Chapter 1

‘It won’t be long now’, Darras, the man known simply to his troop as ‘the Captain’, sighed mentally. Their ammo was out and the Trenichans were finally bringing up a cannon to breach the gate.

“Been an honour, Captain,” Doc Washal said quietly from behind him.

“It has, for me too,” Darras, who was actually a Colonel, replied. “Is it done?”

“Aye, I put them to rest with the last of the morphia.”

“I suspect they’re the lucky ones,” Darras sighed.

“Aye, no doubt of it, but we who are left won’t run, you know that.”

“Wouldn’t do us much good, food ran out two days ago,” Darras nodded, glancing over at the remaining old men who made up what were his ‘special command’.

“Aye, those bastards would hunt us down for sport and impale us as decorations around the ruins here anyway.”

“That they would. An ignominious end to what’s left of the finest Regiment still on Ostari soil.”

“We finally taught them respect though,” Doc grinned.

“True, but too little too late.”

The war had begun five years before when the Empire of Trenich finally made good its threats to conquer its old rival, the Republic of Ostar. Taking advantage of a bitter civil war in the Kingdom of Sumallis, Ostar’s once powerful ally, they had surged across the border in a mass wave of riflemen and cavalry, swiftly capturing Eonis, the border citadel, with cannon strikes and then putting all males to the sword or occasionally impaling them as a warning to any about resisting the new regime. The women and children were then led away in chains to the ever-voracious slave markets of the Empire, most of them never to be seen again.

Darras had formed a volunteer troop of archers from the villages of the Landanan forest. Whilst many of the newly formed regiments used muskets, Darras knew the value of his troop as scouts and infiltrators and used his few connections in the capital Tira to have them assigned as such.

The first major battle at the Torgallen fords had taught the Ostari a bitter lesson. Though victorious in driving the Trenichans back, the cost in lives had been horrendous as antiquated tactics had caused the ‘Generals’ to march their troops in line formation against the experienced Trenichan divisions, causing many to be shot down in waves as the longer ranged, more accurate rifles of the enemy slew them en-masse. Only the courage of the Ostari had stopped a rout as they eventually closed with the now retreating Trenichan rear-guard to finally win a smidgen of honour.

The Landanan volunteers had come out of it well enough. Their ability to fire archery volleys from behind cover had caused the Trenichans a lot of casualties and enabled the volunteers to seize a supply wagon laden down with the new-fangled rifles and ammunition to be sent to the rear for study. For his actions, Darras received a promotion to Captain, a rank he held for almost the length of the war as his outspoken opinions rubbed many a senior officer up the wrong way, particularly when, as often happened, he was proven right.

The first year of the war seesawed back and forth. Though it was becoming obvious to Darras that the Trenichans, with their greater forces, were becoming dominant. Although this was obvious to him, it seemed to escape those higher up, though a look at the casualty figures told you that an Ostari victory often came at a very high price. Worse yet though, was the Trenichan atrocities they committed as they advanced, with men killed, women and children enslaved and a policy of not taking prisoners as even non-combatants found with a defeated Ostari army being either enslaved for any women, or impaled for any men, even doctors and other medics.

The second year was grimmer still, though the Ostari had finally thrown off the shackles of incompetent Officers and outdated tactics. General Gemerris fought a brilliant, if futile, tactical retreat back towards Tira, the Republican capital; bleeding the advancing Trenichans white in strategic battles and minor victories. Yet still their numbers counted and a glorious retreat was still a retreat.

Darras now commanded two companies, one of archers, though in dwindling numbers, and one of riflemen, as well as a mortar unit. Tasked with scouting, his men had the ability to ghost through enemy lines and report weaknesses as well as troop movements. It was the actions of companies like his that kept the Ostari in the war. Yet most now knew they would lose, even if speaking it aloud in the wrong company would have you sent to a penal brigade, as the Ostari no longer executed cowards or seditionists, they needed every able-bodied person they could get, willing or unwilling.

The siege of Tira took part in the third year and was a bloody disaster for the Trenichans for most of its length. The Ostari were still in the field and despite massive counter-vallation works, were often able to wreak havoc on the entrenched and miserable Trenichans. In this Darras and his companies thrived, even coming to the ears of a Republican Senator who begged Darras to marry his daughter in order to enable her to get to safety.

So, Darras found himself with a wife in a coldly correct marriage, she not understanding this charismatic leader, he not understanding her wellborn ways. Yet still, two daughters were produced as Erriane was with the many Republican elites now encamped in the city of Trevorne, close to the Ring mountains and the freeport of Sallash.

Tira fell at the beginning of the fourth year, though for the Trenichans it was a purely pyrrhic victory. The remaining defenders fought like maniacs to the last man and the great treasury of the Republic was found empty, leaving the enemy with massive casualties and no real reward. Worse was to come when the last defenders set off the naphtha barrels stored in the sewers and cellars of the central citadel, immolating thousands of Trenichan soldiery in the midst of their celebration.

