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

by N. C. Reed

  “Damn them!” Brasher swore. He turned to a runner.

  “Order the rear ranks to surge forward again!” he demanded. “Have them carry that position at all costs!” The runner hurried to obey. Brasher turned back to the battle.

  “Sir, they’re. . .” the aide stopped, unable to continue.

  “They’re what?” Brasher snarled. He lifted his own glass, seeing for himself.

  “They’re advancing!”

  *****

  “Forward!”

  Parno was at the front of his men, Cho by his side, as he screamed the order. Karls Willard was to his other side, sword hacking and slashing as well. Behind him, his men let out a mighty cry.

  “PARNO!” The Sheep surged forward, swords hacking and cutting in near desperation. Fear and anger added to their strength, though they remembered their training. Cho Feng, with a sword in each hand, spun and slashed alongside them, killing Nor troopers faster than any two Soulan soldiers. His swords seemed to be alive as they wove in and out of the mass of enemy soldiers, a deadly dance of blood and death.

  “Drive them back!” Parno yelled, his own sword striking nearly as rapidly as Cho’s. Parno might not be the most gifted commander on the battlefield, but he had few equals with the sword and now he proved it. To himself, his men, and to his enemies.

  The Black Sheep of Soulan slowly began advancing, paying for that advance in blood, but moving forward none-the-less. Nor troops continued to stream into the gap in the line, while still more Nor worked to widen the breach or open others. Try as they might, the Nor could not withstand the advance of Parno’s Regiment.

  But that wouldn’t last, Parno knew. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing that most of the others were now safely behind the new line. Some were lingering, assisting wounded Black Sheep to get inside. Parno waited perhaps one minute longer, then lifted his head.

  “FALL BACK!” he yelled over the battle. “FALL BACK!”

  As he gave that command, every archer that Landers still had appeared over the top of the fourth line, arrows flying into the Nor and staggering their attack. Taking advantage of that, the Sheep ran for their own lines, the hale and hearty assisting the wounded, in some cases carrying the dead. Karls Willard watched to see that the regiment kept it’s form. To break now would mean death to them all.

  Parno was the last man to move and the last to enter the lines, with Karls just ahead of him. He leaned against the line for a brief time, regaining his strength. Amazed that any of them had survived, he pushed himself off the wall wearily and made his way to where Landers stood, directing the battle.

  “Keep your command, Colonel,” Parno told him. “I need to see to my men and get them reformed.”

  “Aye, milord,” Landers nodded. “That was the damnedest thing I ever saw, milord. Well done.”

  “Does this mean you withdraw your protest?” Parno grinned tiredly.

  “Absolutely not!” Landers replied at once. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in all my years as a soldier!” Parno laughed and staggered tiredly over to where his men were reforming under the watchful eye of Karls Willard.

  “How badly were we hurt?” Parno asked the young colonel. Willard looked haggard.

  “We have just over three hundred men either missing, confirmed dead, or known to be wounded, milord,” he said sorrowfully. Parno felt dismayed. The attack had gutted his men. He looked at the soldiers still present. They were haggard and tired, their strength gone.

  “I’m sorry,” Parno said to no one in particular. Several heads came up at that.

  “What’s that, milord?” one asked. “Sorry? For what?”

  “For asking this of you,” Parno admitted. “I’m sorry for so many losses, so much pain.”

  “Think it’s all your fault, is that it?” one of his men asked. “Don’t be sorry for things you got no control over, milord.” His men agreed, heads nodding all around him.

  “This here,” another man commented, “this ain’t no doin’ o’ yers, milord. Them stinkin’ Nor heathens is to blame fer this and we’ll kill ’em all ‘fore it’s all said, you wait and see if we don’t!” The entire regiment cheered at that and Parno smiled. His men were tired, but not broken.

  “Rest here for a bit,” he ordered Karls. “I’ll have need of you one last time, I suspect. After that, we’ll all be resting.” Karls nodded, knowing what Parno meant.

  “We’ll be ready, milord.” Parno walked back to where Landers was directing the battle.

  “How are we doing, Colonel?” Parno asked. Landers spared him a glance, then turned his attention back to the battle.

  “We’re holding, for now, milord,” Landers assured him. “Our losses have been heavy, I’m afraid. Most of our units are mustering well below half strength. There is no reserve, other than your personal regiment and they have been sorely used.”

  “They’ll be ready, if you have need,” Parno said with quiet pride. He had never thought of them as his personal regiment. Indeed, all male members of the Royal Family had one, except for Parno himself. Until now, anyway.

  “I’m sure they will,” Landers nodded, “but we are near the end, sir. You have to know that.” Parno nodded.

  “Yes, I do,” he agreed. “But we’ll continue to hold as long as we can, Colonel. Once this lot is into the open we may never run them to ground. We have to bleed them here, while we can.”

  “We will, milord,” Landers promised. “They seem to be drawing their rearward units together for another push,” he added, looking out over the battlefield. Parno followed his gaze and was shocked to see so many bodies piled high.

