Chapter 2

Every step the company took led them further away from home, a thought prevalent in the mind of every soldier as they moved in the wake of the indomitable Captain Roma. It was a strange sensation, being so desperate for home and yet marching the other way. Like pulling a cart uphill, every damned step in the opposite direction makes the cart heavier. But Tuggs was a farm boy, used to pulling carts. His men around him seemed less determined, dragging their feet like they were walking through a muddy bog. Every few moments Tuggs would notice someone looking longingly over their shoulder, as if they could see home from here if they just looked hard enough.

Sergeant Tuggs cast a quick gaze over his ragtag crew. Lash limped along, talking quietly to Sharp, who had managed to wipe most of the blood off of himself and so looked more man and less like a blood-soaked daemon. Corporal Danza strolled purposefully at the head of his squad, his second-in-command doing a good job at keeping up with the gruelling pace set by Captain Roma up ahead. Behind him was Shoots and Doris shuffling along as quickly as possible, with his squad mage Brightleaf laying in a makeshift stretcher between them. His face looked deathly pale, but to the mages credit he hardly made a sound through the pain. Bringing up the rear was Private Tinker, a faraway look in his eye, and his new members Sums and Hawkit.

Tuggs let the rest of his squad overtake him, falling in beside Tinker. Shock was normal for a new recruit after a battle and usually with a little time and a good meal, they came out of it. Unfortunately, travelling deeper into enemy territory, time was something they didn’t have.

'Private?' said Tuggs. A flicker of movement around Tinker’s eyes and mouth showed he had heard. 'You eaten yet soldier?’ It was a stupid question Tuggs realised. Where would he have gotten food? 'What about water? You been drinking plenty of water? Really important on a long march.' A tiny nod, then the private lifted his water skin and took a quick swig of water.

Sergeant Tuggs gave a small sigh that was part relief and part frustration. The private wasn’t totally broken in the head. Someone’s home, they just weren’t answering the door. With another sigh, this one in resignation, Tuggs patted the recruit on the shoulder and made to catch up with Danza, hoping to get her opinion on the lad.

‘I think the candles burned out in our new recruit,’ Tuggs said as he moved up alongside Danza. She didn’t turn to face him, her eyes instead scanning their surroundings. The forest was thinning out, growing less dense as they moved east.

‘Gaps?’ asked Danza. Tuggs winced, fighting against the image forming in his head.

‘No Tinker. Think he’s got the battle shock bad.’

‘Private Tinker is only half of your problem Sarge,’ replied Danza. She turned to face him, her face set in that seemingly unchanging sombre look. ‘I’ve been catching bits and pieces of Sharp and Lash’s conversation and it’s of the mutinous kind. They aren’t very happy in the direction we’re going.’

‘Shit,’ said Tuggs with a sigh. ‘I don’t think anyone is happy about one drop of this mess, but they wouldn’t dream of it, surely.’ He looked to her for reassurance and received the same blank face as usual. With a final curse he turned back the way he had come.

Lash and Sharp were in a quiet, heated conversation, both emphasising their points with shakes of the head and fierce hand gesturing. Clearing his throat, Tuggs interrupted the pair, motioning Lash off to one side. The look Sharp shot his way before moving on wasn’t pleasant.

‘What was that all about?’ asked the sergeant.

‘Not going to lie to you Tuggs, he wasn’t happy,’ said Lash. Lash and Tuggs went back years, serving together in the Northern Guard long before this war started. He knew he could trust him for the truth. ‘And he ain’t the only one. The whole company thinks this is madness. We’re going the wrong way.’

‘Will you keep your voice down,’ hissed Tuggs. ‘If Mags catches you saying something like that, he’ll cut off your balls and have you carrying them in your pocket.’

‘Come on, Sarge. You know this isn’t right,’ continued Lash. ‘We’re walking right into their hands. We live that way.’ He pointed back west, the way they had come.

Tuggs looked ahead to where Roma and Mags were leading the march. The giant lieutenant, as if on cue, turned around to study the company’s march. For a moment, his eyes rested on the pair before turning and catching up to his captain. Tuggs let out a breath of air he didn’t know he was holding.

‘Mane says we’re being tracked,’ argued Tuggs.

‘He’s a mage. We trusting mages now? You’ve heard what the druids are saying about them.’