For the Ostari though, there had been a glimmer of hope. An exploration ship driven off course by a storm in the beginning of the third year had discovered a massive new land just as Tira had finally been encircled. It was also free of mankind as far as they could tell. And so, the Republic secretly built a colonisation fleet based out of Sallash to transport its people to this new land, knowing the Trenichans were not a seafaring race and like as not were unable to cross the ocean to find them. Sending farmers and scouts initially to the new territories to prepare for the artisans and craftsmen in the following year. Few amongst the remaining armies knew of this secret, yet those that did were ordered to buy time at any price. The reason for this being there was only one way into Sallash that an army could take, the other routes being only good for goats, birds and fools.

And so, the war went on, General Gemerris guiding his dwindling regiments through what later historians would recognise as the greatest fighting retreat in history. Towns and cities fell, often contested to the last man as the seemingly inexhaustible Trenichan armies came on regardless. Yet often enough the invaders now found the land they seized empty and uncared for with no one to enslave or force to work it for Trenicha. Also, scorched earth tactics were put in place and volunteer suicide squads took every opportunity to harry Ostar’s enemies, frequently carried out by the old who had nothing left to lose. Yet finally it was done. Trevorne, the last city, was evacuated, along with all those in the surrounding countryside. Over the ring pass the people moved, through the gates of the Hakken Fort and down to the waiting ships in Sallash even as the last harvest in the huge valley was gathered.

“Got a visitor, Captain,” Drusas, his aide announced, sticking his head through the threadbare canvas of the tent.

“Send them in,” Darras replied, his hopes of a night’s sleep dashed, again.

Darras immediately sprang to attention as General Gemerris stepped through the awning, yet wondering what now, what else could there be? Ostar was no more.

“Relax, Captain,” Gemerris chuckled.

“Sir!” Darras replied. “How may we assist you, sir?”

“I said relax,” Gemerris stated. “I bring word of your wife and daughters. They are safe now and beyond the Trenichan’s reach.”

“Safe?”

“It’s a secret, but we’ve been evacuating all we can to a new land. I won’t tell you where, in case you get captured, but Ostar will survive and your loved ones with it.”

“That’s good to know, I assume your army will go soon?”

“We will, but ... there’s an issue...”

“You want Hakken Fort held?” Darras nodded, guessing his mission.

“I do. It’s a suicide mission though, so choose wisely.”

“Permission to be honest with them?”

“Granted.”

“I’ll take only the old guard who volunteer. No young men, just those of us who have little to lose save our lives,” Darras replied. “They can take our colours with them to hopefully fight again.”

“You intend to remain?”

“If I stay, they’ll fight.”

“Yes, yes. You’re probably right,” Gemerris nodded. “Give me at least three days, longer if you can manage it. Every hour gives us more colonists, more food and a chance to rebuild and return.”

“I’ll get you your three days, General. I swear it!”

“Would that I never had to ask,” Gemerris sighed. “A final gift for you. A long overdue promotion to Colonel. You upset too many above you simply by being right.”

“If we’d fought the war our way from the beginning, we’d be storming the gates of Drach, their capital, right now,” Darras chuckled darkly.

“Aye, I believe you to be right, Colonel,” Gemerris nodded with a grim smile. “Now, give me the time Ostar desperately needs.”

It was an hour later that Darras called his ‘old guard’ to a meeting in the mess tent and explained what he intended to do.

“Volunteers only. I won’t kid you, this one we won’t be coming back from as there will be nowhere to go.”

“Been with you from the beginning, Captain. Not leaving your side now,” Drusas spoke up. “Got five sons with my Marita. They’re all with the General and likely to be safe if we give them the time they need.”

“You’ll need a ‘doc’ to patch up the wounded,” Washal, a civilian horse doctor stated. “Keep them on the walls as long as possible.”

“I procured a batch of morphia,” Darras stated. “Your last order before the end will be to send them off gently.”

“Goes against the grain, but in this case, it would be a mercy,” Washal nodded.

Darras wasn’t surprised when all the old men volunteered. They’d all volunteered at the beginning, stuck with him through the most terrible of times and now facing a stark reality, chose to stand one last time to buy time for their nation to escape.

“Colours?” Duras asked.

“Going to the rear with the young’uns,” Darras replied. “Damned if there will be nought left but memories to remember us by.”

There was a satisfied grunt from all who heard. Most had little use for the Republic and even less time for its ‘Academy Officers’, at least the ones at the beginning of the war. But, because it was Darras who had asked them to fight for the Republic, fight they would.

“We will fight under the Flag of the Republic,” Darras chuckled. “The General left his banner behind knowing what I’d do.”

“Good man, the General,” Private Zursti nodded. “Wish he’d been in charge from the start.”

“Guess you won’t make it back up to Corporal ... again,” Kartun, a Sergeant, chuckled.

“Easy come, easy go,” Zursti laughed then gasped as he caught the single stripe Darras threw to him. “Thank you, sir!”

“We always did do better when you were a Corporal ... and sober,” Darras said with a straight face until a grin broke out as the tent roared with laughter.

“Aye, you have the right of that, sir.”