All along the feeble line, the Troopers were working in their pairs and cutting down the advancing Templars. The screams and yells of falling Templars shredded the heavy dank air amongst the hissing of white-hot pulsar-bolts and the shouts of Landing Trooper officers. The Trooper line was holding firm, the skirmish pairs working to deny the Templars each small section of territory. Whatever happened this day, Billy Caudwell knew that the Landing Troopers at Muscigny would make a courageous name for themselves in the annals of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and of hatred in the Order of the Temple.
“Incoming!” a voice from Billy’s right called out.
Looking upwards, Billy caught a brief glimpse of arrows descending from the clear blue sky. The Templars had brought their archers forward with the reinforcements from the rise outside of the estate.
“Shields!” Garn yelled, but too late.
Dozens of Troopers were struck by the falling projectiles before they could operate their Battle Shields. Black figures, struck down by the arrows, lay motionless or were dragging themselves out of the line. Their comrades tried desperately to shield them from further arrow strikes as another shower of the deadly missiles fell like hailstones amongst them.
“WATO!” Billy ordered into the Comms Net. “Locate those archers and suppress them!”
“Acknowledged,” the familiar voice responded.
Billy knew that two Eagles would be withdrawn from strafing the rise to locate the archers who were now raining death and destruction on the Trooper line. It might take a few minutes for the Eagle pilots to find and then blast them to oblivion. But, until then, the brave Landing Troopers would just have to suffer under the torrent of arrows.
The lightly wounded Troopers were starting to resume their positions beneath the Battle Shields built into their uniforms. However, the more seriously injured were being pulled out of the line and covered with their own Battle Shields. Watching anxiously, Billy felt a pang of guilt that he was the only one who possessed a Personal Environment Suit. His PES had been a prototype piece of Garmaurian technology, and the scientists and manufacturers of the Universal Alliance had had trouble merging the microscopic machines with the fibre of the PES. Priority for the early production models had gone to species that were not nitrogen/oxygen-breathers like the Thexxians, Hubbarts, Icharians and Ceradors that made up the bulk of the Landing Trooper Brigades.
The Troopers had to make do with the Garmaurian Battle Shields. However, this technological advantage in the hands of the highly trained and professional Landing Troopers was still cutting a devastating swathe of death and dismemberment through the ranks of Templars attacking the flimsy line of black uniforms. But, the battle still had to be fought on the ground; the Landing Troopers had to deny the Templars the road to Jerusalem; and, despite the superiority of the Eagles, that battle was still swinging heavily in the favour of the Templars.
Despite the horrendous losses, the white surcoats were still struggling up the slope towards the Landing Trooper position. The steady and accurate fire from the Landing Troopers was taking a heavy toll of the suicidally-brave Templars. But, the sheer weight of numbers was proving too much for the courageous Troopers.
In the midst of the horde that struggled upwards against the glutinous mud of the slope, Arnold of Torroja ditched his heavy Templar shield and the helmet with the nose-piece that protected him on horseback, but were increasingly burdensome when fighting on foot. The viciously sharp broadsword used by cavalry to hack and slash at infantrymen and mounted warriors alike made a useful walking stick as Arnold heaved and sweated in the chain mail of his armour. The slope, for all its gentle and rolling appearance, had now become a major obstacle to Arnold and his Templar infantry. The excited headlong dash from the ridge beyond the estate was now a lung-bursting, muscle-aching slog through the mud to reach the battle. The infantry, who had survived the inferno of devastation from the sky that had slaughtered so many of their Templar brethren, slogged and struggled up the slippery and muddy slope, determined to exact retribution on the black-clad Troopers for their comrades.
And, as Billy Caudwell watched the Templars struggling up the slope, the part of his mind that was Teg Portan told him that the logical course of action was to let the Eagles loose on the slope and annihilate everything. That, unfortunately, meant Billy committing suicide and killing the last of the Troopers as well as the entire Templar contingent. It was a solution of final option: an Armageddon. But, one that Billy was not quite prepared to implement just yet. The force-shielding from the PES might be sufficient to protect Billy from the raging inferno of fire and explosions from the Eagles’ pulsar-bolts. That was a question Billy did not wish to have to answer.