‘Since when do you listen to druids?’ Tuggs laughed, but for once Lash’s face remained serious.

‘We’re going to confront them tonight. Y’know? Make the Captain see sense.’

‘Stop right there, Private. This is bordering on mutiny. I’m going to have a hard enough time trying to convince everyone else everything is fine. I need you on my side.’

‘Even if it means us getting killed out here?’ said Lash defensively.

‘We would have been dead already if it wasn’t for those two slashing a way out of there for us to follow. We’ve got to trust she’s got a plan.’

‘She’s got a death wish Tuggs, everyone knows it!’

‘Damn then, Lash, if you can’t trust her, then at least trust me.’ Sergeant Tuggs stared pleadingly at the private, willing his friend to submit.

‘Fine,’ said Lash finally. ‘For you, not for the captain.’ The two walked in companionable silence for a few moments until Lash broke out in laughter.

‘What you finding so funny?’ asked Tuggs.

‘Just picturing me juggling my newly severed balls to distract the company from mutiny.’ The two men broke out in laughter.

‘That might just work,’ said Tuggs. All of a sudden, he had an idea. ‘Lash, when we make camp later speak to Tinker aye. Kids a bit shaken up and I can’t get through to him.’

Lash had a gift of getting a smile out of anyone. He’d even gotten a smirk out of Mags once with a limerick about a man from Renois and frog, although it had landed him cleaning duty the same night.

‘Don’t see if I’ll make any difference, Sarge, but I’ll give it a go,’ said the private.

Tuggs gave his thanks with a pat on the shoulder.

Shoots and Doris waddled passed, the injured Brightleaf laid out between them. The near foot difference in height made the going awkward for the stretcher bearers.

‘Why don’t you give me a go with that thing, Shoots?’ asked Tuggs. He moved to take the poles of the stretcher, which had been made up using a spear with the head broken off and a long branch hacked off a tree, with someone’s rain cloak tied in place between them. Before he could take it, Shoots shrugged him off.

‘That’s fine, Sarge. I got this. Sure you’ve got more important things to do than carry this lazy bastard around all day.’ The squad mage smirked through gritted teeth and Doris let out a chuckle that rumbled like thunder at the front of the stretcher.

‘We’re going to fall too far behind if we let this stretcher slow us down any longer,’ said the sergeant.

‘Only thing slowing us down right now Sarge is you,’ growled Shoots.

‘Let the girl do her job, Sarge,’ said Doris, looking over his massive shoulder. ‘She won’t let you down.’

Tuggs looked down at the small woman, barely over five feet tall, the crossbow by which she claimed her name fastened securely to her back. With a shrug he moved on. Shoots could be as stubborn as a mule and Tuggs didn’t have the energy to argue further.

The company moved on, sombre thoughts creating dark clouds in their mind. As dusk approached the talking petered off as exhaustion claimed each of them until even the quiet conversations held in their own heads seemed too much of a task. One step in front of another was all they could manage. At some point during the day Tuggs had taken the front of the stretcher and Sharp the rear. Every few steps he whispered one curse or another and was forced to note bitterly that Doris and Shoots had managed a better pace despite their obvious disadvantage. They stopped for food once, but what the company could gather together was barely worth chewing for and not long after the company walked on, only slightly less hungry than before.

Throughout the march, despite his best efforts, Tuggs replayed the same moment in his head again and again. Gaps charging in, crying Harold’s name. Tuggs called for him to stay behind him. The private’s shocked look as an Imperial’s sword opened up his stomach. I promised to look after you, Gaps. I’m sorry…

*

They found a road.

To call it a road was being generous. It was barely wide enough for one small wagon and Tuggs suspected that that’s all it was used for. This wasn’t one of the old Imperial roads, laid down in stone three hundred years before and maintained by Imperial masons. This was no more than an old trader’s route; a short cut through a forest connecting two nearby villages. It was used regularly but not heavily. But it had been used recently.

Captain Roma stepped out onto the path and knelt. In front of her was a scuff mark in the path, the barely visible track pressed softly into the muddy earth. Spring showers were common this time of year and it had left the ground moist.

‘Private Kady could track a field mouse back to its home, but she’s dead,’ said Roma addressing the company. ‘Anyone else know anything about tracking?’

‘Hawkit!’ shouted Private Toddy. ‘You’re always telling us, “I can do this, I can do that,” so give the captain a hand.’

