Time Commander (The First Admiral Series) (41 page)

In the few feet of battle that unfolded just mere feet in front of him, Billy saw a Zulu warrior with a leopard skin headband raise his war club into the air, only to strike down a redcoat who was bayoneting another warrior on his right. The British soldier lunged with his own bayonet; piercing the Zulu’s chest just below the nipple. The Zulu, his face twisted in the rictus of pain fell forward, dragging the soldier’s bayonet and rifle down with him. With his bayonet being pulled away and his body off balance, the soldier was vulnerable and didn’t see the warrior to his right, who smashed his war club down onto his helmeted head. With a sickening thud, and crack of bone, the soldier fell forwards, on top of the body of another fallen Zulu.

Billy fired his pistol into the face of the Zulu with the white feather plume in his black cloth headband, who had just clubbed the soldier to death. The angry black face shattered under the force of the bullet like an eggshell, causing a huge spray of blood, bone, and brain matter from the huge exit wound that tore away half of his head. The Zulu fell back against his comrades and slipped quietly to the ground. The next target was a Zulu, in the second rank, with a white shield who was about to throw a spear towards Billy. The pistol banged impressively, with the recoil pushing Billy’s hand upwards. The bullet smashed through the animal hide shield and into the Zulu’s chest. The Zulu was flung backwards into his comrades, and the spear was never thrown.

Stepping back, Billy watched as a Natal Infantryman jabbed his spear forwards and caught a Zulu on the throat. The thrust of the spear was so fierce that it pierced through the Zulu’s neck, severing his spinal cord and protruding out through the back. With a desperate twist of the wrist, the Infantryman, not wishing to lose the spear, pulled the spear back towards him. The dead Zulu, still caught on the blade, seemed to be drawn towards the British position, and pushing up against wall, hung pressed against the barricade for a few moments.

In those few moments, Billy saw the cold still, lifeless eyes of the dead Zulu seem to stare at him in accusation, until, mercifully, the weight of the body pulled the corpse clear of the blade.

The third shot from the pistol went into a Zulu with a white head-dress who was leaning over the barricade to stab at a redcoat. With the assegai blade piercing the redcoat’s shoulder, the soldier fell backwards; pulling his rifle with him. The successful Zulu then tried to climb onto the barricade, but was hit by Billy’s third shot somewhere in the left side of his chest. The Zulu fell sideways amongst his comrades, scattering and knocking over several other warriors in the process. The stabbed redcoat struggled to his feet using the rifle as a crutch. Feeling that the wound wasn’t too bad, he reloaded his rifle and plunged back into the battle line. A moment later, he shot another Zulu, and was last seen by Billy Caudwell trying to push his bayonet into another Zulu’s face.

The screams and yells of men caught in the midst of the hellish scrimmage for survival barely registered in Billy Caudwell’s consciousness. He was too focussed on the stabbing, clubbing, hacking and slashing melee that was just a few feet in front of him. All around him, the close quarter battle was raging. The screams and yells of men echoed amongst the clash of steel, the bang of rifle shots, and the sickening THUD of war clubs finding their mark on British helmets. To Billy Caudwell, it was chaos. The stench of blood, powdered smoke, and naked terror assailed his nostrils and overwhelmed his senses.

At the same time as the horror he felt, he felt that he was more alive than he had ever been in his life. His world, as a commander in a space battle, was one of standing at his War Table and directing forces in a battle where he was in no immediate personal danger. Out here, in the Time Warrior Ritual, the physical danger was very real. The part of his mind that was Teg Portan knew all too well about the thrill of risking it all in pursuit of victory. Billy Caudwell was beginning to understand the adrenaline rush that came with risking his life. Despite his own fears and trepidations before the battle, he now felt the sheer animal joy and intensity of that emotion.

To his left, Billy caught sight of another shape on the barricade. Another Zulu, in a black loincloth and shield, had managed to clamber onto one of the wagons. Stretching out his arm, Billy let fly with his fourth shot. Whether he hit the Zulu or not, Billy did not know, but two red coated riflemen had also fired at the same warrior; who had fallen like a sack of potatoes onto the top of the wagon.

