The Master of Muscigny (The First Admiral Series Book 5)

by William J. Benning

  The pulsar-bolts that were aimed low began to tear chunks of dirt and debris from the edge of the rise where the archers stood. And, under such constant pounding, the ground began to give way under the relentless assault. Like a huge mechanical excavator, the ground was stripped away from beneath the archers’ feet by the relentless stream of badly-aimed pulsar-bolts.

  Loose soil and debris began to cascade down the gentle slope of the rise as more and more archers either lost their footing or were bowled over by a direct hit. Some pulsar-bolts, striking the edge of the rise, fizzed into the air taking an archer with it as it sped off into oblivion.

  Watching the carnage unfold on the Templar line, Billy was pleased to note that the next flight of arrows was only a fraction of the size of the first two attacks. The archers were being remorselessly cut down by the rapid-fire of the pulsar-rifles. The shafts fell to the ground rattling uselessly against the Battle Shields held aloft by the Landing Troopers as the pulsar-rifles continued to scythe through their ranks. With nearly a quarter of the archers down in less than two minutes, the Templar commanders sent the expendables forward.

  A new line of Templar shields quickly formed in front of the hard-pressed archers. However, the new protective line fared little better than the first. The sheer torrent of pulsar-bolts swept relentlessly along the new front, toppling shields and soldiers alike. The archers, scrambling back for safety, found little respite, but did manage to let loose one more feeble and cursory flight that rattled harmlessly against the Landing Troopers’ Battle Shields. The expendables manning the front line now faced the inexorable meat-grinder of the pulsar-bolts that stunned their targets into insensibility. Every second, scores of unconscious bodies toppled helplessly down the front face of the slope to join the hundreds of motionless white-coated forms that were strewn haphazardly across the top of the rise. Again the pulsar-bolts chewed up the ground at the top of the slope, tearing and rending the ground in great spurts of dirt and debris. The dislodged dirt tumbled down the slope whilst the dust, never given time to settle, continued to spurt and spume into the air as the shield wall of the remaining expendables began to slowly retreat from the edge of the slope.

  “Cease fire!” Billy ordered sharply into the Comms Net as the shields began to recede from his view.

  And as quickly as the holocaust of pulsar-bolts had begun, it ceased.

  As the last of the pulsar-bolts seethed into the shattered ground of the rise, an eerie silence fell over the battlefield. Normally, the groans of the wounded and pitiful cries for help would soar and clamour over the silence after such a violent bombardment. The ringing in the survivors’ ears would be assailed by pleas from the injured and dying. But here, there would be very few injured. They would all be unconscious and unable to call out. For a moment, Billy felt incredibly alone as he scanned the rise and witnessed hundreds, perhaps thousands of unconscious Templars strewn across the entire face of the rise top. Bows, shields, swords and helmets were scattered amongst the fallen figures and craters torn in the ground by the pulsar-bolts.

  In some places, the piles of fallen Templars were three deep as one unconscious man had rolled down the slope and blocked the progress of subsequent casualties. In other places groups and clusters formed, and try as he might Billy was unable to find any solitary figures. To Billy, it looked like some great high tide that had strewn the flotsam and jetsam of battle across this small patch of ground.

  “All secure sir, no casualties,” Garn reported.

  “Very good, stay on alert,” Billy said as he continued to scan the top of the rise.

  Nothing seemed to be moving on what had been the Templar front line until a white flag appeared from just beyond the crest of the rise. Tentatively, heads began to appear behind the flag bearer as the first of the casualties were being lifted away.

  “Flag of truce, sir?” Garn queried through the Comms Net.

  “They’re lifting their wounded. Let them take as long as they want.

  The more time that the Templars took to take up their wounded, the more time King Baldwin had to reach the estate with reinforcements. Slowly and tentatively, Templars began to cross the line of the rise onto the front slope to lift the thousands of stunned soldiers back to safety.

  “Round one to the Troopers.” Billy smiled softly.

