by N. C. Reed
And even as he acknowledged that was what he should do, he knew that he would not. He sighed, placing the delicate garment in an interior pocket of his jacket, almost as if it were a talisman to ward off the reprisal sure to come if he were caught. He walked outside his tent and tossed the private message from the Princess into the flames, watching to ensure its destruction before turning to his aide.
“Company commanders to my tent in fifteen minutes,” he ordered briskly. “And find Major Garren at once.” The aide nodded and hurried away. Callens remained where he was, staring at the flames.
Thinking of the flames sure to come.
*****
“I'm sure you're all tired of how we're being treated,” Callens said without fanfare. His company commanders nodded silently, their anger almost tangible.
“I'm about to do something extremely risky,” he told them flatly. “I want you and your men to come with me, but I'm not going to order you to. I'm going to find Prince Therron. I'm going to find him, and see him atop the throne of Soulan or die trying. If you have no wish to accompany, all that I ask is that you remain silent as to what I'm doing. I hope I've earned that much from you.”
Every head nodded, acknowledging that Callens had earned their loyalty.
“We are Prince Therron's own regiment,” he told them forcefully. “His protection is our duty. Our burden. It is for us to find him, free him if he's being kept prisoner, and return him to his rightful place in this kingdom. I want everyone ready to ride in half-an-hour. Arrangements have already been made for our provisions further south. Our men need rations and feed bags for three days, so see to it that each man has it. Ten pack horses per company, no more. We travel light, and fast.” He paused, eyeing each man in turn.
“Make no mistake that we'll be hunted and hounded by our own as we do this. We'll try and keep casualties to a minimum, but Prince Therron is our objective and nothing can be allowed to stop us. Make your preparations, and do so quietly. We must get out of this encampment without arousing suspicion. Go.”
The men saluted stiffly and departed in silence, minds already running through what they needed to accomplish in the next thirty minutes.
Callens watched them go, then nodded to his aide to begin their own preparations. Callens packed his own saddlebags, mind racing as he did so.
So much could go wrong in this. So many things work against them despite good planning, and short notice like this did not promote good planning. Or much of any kind of plan, for that matter. He remembered a lesson from his days at the Royal Academy of War; a good plan, violently executed, was preferable to a great plan that never left the drawing table.
So it would be violent, Callens thought grimly as he secured his bag. The rewards were great enough by far to warrant the risk. His reward in particular might be very fine indeed, though he suspected that, as always, there would be a catch.
With a deep sigh he hefted his bags and took the first step of what would certainly be consider a traitorous act by most.
He was going to find his sovereign.
*****
“Syn is a good name for you,” Major Beau Garren smiled at the woman lying on the bed beside him. “A fitting name for a woman who could make a priest forget his vows,” he chuckled. The dark haired beauty beside him smiled, her bright teeth a stark contrast to her deep tan skin and jet black hair.
“You do know how to flatter a girl,” she said, raising up to prop her head on one hand as she allowed her left hand to play over Garren's belly. “And I have to admit, you cut a very appealing figure in uniform, Major,” she lowered her head and kissed his chest, trailing her lips down his stomach and around his navel.
“I doubt that I-” He was interrupted by a furious pounding at the door. Frowning, he looked at his companion.
“Only someone needing you urgently would be allowed up here,” Syn shrugged, pulling a sheet around her. Garren did the same and stomped over to the door, opening it just enough to see his regimental Color Sergeant standing outside.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but we're assembling right now,” the man saluted, ignoring the fact that the Major was decidedly out of uniform. “Colonel's orders, we ride in twenty minutes, sir.”
“What the devil?” Garren almost exploded but caught himself at the last second.
“Can't say, sir,” the man shrugged. “Word is we're headed south, though. All I know. We got word from a courier a short time ago, that is the Colonel did. Soon as he read the message, he issued the order. We have to hurry, sir,” the man stressed. “Your horse is being saddled now. I'll be waiting for you out back.”
“Very well,” Garren nodded, still surprised. He shut the door and turned back to his companion.
“I'm afraid I must cut my visit short, dear,” he apologized, grabbing his uniform. Syn allowed her sheet to fall and walked to him completely naked, wordlessly assisting him in dressing. The last item was his sword, which she held out to him with both hands. He had to pause for a moment at the erotic vision she presented, her naked body glistening with sweat, holding his sword. He shook his head to clear it and took the blade.
“Please be safe,” she said softly, her hand caressing his jaw slightly. “I would miss seeing you.”
“I'll be fine,” he assured her, forgetting for a moment who she was. What she was. He was soon out the door and heading down the stairs. Syn counted the minutes, giving him time to get down the stairs and be gone while she washed. Donning a simple shift, she was out the door at the five-minute mark, heading straight to Rosa's room to report her highly unusual evening that had ended far earlier than it was supposed to.
Minutes later Aaron Bell was on his way to find the Tinker. A few minutes after that, one of the men who had accompanied Brenack Wysin was on his way to Cove Canton as fast as his horse could carry him. Tinker was casually mentioning the departure a few minutes later to an officer in the Headquarters unit who was surprised to hear that the former Royal Regiment was on the move and decided to nose around to try and find out why.
