Parno's Destiny: The Black Sheep of Soulan: Book Two (42 page)

Daly had the good sense not to antagonize him, though he did send a courier with word that he had 'informed the Emperor of the situation'. Wilson knew that meant the little weasel had undoubtedly galloped back to his quarters to dictate a message of how Wilson's ineptitude had cost the Imperial Army so much.

For once, he didn't care. He had failed, after all. He deserved whatever came his way. He had already decided that he would inform the Emperor of his failure and subject himself to whatever punishment he might chose, hoping to save his family from a similar fate if possible.

Oddly enough, his main worry was who would command after he was gone, and how well they would treat his army.

The day could not pass quickly enough for all that the sun moved rapidly across the afternoon sky.

*****

“We'll be stopping soon, milady,” a voice came through the window, startling Stephanie out of her brief nap. Once the road had smoothed out the gentle rocking had lulled her to sleep. Winnie was curled into a ball across from her, sleeping soundly.

“What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

“Perhaps two hours until dark, milady,” the man supplied. “We have made good time. We'll be able to exchange horses at the inn, and you'll be able to get a good meal, clean up and rest. If all goes well, we should be in Nasil before dark on the morrow.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she smiled. “I appreciate it.”

“Milady,” the man nodded and rode on ahead of the ambulance. Stephanie reached across to gently shake Winne's shoulder. The younger woman was instantly awake, knife in hand as she looked around her.

“Easy, there,” Stephanie soothed. “Just wanted you to know we're stopping soon.”

“Really?” Winnie put the knife away as she swung her feet off the bench and back to the floor, sitting up straight and stretching. Her blouse strained to contain her ample bosom and Stephanie made a note to get the girl more proper clothing while in the city. Buckskins and cotton were fine for training, but a young lady should have properly concealing clothes.

“Really,” she replied. “We've made good time, and the Captain says we'll likely be there before dark tomorrow.”

“Good!” Winnie smiled. “I've never been there, you know,” she added wistfully. “Is it grand?” she asked.

“It is,” Stephanie nodded. “It has its dark and dirty spots of course, as any large city will, but there are grand buildings and wonderful works of art there. Artisans from all over the kingdom come there to display their work and scholars come to study. You'll find people of almost every walk of life and every lifestyle in the Royal City.”

“Why is it called the Royal City?” Winnie asked.

“Well, it's where the kingdom began,” Stephanie explained. “After the Burning, the Dying Time, Nasil was where Tyree gathered the survivors and started over. The kingdom grew from there out of alliances with other survivors in a few other cities like Lana and Bingham.”

“So Tyree was the one who organized all of that?” Winnie asked.

“No, not at first,” Stephanie recounted the history she'd been forced to learn as a girl. “He was a warrior, actually. Very young, in fact, not having reached his majority. He led a small group of warriors who were among the most fierce of the survivors. They protected the city and the people who came there, and defended them against attack from outside. Gradually the people came to love him and his men, and as he grew older it was the people who decided that Tyree should be king. History records that he was reluctant to accept such a title, but someone eventually convinced him it was the best thing for the times they lived in.”

“I wonder why?” Winnie said aloud.

“Well, when times are dire, people need someone or something to rally around. To protect and to serve, I guess. That was once an old motto among some I'm told. Having a dynasty to be loyal to is a uniting factor for so diverse a people, too,” Stephanie added. “When they can all agree on that one thing, meaning who is good enough to lead them, or wise enough to lead them I suppose, and strong enough to keep them safe, then their other disagreements are less likely to cause division. Essentially, if something is bad for the Crown, it's generally bad for the kingdom, and that means bad for the people of the kingdom.”

“That makes sense,” Winnie nodded. “Tyree must have made quite an impression.”

“That's what the historians say,” Stephanie nodded, thinking of another young ruler who made quite the impression.

*****

“Impressive, isn't it?” Callens remarked aloud, not really to any one person. He and his chosen men were looking at the palace from perhaps a mile distant as the light began to fade.

“Aye, Colonel,” the man nearest him replied in almost a whisper. “Been too long since we looked upon it,” he added.