‘I didn’t say I was a tracker. Just said my da’ had shown me some things. He could tell you just from that footprint whether it was man or woman, how big he was, where the shoe was from and what he’d had for dinner. He tried to teach me some stuff when I was younger, but I was a lousy student.’

‘Shame your father isn’t here with us then isn’t it Private,’ said the captain looking up from the print to stare at him. The private seemed to wilt under her intense gaze and Tuggs felt a touch of sympathy for his new squad mate.

Hawkit bent down to examine the print. For a short time he squatted over it, scratching his chin and making hmm noises. ‘Yes, it’s definitely a print,’ he said eventually.

Mags cuffed him on the back of the head.

‘I can see it’s a print you fool,’ growled Roma. ‘Who does it belong to? Where is it heading?’

Hawkit winced, then shook his head and returned to study the mark. ‘If I had to guess, it’s a couple of hours old maybe. But it could be more. Sorry, Captain.’ He paused, awaiting the captain’s scrutiny, but when she remained silent, he went on. ‘It’s a good boot, good sole on it, made for walking. They were carrying something, going that way.’ He pointed east.

‘How can you tell?’ interrupted Roma.

‘A good indent where the heel went in. Either that or they’re a big bastard. But honestly captain I’m no good. I’m just trying to remember what me ol’ da’ use to show me but I could be miles off the mark,’ he finished, moving away.

The captain stood, looking in the direction the boot track was pointing, and then turning her head back the way the boot had come. She stood silently for a moment, as if pondering which way to take. The company awaited her decision anxiously. The track had come from the west, closer to home. It seemed to Tuggs as if the whole company appeared to be leaning to one side, as if silently urging the captain to choose west and home. But Tuggs knew which way Roma would choose. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. He turned around, facing his small squad.

‘This way,’ she decided finally, nodding her head eastward in the direction the boots track was heading.

An audible huff rose from the company. Some even prepared protests, opening their mouths to speak. Anticipating that, Tuggs had turned to face his men and now quickly shot warning glances at Sharp and Lash. Their complaints died in their mouths, Lash’s falling from him like a flag in the dying wind. Sharp’s burned out of him, an intensity in his eyes so fiery it sent a shiver down Tuggs’ spine. Still, he managed to meet his gaze long enough for the private to surrender his discontent for now.

‘Sergeant Hame,’ said the captain, summoning the soldier to her side.

Hame didn’t look like a soldier. Despite the armour strapped to his chest and a sword at his hip, even with the vicious cut that ran from his right ear to the corner of his mouth, he was anything but a soldier. Short, plump and with a constant smile on his face that looked like someone had just told him supper was ready, he resembled more baker than warrior. But at Peppin Farm Tuggs had seen him cut down three men, and if that didn’t make him a soldier, not much else would.

‘Yes, Captain,’ said Hame.

‘Split your squad. I want men two hundred paces behind us and two hundred paces in front, I don’t want us running into any trouble without at least some warning. I want them moving alongside the road but from the cover of the trees if possible.’

Hame moved off and Roma signalled the rest of the sergeants to her, whilst Mags told the company to catch a breather, but only after he’d ordered them off the road and into the trees.

Tuggs didn’t like the idea of leaving his squad, even if it was for just a few moments. Tension was growing amongst the company and he feared it would only get worse. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the likes of Sharp and others were whispering into each other’s ears whilst he was away. Sensing his worry, Corporal Danza met his eye and gave him a curt nod. As if he’d given her an order, she moved to position herself between Sharp and Lash. Instantly Tuggs felt better, moving to join the captain.

‘Okay, here is the situation,’ said Roma as Mags joined her side.

The giant looked tired, sweat dripping into his eyes.

‘I don’t know where we are, or where we are going. I know most of you aren’t happy with the direction we are travelling but it seems to me that the further away from where that battle took place, the safer we will be for the time being. Shit.’ She paused, a scowl crossing her face. ‘I don’t know why I am explaining myself to you.’ She covered her eyes with her hands, a momentary show of weakness. When she removed them, she was back to herself, unreadable and impregnable. ‘What I do know is pretty soon people are going to start getting hungry. I don’t know where that track leads, but he was on foot which means it can’t be far. We follow it and—’

‘Captain!’ interrupted Hame, returning to the company red faced, a mixture of excitement and fear in his expression. ‘Someone’s coming!’