  “We’ve hurt them, Colonel. Hurt them badly. I had no idea.”

  “We have that, milord,” Landers nodded in satisfaction. “They may gain possession of the field in the end, but we’ve scored a victory here. Never doubt that.”

  “You’ve been a large part of that, Colonel,” Parno told him sincerely. “I can never thank you enough for that. I need to draft a message for my brother and have it dispatched. I will make sure that the Crown is aware of your service here. It’s little enough to offer after all of this, but it’s all I have.”

  “I’m flattered, milord,” Landers replied honestly. “I never imagined that I would have this kind of opportunity to serve in a battle so important to Soulan. It’s been an honor.”

  “The honor belongs to Soulan, Colonel. In having sired a man of your quality and in being fortunate enough to have your loyalty and your service.” Landers flushed slightly at the praise.

  “Thank you, milord.”

  “I’ll be nearby, if you need me.”

  *****

  “I want you to deliver this personally, Lieutenant,” Parno told Sprigs, after reading and signing what he was sure was his last bit of correspondence. Sprigs stiffened at that.

  “Sir, my place is with you,” the young man objected quietly. “I should. . . .”

  “Your delivering this message is far more important than anything you can accomplish by dying here, Harry.”

  “Sir, don’t do this to me!” Sprigs begged. “Everyone knows how this is to end. I’ll be shamed for the rest of my life!” Parno looked at the young man, understanding how he felt.

  “Harrel,” he said softly. “Someone has to live. I need to get this report to my brother so that the heroism shown here over the last few days is known…and to let the Crown know that the force here has been hurt badly. I can’t entrust just anyone to do that. I need someone I can trust. Someone I can rely on, and that person is you.”

  “Milord, please,” Sprigs was almost in tears. “Don’t make me leave all of you like this.”

  “I am truly sorry,” Parno told him, meaning every word, “but I have no choice. Select a good horse and a remount. I want you on the trail within the hour. Godspeed, Lieutenant, and thank you for your service.”

  Parno turned away as the younger man slumped in defeat, sobbing quietly. In his letter to Memmnon, Parno had requested that h
is brother look after the young lieutenant, knowing that some would likely accuse him of cowardice. Such was the world.

  But Parno had meant what he said. Sprigs’ delivery of that report was more important than anything he might accomplish on the battlefield.

  He was also confident that, someday, the young Lieutenant would forgive him.

  *****

  Seeing Sprigs depart, Parno walked to the small building behind the Fort proper, where Darvo Nidiad lay after Stephanie had seen to him. Parno found her, dirty, disheveled, and covered in blood. She saw him coming and left the orderlies she was instructing to come to him.

  “How is he?” Parno asked without preamble.

  “The wound is grievous, Parno, and the damage great. He hangs on because of his great strength, I believe, and little else. I am sorry.” She lowered her head for a moment, then looked back up. “He hasn’t got long, Parno.”

  Numbly, Parno eased into the room, walking to the bed that held his old teacher and mentor. Darvo was sleeping fitfully, mumbling. Parno sat down beside him, wanting to spend just a few more minutes in his company. As he settled into the chair, he found Darvo looking at him.

  “What are you doing here, boy?” the old man demanded gruffly.

  “I see you’re recovering,” Parno replied sarcastically, “and yes, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  “How goes the battle?” the old colonel demanded.

  “Fair, for now,” Parno admitted. “Just a matter of time, I’m afraid. We managed to withdraw behind the last line a little while ago. Our losses are high, I fear. I doubt that we’ll hold out the day.”

  “All the more reason for you to be out there and not in here!” Darvo pointed out.

  “Darvo, I can spare a few minutes to say good-bye to my dearest friend,” Parno sighed, and Darvo nodded, after a bit.

  “‘Spect that’s so, lad,” he smiled slightly. “It is good to see you, I’ll admit.”

  “Well, good God, don’t hold back,” Parno laughed and Darvo chuckled, only to have it cut off by a round of coughing. Blood flecked around his lips and Parno took a cloth from the bedside and wiped his mouth.

  “Damn Nor archer,” Darvo grumped. “‘Fraid he got me good, lad,” he looked up. “I’m sorry to leave you like this, boy.”

  “It’s okay, Darvo,” Parno assured him, returning the cloth.

  “I always thought on you as my own son, boy,” Darvo said suddenly and Parno nodded. “I always did. You’re a good lad and a fine man. You remember the things I taught you growing up, son. You stick to that and you’ll do fine. Hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Parno nodded. His eyes were misting over for some reason.

  “You look after my daughter, Parno,” Darvo ordered. “See her married well or not at all. There’s no one else to see after her now.”

  “I swear I’ll look after as if she were my own,” Parno promised. “If you like, I’ll ask Edema to look after her. She can strain her suitors and find a suitable one, I promise.” In truth, the dispatch he’d just sent off contained a request to Edema to do just that…and for Memmnon to make sure that no problems arose for the girl.

