re doing, if we can.” Lars nodded and left for his post on the run.

  “Likely preparing for a dawn rush,” Darvo commented.

  “Yes,” Parno agreed. “That will give them a full day to press any advantage they gain. I don’t intend to give them that advantage if I can help it.”

  The two men waited in silence. Lars estimate was right on, as slightly less than five minutes later, Soulan catapults launched six half-barrels of flaming pitch in the direction of the Nor lines. Parno watched the flaming liquid spread as the barrel hurtled through the air, landing in various places along the battlefield. The barrels struck home seconds later and the resulting fire illuminated the area.

  A line of Nor horsemen had formed up in the open area, preparing to attack. Behind them were at least five lines of infantry, geared for a heavy assault. The pitch barrels fell right into their midst.

  Parno watched in fascination as the pitch struck, the flaming, heavy goo sticking to anything it touched. Men began screaming as their skin burned away. Horses bucked and writhed in pain, breaking up the cavalry formation. Enemy troops ran screaming among their brethren, bright, horrible beacons in the dark. Panic began to spread among the Nor and commanders worked to control and contain it.

  Large boulders followed the pitch, landing in front of the Nor, rolling, bouncing, and tumbling into the mass, crushing men and horses alike. Parno continued to watch, the entire action bathed in the eerie light of flickering flames and shadows. Finally the Nor commanders gave up trying to maintain their formation and ordered their men to charge. Moving troops would not be a target for such ponderous weapons. Parno nodded. He would have done the same.

  “READY!” Darvo bellowed across the line and the call was answered and repeated along the line. Archers nocked arrows. Swordsmen drew their blades. Safeties were removed from crossbows and ballistae. Parno turned to the nearest runner.

  “Order Captain Moore to prepare his sharpshooters,” he told the man. “He is to fire at the mines when the second line of infantry approaches. The second line. Understand?” The man nodded.

  “Go!” The man ran off into the dark.

  “I hope they work,” Darvo murmured. Parno didn’t reply. He hoped they did too. He turned to another runner.

  “Have the archery battalion fire three volleys of standard arrows, followed by one volley of the Hubbel arrows. Understand?" The man nodded.

  “Go!” Parno ordered once again. The runner set out at a dead run.

  “Good plan, anyway,” Darvo commented. “If they work, it’ll break their back, I’d say.”

  “I’ll take what I can get,” Parno agreed. He watched intently as the horsemen drew closer. They were unable to gallop, due to the rough terrain. With the fires from the pitch back-lighting them they made excellent targets. When they were one hundred yards distant, Parno looked to Darvo and nodded.

  “LET FLY!” Darvo bellowed suddenly, and the air was filled with arrows. The lighting was poor but it was apparent from the screams that some arrows found their mark. Parno heard the ballistae fire, followed by more screams from men and horses.

  “War is hell on horses.” The thought came to Parno’s mind suddenly. He had just killed more horses than most farms ever owned. He shook the thought off. There was no time for sentiment. Not now.

  Another volley of arrows was in the air and the cavalry line staggered under this barrage. Closer now and with dawn threatening in the east, the Soulan bowmen were finding it easier to find their targets. Another volley followed and was joined by the slower ballistae. Nor troopers continued to fall, but those who remained continued forward doggedly.

  Lars catapults joined the fray as the horsemen entered one of his preplanned fire zones. Once more large stones rolled among the Nor, crushing men and horses alike. The carnage was unlike anything Parno had ever read of…and still the Nor kept coming. What did it take to stop them?

  Suddenly the world seemed to explode. So intent on the cavalry, Parno had failed to notice that the Nor infantry was still approaching. Captain Moore, however, had never taken his eyes from the dim shapes that represented his targets. As the dawn’s light had grown he was able to see the ‘targets’ his men were to shoot at. The very instant that the second line of Nor infantry crossed the line visible only in Moore’s mind, he lowered his hand. One hundred cross bows, fired by the best shots in the whole regiment, twanged in near unison.

  Their bolts reached out, seeking not Nor flesh and blood, but rather simple containers that looked very much like small stones. In reality, the thin vessels were filled with a mixture of Roda Finn’s exploding powder, surrounded by iron balls. The bolts were tipped with flint, making them spark when they struck the eggshell thin pots. The spark ignited Roda’s powder in a small explosion, which sent the iron balls streaming outward in all directions.

  Right into the massed lines of Nor infantry.

  Each mine had two bolts assigned to it. Of the fifty mines targeted in the first volley, seven failed to ignite. Three more were missed entirely, their intended bolts hitting enemy troops or horses that blundered into their path.

  The remaining forty ignited as Roda Finn had promised. The result. . . .

  Parno gaped at the ragged holes left in the Nor line. Not only had the mines staggered the second line, the exploding canister rounds had also inflicted terrible damage on the leading rank of Nor infantry. Men were felled by the dozens in some places and were either dead or dying.

  “Mother of God,” Darvo whispered in awe. Parno could only nod in agreement. He had never imagined destruction on this scale. For a moment he felt almost sick at the carnage he had just ordered. He shook it off, however, reminding himself that the Nor had brought this on themselves.

  “They’re still advancing,” Parno said in disbelief. “What does it take to break them?”

  “I think they’re more afraid to go back than they are to go forward, lad,” Darvo commented. “I doubt that failure is something this General suffers more than once.”

  “There has to be a breaking point,” Parno murmured.

  Nor archers were now firing on the move, sending ragged volleys into the Soulan lines. Though many fell short or embedded into the breastwo
rks, others found targets. Parno’s men began to fall, victims of Nor archery. Frustration gripped Parno. Would the Nor simply roll over them first thing?

  “Easy, lad,” Darvo’s voice reached out to him. “It’s early yet and our casualties aren’t that serious as of yet. We’re doin’ fine, so far.”

  “But they’re still coming!” Parno exclaimed.

  “So we stop them the hard way,” Darvo shrugged. “We can muster almost as many men as they can cram into the Gap against us.”