‘Civilian or soldier?’ asked Mags, hefting his axe.

‘Couldn’t tell from the distance, but looks to be about a dozen of them.’

For a short moment Captain Roma hesitated, her eyes scanning their surroundings before exploding into action.

‘Sergeant Hame, run and collect the other half of your squad from behind us and get them back here quickly. Be quiet about it.’ The sergeant nodded and ran off in the opposite direction he had come. ‘Sergeant Tuggs, get your squad off to the right of the road, as far back as needed to find decent cover and wait for my whistle. I want you charging out swords drawn. Sergeant Marsten, you do the same on the left side. Wait for my whistle.’

Danza had moved to Tuggs’ side having heard the news and hearing his orders the corporal had moved off to ready the squad. Tuggs lingered for a moment as the rest of Hames’ squad returned.

‘How long until they’re with us?’ asked the captain.

‘We will have sight of them in a few minutes, I’d imagine, Captain,’ said one of Hames’ squad, Private Ikes. ‘They’re soldiers, Captain. Imperial ones.’ Ikes couldn’t have been more than sixteen summers, yet the boy insisted he was older. Everything he did was done with an air of juvenile excitement, as if they all weren’t fighting for their lives.

‘Catch up with your sergeant behind us, Private. Tell him to set up a position off the road about fifty paces back from our position here. I don’t want them making a run for it, understood?’ The youth gave a salute before running off that the captain didn’t have time to chastise. The remaining half of the squad followed.

‘Corporal Pimms,’ continued Roma, ‘take the wounded and find a clear area away from the action. If we are desperate, your squad can help out. We should have more than enough to deal with a dozen Imperials, but just in case, my signal will be three whistles, understood? I don’t want you charging in here on one whistle. Three.’ She held three fingers in front of his face to hammer home her point. The corporal ran off with his small squad, leading the wounded with him which included Brightleaf. Hanno also lay on a stretcher and the two were carried off side by side back into the forest.

‘Mags, join Marsten on the left and send me three of his men.’ The giant turned in shock, obviously concerned he wouldn’t be at his captain’s side. It took a moment for Roma to recognise his reluctance. ‘I want them to see me sitting in this road and think easy pickings. If they see you waiting for them, they’ll shit their breeches and run the other way. Now go.’

Before long, the company was in position. The three men Roma had asked for joined her in the middle of the road. She signalled for them to sit down and ordered them to talk amongst themselves. Then she removed her boot and reached into it, as if fishing out some stone that had gotten lodged in there. Tuggs waited off to the side with his company, breath held as he heard the approach of the Aenean soldiers. We’ve been fleeing from these bastards for two days, and what happens? They pop up right in front of us, persistent as flies on a cow’s rear. There were only twelve of them, but their presence here made it likely there were more close by.

The Imperial soldiers came into sight, relaxed yet still in formation, the evening sun glistening off their armour, the Aenean colours of red and gold painted onto their large, rectangular shields. As their gaze fell upon the four soldiers sitting casually in the middle of the road they stopped, shock briefly registering on their faces before their training took over. The leader of the group quickly gave out instructions as he drew his sword and hefted his shield into a fighting stand. Seven of the Imperial soldiers rushed forward, weapons drawn. The remaining two stayed behind and it was only then that Tuggs noticed that there weren’t twelve Imperial soldiers but nine. The other three were prisoners.

As the enemy closed the distance between themselves and Roma, the captain jumped to her feet, drawing her sword as she cast her boot aside. Then she gave a loud whistle using only her lips. Tuggs and his squad burst from their hiding place, covering the distance between where they had been and the path in moments. Mags was already there, his axe cleaving into the leader of the Aenean squad, smashing him to the ground. Roma, wearing only one boot, blocked a sword thrust on her shield and countered, her sword biting through mail and slashing across another Imperial soldier’s stomach. Tuggs noticed that some of Sergeant Marsten’s squad had peeled off to attack the soldiers guarding the prisoners. Tuggs quickly made a motion to Shoots and Doris to join them.