With one shot left, Billy chose his moment. A long throwing spear was being jabbed at a Natal Infantryman next to Billy. With his left hand, Billy caught the spear as the Infantryman avoided the razor sharp blade. Pulling the blade towards him, Billy dragged it away from its intended target, and held onto the shaft as the blade passed harmlessly behind him. With his right hand, Billy raised the pistol quickly and pulled the trigger when the overbalanced Zulus forehead was no more than fifteen centimetres from the muzzle. The Zulu was completely defenceless to the bullet that struck him in the middle of his forehead. With a spray of brains, blood, and bone, the Zulu jerked back, like a puppet on a string, and vanished into the press of bodies that wanted to get closer to the barricade. The Natal Infantryman that he had just saved smiled nervously and rejoined the battle.

With the pistol now empty, Billy stepped back from the battle line. Quickly, he scanned the whole position. The plan was working well. The Spear Companies from the Natal Infantry were managing to hold the Zulus at bay whilst riflemen reloaded and fired into the press of enemy bodies.

On the west wall, the position was holding, but there did seem to be quite a lot of dead and injured men lying behind the barricade. Looking more closely, Billy could see that many of them were Natal Cavalry. He would have to keep a close watch on the west wall. On the east wall, the Zulus were almost as numerous as those at the south wall. The position was still holding; a junior lieutenant had a dozen riflemen behind the fighting line and was blasting volleys over the shoulders of the spear and bayonet men to some effect.

On the south wall of the square, the British troops were under severe pressure. The heavily reinforced “Chest” of the Zulu attack was pressing the barricade. Along the length of the barricade, Billy could see the line of redcoats and Infantrymen begin to buckle under the pressure of the Zulu onslaught. The barricade was holding, but the number of red coated or bare-chested figures lying on the ground bore testimony to the savagery of the fighting. The pile of Zulu bodies stacked up on either side of the barricade bore testimony to their suicidal bravery.

The whole British square was engaged in hand-to-hand fighting, but the south face was particularly under threat.

Already, small groups were starting to step back from the barricade. Zulu warriors were starting to clamber onto, or pull down, the piles of material that made up the defensive wall. Zulus managing to scramble onto the barricade were quickly being shot down. However, their comrades were rapidly tearing at the barricade, and that was the immediate concern for Billy.

In front of him, a group of four warriors had managed to clamber onto the top of the barricade. These warriors had to be driven back, and the barricade needed to be stabilised, or the whole Zulu army would come swarming through the gaps in the line and sweep the entire British square away. Billy knew that he had to do something, and fast, or the whole position could be lost in a few minutes.

Grabbing a fallen shield from a dead Zulu, Billy also snatched up the white, blanco-ed webbing from a fallen redcoat. With a few sharp twists and loops, he had lashed his left arm to the wooden central supporting strut of the stiff ox-hide shield with the white webbing.

“
Forward the twenty-fourth!” Billy dashed towards the spot in the barricade closest to him, where several Zulus were about to break through the redcoat line.

Without breaking stride, Billy lifted a short, stabbing assegai from the back of a dead redcoat. The assegai blade, buried into the fallen man’s back by no more than a few centimetres, came away easily from the dead flesh. Armed with a spear and shield, Billy Caudwell ran to where the battle was at its thickest. At that point in the barricade, Billy saw that a redcoat had just been struck down with a war club. As if someone had drained all the power and sensation from his legs, the redcoat simply keeled over backwards, losing his bayonet-tipped rifle and helmet in the process. On either side of the stricken soldier, his comrades were too deeply committed to their own life or death struggle to notice the gap that had appeared in the line. Through that small gap, three Zulu warriors had started to climb the barricade. Whether the fallen redcoat was stunned or killed, Billy Caudwell did not have time to enquire or discover. He knew that he had to push these Zulus back into the great, seething mass of black faces and limbs that surrounded the small British barricaded square.

Any normal and sane individual would have shrunk away from the prospect of attacking a great horde of enemy warriors, especially those who were resolute in their determination to kill him. However, Billy Caudwell knew that if these warriors broke through, more would follow them, widening the gap, and they would kill him and everyone in his command.