“And likely to be longer before we do again,” Callens nodded, turning to face the thirty men he had selected for this mission.

“Our primary objective is to free Her Ladyship,” he told them. “Secondary to that is to find the location of Prince Therron. It is possible that she knows where he is already, which will make our lives much simpler. Mister Beals,” he indicated the footman, whose name he had only just learned, “will guide us into the palace through a route that will bring us literally to Her Ladyship's door.”

“Expect her to be guarded, since we assume she is under house arrest. Understand that we kill only when necessary. These are still our people, misguided though they may be. We kill only to protect ourselves or Her Ladyship. I will kill any man who kills another indiscriminately in the House of Tyree. Is that clear?” Heads nodded agreement.

“Very well,” he nodded. “Once we've secured Her Ladyship, providing no alarms have been raised, we will then attempt to gain what intelligence we can. If the alarm has been raised, we will take her and go immediately. All of us are expendable if it means Her Ladyship is freed. That includes me. Are we understood?” Heads nodded again.

“In the event I am killed or captured, your orders are simple; ride to the rendezvous, meet up with the Regiment, and from there Her Ladyship will instruct you on what course of action to take. You will keep her safe and do all in your power to ensure that Prince Therron is freed and returned to his rightful place. Are there any questions?”

There were none.

“Then move out. Groups of five, remember your routes, and meet at our rendezvous as planned.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

-

Beals led Callens directly to a small door that was hidden in a darkened alcove beneath the windows of Sherron McLeod's apartments. They waited just inside as the rest of the group arrived, slipping inside unnoticed. Once they were all present, Callens nodded to Beals who turned and led the way quietly up a set of recessed stairs.

The men moved carefully so as not to create any noise. After two flights of stairs, Beals motioned in the dim light of a single lamp to wait and moved forward to the wall before them. Pressing lightly, he pushed the panel aside revealing a small room with a single chair. Motioning Callens and his men forward, Beals moved to the door, using the small window to ensure that the coast was clear. Satisfied that it was, he turned to Callens and nodded.

The colonel led the way out of the room and to the left, walking directly toward Princess McLeod's rooms, his men following while Beals closed the door and remained to secure their way out. As they rounded the corner before their destination, two men in the garb of Royal Constables stood at attention outside the doorway. The two lawmen turned their attention to the soldiers but showed no undue alarm as they wore the garb of the Royal Family.

“We're here to escort the Princess to see her brother,” Callens informed them briskly. “She should be ready to go by now, correct?”

“Sir?” the lead guard showed his surprise. “I have no information about that, sir. No one has been here in the last hour with news.”

“She would have been informed before then,” Callens shook his head. “We need to move smartly. The Prince has other business tonight.” He moved to the door and knocked as if he had all the authority in the world to be there and do so.

A tall woman in identical uniform to the door guards opened the door, frowning.

“We're here to escort the Princess down,” Callens repeated. “Prince Memmnon says she'll be returned once the meeting is over, but did not specify how long that was to be.”

“We weren't advised,” the woman admitted. “I don't think Her Ladyship is prepared to go anywhere,” she added.

“That's her problem,” Callens replied gruffly. “No disrespect, but she was told he would see her this evening. That's all I know, but my orders are to escort her down. So ready or not, she goes.”

“Understood,” the woman nodded. “Wait here and I will go and get her.”

“Quickly as you can,” Callens nodded. “We're on a schedule.” The woman nodded again and moved to allow Callens and two of his men into the sitting chamber while she moved to the Princess' bedchamber.

“My Lady, there is an escort here for you,” the woman called. “You are to see your brother, they say.”

“Then he can come here!” the muffled reply came through the door. Callens resisted the urge to shake his head. Of course she would complicate things when so far the plan was working. He moved to the door, motioning for the female Constable to wait.

“Princess, our orders are to escort you out,” he said forcefully. “That is going to happen, My Lady. How is up to you. Please open the door. Now.”
Please open the door you headstrong woman
, he silently plead. His prayer was answered as the door was abruptly yanked open to reveal a red faced Sherron McLeod in all her fury.

