Parno's Destiny: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book Two Read Free Page A

the soldiers outside to see you drug from your quarters for treason.”
    “Treason!” Therron shouted. “On who’s authority!”
    “I may have mentioned the King, when I entered?” Brock replied. “Bring him,” he ordered the quartet of men. Brock was in no mood for dallying with a man who would refuse his King’s orders. Or place the entire kingdom in danger because of some kind of sibling rivalry.
    The former Lord Marshall’s ambulance, his personal transport, was already waiting outside. Therron noted that the driver was not his normal man. A glance around him confirmed that none of his men remained around him.
    “I’ll have your head on a mantel piece for this, Brock,” Therron warned before he was shoved into the ambulance. The four guards followed him aboard.
    “We shall see,” Brock replied, his voice taunt with anger. He nodded to the driver who clucked the team into motion, headed south. The company of troops assigned to the General's command followed save for the squad that would accompany Brock.
    “General, Godspeed,” he turned to Davies. “Prince Parno should be here in a few days, a week at most.”
    “We’ll await his arrival before making any large movements,” Davies nodded.
    “A word of advice, General,” Brock decided to try and help Davies, if he could. “The boy will listen to you if you don’t treat him like a simpleton. He’s very bright and has an excellent mind for both tactical and strategic thinking. And despite his victory at the Gap you’ll find that he is in no way arrogant or unapproachable.”
    “I’ll remember,” Davies promised.
    “I must go,” Brock motioned for his horse, and a trooper moved to bring the mount near. “God be with you and the Army, General Davies.”
    “Thank you, sir,” Davies saluted. Brock sketched a return salute, and then was off at a gallop, trailing the ambulance.
    “Well,” Davies said, more to himself than anyone else. “I guess we’ll see.”
    *****
    Memmnon McLeod walked the high walls of the palace grounds in Nasil, as he did each morning. It was his quiet time. The time he used to try and clear his mind for the day’s duties ahead of him.
    These days, he needed that.
    The war was going badly and no amount of bravado, false cheer, or patriotic fervor could disguise that fact. It was doubtful that the people in the southern reaches of the kingdom knew the complete disaster that had befallen Soulan, but word was spreading. And all the provinces knew their militia units had been called to duty.
    New units were even now being trained and Memmnon wished with all his might that Parno’s instructors were able to be the training officers for these new units. What Parno and his men had done was nothing short of remarkable.
    All the wishes in the world would not make it so, however. And some of the new units, as well as the old, were at Cove Canton undergoing the rugged individual training that Parno’s own men had gone through.
    If we had more time, we could field an entire corps of men so trained , he thought. But time is the one commodity that we no longer have access to.
    He looked at the sun, estimating the time. By now, if things went according to schedule, Therron would be on his way back to Nasil, technically under arrest. Memmnon still had his doubts about how all that would play out in the end. It had been Tammon’s decision not to mention the treason that both father and son suspected of the Lord Marshall. Former Lord Marshall, Memmnon corrected himself.
    Which made him think of Parno, even now moving west with all that remained of his magnificent command that had served so well at the Gap. It was hoped that Parno would be able to turn things around in the west. If he could stop the Nor advance, let alone push it back, then it would buy precious time for other movements to be made.
    But could he do it? There was no question that Tammon had laid a terrible burden upon the shoulders of his youngest son. A son that he had