Parno's Destiny: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book Two

by N. C. Reed

  “Send any that you think can recover to the rear,” Wilson ordered. “We'll not be eating a horse that can one day mount a trooper again, or even pull a wagon.”

  “Sir,” Stone nodded.

  “We do have some horse archery training ongoing at home,” Wilson continued.

  “Lot of good that does us here,” Stone shrugged. “If we can get around them, use our mobility on their flanks, we can probably get away from that massed archery fire, which would give us a better chance to close with them. Once we've figured how to work around their over-sized mounts, we'll incorporate that into our training. I'm thinking about maybe adding some crossbows to my units. Anything to give us a return volley, even if it's just one shot.”

  “Shoot once and then sling them, or just drop them?” Wilson asked.

  “Can't drop them, the follow on horses will trip on them, but a sling would work,” Stone mused. “Like I said, anything to give us a way to fight back.”

  “I understand Blue Dog tried to take advantage of the aftermath,” Wilson changed the subject. “How did that work out?”

  “Got his teeth kicked in, ignorant savage,” Stone smiled grimly. “I hate that bastard with a passion I usually reserve for women and whiskey,” he almost growled. “It was good to see him taken down a peg.”

  “Just remember that we need him. For now,” Wilson advised.

  “Oh, I do,” Stone nodded. “I've bitten my tongue, my lip, my cheek and back to my tongue, but I've been nothing but respectful to the savage or his men. I'm patient. I can wait.”

  “Good,” Wilson nodded. “Well, leave your report with my aide, he's assembling the bad news for me so that I can try to paint a good picture on this for the Emperor. Though I'm sure by now Daly has already sent off a courier with the good news. Gloating bastard.”

  “You know, men die all the time in battle,” Stone shrugged. He left it open and Wilson nodded.

  “So they do. We just need to make sure more of their men die and less of ours,” he added for anyone who might be listening.

  “Like I said, we're working on it,” Stone played to the same audience, just in case. He stood.

  “By your leave?”

  “Dismissed.”

  *****

  “Draw!”

  Winnie Hubel watched as the newest recruits went through their archery routine. These men had already had their basic training and were in good physical condition when they arrived. That would speed the process of turning them into archers.

  So long as they were willing to listen.

  Unlike the men she had trained before, these soldiers seemed to completely reject the idea of taking their instruction from a woman. Had she trained a group of men like this the first time she would probably have quit. Having managed to train the Sheep, she found it difficult to be intimidated by these men. Something they had yet to catch on to.

  “Hold!” the Captain supervising their training ordered. She watched as the men strained to hold the pull on their bows. A few were shaky, but that would stop in time. This exercise was designed to build the muscle groups they would need to use their bows for extended periods in battle.

  Winnie walked through the ranks, occasionally adjusting a trooper's arm or elevation, complimenting on occasion. She sometimes found it difficult to be a young woman surrounded by young men. Many of them made unwarranted assumptions about her which had to be corrected. Usually by one of the Sheep still in camp. Even recovering from wounds the members of Parno's regiment were far tougher than the men they were training.

  There were other women around of course, but save for a handful like Doctor Freeman, all were the wives, sisters, or daughters of the Black Sheep. After their action at the Gap no sane man would want to anger one of them by making an offensive remark or action toward one of their women.

  Winnie appeared to them to be fair game. She had been amused at first, thinking it a distraction but nothing else. Certainly nothing to worry over. She had been born and raised in the Apple Mountains and was herself as hard as the men she had helped to train. Her skirt hid muscled legs used to climbing rocks and moving up and down mountain trails. Long sleeves in the mountain climate concealed finely muscled arms, developed from a lifetime of hard work and her own archery skills.

  All the soldiers could see was a comely young woman. A single young woman who might be safer to pursue. Several had approached her and taken her rebuff calmly, accepting that she was not interested.

  Trooper Helm had not taken his rejection as calmly. Tall and handsome with blonde hair and skin browned by the sun, Helm thought highly of himself and felt that Winnie should too. In fact, she should be flattered that he had even approached her at all. She had smirked slightly at his implication as she moved past him, only to stop as he moved to block her yet again.

  She had been prepared to let something like that slide but Helm had made the mistake of trying to touch her. That was something Winnie was not at all inclined to tolerate.

  As a result, Trooper Helm was now recovering in the hospital after which he would be confined to the stockade for the foreseeable future. His broken jaw, dislocated shoulder and concussion were enough to dissuade even the most determined of other admirers, who now chose to admire her from afar.

  “Release!”

  She watched as the men carefully released the tension on their bowstrings, noting that a few were still struggling. She made some soft comments to them, giving advise which they nodded their acceptance to. Seeing her shoot had been an eye opening experience for them just as it had been for the Sheep. There was never any question that Winnie Huble knew how to use a bow. Trooper Helm had also learned that she knew some other things as well. The rest chose to learn from his example.

  Winnie almost sighed thinking about the fact that her dealing with Helm was a problem in other ways. It would be difficult if not impossible for her to find a husband that would accept that she was not going to spend her life barefoot in his kitchen, popping out babies every year until she was too broken down to do so. She had no objection to having a child, or even two or three, but she was not made for housekeeping duties. She belonged outdoors, free to roam and to do and to see. To feel the sun on her face and the wind in her hair.