“I told you I-” she cut herself off abruptly at seeing Callens. She looked at him, then to the men behind him, then back to him. His eyes begged her not to make a scene. Looking cowed, she nodded jerkily. She turned to gather a small satchel that she had kept prepared for her escape and then threw a coat over her dress.

“Fine,” she replied in a sulky tone. “I see that I'm to be treated no better than a common street walker.”

“We will not in any way be disrespectful of Her Ladyship, but we will carry out our orders,” Callens replied dutifully. “Please let us do this as gently as possible.”

“Very well,” she sighed dramatically. “Let us go.” Callens extended an arm and allowed the Princess to exit the room ahead of him, his two men falling into trail. Three others waited outside while the remainder stayed out of sight around the corner.

Sherron McLeod managed to maintain her routine until they were out of earshot before she turned to Callens and grinned.

“I knew you would not fail me,” she said simply, her voice breathy and soft.

“Indeed,” Callens replied stoically. “Let us make good our escape while there is no alarm,” he added. Sherron shook her head.

“Not yet. I must find out where Therron is being kept. The quickest way I know to do that is to force the information from my father.”

“My Lady,” Callens fought to conceal his alarm, but Sherron cut him off.

“No. I will not leave without it. We can stumble about looking or we can go to the source. I prefer to go to the source. Let’s go.” With that she led the way down the hallway to the stairs and Callens had no choice but to follow with his men.

*****

Memmnon had been anxious all evening. He of course had many reasons to be anxious with a crisis among his family, a war being waged and a father in ill health. Still those problems had been present for some time.

He decided to walk the walls to see if that would relieve his anxiety. It was something he did often of a morning time. Perhaps it would help this evening as well.

Leaving his offices, he made his way out to the stairway near the main gate and climbed to the top, followed by a single guard and an aide who maintained a respectful distance from the Crown Prince. His walks and moods were well known and his actions surprised no one. The guards nodded to him in passing but otherwise continued their watch. There was a war on, after all.

*****

Tammon McLeod let the book he'd been reading fall to his lap, rubbing his eyes. He was feeling better today than he had in some time. Well enough to try and catch up on what was happening. His son had visited earlier in the day when he was still sleeping so he had not had the chance to see Memmnon as yet. Feeling more lively than he had in some time, he decided to send for his son. He pulled the servant cord, and when his footman appeared asked him to summon Memmnon for him.

While he waited he decided to continue his reading but before he could his physician walked in for his nightly visit. Sighing in frustration, Tammon endured Smithe's poking and prodding with a minimum of fuss, hoping that would satisfy the man and get him out that much quicker.

Smithe was all but done when the two heard a commotion outside Tammon's door.

*****

The two guards at Tammon McLeod's door had proven capable and Callens regretted their death, but neither had gone easy. One of his own men was also dead and two others injured, one seriously. Sherron McLeod ignored that and barged into the king's apartments without a backward glance.

Smithe had just enough time to open his mouth in shock before the ornately jeweled dagger in her hands pierced his chest, perforating his left lung and striking his heart a glancing blow. In all likelihood the fussy man was dead when he hit the floor. Stepping over him as casually as if he were a log, Sherron entered her father's bedchamber.

*****

The footman decided to deliver the message himself. It was almost time for him to retire and a good walk might make it easier for him to sleep. With the king's declining health, the man faced his own imminent retirement as well. He would no longer live in the palace but would be relegated to housing in the city. Not that he would suffer. Tammon McLeod was generous to a fault with his servants, but the man would miss the amenities of the palace. He planned to make use of them as long as he could, especially the kitchen. Perhaps a snack before retiring. Once he'd located the Prince, of course.

It took longer than he'd imagined, going first to Memmnon's offices and then following the directions of the staff to the wall. There he finally managed to catch up to the young ruler and inform him of his father's wishes. That done, he decided he would head to the kitchen. Now that his work was done, he could get a light snack and then retire to his own chambers for the evening. Barring some unforeseen problem, he would not be needed again tonight.

Memmnon took a deep, cleansing breath of the chilled night air and then descended the stairs to attend to his father. There was no sense in putting it off, he figured.

