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  PARNO’S PERIL

  The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book 4

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  PARNO’S PERIL: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book 4 by N.C. REED

  Published by Creative Texts Publishers

  PO Box 50

  Barto, PA 19504

  www.creativetexts.com

  Copyright 2018 by N.C. REED

  All rights reserved

  Cover photos used by license.

  Design copyright 2018 Creative Texts Publishers, LLC

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual names, persons, businesses, and incidents is strictly coincidental. Locations are used only in the general sense and do not represent the real place in actuality.

  Kindle Edition

  PARNO’S

  PERIL

  N.C. Reed

  CREATIVE TEXTS PUBLISHERS, LLC

  BARTO, PA

  For the Ranger, the Clerk, and the Chef.

  I hope you can see me, and you're proud.

  We carry on as best we can without your presence.

  We love you still. We always will.

  For my wonderful wife and nephew, who are my reason.

  They are my sounding board and my helpers when I am stumped.

  They keep me going when I'd rather quit.

  I love them beyond reason.

  THE CAST

  -

  Kingdom of Soulan

  Memmnon McLeod-- King of Soulan

  Parno McLeod – Crown Prince of Soulan and Lord Marshal of all Soulan Military forces

  Stephanie Corsin-Freeman -- Royal Physician and Director of Military Surgeon schools

  Winifred Hubel – former archery instructor and now Queen designate and fiancé of King Memmnon

  Edema Willows – Duchess of Cumberland and Parno's surrogate mother

  Dhalia Nidiad – daughter of Darvo Nidiad and Viscountess of Wolfe, Parno's adoptive sister

  Colonel Karls Willard – Commander of the Black Sheep regiment, and Dhalia's fiancé

  Cho Feng – oriental Warmaster and teacher of Parno McLeod

  Brigadier Enri Willard – Karls older brother and now Chief of Staff for Parno's command staff

  General Bryce Davies – Commander, 1st Soulan Field Army

  General Gerald Allen – Commander, 1st Soulan Cavalry Corps

  General Arnold Graham - 1st Soulan Infantry Corps

  General Darren Gavin - 2nd Soulan Infantry Corps

  General Roland Raines – 3rd Soulan Infantry Corps, (Also commanders of Second Soulan Field Army)

  General Henry Herrick – 4th Soulan Infantry Corps

  General Willis Freeman – 5th Soulan Infantry Corps

  General Preston Wilbanks – 1st Soulan Cavalry Division

  General Wilton Vaughan – 14th Soulan Cavalry Division

  General Thaddeus Coe – 5th Soulan Cavalry Division

  Brigadier Sam Walters – 9th Soulan Cavalry Division, provisional (behind Gerald Allen)

  Admiral Raphael Semmes – Fleet Admiral, Soulan Navy

  Commodore Anthony David – Commander, KeyHorn Squadron

  Lieutenant Commander Jonathon Riddell, Keyhorn Flag Secretary

  Captain Anthony Chastain – Captain, Soulan Naval Cruiser Halifax

  Therron McLeod – Deposed Crown Prince of Soulan, sentenced to exile, now on the run and attempting to garner support from other nations to attain the crown of Soulan

  Captain Andrew Case – Commander, Queen Designate's escort

  Sebastian Grey – Chief Constabulary officer, Kingdom of Soulan

  Henry Govan – Chief adviser to King Memmnon

  Colonel Mason Stang – Commander of Soulan Palace Guard

  Colonel Robert Moore – Commander of King's Own, personal regiment of King Memmnon

  Gideon Philo – Minister of Agriculture, Kingdom of Soulan

  Roda Finn – inventor, staff of Prince Parno (his patron)

  Whip Hubel – perhaps the best archer in Soulan, former instructor to Prince's Own, father of Winnie Hubel and now in charge of 'watching' the eccentric Roda Finn

  The Tinker – thought to be a gypsy or descendant of one, once a traveler and repairer of trinkets, served as a spy for Parno and now operates a tavern and 'brothel' within the rear of Soulan army camp in an effort to spy out rogue elements loyal to Parno's brother, the former Lord Marshal. Tinker is a mysterious figure even to those who know and work for him.

  Rosala – 'Rosa', oversees the 'brothel' part of the operation, her girls see and cater only to high ranking officers and others of importance. Courtesans rather than prostitutes. She knows more about Tinker than any other, but never speaks of it.

  Ezekiel Watts – owner of the Hogshead Inn, which he rents to Tinker. He works as a barman and lives on premises.

  Briel- Niece of Rosa's and bar maid

  Jaelle – serving girl and seamstress for those at the inn

  Aaron Bell – members of Prince's Own, Black Sheep, working at the inn as added protection for Tinker's 'spy ring'.

