Black Legion: 03 - Warlords of Cunaxa (31 page)

“If we do not help Cyrus in this attack, then we all fail. Surely we have a better chance together than leaving him to fail?”

The words were actually sensible and for a second, Proxenus tried to work out what possible angle Meno was looking at for this battle. Finding none, he assumed that Meno must just be fearful for his own skin. Defeat in this battle would have serious repercussions for any that survived. A quick survey of the battlefield showed the open ground between the outer wall and the inner wall of the Citadel had almost no cover. Only the small buildings barracks, vehicle depots and power units stationed near the inside of the wall itself offered any cover. It gave him an idea.

“Right, this is the plan. Meno and Kratez will join the main frontal assault with their heavy infantry.
Sophaenetus
and
Sosis
, you will join me with all the stratiotes on a massed attack past the tower complex on the left. We will pick up Xenias and his troops on the way where they are still trapped. By this time, the main battle should be well underway. We will smash their flank and roll them up so that we hit the centre of the line on two fronts.”

Each of the Dukas nodded in agreement at the plan.

“Good, to your posts, we have but seconds!”

By the times the Dukas ran back to their units, Proxenus had reached the mixed formation of troops assembled at the tower. Xenophon and his companions were also there, waiting with a mixture of ranged and close combat weapons.
Sophaenetus
and
Sosis
, commander of the small Arcadian and
Syracusan
units were there, explaining to their stratiotes and the odd spatharii what the plan was. A loud horn with a frequency so low that it almost made the ground vibrate announced the start of Cyrus’ attack. All along ground in front of the wall the assembled legions stepped forward at a walking pace. Proxenus shook his head at the sight.

“Come on, we need to move!”

With that, the commanders and their groups of lightly armoured soldiers sprinted off to the left, each keeping their heads down low to avoid any potential gunfire. Not far from the front, Xenophon and his group were doing their best to keep up, even after the minor injuries they’d sustained in the fighting to secure the tower. With a terrifying scream, the defensive weapons of the Citadel as well as the soldiers themselves opened fire. Cyrus’ own troops, their battle standards lifted high and cheering for their commander, increased their pace. Proxenus and his comrades reached the tower being held by Xenias just as the first mortars and heavy ordnance started to land amongst Cyrus and his forces. The last stage in the battle for the Citadel of Cunaxa had begun.

“Clear the lower level!” shouted Proxenus. He then barged through the group of surprised enemy automatons waiting near the entrance and vanished inside the tower. It was structured much like the one Xenophon had secured but about fifty percent larger in its width. Most of the others pushed past and dug in around the tower while the small number of spatharii joined in for the attack. Xenophon and Glaucon jumped in to find Proxenus smashing the head of a Mulac into the wall. Two more Mulacs appeared from the staircase, and he swung his pulse cannon around to face them. One turned to run, but it was too late. The flash of the gun nearly blinded the Terrans, but it did its job. The bodies of the two shattered Mulacs slid down, and Xenophon jumped passed them to move upstairs. Others followed, including Artemas as they worked their way up to the next floor. Gunfire above indicated some kind of action was going on. By the time Xenophon had reached the open space, he ran into Xenias himself plus a dozen of his men engaged in a bitter hand-to-hand fight with an equal number of heavily armoured Mulacs.

“Protect the Dukas!” he shouted and leapt into action. Artemas joined in, her speed and skill more than a match for any single warrior in the room. Weight of numbers soon pressed against the Mulacs until just four remained. They were pushed up to the wall and fighting desperately. Seeing their fight was hopeless, they dropped their weapons and stood by to await their fate. Xenias almost struck them down, but Proxenus intervened and moved directly to Xenias.

“We need to keep moving. Cyrus has launched a full frontal assault on Artaxerxes’ defences. I need everybody you have to help in a push on our left flank, but leave your best shots. They can help supply us with covering fire from these towers.”