The Imperials tried desperately to close ranks. As a single fighting unit, the Aenean military had managed to conquer half the world, but they weren’t trained for single combat. Tuggs faced off against a single Imperial soldier, battering the Fistie’s large shield with his sword. The Imperial tried to counter with his short stabbing sword, but the weapon was lacking for this kind of combat. Tuggs dodged around a thrust and found an opening, slicing down into the soldier’s thigh. He went down to one knee crying out in agony. With his sword raised for the kill, Tuggs felt a moment of pity for the man, a feeling that only increased when Mags’ huge axe severed his head from behind.

As quick as it had begun it was over. One of the men who had waited in the road with Roma had taken a small cut to the forearm but other than that everyone else was unharmed. All the imperials were dead, Mags killing three of them personally. He wiped the blades of his axe on the trousers of a dead Fistie as he panted to regain his breath. Tuggs had seen the giant fight for hours without a hint of fatigue. He guessed that the constant marching had taken a toll on the big man.

Shoots and Doris re-joined Tuggs’ squad with the prisoners close behind. They were soldiers, Tuggs realised, looking tired but happy to be relieved of their captors. Captain Roma, having retrieved her boot, came to join them.

‘I bet you boys are happy we were taking a stroll this way?’ she said, her tone light for once. One of the prisoners smirked whilst the other two shared a look with one another. They were an odd pair, one squat and plump, the other tall and spindly. The tall one stepped forward, his pointed, rodent like facial features seeming to take in the whole company before settling on Roma.

‘Who is in charge here?’ he asked, nose in the air like he was addressing his lesser. Tuggs got the feeling the man could be a high-ranking officer. From the way he’s holding himself this snooty bastard could be a major, or higher.

‘I am Captain Roma of 11th Company,’ said the captain. The tall man seemed shocked at this and the shorter one gave off a small scoffing sound that he tried to disguise as a cough. Not everyone agreed with women officers, even in this day and age.

‘Sergeant Bracken at your service Captain,’ replied the tall man with a salute. ‘This here is my Corporal, Lewen. You’ll find he’s a good soldier.’

Tuggs felt something brush against the side of his arm and turned to see the third prisoner by his side. He was of average height and build, dark hair and skin with plain features.

Tuggs went to introduce himself when the soldier said, ‘You’re going to wish you’d never saved them two.’

Captain Roma gave out another whistle then ordered the company back into the trees where the wounded had been secreted. The clearing they had found made a perfect spot for camp and Roma decided it was too late in the day to be moving any further. She took the rescued prisoners off for questioning and left Mags to organise a watch as the rest of the camp readied for sleep. Sharp was selected from Tuggs squad for the first round of the watch, to Tuggs’ relief. Maybe now you’ll have less energy to try and talk to people of mutiny. It was a nice thought.

Marsten’s squad returned, having cleared the Fisties’ bodies off the road. The Imperials had carried a small amount of food with them which Marsten handed to Roma. She distributed the meagre rations to the company who quickly swallowed down the few pitiful mouthfuls.

Despite his hunger, Tuggs began to drift off into the kind of sleep that only exhaustion can bring when he heard a quiet laugh escape someone’s mouth. He turned over, spotting Lash and Tinker huddled close together conversing, Tinker obviously amused at something the older soldier had said. I knew I could count on you Lash, thought Tuggs. Tuggs turned to sleep, a rare smile on his face, when he felt a hand tap his shoulder lightly. He twisted round to see the squad mage Mane hovering over him.

‘It’s Brightleaf, Sarge,’ said the mage quietly. ‘He’s dead.’

*

Tuggs woke before dawn and, with the help of Danza, buried Brightleaf. They hadn’t the tools to dig a real grave but had found a ditch to lay the squad mage in and covered him with branches and nearby rocks. Tuggs felt he’d deserved more. Brightleaf had been his squad mage since the beginning of the war and his death sat heavy on the sergeant.

Standing at the head of the makeshift grave, a cold realisation hit him. He didn’t know anything about him, this man he had called friend. Had Brightleaf been married or had children? Tuggs couldn’t recall. This just made the loss all the worse for Tuggs. He strained for the words to come forth, clawing at his mind desperately for them. He felt Danza’s hand rest on his shoulder.

‘He was a good soldier,’ she said simply, squeezing before letting her hand fall and walking away. Tuggs stared at the grave for a moment before deciding those words were enough. They’ll have to be.