  Norland

  General Gerald Wilson – commander, 1st Imperial Field Army

  Brigadier Britton Sterling – Wilson's Chief of Staff

  General Peter Venable – Commander 1st Imperial Infantry Corps

  General Joel Vanhoose – Commander 2nd Imperial Infantry Corps

  General Darrell Thomas – Commander 3rd Imperial Infantry Corps

  General Calisto Jurgen – Commander 4th Imperial Infantry Corps

  General Abraham Springfield – Commander 5th Imperial Infantry Corps

  General Eric Metz – Commander 6th Imperial Infantry Corps

  General Brent Stone – Commander 1st Imperial Cavalry Corps

  Brigadier Jerome Baxter – Commander 3rd Imperial Cavalry Division

  Colonel 'Smith' – Imperial Secret Police

  PROLOGUE

  -

  The old tree had seen a great many seasons come and go on this mountain.

  It had seen snow too deep to be tread, wind so high that many of its kin had fallen to it and then rotted where they lay, and it had seen days hot enough to kill the leaves that helped provide it nourishment. It had lived through four rampaging fires that had swept the mountain over the span of its life, had been home to numerous birds and squirrels and other inhabitants, and had left its mark around it with smaller trees now stretching for the light of the sun, hidden in years past by the greater canopy thrown out by the leaves of the great older tree.

  But that great tree was dying. In truth it was all but dead, hanging to life by a mere thread anymore, and still standing merely because it had not yet fallen rather than because it was able to endure against the elements. After a long and full life its time was drawing near.

  -

  It was called the rule of three, and it was as old perhaps as the world itself and certainly as old as the kingdom. A very simple policy, it meant that if you had to send one, you sent three to make sure one made it.

  The Royal Courier Regiment practiced this rule as a policy of their own. Dispatches carried by Royal Courier were typically from a member of the Royal Family, or barring that then someone very highly placed in the Royal Government. Army Corps generals, admirals, provincial governors, and Royal Constables were
among the select members of the Soulan Government that were allowed to use riders of the Royal Couriers. No one else was allowed access to their services.

  So, it was a typical practice that saw three such couriers dispatched to the Coastal Province Coalition with news that Tammon McLeod had been murdered by his daughter, who was even now in the act of treason and uprising against the rightful heir, Memmnon McLeod, whom she had likewise attempted to murder. Conspiring with her twin brother to seize the throne of Soulan, Sherron McLeod was now a criminal and enemy of the state. Rendering assistance to her or her twin Therron, the former Lord Marshal of the Soulan Army, would be considered an attempt to interfere with the Dynasty of Soulan and would be considered an unfriendly act. Any contact with the twins should be relayed at once to the Royal City, to the attention of Sebastian Grey, Commander of His Majesty's Royal Constabulary.

  Three couriers carrying identical messages, mounted on the best horseflesh that a kingdom renowned for its horses could provide. Surely one of them would be able to deliver that message.

  Surely.

  -

  The rider cursed again as his horse reared slightly, nervous from the height as well as the unstable trail they had to follow.

  The Royal Courier had cursed a lot today. This area was wickedly dangerous for travel and the trail was only sparsely used because of it. He hadn't wanted to use it but each rider had to take a different route. The luck of the draw has seen him take the short straw, meaning the roughest route was his. The other two routes had seen frequent bandit activity since the war had curtailed patrols so the couriers using them did not have the greatest chance of success. This trail, treacherous as it was, saw no such activity and was considered a safer bet. Assuming one didn't die using it, of course.

  Inside his courier bag, sealed with the Royal Seal, was a letter addressed to the governor of the Coastal Provinces. It had to be delivered as soon as possible, he'd been told. Very urgent. Can't delay. He snorted at that. Of course, it was urgent. Why use a Royal Courier if it wasn't urgent?

  The horse skittered again as rocks fell beneath them, crumbling from the trail and falling far into the gorge below. The rider reined the horse in and decided to walk the animal for a while. This area was tricky enough without having to stay mounted on a skittish animal. In truth he couldn't blame the horse, though, since he didn't much care for the height either.

  “Easy boy,” he patted the gelding's big neck and the horse nickered softly. Grabbing the pommel of his saddle, the rider pulled his leg over and started to step down.

  Disaster struck from nowhere.

  Somewhere behind them a tree fell. In the part of his mind not occupied with his predicament, the rider decided it must have been a very large tree due to the incredible noise it made in crashing to the forest floor.

  The gelding, already spooked by his proximity to the edge of a steep and narrow trail, instantly bolted forward, startled by the sudden crash. The rider, caught by surprise with one leg out of the stirrup and in the process of dismounting, tried to regain control of the animal but lost his grip, falling from the horse though his left foot was caught in the stirrup.

  Horses chosen for Royal Courier duty were well trained. If their rider was lost they were trained to stop at once in the event of just such an emergency as this. To stop and wait for their rider to remount. They would wait until thirst or hunger drove them to move on, the assumption being that if a rider hadn't remounted by that time he wasn't going to.

  But this horse was frightened. His training was no good against that fear and thus when his rider was lost he didn't even realize it, continuing to gallop along the dangerous trail as the rider bumped along behind him, unconscious after having hit his head on a large rock in the trail as he was dragged along.