The Landing Trooper would definitely not survive a massive Eagle strike. Their deaths would be a crushing blow for First Admiral Billy Caudwell to live with.
The Templars, by their sheer weight of numbers, were closing in on the Landing Trooper line as Billy weighed the options in his mind. The power supply on the Aquarius had still not been restored. Thus, there would be no support or assistance from the ship. And, unknown to Arnold of Torroja, the Citadel at Muscigny was incomplete. The Citadel was essentially indefensible in its current state. Another week or so of construction work would have seen the walls high enough to give the defenders a slight chance. For the estate workers, the safety of the Citadel was more psychological than physical. Billy just needed them out of the way to let the Troopers fight.
The Troopers, meanwhile, were doing exactly that. The Templars were quickly closing in on the Landing Trooper position. In front of Billy, two Troopers were keeping up a rapid fire. However, despite the losses, there were just too many Templars crowding in around the position. A brief glance down the line of the slope showed Billy that the white surcoats had finally reached the Troopers, and that the hand-to-hand battle was about to commence. So, slinging the pulsar-rifle across his back, Billy drew the pulsar-pistol from his hip holster and the Battle Blade from his boot top. He could use the pistol in his left hand whilst the stronger right hand could wield the Blade. This was what the Landing Troopers had been trained to do. Hours of battle simulations and exercises in hand-to-hand combat clearing the enemy from the cramped confines of spaceships were the meat and drink of the Brigades.
Ready for the battle, Billy shot down the first Templar to approach him, who shouted loudly whilst swinging a heavy sword. The Templar caught in the chest by the pulsar-pellet toppled over with a loud shriek as his blood boiled and his body tissues fried from the heat of the projectile. It was a hideously painful way to die. However, it was not a slow death. Being wounded by a sharp blade could cause a soldier to bleed to death slowly and in pain. That, however, was a consideration far from Billy’s mind as another Templar with a spear and shield rushed towards his position.
Taking quick aim with the pistol, Billy pressed the trigger set high on the butt of the weapon with his left forefinger. At close range, even Billy could not miss the rampaging target dressed in white with a huge red cross emblazoned across his chest. The pellet caught the unfortunate Templar in the throat, causing instantaneous death for the short squat man with black hair and a straggly beard. For a moment, Billy saw the anger and terror in the man’s eyes that split-second before the pulsar-pellet killed him. It was the anger of a man who felt that he had nothing left to lose. His fate was in the hands of the God that he believed in, and so he had thrown himself almost recklessly at the Trooper line.
The next Templar followed only a split-second later, swinging a short battle axe as he screamed his challenge to the red-haired Outlander enemy. Having just dispatched the spear and shield carrier, Billy was just a fraction of a second slow in taking aim at the charging axe-man. Raising the pistol, Billy found that he was already too late. The vicious downward swing of the axe caught Billy’s forearm.
The PES protected Billy’s arm from the viciously sharpened blade. However, it could not protect him from the force of the blow. The savage blow felt like Bi
lly had punched a brick wall, causing him to drop the pistol. But, the Battle Blade in his right hand was still a viable and functioning weapon. The Templar having committed himself to hacking at the pistol arm now found that he was defenceless from the brutal short swinging chop of the Battle Blade. In one smooth movement, Billy brought the Blade to bear on the Templars head just above his left ear. The Blade slashed through the chain mail headgear of the armour and shattered the axe-man’s skull.
Silently, the axe-man fell; his body tumbling over the already fallen shield and spear man brought down by the pulsar-pistol. Meanwhile, Billy had no time to consider the fallen axe-man as another Templar now filled his field of vision. This time it was another spear carrier, but without a shield. The Templar, a tall burly man with reddish brown hair jabbed at Billy with short professional stabs. Dodging the first two thrusts, Billy quickly realised that this one knew his business. He was a strong, skilled and experienced warrior. It was going to require a great deal of care to deal with this one. But, as Billy watched the spearman, he could also see other Templars approaching the Landing Trooper line.