  Chapter 40

  The Templar Position, Muscigny

  Arnold of Torroja stared in a mixture of shock and incredulity from the crest of the rise The straggle of retreating, panicked men making their way back from the front line of the Templar position drove home the realisation that his scheme for control of the Order hung by a more precarious thread than he had previously imagined. The gentle slope of the rise, torn by the weapons fire of the flying machines, now lay strewn with the motionless bodies of his men. The flag of truce had been raised as his soldiers ventured nervously out onto the slope to recover their fallen comrades. The crest of the rise and the front slope was thickly carpeted by his archers and the foot soldiers charged with protecting them. Strangely, Arnold considered, none of them appeared to be dead. They just seemed stunned and rendered insensible by the Outlanders’ weapons. The Outlander Admiral with all these powerful weapons and flying ships could just as easily kill everyone who stood against him, Arnold speculated.

  Maybe that’s a weakness, Arnold considered as his mind raced through the few remaining options that seemed to be available to him. Maybe the Outlander Admiral can’t or doesn’t want to kill everyone, Arnold cudgelled his wits once again. There has to be a reason why those men are still alive, he pondered.

  However, as Arnold watched the last of the expendables scrabbling to safety on the back slope of the rise, he knew that he had only one last card left to play. The archers and the heavy cavalry were no longer an option. The ground in front of the rise was too chewed up for the heavy cavalry to be used effectively in a direct assault, and very few of his archers remained fit for combat. Cursing silently, Arnold of Torroja now wished he had built the heavy catapults and siege engines that would have smashed this puny force of Outlanders to dust. But, having decided that speed was of a premium, and that getting to Jerusalem quickly was the main objective, Arnold knew that he had not adequately prepared for the march.

  Looking down at the Outlanders’ position, Arnold marvelled at how few of them were actually resisting his advance, and that they seemed to be clustered around the roadway into the estate. With a deep sigh, Arnold made his mind up as to his course of action. Trying to dislodge them with arrows had failed, and had failed dismally. He thought he would be able to bombard them, and when they had sustained enough casualties, these strange black clad Outlanders would have scampered back to the Citadel. But, from even a cursory inspection, Arnold knew that very few, if any, of the Outlanders had fallen to the arrows.

  The easy way wasn’t going to work, Arnold concluded. Now, it was going to have to be a sledgehammer to crack a walnut, he decided, and turned away to issue the orders for his final attack.

  Chapter 41

  The Landing Trooper Position, Muscigny

  Two hours later, Billy Caudwell sat perched on the edge of the drop-down side of one of the Personnel Carriers. Having checked that there were no casualties amongst the Landing Troopers, Billy settled down to wait for the Templars to clear their stunned, fallen comrades from the slope of the rise. With regular updates from the WATO in the War Room of the Aquarius, Billy was well aware of the Templar dispositions behind the rise. The great blocks of infantry hadn’t moved in nearly two hours, and the all-important heavy cavalry seemed to have grown roots behind the foot soldiers.

  And, from the reports from the War Room, it looked like King Baldwin and his army were only a few hours away from Muscigny. The Templar commander, Arnold, seemed not to be aware that the Army of Jerusalem, with over forty-five thousand men, were about to appear on the battlefield. He must have drawn his scouts back into the main force, Billy speculated. It was a fatal mistake for any battlefield comm
ander not to know where his enemy was. Even back on Earth, commanders had used cavalry to be the eyes and ears of their armies. Arnold of Torroja seemed to have forgotten the golden rule.

  With Baldwin only few hours away, and the Templars still clearing their fallen from the slope, Billy speculated that the campaign was effectively over. In a few hours, the Templar force would be faced down by an army more than twice its size, and would be compelled to retreat back to Acre. And, for a brief moment, Billy Caudwell allowed himself the luxury of relaxing. It was all over bar the shouting in Billy’s mind. Complacency, however, was also another of the great sins that a battlefield commander could commit.