By the time he returned to the company they were quietly stirring. Having camped so close to the road, no fires had been allowed and everyone was waking cold and stiff. Tuggs moved to quickly check on his squad. They had all got the news of Brightleaf’s death and the mood was more sombre amongst them then the other squads. They were all one company, but losing someone from your squad seemed to hurt that bit more. Physically most of them were well. Lash still had his knee tightly bandaged but other than that the rest just carried cuts and bruises that come compulsory to being a soldier.

‘Wish we had some wine to toast our fallen comrade,’ said Lash with a grin as Tuggs knelt down next to his squad.

‘When we get home the first ten skin-fulls are on me.’ Tuggs smiled. ‘If we ever get home.’

‘Okay, that just about covers Doris’ thirst.’ Shoots had a finger halfway to the knuckle up her nose. ‘What about the rest of us?’

With a low whistle Captain Roma called the squad leaders to her before Tuggs could respond. Tuggs gave his team a look over before he got up to leave. He was worried about more than their physical condition.

Lash, like himself, was a seasoned soldier, used to the highs and lows of war. Shoots and Doris said they hadn’t been soldiers before the war but whatever they had been through previously had sculpted them for the wear and tear of army life. Tinker, however, wasn’t a soldier. Some people were born for it, and he was the complete opposite of that person.

As for Sharp, he seemed so unbothered by the whole killing side of things it made Tuggs uneasy. The private seemed on the cusp of revolt and Tuggs had no idea what to do with him. As if sensing Tuggs’ worry, Lash placed a hand over his sergeant’s arm.

‘Don’t worry, Tuggs. I’ll look after them.’

Tuggs locked eye with Danza, who was standing over the squad. She gave him a curt nod that told him she would be the one looking after them. That settled Tuggs’ nerves a little. He had failed to have a single substantial conversation with his tall corporal that didn’t involve war but when it came to business she had never failed him. She had a knack for completing orders he hadn’t given her yet and he was hesitant to admit how much he relied on her.

Tuggs joined the other sergeants surrounding Roma away from the rest of the company. She was tired, but no more tired than the rest of them. She went to speak but stopped herself.

‘Where is Lieutenant Mags?’ she asked, searching around sharply.

‘I think he is still sleeping,’ said Corporal Pimms, pointing at the sleeping form of the giant Mags off to the side of the clearing.

Roma looked like someone had struck her across the face, or as if she herself was about to strike someone. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched.

‘Then wake him,’ she growled at the corporal.

He quickly scurried off and bent over the Lieutenant. The others looked away, anywhere but at Mags or Roma, but Tuggs saw out of the corner of his eye the big man stir, then suddenly shoot up-right. It was the type of jump up that Tuggs had used on the farm as a boy. The type that said you had slept past dawn and would need to skip breakfast.

The huge soldiers gaze went to where Roma had been sleeping; his first concern was his captain. He looked around the makeshift camp before finding her with the other sergeants. Quickly he moved to her side, stumbling slightly, as if he had stood up too quickly.

‘Thank you for joining us Lieutenant,’ said the captain, ice in her voice. She turned to look at Mags, and something she saw there seemed to soften her features.

‘Sorry, Captain, it won’t happen again,’ he growled.

Roma stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly and turning back to her sergeants. She started to speak again when one of the recently rescued prisoners pushed himself between Tuggs and Sergeant Marsten.

‘I’m not sure what this little conspiracy meeting is, but I’m quite sure I should be present.’ Sergeant Bracken stood, facing Captain Roma with his hands on his hips and his chin in the air, his pointed nose shooting like an arrow into the sky.

‘Yes, I suppose you should,’ said Roma, studying him up and down. ‘Him on the other hand should go and join the rest of the company.’ Behind Bracken lurked the short soldier Lewen, waiting like a loyal hound.

‘Corporal Lewen is my second in command. Where I go, he follows.’

‘This is a squad leaders’ meeting, Sergeant, and he doesn’t have a squad. Nor do you for that matter. The decision is yours, he goes, or you both do.’ Roma spoke with such certainty in her voice that the conversation was finished there and then. Even still Bracken looked like he wanted to continue, but after twitching his mouth from left to right for several moments he turned and gave Lewen the signal to move off.