*****

“What are you doing here, traitor?” Tammon demanded, some of his old spine showing even as he faced his own daughter with a bloody knife in her hand. “And you Callens,” he looked past her to the colonel. “I pegged you for many things, but treason was not among them.”

“Should it prosper, none dare call it treason,” Sherron answered for them both. “I have a proposition for you father,” she said harshly. “If you tell me where Therron is, I will kill you quickly. If you refuse, then I will kill you much more slowly. Now,” she advanced slowly;

“Where. Is. My. Brother.”

*****

Behind her, Callens felt his axis tilt slightly. Killing the king had been no part of his plan. Nor had killing the Crown Prince for that matter. He had assumed that Therron would banish or exile the Crown Prince once he was on the throne, but. . .regicide was not something he'd considered even for a second.

It struck him as he listened to her speak that Sherron McLeod might not be well balanced.

*****

“Kill me then and be damned to you!” Tammon shot back. “I'm dead anyway, you wretched child. My heart simply doesn't recognize that yet. What is it you hope to gain by knowing where your snake of a twin is anyway? He's of no more use to you now.”

“On the contrary,” Sherron smiled nastily. “I've groomed Therron for years to take your place, old man. To rule from the seat of power the way a true king should rule. With all the power and authority of a true king, not some cowardly doddering old fool! The people will at long last have a king worthy of the name and worthy of following! Now
where is he
!” her voice raised as she spoke until she was almost yelling.

“I'll tell you nothing,” Tammon assured her. “Go ahead. Nothing you do to me can be worse than knowing that two of my own children have betrayed their family and their heritage,” he added sadly. “To think I ever doted on you, you shrewish wretch!” he all but snarled, showing the fire that he had demonstrated as a younger man. Sherron was momentarily taken aback by that.

“At least I still have two children worthy of the name,” Tammon added, wounding his daughter where it mattered most.

“So you value Parno above Therron and I?” Sherron asked, far too calmly for Callens' liking.

“I valued all of you until you proved yourself unworthy of that value,” Tammon shot back. “He, at least, is loyal, even when he needn't be. Unlike the two of you he puts the well being of this kingdom above his petty likes and dislikes.”

“And Therron will never rule Soulan,” Tammon couldn't help but add. “Memmnon will sit upon the throne whether you like it or not and Parno will see to it that he does!”

Sherron had heard enough. Screeching in rage she ran forward and plunged the dagger into Tammon McLeod's chest, a deep and deadly blow though not instantly fatal. As she knelt over him, seething, she could hear his breath rattling in his chest.

“Tell me where he is or I will find Memmnon tonight and kill him before I leave,” she threatened, and finally was rewarded with a glimmer of fear in her father's eyes. Not for himself, but for his son.

“You. . .you will do it. . .anyway,” he managed to gasp out.

“It's your only chance to save him, though,” she told him, eyes flat, absent any emotion. “If you don't tell me, I'll definitely kill him. If you do, maybe I won't. It's your only option.”

Tammon realized in his last minutes that his daughter was more than just disturbed, as he'd always thought of her. She was in fact insane. Criminally so, in fact. Perhaps Callens would make her heed her promise, but he didn't count on that. His one comfort as he made his decision was that Parno would make Sherron suffer for this before it was done.

“K. . .Key Ho. . .Horn,” he gasped out. “I exile. . .iled him to the Key Horn.”

“I should have known,” Sherron all but snarled. “Goodbye father,” she said, smiling suddenly. “Die knowing that you are a failure. You'll be forgotten, a faceless name on the roster of the dynasty.” With that she twisted the knife savagely in her father's chest, tearing into his failing heart muscle.

Tammon died still looking at his traitorous daughter, refusing to look away from her as he breathed his last. In fact, his last thought was that he hoped his image haunted her, if he himself could not return to do it.

And then he was gone.

Sherron was still for a moment as the import of what she'd done sank in. Standing slowly, she pulled her dagger from her father's chest, looking at it. Suddenly, to Callens' horror, she giggled. She whirled to find him and several of the others looking at her in shock.

“How did you expect this to end?” she demanded. “Come, Colonel. We know where Therron is. We mustn't waste any more time.” She was almost to the door when it opened, leaving her face to face with her brother and two other men.

*****