  “Flag of truce coming down, sir,” one of the Landing Trooper sentries reported into the Comms Net.

  Startled at the sudden development, Billy looked up just in time for the whole crest of the rise to suddenly fill up with white coated Templar infantry. The white flag had disappeared and those soldiers caught out in the open, trying to recover their fallen comrades, began to scamper quickly back to the safety of the rise.

  “Garn, get the Troopers behind cover!”

  “Yes, sir, he can’t surely mean to fight, can he sir?”

  “It looks kinda like it.”

  Still not quite able to believe that the Templar was about to launch an attack, Billy prayed that this was just some kind of macho, face-saving posturing before they retreated.

  “Scanners? What’s happening with the cavalry beyond the rise?”

  “Looks like they’re pulling out, sir. Main body of cavalry are heading north, away from the camp.”

  “Thanks, Scanners.”

  The heavy cavalry were retreating, Billy considered, then the demonstration on the rise must be a feint. Yet, the part of his mind told him not to take things at face value. But, with the heavy cavalry retreating and Baldwin’s forces approaching Muscigny, Billy was confident that the stand-off was drawing to a close.

  However, a few moments later he was to be disappointed as the first lines of Templars began to negotiate the edge of the rise and march onto the slope. All along the Landing Trooper line, the black-clad Troopers quickly took their positions. The seven-barrelled pulsar-rifles were charged and ready to fire as Troopers leaned against the Personnel Carriers or formed their three-man formations in the gaps between the vehicles. With the first lines of Templars crossing the crest of the rise, Billy prepared to give the order to open fire with pulsar-rifles on the stun setting. There was no point in killing men who were being ordered forward purely for display purposes, Billy thought. After knocking down and incapacitating a few hundred, the rest, having made their leader’s point, would be withdrawn, Billy speculated. Once again, Billy’s optimism was to be proven wrong.

  Having crossed the crest of the rise, the leading ranks of Templars broke into a full charge. With a huge cheer, the great tide of humanity began to sweep forwards. With the leading ranks dodging to avoid their stunned and fallen comrades, the following waves were less fortunate with many starting to trip and fall over the unconscious bodies that had not been lifted. Many of those following on at the run also lost their footing. However, thousands of men swarming over the crest of the rise made the number of fallers insignificant as the Templar host surged forward towards the Landing Trooper line.

  Astonished for several moments that the Templars were actually mounting a full-scale assault, Billy snapped out of his complacency. With a curse, Billy roused himself to action as he watched the first waves of Templar pelting down the rise towards the Landing Troopers.

  “Garn! Get some fire down on them!”

  It was now imperative for Billy to get some kind of idea of what was happening and how this attack was shaping up.

  “You!” Billy grabbed the shoulder of the Landing Trooper next to him as the first torrent of pulsar-bolt fire zipped downrange to smash into the leading Templars. “Can you pilot this crate?” Billy indicated the Personnel Carrier that they were both leaning against.

  “Yes, sir!”

  Already, the Templars were taking their first losses amidst the shrieking and whining of pulsar-bolts.

  White coated warriors were tumbling over on the slope of the rise amidst the carnage and devastation of the rapid fire pulsar-bolts that tore into the ground and bowled over men by the dozen.

  “Take this thing up, I want to see what’s happening!” Billy ordered amongst the cacophony of weapons fire.

  “Yes, sir!”

  Billy scrabbled over the edge of the vehicle and into the well as the anti-gravity generator whined urgently and the Carrier began to rise. Scrambling to his feet, Billy could already see huge numbers of Templar infantry pouring down the slope and realised that they would overwhelm the Troopers by sheer weight of numbers in less than two minutes.

  “Garn! I’m going upstairs for a look-see. Keep firing!”

  “There’s too many of them, sir!” Garn replied as the Personnel Carrier pivoted in its ascent.

  “Shoot to kill, Garn!” Billy ordered reluctantly. “We can’t afford to spare them now!”