This was one of those moments in the heat of combat when a commander knew that he had to personally do something to remove the ever-increasing threat. As he dashed towards the gap in the line, a fourth Zulu emerged from then press of struggling warriors and redcoats to clamber onto the barricade. In one short, savage thrust, this fourth Zulu pushed the tip of his long spear into the back of one of the redcoats at the barricade. In one smooth movement, Billy stepped onto the body of the fallen redcoat and barrelled into the four black figures who were about to jump down onto the defenders’ side of the barricade. Billy Caudwell was fortunate that he did have the stocky muscular physique of his father. That, plus the momentum and savagery of his attack, had flung three of the four Zulu warriors back onto the press of warriors on the attackers' side.

“COME ON!” The Zulu attackers were stunned for a moment at the ferocity of this demonic blood-streaked spectre.

“
YOU WANT TO KILL ME?! COME AND GET ME!!” Billy screamed his defiance at the cream of the Zulu army.

“
Get out of there, sir!” The voice of Reginald Younghusband boomed through the discordant noise of battle chaos.

Unfortunately, the one Zulu who had managed to retain his footing atop the barricade was determined to hold Billy Caudwell to his word. Seeing the British commander within range of his war club, the Zulu swung at Billy Caudwell’s head from the top of the barricade. The poorly aimed blow was easily deflected away by the shield lashed to Billy’s arm by the white webbing. However, the momentum of the blow caused the Zulu to overbalance and topple over Billy’s shoulder onto the ground behind him. Turning quickly, Billy saw the Zulu spring to his feet like an acrobat and threaten him with the war club once again. Now, Billy Caudwell was able to see a human being in front of him that he would have to kill or incapacitate. His logical mind knew that it was a computer-generated hologram. However, his very-human instinct knew that this was now, kill, or be killed. Jabbing the zebra-striped shield at Billy a couple of times, the Zulu then committed himself to the attack. Raising the war club above his head, the Zulu darted forward to strike the fatal blow to the British commander.

Billy knew he had to get rid of this warrior quickly and rejoin the battle at the barricade. The part of his mind that was Teg Portan had seen more close-quarter fighting than most soldiers had ever experienced, and it was at that moment that Billy Caudwell launched into his own attack. The experience of Portan gave him a feeling of calmness and supreme control in this one-on-one battle. Holding his shield up, Billy lunged forwards as the war club began to swing downwards towards his head. To his relief, Billy’s own forward momentum caught the warrior as he swung the club. Unfortunately for the young Zulu, the Landing Troopers had taught Billy Caudwell well.

Easy meat
, Billy smiled wolfishly as he felt the stunning blow of the war club hammer against the ox-hide shield strapped to his left arm.

The Zulu had committed himself to the blow far too soon. With his shielded left arm raised, Billy’s momentum was pushing the attacking Zulu backwards when he unleashed the sharp-bladed, short-stabbing assegai into the soft, unprotected belly of his attacker. The long, sharp point of the assegai blade passed through the warrior’s skin like a hot knife through butter, with a sickening hiss of tearing skin and muscle. With a loud gasp, the Zulu stared at Billy with wide, astonished, pain-filled eyes as the war club fell from his hand. At close range, Billy could smell the odour of the Zulu. He could smell his breath and the blood that was starting to flow down onto the blade buried in the Zulu’s torn and riven abdomen. No words passed between the two combatants in that instant, but Billy knew that he had taken the life of this brave young warrior. The Zulu, doubled over from the savage attack against his pierced abdomen, keeled over; silently, onto his face, in the dirt, and was dead before he landed.

With the Zulu down, Billy Caudwell pushed back towards to the barricade where the red-coated soldiers were being hard pressed to hold off the horde of warriors. Discarding the short stabbing assegai, Billy lifted a much longer stabbing spear that was lying near to him. Barging between two redcoats, Billy jabbed the short-bladed spear into the first black body he could reach in the great, seething mass of Zulu warriors. His first strike caught a warrior in the chest. The warrior let out a sharp, piercing shriek of agony that was lost in the great melee of battle. Twisting the shaft of the spear with his right hand, Billy dragged the weapon clear of the press of bodies, allowing the newly killed Zulu to fall.