‘I spoke to our new friends last night,’ said Roma, nodding towards Bracken, ‘and they reported that they’d been captured not long after the battle and taken to a heavily guarded town about half a day’s walk from here. The Imperials have been using it as a supply base for their invasion. It’s where we are heading. Bracken confirmed that the Imperials have soldiers scouring the roads behind their lines to make sure they have nothing kicking them up the arse as they push further into Ethylund. Today we are going to make our way towards the town, staying in the cover adjacent to the road and get as close to the town as possible. When we get there, Mags will lead a squad into the town and gather what resources they can. Food, weapons, information. Whatever might help. Then we make a run for it. We will loop around the town, head north for half a day and when we are clear of any patrols they might have out, turn west and head home.’ The sound of relief that came out of the gathered sergeants was audible to the whole company.

Tuggs couldn’t help but think how well the news would go down with his own squad. The fear and uncertainty had caused chaos in the minds of his soldiers. Tuggs knew that whilst they may not all be good people, they were good soldiers at heart. However the strain was starting to show on the people under his command and he knew that talk of home would ease that chaos, especially with Lash and Sharp.

‘Now which squad would like to volunteer for this mission?’ asked the captain. Quickly Sergeant Bracken stepped forward, clearing his throat before speaking.

‘Of course, I would like to volunteer, Captain, however my squad was sadly killed or captured during the battle and only I and Corporal Lewen are left. I’m sure you understand.’

‘Fortunately, Sergeant Bracken,’ said Roma, ‘one of our sergeants is injured. Corporal Pimms was just filling in for him but now we have a man of your rank here to take over he can step down. So, I can accept your request to volunteer for this. You should have inside knowledge of the town after all.’

At this the sergeant seemed taken aback. Tuggs had to give him credit, for he didn’t panic, just took several moments as if to consider it.

‘Best I not, Captain. I knew my old squad like the back of my hand. Men I could trust. I don’t know these men and their capabilities.’

‘Are you implying you can’t trust soldiers from my company, Sergeant?’ said the captain, calm but with the smallest hint of venom.

‘Of course not, Captain. I’m just pointing out that a delicate mission such as this should be undertaken by a sergeant with more experience with his squad.’ An almost perfect excuse, thought Tuggs.

He looked around at the other sergeants. None of them were cowards. All had stood at Peppin Farm and done their country proud, but all the squads carried injuries and none of the sergeants wanted to risk their group picking up any more. Tuggs realised it had to be him. His squad held the least injuries and were the most up to the task. But was he? Tuggs was more than capable with a sword, but this was different. Despite his hesitation, he knew what he had to do. It hurt him to put his troops in such danger, but if someone had to do it, then he trusted his soldiers more than any others.

‘Tuggs, your squad will accompany Lieutenant Mags into the town,’ said Roma, Tuggs’ arm half raised at his side. Had she known I was going to volunteer? he thought, or just drawn the same conclusion as him.

‘Yes, Captain,’ said Tuggs, remembering not to salute and turning to acknowledge the giant Mags who would be leading the mission. The Lieutenant stepped forward to face Tuggs. They’d fought side by side against the Empire since the war started and both had a good measure of each other. However, that was on a battlefield, and this was a more delicate kind of warfare. As both men looked each other over they were probably both wondering the same thing. What business did two men over six feet tall have sneaking around in the night?

‘Sergeant, inform your squad of their orders on the march there,’ growled Mags. ‘I want them ready to go as soon as night falls.’

Tuggs nodded his understanding, meeting the giant Lieutenant’s stare. Mags’ eyes were incredibly bloodshot, like the man hadn’t slept for days or even weeks. Perhaps it was the fact he had not long been woken on Roma’s orders, but his eyes seemed to drop in and out of focus. Tuggs made a quick sweep of the 2nd in command, looking for some sign that could be causing the Lieutenant’s condition. A few bumps and bruises like the rest of them and a small slice on his arm that had been bandaged was the sum of all his hurts.

It must be fatigue, thought the sergeant.

Mags went to say more when a fit of coughs took him, spraying spittle onto Tuggs standing just in front of him. As he fought for control Captain Roma stepped forward.

‘Prepare to march,’ she said simply, dismissing the sergeants.

Each of them returned to their respective squads, Tuggs knowing he was once again about to be the bearer of bad news. He reached up to wipe the spit Mags had launched onto him and went to wipe it on the front of his trousers when he noticed it wasn’t spit at all.

It was blood.