  She would not give that up for any man. At least none that she had met so far.

  “Draw!”

  Winnie left those thoughts behind as the exercise continued with her watching. This was her job, at least for now. There might come a time however, when she herself rode to war with her bow.

  The very thought was repugnant to most men, though her father had merely nodded his acceptance when she'd told him of her thoughts. He would not want her to, but Whip Hubel had raised a free spirit, much like himself. She would go where she willed. He would worry, he would pray for her safety and he would miss her, but he would not interfere.

  So all she had to do was convince Parno McLeod. But she had a plan for that. One that would need a certain ally. One that knew exactly how Winnie felt. One that could speak with much more ease than Winnie herself could.

  Fortunately, such an ally was available.

  *****

  “Why?”

  Stephanie Corsin-Freeman couldn't hide her look of shock. In hindsight she shouldn't have been surprised, but at that point in time she didn't have the benefit of hindsight and was floored.

  “Because I should be able to serve just like they do,” Winnie Hubel said evenly. “I thought you would understand that better than anyone,” she added.

  “I do understand wanting to serve,” Stephanie nodded. “But. . .Winnie you're. . .I mean you can't imagine how bad it is,” she settled for saying. “It's not clinical like on the firing range. The carnage is horrifying. I. . .I can't adequately describe it,” she finally admitted.

  “Yet you wanted to go,” Winnie pointed out.

  “To serve as a medical officer,” Stephanie pointed out at once. “Specifically to keep. . .to make sure that. . .I mean. . . .” she trailed
off, spluttering.

  “Yes?” Winnie pressed, perhaps a little maliciously though not mean spirited. It was well known that the 'Lady Doctor' had set her cap for the Prince.

  “Never you mind,” Stephanie waved it away. “The point is I wouldn't have been in combat, or even at the front. Just what little I saw from the rear area at The Gap was enough to last a lifetime, and remember that we were ordered away before the final battle. Winnie it's no place for a woman. I had that pointed out to me rather pointedly just a few days ago.”

  “By who?” Winnie asked.

  “By Duchess Cumberland,” Stephanie replied. “She told me that my presence would be a distraction to Pa. . .to the men,” she caught herself, flushing ever so slightly. “And that would be if I were in the hospital near the front. Imagine how distracted the men would be with you fighting alongside them. What if they were wounded or killed because in their worry for you they didn't pay enough attention to the enemy? How would you feel then?”

  Those were the same words, more or less, that Edema Willows had fired at her just days ago. Saying them to Winnie now made Stephanie realize just how accurate that statement was.

  “It's not my fault if they can't keep their mind where it belongs,” Winnie shrugged.

  “I didn't say it would be your fault,” Stephanie corrected. “I said you would be a distraction. One that men in war don't need, to be honest. It's bad enough as it is. Not to mention there are certain. . .issues that all women encounter that would be difficult at best in the field. Do you think the enemy will stop their operations while you deal with your monthly visit?” Winnie's face flushed pink at the subtle mention of the one thing that she had no answer for.

  “I've been working to find a way to get by that,” she admitted.

  “Well, until you find one I'd suggest you table this idea, Winnie,” Stephanie suggested. “Honestly, I think the idea is a grand one, it's just not feasible. Not with things the way they are.” She paused suddenly, having a flash of inspiration.

  “Have you spoken to anyone else about this?” she asked. “Other women I mean? About the possibility of going to war?”

  “A few,” Winnie said cautiously. “Here and there.”

  “What was their response?” Stephanie asked, genuinely interested.

  “Mostly favorable,” the girl replied. “There are a lot of women here, you know,” she said evenly. There were family members, but any Cantonment would attract various 'trades' so to speak, and Cove was no different. The actions of those around the camp were much more restrained of course, since the Black Sheep patrolled their own areas, and they answered only to the Lord Marshal. There wasn't much they couldn't do to someone who was caught cheating at cards or stealing or groping an unwilling woman, or pretty much any other crime.

  Of course, a camp like Cove also attracted women who were willing, so long as certain monetary considerations could be satisfied.

  “Yes, I know there are,” Stephanie nodded. “But how do you think the Sheep would react to having their wives, sisters or daughters in battle? Do they strike you as the type that would want that?”

  “Shouldn't what we want matter more?” Winnie asked plainly. “I really thought you'd be more supporting. I mean, you're a woman in what's commonly considered a man's profession. You do the same work as any man, probably better, yet still some look down on you because you're not somewhere sipping mint tea on the veranda. I expected you to understand. To support me.” The girl fought to keep the hurt out of her voice.

  “Winnie, I do support you,” Stephanie sighed. “I'm trying to get you to see the downside of what you're wanting. It's not just about what you want. My being a doctor wrinkles some old man's nose and the only person it really affects is the old man and his nose. What would it do to your father if you were killed, or worse captured, by the Nor? Can you imagine the effect it would have on our men thinking about you or the others dying at the hands of the Nor, or falling captive into their hands? Do you see what I mean?”