  “Long as you make sure,” Darvo nodded. “Parno, boy, I’m going to miss you. . .” Parno looked up as Darvo trailed off. Darvo’s eyes were still open, but they were sightless now, and Darvo’s labored breathing had stilled. Parno reached over and closed the eyes gently. He then took Darvo’s hand for a moment, gripping it tightly.

  “I’ll miss you too, my old friend.” He carefully folded Darvo’s hands across his chest, trying not to sob. Then he leaned over and kissed the old man on his forehead.

  Standing, Parno left the building without looking back. Darvo had seen his last battle.

  Now it was his turn.

  *****

  Corsin-Freeman was waiting for him as he exited the room.

  “I want you and your staff ready to leave in fifteen minutes,” he ordered brusquely. “I’ll have a small escort ready. All civilians attached to the hospital are to leave when you do.”

  “We’ll stay,” she shook her head. “Some of the wounded won’t make it if we. . . .”

  “They aren’t going to make it anyway,” Parno told her flatly. “We won’t last much longer and none of you, most especially including you, are staying. Don’t argue with me,” he added when she seemed about to protest. “I’m too tired for it. You can load the wounded that can be safely moved and carry them in the wagons. I know there’s not enough for all of them,” he raised his hand again to forestall her complaint. “Carry those with the best chance of survival.”

  “So you’ll just let the rest die?” she asked in anger.

  “What the hell did you expect?” Parno suddenly demanded. “I told you what was going to happen, remember? You wanted to come anyway. I only agreed on the promise, your promise, that when I said it was time for you to go, you would. Are you going back on your word, Doctor?” Parno’s stiff and formal speech caught Stephanie by surprise.

  “No, My Lord, I am not,” she replied formally. “I’ll assemble the staff at once.”

  “Thank you. For. . .for everything,” Parno said suddenly, his voice softer. “Your escort will carry all of you to Nasil. Nowhere closer will be safe, I fear. At least there you’ll have a chance.”

  “What will you do, Parno?” she asked, then mentally berated herself. She knew what was coming.

  “I’ll do what I set out to do,” he actually smiled a little. “I’ll make sure that this force is so bloodied and battered that they aren’t a threat to Soulan. That’s. . .that’s all I can do.” He took her hand, holding it softly in his own.

  “Good bye, Stephanie. I’m glad to have known you.” With a gentle kiss to her cheek, Parno turned without another word, and left her.

  She watched for a moment, her eyes misty. Then she turned and started snapping out orders.

  *****

  Harrel Sprigs ran his mount as fast as he thought safe over the rough terrain. Partly he pushed the animal because of the urgency of his mission. Part of it, though, was the anger he felt coursing through him at the thought of the men he had left behind.

  Dying.

  So consumed was he in that cloud of anger and despair that he was almost run through by a lance held in the arms of Soulan Cavalry Trooper.

  “Halt!” the man ordered, “in the name of the King!” Sprigs fought to slow his mount, looking at the squad of men before him.

  “The King?” Sprigs asked, unwilling to believe his good fortune.

  “Who are you?” the officer in charge asked.

  “Lieutenant Harrel Sprigs, of Prince Parno’s regiment!” Sprigs informed him, “and who are you?”

  “Lieutenant Marion Manness, of His Majesty’s Personal Regiment!” the officer replied. “Did you say you were part of Prince Parno’s regiment?”

  “I am milord Parno’s aide,” Sprigs nodded. “I bear important correspondence for Prince Memmnon, in Nasil.”

  “The King is closer,” Manness informed him. “Come, we’ll take you to His Majesty.”

  With that, the squad reformed and headed toward the King as fast as their horses would fly.

  *****

  “You’ve just come from the Gap?” Tammon asked, looking at Sprigs. The young man nodded.

  “Prince Parno dispatched me to deliver his report to Prince Memmnon, sire. I have been in the saddle less than two hours.”

  “What is the situation at the Gap, lad?” the King asked.

  “The line was holding when I left, sire,” Sprigs informed the King, “but the Nor are pressing hard against it. Milord Parno believes that it is only a matter of time before the line fails completely. It. . .it may well have fallen already, sire.”

  “How strong is the force facing my son?”

  “They did number near fifty thousand, sire,” Sprigs replied, “but we have hurt them badly, thanks to Prince Parno. Estimates are that the Nor have lost nearly half their number in the last three days.�
�

  “What?” Tammon was shocked at that.

  “Milord Parno’s new weapons and his tactics have enabled us to inflict massive casualties upon the heathen, sire,” Sprigs said proudly. “And the men have all fought above and beyond what even they themselves thought possible, inspired by the Prince. He is a gifted leader,” he finished.

  “I see,” Tammon said, more to cover his shock than anything. What had Parno done to be able to hurt the Nor so badly? He shook his head. None of that mattered now. He turned to Enri Willard and Colonel Strong, the commander of his personal regiment.