The whole line was now engaged in the hand-to-hand. It would now be only a matter of minutes before the Troopers were overrun. The Landing Trooper line would start to fall back even though there was no place for them to retreat to. The line would also start to shrink as the Troopers congregated for a last stand. And, the Templars would start to pick up their weapons. It might take them only minutes to work out how they were operated. The Citadel would, undoubtedly, fall. And, without force-shielding, the Aquarius would be vulnerable to the attackers armed with pulsar-rifles.
The part of his mind that was Teg Portan had given him the final move in this battle. And now, Billy Caudwell knew that he would have to implement it. He would have to turn the Alliance Eagles fully on the slope leading up to the Citadel at Muscigny. It would mean the deaths of the last remaining Troopers, but it would remove all of the Templars. His own survival was not guaranteed, but he stood a better chance than the Troopers and the Templars. The survival of the estate workers, and ultimately the people in Jerusalem, stood as more important than the survival of the Troopers and himself.
But, Billy Caudwell was a fighter. He had no intention of giving up. The Army of Jerusalem, led by King Baldwin had to be somewhere close by. A few more seconds might see the relief forces take the field and drive the Templars away. But, Billy Caudwell had no idea where the King’s army was.
All around him, Billy could hear the ring of blades clashing and the shouts and screams of soldiers locked in the hand-to-hand struggle. The Troopers, with their far superior training, were still able to hold out against the Templars. But, exhaustion, and the weight of numbers arrayed against them, made the outcome inevitable.
“WATO,” Billy announced sadly into the Comms network.
“Sir,” the reply sounded in Billy’s ear.
“On my command,” Billy began as another Templar raced towards him, “I want the Eagles to strafe this slope clean of everything.”
The approaching Templar lowered the long spear that he was carrying; the point deliberately placed to skewer the Outlander. With a loud roar, the Templar charged at Billy.
“Sir?” the WATO challenged Billy. “But, you’ll be killed, sir? Please confirm.”
Pre-occupied by the charging Templar, Billy waited a few seconds as the tall man with the bushy reddish beard rushed towards him. It was a simple matter for Billy to side-step the attack. The Templar, committed to the blow, was already over-extended and off-balance. Grabbing the shaft of the spear, Billy pushed the weapon aside before lashing out with the Battle Blade in his right hand. Swinging the Battle Blade at the Templar, Billy felt the edge of the weapon bite through the chain mail and into the forearm of the spear carrier. With a loud yell, the Templar fell back, away from the next wild swing from the Outlander into the path of his advancing comrades.
“WATO, that order is confirmed,” Billy returned to his Armageddon scenario. “Prepare the Eagles to sweep this slope clear of anything that moves.”
Instructions had already been left that in the event of his death, Jedithram Prust was not to be withdrawn from Earth until Billy’s body had been recovered and prepared. There was to be no period of his parents not knowing what had happened to him. If Billy were to drown in Alliance service, his body was to be left to be discovered in a local river, a victim of accidental drowning. If he was badly burned, then a road accident could be manufactured. There was to be no suggestion of anything untoward that would lead to someone making a connection to the Universal Alliance; thus, threatening the safety of his surviving family.
“Acknowledged,” the WATO replied sadly.
“If I don’t get out of this alive,” Billy said quietly, “Integration Officer Gummell is to take command.”
“Understood, sir,” the WATO answered as another Templar with a heavy broadsword lunged at Billy.
More by instinct than any form of judgement, Billy ducked to his left a split-second before a sword blade hissed past his face. Feeling the wind from the savage stroke, Billy gasped as he struggled to regain his balance. All around him, the surviving Landing Troopers were engaged in their own life and death struggles with the advancing Templars. But, Billy had no time to assess the tactical situation.
The new threat that confronted him lunged forward with the heavy sword, forcing Billy to twist, stumble and finally roll his way out of danger. Rising quickly to his feet to confront the new enemy, Billy realised that he recognised the dark and twisted face beneath the hood of chain mail. The figure in the white surcoat was also overbalanced, having extended himself with the sword thrust.
