Parno's Destiny: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book Two (11 page)

“It will have to be enough,” Feng said gently. “Trust your men, my prince.”

It never failed to amaze Parno that Cho Feng always seemed to know what he was thinking. But the oriental sword master was correct. It was too late to fix now. He would have to trust his men. He looked at the nervous young bugler.

“Sound Recall,” he ordered calmly. The bugler raised his horn and began to play the order that would end the battle.

*****

It took a minute for the sounds of the bugle to carry along the line and be picked up by others. Soon however the notes of recall were sounding all along the Soulan front. Soulan troopers broke away from the Nor, helping injured mates to stay mounted or often pulling them up into the saddle behind them when their mounts had fallen.

Disengaging from a battle was as much an art as it was a skill. Only the arrogant commander didn't have his men practice such a drill. Even when victorious an army might have to withdraw while still engaged. The Soulan Army had done well today and they knew it. But their orders were clear and more than that they made good sense. Whatever victory had been gained today, the war was long from over. Preservation of their fighting forces was essential to the survival of their kingdom.

Unlike Parno, Beaumont
had
considered the problem of how to disengage his troopers so that they could cover the withdrawal. Consulting by runner with General Bellamy, commander of the 4
th
Soulan Cavalry, Beaumont had made arrangements to have Bellamy's reserve brigade support and replace his own so that they might withdraw in good order to support Whipple.

The actual move was less smooth than he might have hoped for, but considering it was essentially an unpracticed maneuver he wasn't all that displeased. The commander of Bellamy's reserve brigade was steady and calm as his men moved up to engage the Nor troopers to Beaumont's front. As soon as they were on line, Beaumont's men began to withdraw, having already been given their orders before the battle was joined.

Beaumont's men reformed to Whipple's immediate front, allowing their winded mounts a moment of respite as they dressed ranks and filled empty positions. The battle might be considered a victory, but that didn't mean they hadn't suffered losses.

Satisfied that his men were as ready as possible, Beaumont sent a runner to his Marshal to inform him of their readiness and then sat patiently awaiting developments.

*****

Parno watched Beaumont's actions and realized that the canny brigadier had made plans that he himself had forgotten. Buford Beaumont once more rose in stature in the eyes of the Soulan Army's Lord Marshal. If they survived today, then he was more convinced than ever that Beaumont was the man for the mission he had already half planned in his mind.

“He has done well,” Cho Feng noted from his side and Parno nodded absently.

“He has at that. And he thought of something I hadn't, which was how to get his men out of line and ready to cover the withdrawal. I erred badly in that, Master Feng,” Parno admitted.

“You cannot think of everything at once, my prince,” Feng replied. “You must be able to trust and depend upon those who lead your forces to know how to implement the orders you have given them. You no longer command a mere regiment, or even brigade. You must adjust your thinking to fit your new duties.”

Feng was at least the third person today to tell him that, Parno reflected. He had thought himself prepared for the changes that his new rank would necessitate, but today had proven otherwise. He would have to be more aware of both his responsibilities and his limitations. He wasn't accustomed to having limitations, but he'd never been in a position of real responsibility before the war started.

He would have to learn on the job and on the fly, not the best circumstance for an army commander.

“You're right,” he nodded to Feng. “I'm working on it, but there's a lot to learn and I'm out of my element.”

“You are not out of your element, my prince,” Feng stressed. “You are more than capable of performing your duties. It is your mindset that you must change, not your planning or leadership style. You simply must adjust to commanding, rather than leading. And you must begin to think strategically rather than tactically.”

“All right,” Parno nodded again, his eyes still on the distant battlefield. “I assume you can help me learn?”

“Of course,” came the serene reply. “It will be my honor, my prince. We will begin tonight, if you wish.”

“Very well,” Parno replied. “In the meantime however, it's time for us to end this.”

“I agree,” Feng nodded this time. “You have accomplished your goal and your men are still in fighting trim. While we could press the attack here for the moment, we know that the enemy is trying to bring their infantry to bear on the right and there are at least some of those Wildmen you speak of on the left. And there is more to victory than possession of the field of battle.”

“What I was thinking,” Parno agreed. “Here we go,” he said suddenly, seeing the forward units begin to withdraw. “We'll see now how good discipline is in these units.”

Discipline was very good, it turned out. Soulan cavalrymen were selected from the cream of the army. It took more than horsemanship and fighting ability to gain a position in the most prestigious fighting arm of the Soulan Kingdom. It took intelligence, steadiness, and the discipline to obey orders even if they didn't appear to make sense.

That last item meant that the commanders of those units had to earn the trust of the men under their command. For a soldier to follow orders that he himself might think stupid meant that he had to trust the men above him to issue good orders, regardless of what it might look like from their own perspective.

Bugles began to sound along the line. After a brief hesitation the men engaged directly against the enemy wheeled sharply and spurred their horses, creating an instant separation between themselves and the enemy.

Surprised, the Nor were slow to pursue. By the time their own commanders had realized what was happening the Soulan units were through their own lines and reforming behind the reserve forces who now stood ready to engage if needed.

Flustered by the sudden change in tactics, the inexperienced Nor commanders hesitated. In the interim, as they decided to send runners to request instructions, some of their troopers pursued without orders. They did so in small groups and in fits and starts, with no cohesion, no structure, and very little order.

The results were less than ideal.

*****

“Now!” Parno ordered and Whipple dropped his pennant again.

Once more the sky above the battle line was filled with arrows. The broken and uneven lines of Nor cavalry who had pursued without waiting for their comrades paid a heavy price for that impatience. With far fewer targets to choose from, it was inevitable that some would draw more fire than others.