All of this was accomplished before Colonel Callens and his men had made ten miles from their camp. While his exact mission was unknown, Colonel Callens' movement had not gone unnoticed. The hoped for day or two lead would not be forthcoming.
*****
Beaumont looked over his command with a critical eye, Whipple beside him doing the same thing. The two of them were rarely together, and never in battle. The theory behind that stratagem was simple enough; no single attack would be as likely to see both of them dead or incapacitated leaving the unit without a commander.
“Status?” Beaumont asked his second.
“We've lost thirty-five dead, we have seventy-four wounded, a few severely,” Whipple informed him quietly. “We've also acquired somewhere around eight hundred head of cattle and just under three hundred horses from our endeavors,” he added. “We have twenty-nine wagons full of equipment and supplies we've taken, as well.”
“Our own supplies, particularly arrows and medical supplies, are low,” he admitted. “We've still got plenty of foodstuffs, but most of it requires cooking and we're reluctant to do that at present. We need somewhere that we can rest and refit, take a few days to jerk some of the beef and maybe parch some corn or cook other foods that we can store and carry.”
“Overall fitness of the command?” Beaumont asked.
“Other than fatigue, we're okay at the moment,” Whipple replied. “We've had a few horses come up lame, but other than that we're good.”
Beaumont nodded as he considered all that. He could ask Whipple for his suggestions, but Beaumont wasn't one to pass the buck, as the saying went. He wondered for a second where that saying had come down from then cast it aside as irrelevant. And Whipple had already given his input in a way.
They had been in the field for seventeen days and thus far been in nineteen engagements of varying size, never allowing the entire command to be seen. The Imperial Army was already taking precautions to prote
ct their trains and outposts because of the raids. Beaumont smiled at that. His plan to keep the size of their command hidden was going to pay off with that. No matter how many troops the Nor added to their details, he and Whipple would still be able to overpower them. Until the Imperial Army committed real troop strength to the effort, they would continue to prevail.
But his men had to eat, and they needed to rest. Better than two weeks in the saddle or on the ground, one eye constantly open to attack or discovery, the constant strain caused by the fear of that discovery, all of these things would take a toll. Better to take their gains and solidify them than risk defeat or disaster.
“Let’s make for home,” Beaumont said suddenly, decision made. “We'll stand down for a few days while we refit, then we'll come back.”
“Yes sir,” Whipple grinned, sketching a salute before turning to their runners. Soon activity flared all around them as the group prepared to move. The going would be slower than normal with so much livestock to move, but some of the wounded couldn't stand a fast trip anyway so that wasn't a problem.
A half-hour later the well-disciplined group was underway, outriders and scouts protecting the column from prying eyes as they started for their own lines and a few days of relative peace and quiet.
After which they would start again.
*****
Raphael Semmes swam up out of the black of unconsciousness slowly, his eyes blinking back tears at the harshness of sunlight. He raised a hand to block the light and realized that it was bandaged along his forearm. As his vision cleared he could see that he was in a small room, on land somewhere, probably a hospital. Even as he wondered where, the door to his room opened and a harried looking woman with wisps of blonde hair falling about her face entered carrying a bowl and towel. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Admiral moving about.
“How do you feel, sir?” she asked at once, setting her bowl aside to come to his bed side.
“I feel like I was hit by an angry bull,” he admitted ruefully. “Sore all over. Where am I?” he asked, looking up at his care giver. She was quite pretty, he decided absently.
“Base hospital in Savannah, sir,” the nurse informed him. “You've been here for six days, out cold until now.” She held a hand to his head, then took his wrist, then lifted his arm and checked the bandage, first looking and then sniffing.
“What are you doing?” he asked, though not unkindly.
“Checking you for signs of infection or fever,” she smiled slightly. “You're in good shape for the moment, Admiral.”
Semmes took a moment then to assess himself. A process of testing and elimination determined that he still had all limbs and digits. His side hurt terribly, however, and made his breathing painful.
“What happened to me, do you know?”
“Not precisely what happened, no,” the nurse shook her head as she retrieved her bowl and towel. “But you suffered at least three broken ribs, a severely bruised spine, a hard knock to the head that probably caused a concussion and had a nine-inch splinter buried in your left forearm,” she nodded to the bandage. “You're going to be sore for a while I'm afraid.” As she spoke she pulled back his bed sheets, exposing him completely.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, trying and failing to grab the sheet and re-cover himself.
“I'm bathing you,” the woman said simply as she took a rag and wet it.
“No, you're not,” Semmes shook his head. “This is most improper.”
“Admiral, at this point you don't have a thing I haven't already seen,” the woman smirked slightly but in good humor. “It's my job, Admiral, so lay back and let me do it. I promise I don't bite. Not even handsome war heroes,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes.
“It's not your bite I'm concerned with,” he told her, refusing to budge. “I'm fully capable of tending myself, thank you. And if not then a male orderly would be far more appropriate, especially for a bachelor.”
“Admiral, you can't do this with that bandage,” she nodded to his arm. “And you can't bend because of your ribs,” another nod went toward his tightly wrapped midsection. “As for male orderlies, they're all gone, sir. There's a war on and men of all walks of life are gone to fight it.”
