The Master of Muscigny (The First Admiral Series Book 5) (24 page)

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.

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 commander 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 losses, 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.

At three hundred metres altitude, Billy was able to spot the cloud of dust that was being kicked up by the Templar knights.

Except that the cloud was rising from the west. The cavalry had withdrawn from the Templar camp and had made their way up the road to Acre before swinging westwards. Raising the field-viewers to his eyes, Billy saw the numerals dance along the top of the image as he focussed on the gleaming helmets, white surcoats, and lance pennants that bobbed in the distance amidst the dust and heat haze. For a brief moment, Billy wondered why the Templar commander would send his knights over to the west, away from the battlefield.

Then, the realisation hit Billy like a slap to the face. The Templar infantry attack was strongest on their left wing. The Templar commander was drawing the Landing Troopers from their defensive positions to fend off that left wing’s attack. He could then smash into the weakened Landing Trooper position with his cavalry on his right. The cavalry hadn’t been withdrawing as Billy had speculated. They had moved to the west in order to fall onto the Landing Trooper flank and rear across ground that hadn’t been torn up by the Eagles or the pulsar-rifles. It was a very dangerous strategy for the Templar commander to employ. Dividing his cavalry from his infantry always presented the threat of his horsemen being caught out in the open with no infantry support. Except here, at Muscigny, the Landing Trooper force was barely three hundred strong and would be swept away like bugs before and angry householder’s broom.

Looking round from the Templar cavalry, Billy knew that he had to get the Troopers out of that position and back to the Aquarius. He knew that he would have to sacrifice the estate and, perhaps, the Citadel. The Templars would trample underfoot the drainage and irrigation ditches as well as the carefully laid out fields and boundaries. The crops had only just been planted. At least, Billy considered, the people and the animals would be safely aboard the Aquarius where the self-defence turrets would tear to red-ruin anything that dared to show its face on the long rolling western slope. The Templars would be denied the road to Jerusalem, but the estate would be lost. The fields would be destroyed, and Billy knew that they would never be able to plant new crops in time.

“Down!” Billy ordered the Trooper pilot, who gently scaled back the power to the anti-gravity generator.

As the Personnel Carrier began to drop, the first of the Eagles swept in from the east to strafe the Templar attack. The leading Eagle swooped down into its attack run and let fly with its six pulsar-cannon on rapid-fire. In the blink of an eye, Billy watched as the Eagle tore up the ground and any unfortunate Templar along the crest of the rise. In that split-second, Billy watched the plumes of dirt blossom into the air all along the crest of the rise as Templar banners fell amidst the screams and yells of dying soldiers.

Silently, Billy cursed the Eagle pilot as the massive sonic boom drowned out the din of the battle raging below. The Landing Troopers needed their air support as close to their positions as possible. The first Eagle pilot had strafed the crest of the rise, and, although he had probably killed hundreds of Templars, his firepower was more needed closer to the front of the attack. That did, however, present problems for the Eagle pilots. How did they get close to the front line without laying down fire on their own Troopers?