Parno saw at least four horses just within his own view that fell with no less than a dozen arrows protruding from their bodies. Their riders fared no better.

Parno realized suddenly that the Nor lines were unorganized and without leadership. He raised his glasses to look at the enemy's position and saw nothing but indecision and hesitancy. With a start, he understood what was happening.

“They're waiting for orders!” he exclaimed aloud.

“Now is your chance, my prince,” Cho Feng's voice, though much calmer than Parno's, might have betrayed the slightest bit of eagerness. “While they are disorganized.”

“Sound the Withdrawal!” Parno ordered his bugler. “Right away! And keep sounding it!” The young man raised his horn and began to call.

*****

“What in the devil is going on out there!” Stone yelled at no one and everyone at the same time. “Why aren't we pursuing?”

“Runners, sir,” his aide called, pointing to where five different horsemen could be seen descending upon their position. Two arrived at roughly the same time.

“Enemy is withdraw-” Both began, then stopped, looking at each other.

“What is it?” Stone screamed again. “Speak!”

“Enemy withdrawing sir, and General Horley requests instructions!” one of them managed to blurt out.

“I already
gave
instructions!” Stone yelled. “We were to pursue the enemy to within sight of their own lines and no further, doing as much damage as we could in the process!”

“We've taken heavy losses ourselves, sir!” the second runner announced even as the other three reined in. They nodded their agreement since that was part of their own report.

“I don't give a damn about our losses!” Stone bellowed. He knew as soon as he said it that he'd made a mistake but he couldn't take it back. “If we don't pursue and destroy the enemy, then our losses were for
nothing
!” he tried to back away slightly, but the look on the runner's faces told him it was too late for that. Before he could speak again another runner appeared.

“General Horley reports that the enemy is withdrawing while fighting, sir!” the man saluted. “They are engaging us with archery fire again and withdrawing by the numbers!” The runner actually had no idea what that meant, but Stone did. He sighed in defeat, realizing that his hesitant division commanders had just cost him any chance he might have had at victory.

“Order all commands to reform on our side of the clearing,” he ordered dismally. “This engagement is ended.” He looked to his own bugler.

“Sound reform.”

*****

Whipple and Beaumont sat side-by-side observing the enemy action. A distant bugle call came to them from the far side of the clearing, soon echoed by others. The Nor to their front wheeled almost in unison and started for their own lines. Whipple allowed his men their third volley just to spur the enemy on their way, then raised his pennant again. It was largely unnecessary, as his men were highly disciplined and knew their orders.

“I think we can withdraw,” Beaumont observed quietly, and Whipple nodded his agreement.

“I do believe we have spanked them, General,” he chuckled. “Our Lord Marshal should be pleased, I think.”

“I'll find out tonight, I guess,” Beaumont shrugged. “I've been ordered to mess with the Prince tonight.” Whipple looked at Beaumont, frowning slightly.

“So have I,” he admitted slowly. “I would normally think we were being commended, but. . .my 'invitation' came before this battle was decided.”

“Mine came before it was even joined,” Beaumont nodded. “So it must be something else, unless Prince Parno is clairvoyant. In which case, we might just win this war,” he finished with a grin.

“We'll win, regardless,” Whipple stated firmly. “I might not have said that this morning,” he admitted. “But now? Now, I'm sure of it. We'll pay a heavy price to be sure, but we will win.”

“It does look better than it did just a couple days ago,” Beaumont agreed. He was watching the enemy through his glass. “They appear to be reforming, but there's no sign they intend to attack.” He made a snap decision and turned to his aide.

“I want our men scouring the battlefield for wounded,” he ordered. “Withdraw at the first sign of Nor attack. Don't wait for orders, just withdraw. Hurry now!” The aide turned to send runners away.

“Those aren't our orders,” Whipple said softly.

“I won't leave good men to the mercy of those heathen bastards,” Beaumont growled. “And we have time.”

No sooner had he said that when he heard a high pitched yelling from his left.

*****

“Northmans have failed,” Blue Dog said to his own subordinates. “Fight stupid, lose.” He watched as the Nor troopers withdrew, noting that there were a few Soulan troopers still on the field.

“We give Southmans battle?” one of his sub-chiefs asked, eyes almost glowing.

Blue Dog considered that. His position as War Chief was held because of his prowess in battle and the fact that he led his people to victory. Attacking now would not be good tactics but it would please his men. And pleasing his men was part of what kept him Chief.

“We attack,” he nodded. “Take hairs, take horses. One, maybe two pass, then withdraw. No need make Northmans jealous,” he grinned. The others returned it and hurried to their own groups.

Blue Dog had the equivalent of perhaps six companies of Nor cavalry with him, around eight hundred men, total. More than enough to take the flank of this group and allow his men to slake their thirst for blood.

A good day, he decided.

*****

Karls Willard had ordered the Black Sheep to withdraw after the flanking regiment assigned by his brother Enri had departed. For some reason Karls was uneasy. They had not seen any sign of the Tribesmen for some time and that worried him. They were uncanny warriors who specialized in striking from ambush. The woods and scrub cover on the army's left provided the perfect setting for their kind of warfare.

Now Karls sat his horse, watching how the rear-guard fared. His men were fairly well concealed at the moment and his own flank was secured by a squad of Parsons' best scouts. Their position was as secure as it could be outside their own lines.

“Sir, I think the rear-guard is going to search for wounded,” Simmons told him, pointing to where Soulan troopers could be seen moving back onto the battlefield. Willard resisted the urge to curse.