  Winnie was about to retort when the words sank in. Her father would be beside himself, certainly. She had not thought about being captured. Killed, yes. She had considered that and knew it was possible, but it was just as possible for the men she was training at the moment. She could share that risk.

  She wanted to serve. She wanted to do something, anything, to help her believe that she was serving.

  “I do see,” Winnie nodded. “I still think it's not right,” she insisted. “But I can see that you're not going to help me, either,” she sighed. “I'm sorry I bothered you Miss Freeman. You have more important things to be doing than worrying with me. If you'll excuse me I need to get back to work.” The girl turned and was gone before Stephanie could think of anything else to say.

  She hated for Winnie to think that she was denigrating her desire to serve because that was not the way of it. It was simply too great a risk, too much of a distraction for Winnie and other young women to be at the front, fighting.

  Surely the girl would see the truth of it if she thought on it a bit longer. Shaking her head Stephanie turned back to the hospital. Winnie was right about one thing. Stephanie had a lot of work to do.

  CHAPTER NINE

  -

  The trip from First Army's headquarters to the river fortifications in Shelby had taken Parno and his men nine days of hard riding. Nine days that Parno spent worrying over what was happening while he was out of communication with everyone else. He was going to have to find a happy medium where he could be centralized if for no other reason that so reports could find him.

  He missed the days of being at Cove Canton, where his only problems had been the populace being angry at him for not allowing the soldiers to spend their pay in their establishments and keeping Darvo off his back about. . . .

  Thinking of Darvo Nidiad brought a cloud over Parno as it always did. He missed the old man more with each passing day, yet there was no relief for that. He had to press on, more so now than ever before. He had no choice but to do so. In fact, he had very few choices left open to him these days.

  “What bothers you, my Prince?” Cho Feng appeared suddenly at his side, having noted the change in demeanor, subtle though it was.

  “Just thinking,” Parno replied as they moved through the city heading for Third Corps' headquarters at the river. “Too much of that gives me a headache.”

  “About Colonel Nidiad, no doubt,” Feng once more showed his grasp of understanding his young charge. “It is ever painful to lose one's mentor, Parno,” he added softly. “You can but carry on as he would have had you do.”

  “I know,” Parno sighed, nodding slightly. “It's not that all of you aren't good enough, Cho,” he added suddenly. “I couldn't ask for better people to be surrounded by in all this. It's just that Darvo. . . .” he trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say.

  “Raised you,” Cho said it for him. “He was your father in all but blood, Parno. Missing him is natural. It is not something to be unhappy about, ashamed of, or that needs to be put away. He earned your love and it is only proper that you still feel it. Do not let this upset you. Instead, remember the things he has taught you and you will do fine.”

  Parno was stunned by the words, sounding so much like what Darvo had said from his death bed. Parno decided not to pursue the discussion as Third Corps' Headquarters came into their view.

  General Raines and his staff were assembled outside, having been warned of his approach by courier. Parno stopped his horse several feet away and dismounted tiredly. His own staff and escort did the same, though the others remained mounted.

  “Welcome, milord,” Rained said simply.

  “Pleasure to be here, General,” Parno nodded, extending his hand. “Parno McLeod,” he said, quite unnecessarily.

  “Sir,” Raines chose not to point that out. “Captain will you see the Prince's escort to their billet please?” he said to the man next to him.

  “Sir,” the man nodded and looked to Karls.

/>   “Major, the Captain will show you to our quarters,” Karls told Seymour.

  “Sir,” the Major nodded and followed the Captain away, the Sheep following and leading the horses of the others. Berry and his men remained with the prince.

  “General, can you bring us up to date on how things set here?” Parno asked. “And maybe rustle us up something to eat?” he added as his stomach growled.

  “I'm sure we can feed you,” Raines fought a grin and looked to an aide who hurried away to inform the General's personal cook that he'd be cooking for the Prince today. Right now in fact.

  “If you'll come in sir, I can show you our dispositions and give you a brief report on how things stand at the moment. Complete reports are available for you at your leisure, or that of your staff.”

  Parno followed Raines inside. Unlike the field headquarters for First Army, this was Third Corps' permanent home and the furnishings showed it. Not that there was anything fancy or flashy about the building or its interior for it was utilitarian for the most part. But there was a sense of permanency here that a tent in the field couldn't carry off. Parno liked it.

  “Our map room, sir,” Rained said as he led Parno into a large and well-appointed room. Parno halted at the door, surprised by the sight.

  There were maps on every wall, which he'd expected. But there was also a detailed re-creation of the river valley on a larger table in front of him. Parno didn't know the scale, but it ran from BellMonte, Kent all the way to the coast of the Gulf of Storms. Small blocks of different colors littered the board in places.

  “Our model of the zone, sir,” Raines said when he saw where Parno's attention was focused. “It reminds us of terrain and helps us keep the size of our area of responsibility in mind.”

  “I'm impressed,” Parno nodded. “You did this yourself General?” he asked as he approached the model.

  “Well, I had it done,” Raines nodded. “A man in my engineering staff designed and constructed the model.”