  Scared and confused, the horse didn't note the change in the trail. Didn't see the sharp turn it made. Waiting for his master to tell him to turn, the frightened horse plunged over the side of the mountain, screaming in fear as he drug his rider along with him.

  Three thousand feet below the two would lie together, forgotten, having died in service to the kingdom of Soulan. Never to be found, their message forever undelivered.

  -

  One of the messengers had never left Nasil, or at least never left sight of the city. As he topped a hill just outside the Royal City he was struck by a single arrow that penetrated his heart and knocked him from his horse. Trained to stop at the loss of his rider the horse had agreeably slowed and turned to look behind him. It would not be necessary to chase him down.

  The assailant was grateful for that as he would need the horse later. Just as he would need something else the courier had.

  But first, he needed to get the body out of sight.

  -

  The last courier had simply ran afoul of Mother Nature. Attempting to cross a creek, he had misjudged the speed and depth of the water rushing over the small ford. As a result, both he and his horse were swept away, drowning in the heavy current before they were able to make either shore. It could have happened to anyone, but in this case, it had happened to the worst possible person, as he had been the last survivor.

  It was just a freak accident, a culmination of perfect timing as heavy rain on the mountain nearby had filled the creek at just the wrong time. An hour earlier and the courier would have passed without trouble. A day later would have also been fine. But that exact time was not, and the last of the Rule of Three died, pulled beneath the swirling waters and unable to escape, his dispatch case lost in the rushing waters and likely for all time.

  For lack of a message, there would be no warning. Warning that might have saved many people a great deal of trouble.

  CHAPTER ONE

  -

  Stephanie Corsin looked out the window of Lady Cumberland's coach as it bumped along the route toward the front. When she had first learned of the Duchess' deceit in tricking her into this trip she had fumed in silence for hours. When they had stopped at an inn the night before to rest she had gone immediately to her room, refusing to speak to the older woman that she felt had betrayed her.

  With the light of a new day shining on her, the young physician's thoughts turned from said betrayal to fear. Not the quaking fear that the two-day invasion of Nasil had left her and many others feeling, but rather a gut-wrenching nervousness that threatened to overwhelm her, leaving butterflies dancing in her stomach.

  Edema had told her she had the two or three days it would take to reach the army to figure out what she, Stephanie, would say to Parno McLeod.

  As if it were that easy, she snorted delicately to herself, her gaze not really seeing the landscape they were passing through. What could she say to him? She had thoroughly poisoned that well with careless words, spoken in anger and with terrible timing. How was she supposed to undo that? What magic formula could she use to erase those horrible words she had spoken to him on the eve of his rejoining the army?

  Parno McLeod was not an overly forgiving man, and she had hurt him. He would likely die under torture without admitting it, but she knew she had. She sat back in her seat, slumping a bit as a cloud of self-inflicted depression settled on her. If she had been able to wrap the cushioned seat around her, she would have.

  “Don't slouch, dear,” Edema told her casually, not looking up from her novel. “It's bad for your posture and bumping along like we are could even hurt your back.”

  “I know that,” Stephanie shot back at once though without any heat in her tone. “I am a doctor, you know.”

  “Yes dear, I know,” Edema replied as she turned to a new page, never looking up. “Have you thought about what you might say when we arrive?” she asked.

  “I've thought about little else, but thinking about it won't make it any easier,” the younger woman retorted, though she had straightened in her seat even as she spoke. “There's nothing I can think of that would help.”

  “I'm sure it will come to you,” Edema told her without a hint of concern in her voice
.

  “I'm glad you're so certain things will work out fine,” Stephanie allowed her irritation to creep into her voice this time. “Since this is all your doing after all,” she added. “He's going to be furious when we show up against his wishes, Edema. That will only make it so much more difficult for me to talk to him. Assuming he will see me at all.”

  “He will see you, dear,” Edema finally looked at her across the top of the open novel. “And while he may be angry at our presence, he will get over it. You shouldn't dwell on all that and instead be worrying about what you're going to say when you get there.”

  Stephanie sighed is resignation as she returned to her observation of the country side through the window. It was easier than talking to someone who refused to entertain any opinion other than her own.

  -

  Unaware that his surrogate mother and former betrothed were on their way to see him, Parno McLeod was nestled very comfortably in bed, his face relaxed in a way it hadn't been since before the war. A hand gently stroked his hair as he slept, eliciting a sound somewhat like a purr from the young prince.

  Jaelle still could not help but wonder at her brashness the night before on seeing the handsome Prince of Soulan in the tavern below. She had not realized anyone was inside, let alone the Prince and two of his entourage. She had intended to get something to eat and then turn in for the evening. Instead her night had become a great deal more interesting in just a few minutes.

  Cradling the prince slightly as he slept, she could not help but notice how much more peaceful he seemed this morning. Last night he had seemed to be bordering on morose, as if a great weight had been pressing down upon his shoulders. A weight that he alone had to bear, despite being surrounded by others. His handsome features had been creased with a premature aging that made him look far beyond his few years. This morning he looked much more like the very young man he still was.