And, it was that overbalance that allowed Billy to regain his footing on the dangerously slippery and muddy slope.
“Well, Admiral, our paths cross once again!” the cunning face of Arnold of Torroja announced as he set himself up for another attack on the flame-haired Outlander.
“Still think you can win, Brother Arnold?” Billy challenged, lowering the point of the Battle Blade to face the Templar.
“If God wills it,” Arnold replied, licking his lips with expectation and anxiety.
This red-haired Outlander had cost him his dream of the Grand Master’s Chair, and now God had brought the cause of that loss within reach of his sword. Arnold promised himself that he would enjoy killing this troublesome Outlander. The feeble-looking line of black uniforms was all that stood between Arnold and the seemingly heavily fortified Citadel perched on the edge of the ridge. The Citadel was now Arnold and the Templars’ only chance of survival on this battlefield. And, Arnold was determined to seize the prize. With the Citadel secured, Arnold could negotiate passage back to Acre. The failure of the expedition would hurt his standing in the Order, but Arnold knew that he was astute enough politically to recover from the blow in a few years.
“Well, so far he’s not done so brilliantly for you!” Billy replied, watching the Templar’s eyes intently.
Always watch the eyes! The now-dead Garmaurian First Admiral had always instructed. Any enemy always betrayed their movements in a hand-to-hand with their eyes. Teg Portan, long experienced in hand-to-hand combat, bar room brawls and barracks fights knew his trade. Now, that experience was in the mind of Billy Caudwell. Arnold of Torroja may have been a fully-trained knight of the Templar Order, but his breadth and depth of experience was sorely lacking compared to that of Teg Skarral Portan.
Watch the eyes, Billy told himself as the Templar twitched the blade point at Billy, hoping that the Outlander would commit himself to a clumsy attack. But, Billy Caudwell was having none of it.
“He has given me your death, Outlander!” Arnold smiled viciously, continuing to flicker the blade-point at his flame-haired opponent.
“I don’t die easy,” Billy challenged with a calm and malicious smile. “Maybe he has given me your death.”
“I think not,” the confident Arnold smiled wolfishly and swung the heavy broadsword at the
red-haired Outlander.
“WATO,” Billy ordered into the Comms net, “commence Eagle strike,” he gave the fateful order.
With Arnold of Torroja in front of him, Billy knew that the Templar commander would not survive. With Arnold’s death, and the annihilation of the Templar contingent, there would be a stark warning to prevent another such attack from ever happening again. Billy had decided that if he had to die, that Arnold of Torroja would be dying with him. Having given the order to wipe out everything, including possibly himself, Billy was resigned to his possible fate. He now felt an ease and a calmness flood over him that seemed to wipe away his fears. He had given the order. He was in charge of his destiny, yet he did not know the exact moment that he would meet that destiny. And, that knowledge gave him comfort, and the determination to ensure that Arnold of Torroja would not be his executioner.
Instinctively, Billy parried the downward swinging blow with his own Battle Blade. The heavy shock from the ringing clash sending a shock wave up Billy’s arm to his shoulder. It was at that moment that Billy Caudwell realised just how strong Arnold of Torroja was. His lifetime of training in the martial arts of his time had made him a strong and deadly warrior.
Pushing the Templar away, the two blades grated loudly against each other allowing Billy to prepare for the next assault. Arnold, at a disadvantage on the slope, took several steps back to balance himself for the next attack. He was fighting uphill and had to get past this red-haired adversary and his warriors to get to the Citadel and some form of safety.
With a loud roar, Arnold of Torroja lunged forward, attempting a vicious swipe to Billy’s left flank. Spotting the move, Billy blocked the blow by pushing the Battle Blade across the face of his body before pivoting on his left heel to deliver a vicious blow to Arnold’s face with his left elbow. Arnold, stunned for a moment, felt as if he had just run into a heavy stone wall. And, reeling back several steps, shook his head to clear the sensation of pain and fuzziness. This Outlander Admiral was skilled in hand-to-hand combat, Arnold realised, and decided that he would have to try a different tack to bring this opponent down.
The Master of Muscigny (The First Admiral Series Book 5) Page 28