  It was a bitter pill for Billy to swallow. But, the part of his mind that was the dead Garmaurian First Admiral had been proven right. Arnold of Torroja had not heeded the warnings of the Eagle strikes and his men being stunned. He had seen it as a weakness, and now Billy was being forced to slaughter thousands of men. And, as the Carrier rose slowly, Billy cursed bitterly in his disappointment and anger as the first Templars were cut down fatally by the pulsar-bolts.

  At around one hundred and twenty metres elevation, Billy could see the shape of the attack unfolding. The Templar commander had loaded the left wing of his attack with nearly twice as many men as the centre and right. Looking at the formation, Billy could easily imagine the great block of men sweeping down the rise to outflank and surround the Landing Troopers, cutting off their line of retreat back to the Citadel. In the great panoramic view of the Templar attack, Billy could see thousands of white-coated figures streaming down from the rise. Despite the hundreds of spumes of dirt and debris being thrown up by the pulsar-bolts and the bodies toppling over, Billy could see that there were just too many attackers for the small Landing Trooper force to hold off. With spears, banners and swords waving, the Templar horde ran at full pelt; the front lines rapidly outpacing the following troops towards the flimsy line of black-clad Landing Troopers.

  But, where were the cavalry? Billy asked himself. He had supposed they had been retreating. The Templar commander, having committed all of his infantry would surely send in the heavy shock troops as well.

  “Garn! They’re heavy on our right flank! Hold them as long as you can and then fall back to the Aquarius! I’ll organise some covering fire to let you get the Troopers out!” Billy ordered into the Comms Net.

  “Yes, sir!” Garn replied.

  “Take this bucket up higher!” Billy ordered the Trooper pilot, who nodded his understanding.

  “WATO!?” Billy called to the War Room on the Aquarius as the shrill whine of the anti-gravity generator intensified.

  “Sir!”

  “Bring in the Eagles to strafe this attack and send out every Personnel Carrier we have to lift the Troopers! We have to extract the Landing Troopers down by the wall, evacuate the Citadel and prepare the self-defence turrets aboard the Aquarius!”

  “Do you mean strafe the men or the ground, sir?”

  “Yes, the men, there’s too many of them and they have to be stopped. Order the shoot-to-kill,” Billy instructed, his voice edged with disappointment and bitterness.

  “Confirmed, sir.”

  “Come on, get higher!” Billy indicated to the Trooper pilot.

  With the Personnel Carrier rising quickly, Billy looked down on the Templar attack. As he had expected, the Templar left wing was sweeping down the rise despite the intense rapid-fire from the pulsar-rifles, and were attempting to outflank the Troopers’ position. The Templar troops, looking like toy soldiers from Billy’s altitude, pressed on despite their los
ses, which were now fatalities. Once again the pulsar-bolts were tearing up the ground in front of and around the horde of charging Templars. However, instead of bundling the white-coated infantrymen over into unconsciousness, the white-hot pulsar-bolts now killed some of their targets.

  The Landing Troopers now manned the twin-barrelled pulsar-turrets on the Personnel Carriers, adding their weight of fire to the pulsar-bolts that seethed and shrieked into the mass of Templar infantry with deadly effect. The black-clad Landing Troopers were more difficult to spot. However, Billy noted that they were changing positions every few seconds to add fire support where their officers felt that the situation demanded. Most of the Landing Troopers were gathered to the right of their defensive position to fend off the heavily reinforced Templar left. But, even as Billy watched, he knew the Landing Troopers would soon be overwhelmed. Where was the Templar cavalry? Billy understood that he had to know where their cavalry was.

  The Landing Troopers were likely going to have to conduct a fighting retreat, and they did not need nearly two thousand heavily-armed horsemen smashing into their midst with lances jabbing and swords swinging. The fighting retreat could quickly become a disastrous rout. But, time for these Troopers was running out. The great horde of Templar infantry were pressing down hard on the Landing Trooper positions. He had to find that cavalry quickly.