“I'm afraid it's just us chickens here now,” she smiled.
Semmes tried stare the woman down, but failed miserably. Whoever she was, she had a spine of steel.
“Very well,” he acquiesced, reclining once more on the bed to give his ribs some relief.
He endured the indignity of having an attractive woman whose name was still unknown to him bathe him as if he were a small child. He also endured the inevitable reaction that was a result of that process with a quiet dignity born of discipline and training, but his face was still very red by the time she was finished.
“All done, Admiral,” she announced gaily as she spread the sheet back over his body. She tucked it carefully in around his chest, looking at him the entire time. Suddenly she knelt a bit lower and kissed him on the forehead briefly.
“Bless you,” she said softly and gathered her things.
“Please inform my staff that I'm awake,” he told her before she could run out of the door. “I need to make sure things are going well and that messages are sent.”
“I will,” she promised.
Semmes settled back to wait. There was nothing else he could do for the moment.
*****
“Do you have to leave?”
Parno sighed slightly as he heard the pleading in Stephanie's tone.
“You know that I do,” he told her. They had spent as much time as possible together over the past six days, but now he had to get back. His men were already saddling horses. As soon as the sun was up enough to see, they would be on the road, headed back to 1st Army headquarters.
“I thought you were going to stay longer,” she said quietly.
“I told you a week, no more,” he reminded her. “Six days and we're leaving on the seventh. It's the best we can do for now. I have to get back. I have a complete field army on the move right now and I'm still waiting to see what the result of the naval battle was in terms of losses. I'm needed in three or four places right now, but I can only be in one. I've got to go.”
“I know,” she admitted, still crestfallen. “I'm sorry,” she added.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” he said honestly. “I wish I could stay. I wish I could stay and never leave here. Maybe when the war is over I can. I don't know.”
“How old are you Parno?” Stephanie asked suddenly. Surprised, Parno turned to look at her again.
“What?”
“How old are you?” she repeated, her face a mask of concern.
“I'll be twenty-one on my next birthday,” he told her slowly. “Why?”
“So young for so much responsibility,” she said softly, her hand easing out to caress his face gently. “It's too much,” she added. “Too much.”
“It may be,” he shrugged. “But it's mine to do. Why is my age a factor, anyway?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “I've always had a thing for older women,” he grinned. Suddenly Stephanie got her first good look at the rogue prince. Handsome, devil-may-care, unconcerned with propriety or protocol. She laughed out loud at his sudden change.
“I should be angry at that,” she told him, lowering her forehead to his shoulder.
“Probably,” he agreed, embracing her. “So does this mean you're not interested in me anymore?” he teased. “I mean in a romantical way,” he added. She pulled her head back and looked up at him, eyes twinkling.
“I've always had a thing for younger men,” she gave as good as she got. “And you're not that much younger.”
“How much then?” he pressed, still teasing.
“Not enough to matter,” she evaded, still laughing. She stopped suddenly, giving him an evil eye.
“I see what you're doing,” she told him sternly. “Trying to make me laugh. To distract me.”
“Is it working?�
�� he asked hopefully.
“Partly,” she admitted, returning her forehead to his shoulder. “Please, Parno. Be careful and don't take risks. I don't know what I would do-”
“You'll go right on doing, that's what,” he told her firmly. “No more of that talk. I can't think about it, and neither can you. And I will be careful. That is a promise, too,” he added when she looked at him in near derision. “I told you, I've been ordered, no less, to avoid risk. And I've got far too many people around me ensuring that doesn't happen for me to get in trouble.”
“Somehow I doubt that will matter to you if you see the need,” Stephanie's voice was tinged with a slight bit of disbelief.
“There won't be a need,” he assured her. “There are men far more able than I to swing a sword or ride a horse. I'll just be giving the orders.” He kissed her suddenly and she responded at once, wrapping her arms around his neck as he took her back into his arms. Reluctantly he pulled back, looking at her again.
“Time for you to go,” he told her gently. “It's bad luck to watch us out of sight,” he added with a grin.
“It is not!” she shot back, then asked; “Is it?”
“It's what they say,” Parno shrugged. “But I have work to finish and I won't do it so long as you are here, so go on now. I'll see you again as soon as I can. I promise.”
“I will hold you to that, Parno McLeod.”
“I wouldn't have it any other way.”
*****
With the coming of the sun the Black Sheep rode out, their numbers swelled by the return of several men who had been allowed to rejoin the ranks after healing from wounds sustained at the Gap. Enough men to allow a restructuring into five companies instead of four.
“I'm glad to get so many men back,” Karls remarked as they left the gate and approached the column.
“Me too,” Parno agreed softly.
Cove Canton watched them go, families of the men leaving and those who were training with hopes of one day joining them. Those men looked at the Black Sheep with varying thoughts. Some trying to compare themselves and see if they measured up, others looking and deciding that they were already their equal or even better. Their instructors hadn't hesitated to hold the visiting unit up as an example to the trainees, and as always there were one or two who simply couldn't accept that the Sheep were all that was described.