Xenias nodded, but he was clearly in pain. Drops of blood ran down his left leg, and his armour was battered and scorched. He glanced over when he saw Xenophon.

“You again!” he laughed. “You’d better come with us. We have something important to do!”

They made their way back down, letting small groups of fresh troops with long-range rifles move into the structure. Now that the fighting was over in that part of the battlefield, they would be able to rain down a withering hail of fire into the flak of the enemy formation. It would be helpful but not decisive for the coming struggle. They reached the door and moved out to see the first ranks of Cyrus’ Median army crash into the troops of Artaxerxes. It was like watching land-trains crash head on. Dozens, perhaps hundreds must have been crushed or killed in the first stage. Streaks from missiles and heavy weapons on both sides tore into the lines, yet nothing seemed to be able to thin out the thousands of warriors.

“This is complete insanity. Cyrus has gone completely mad,” Proxenus muttered.

“Are we staying or pushing on?” asked Sosis. He was now starting to doubt their plan.

Xenophon, although only a lowly dekarchos, pushed between the commanders.

“We have to join the battle. They are evenly matched, so this could go either way.”

Artemas and Roxana stood off to his side but said nothing. They were both completely overawed by the sight of the epic battle taking place. Only Glaucon seemed to be able to take his eyes away for even a moment.

“Come on, if we’re attacking, we need to do this now.”

Dukas Xenias nodded in agreement, and after being given the nod by Proxenus, turned to face his grubby looking warriors.

“Arcadians, it is time! Let’s finish this!”

With a cry, he lumbered forward, still hugging the outer wall and working around towards the enemy’s flank. The other stratiotes chased after, and like a stampeding herd, the entire force moved quickly ahead. They reached just a hundred metres from the nearest enemy when the defensive fire started. The few spatharii present did their best to shield the others from the gunfire, but like the Medes soldiers, the stratiotes were poorly equipped to deal with such a torrent of gunfire. Twenty-three were cut down before the front rank made it close enough to use pistols, blades and carbines effectively. Those with rifles slid into cover a short distance from the enemy line but most charged ahead. After passing the outer line of skirmishers, they crashed into the lightly armoured automatons, proceeding to shoot, hack and stab their way through.

“To the Emperor!” called out Proxenus. He was drowned out by the shouting and screams of hundreds of Medes and Terran soldiers.

Xenophon and his companions stayed closer to Xenias, having greater faith in their old commander’s skills, as well as his instincts. He instantly identified the weakest part of the horde, and with his carbine held low, he charged through. Any enemy troops coming too close were shot to pieces or hacked down by a dozen of his personal guards. Glaucon followed, blasting apart every enemy soldier he could identify. Roxana, Artemas and Xenophon concentrated on blade combat. Their experience, training and skill with these weapons were vastly superior to the Medes, and it took just three minutes for them to cut a swathe through to a raised piece of ground. Xenias stopped upon reaching it, moving only to pick off the odd automaton that moved into his path.

“Where is Cyrus?”

Proxenus was nowhere to be seen, nor were the other Dukas. He looked back and noted that less than a hundred Terrans had penetrated this far. The rest were engaged in a massed melee to the flank. He looked back and could see the Emperor, now stood and sheltering behind dozens of golden armoured warriors. They appeared agitated, and some rushed off to the right. He turned his head slightly and picked out the standard of Cyrus, along with the spatharii of Meno and a handful of his Anusiyans that still lived. Xenophon took aim, cutting down a group of automatons trying to block their path to assist in the final fight. They were an equal distance from the Emperor and the rest of their men.

“This is it, Dukas. We have to help him!” shouted Xenophon.

Xenias hesitated, fearful that by pushing forward, he would trap his small band right in the heart of the enemy army. Rather than wait, Xenophon jumped forward with his companions following. They hacked and blasted away as they continued forward. Xenias, never the man to stand by and watch, took aim and chased after them. Almost as soon as they started, they seemed to arrive at the side of the enemy leader. His guards surrounded him. At seeing a number of Terrans arriving on their flank, a group of the guards turned and jumped down to intercept them. They were armed with deadly looking glaives and others carried rifles. Xenophon, Artemas and Xenias crashed into them. Glaucon took careful aim at the Emperor. He lifted the weapon slightly, aiming at the leader’s head. Dozens more Terrans rushed past him to engage those trying to stop Xenophon. His friend looked back and saw Glaucon.

“Do it!” he screamed.

Glaucon breathed out slowly and pulled the trigger. The weapon slammed back into his body, and a burst of large calibre pulse rounds launched at the Emperor. He saw the figure move and then vanish in the maelstrom of the battle. Three of the guards fired back, so he was forced to duck down. He then lifted himself back up and took aim once more, finally seeing the commander being helped up.

You must have some amazing gear!
Glaucon thought.

He lined up for another shot, but it was too late. Cyrus and more than forty Medes soldiers, Terrans and even three Taochi warriors cut their way through the Anusiyan guards; right up to Artaxerxes himself. At the same time, Xenophon and Artemas managed to reach the platform to hit the Emperor from the left. Cyrus made it first and charged directly at his half-brother. Artaxerxes drew a firearm from inside his gloriously detailed cloak and took aim. Three of Meno’s spatharii locked position around their commander, their body shields placed directly in front of Cyrus. Even so, the look on Cyrus’ face transformed as he realised the weapon was not a pistol, but in fact a thermal grenade. With a bright blue flash, the powerful explosion obliterated the Emperor and his immediate bodyguard. The spatharii protecting Cyrus were thrown back into the battle where they were instantly cut down. Cyrus was blasted onto his back, the superheated weapon leaving shards of burning hot metal and plasma stuck in his armour and body. Zacynthians guards, who proceeded to try and finish him off, quickly surrounded him. One stabbed down and embedded his bayoneted rifle into Cyrus’ shoulder, and another tried to cut at his face. A nearby automaton bravely leapt ahead and took the impact instead. Cyrus cried out in pain, and as quickly as the battle hard started, it began to lose its impetus.

“Get back!” Xenias called out at seeing the fallen Cyrus.

Some of the Terrans obeyed, but most of them were fired up and their bloodlust had to be satiated. Xenophon and his friends refused to give up, and they pushed ahead to their commander. Artemas took the head off the Anusiyan holding him down. Xenophon cut down two more with his Asgeirr-Carbines. Glaucon dropped his weapon and helped drag Cyrus back down the steps. The other Terrans did their best to close up their ranks and fight off the Medes that were so keen to end his life. Xenophon stabbed at another Medes soldier and checked on Cyrus. The multiple wounds on his chest and his torn armour told him the Medes noble had minutes, perhaps seconds to live. The burning plasma meant that he couldn’t even try and help remove the armour that was slowly killing him.

We can still make it back to the wall!
He thought.

He stepped directly in front of the fallen Cyrus and around him the other spatharii stood like a Laconian army of old. They each had their body shield activated and provided a wall of energy and armour. Xenias and the rest joined them and metre-by-metre the army of Cyrus gave ground. More gunfire ripped into the army of Cyrus as the promised reinforcements arrived at the wall. They were too late to save the battle, but they were able to push forward and create a shielded wall from behind which the army could move back slowly. Once they’d withdrawn almost fifty metres, Xenophon left the front rank and knelt down next to Cyrus. Artemas was already holding his hand and sobbing. He looked to the face of Cyrus, the kind-hearted, if power-hungry Median. The plasma had burned through his armour, and his face was white. Blood ran from his mouth, and a trail of blood ran from where they’d dragged him. Xenias saw what was happening and moved over, keeping his left arm raised to provide protection from the continuous gunfire hitting their army.

“He’s gone, Xenophon. This battle is over. Cyrus is dead.”