The Temporal Knights (22 page)

“I want that gate down now,” Peebles yelled, battle adrenaline beginning to flood his body. He’d wondered over the past few days just how he and his men would react to fighting humans...after so much loss. He feared it might be difficult to kill, but he underestimated what five years of constant war, constant killing could do to a human psyche. They killed without thought or feeling, Skawp or human. A rocket streaked into the air even before the command was completely passed his lips, and the General smiled. He and his were trained and primed beyond anything the locals could comprehend. They were professional, disciplined, and very deadly. They were the best of what was left of old Earth, and they were by far the best in this new world. The rocket exploded with a blast that left the gate to the Stronghold and most of the surrounding walls in rubble. The General waited just a brief second, but nothing moved on the other side of the breach.

“Cover fire on the top wall,” he said and three M60 machine guns opened up and rained lead onto the parapets. The locals watched excited and terrorized at the same time.

“I see two cross slits in each tower,” Colonel Lemay said suddenly, carefully scanning the area for any threat. Since the first couple of explosions he’d only caught sight of a couple of Danes. They died quickly.

“Covering fire,” the General ordered and another pair of M60’s erupted onto the new targets.

“Sergeant Sadao, move your team in now. Kill at your discretion. I’d like as many survivors as possible but take no chances.” Two of the trucks immediately raced over the flat land to the smashed gate, and men poured out and rushed inside, with the M60’s fire covering their movements at all times.

The Earl watched the men as they made practiced moves, very precise, very quick.
‘Twas almost like a dance,’
he thought.

“Jefferies move your team in to cover and re-enforce.”

“Yes Sir,” the Corporal answered and moved his team to about fifty feet of the front gate. Two hummers with their powerful M60’s came along.

“Cease covering fire. Hersey, Carlos...any non-friendlies show themselves take them out pronto.”

“Aye Sir.”

“Computer heartbeats,” Sadao said and instantly all non-friendly heartbeats which were not directly linked to the IWS, showed on their visors, giving them the relative distance and direction of every
charlie. There were approximately two hundred and eighty. Almost immediately they were rushed by a hoard of angry and frightened men, and within five minutes the number of Danes plummeted to forty-three, most of these were injured or women. Eight of the heartbeats however, were in a portion of the Stronghold which seemed to have no access at all. It was upstairs, off one of the larger sleeping quarters...but after fifteen minutes Sadao found a loose slab of rock. It was hinged and opened easily revealing a small room, eight by ten at most, with no windows. There were eight large Danes huddled together. One, bolstered by his own fear, raised his enormous axe and dashed forward. He was shot dead before he completed his first step. The others immediately dropped to their knees before the faceless apparitions challenging them. They prayed to their gods, who were obviously displeased to send such demons among them, and though the Danes were vicious fighters, living for the glory of battle, it seemed pointless for them to fight, since their enemies killed without even touching their foes.

“Secure,” Sadao said over the com, as his men moved the disarmed Danes out into the larger room and sprawled them out onto the floor face down while they searched for additional weapons. They found a variety of knives, but nothing else.

“No injuries.” Sadao confirmed.

Peebles breathed a sigh of relief. The Earl and the Ealdorman were stunned speechless and the Earl couldn’t help but wonder about the danger these men presented to himself and his King.

“Captain Gardner...situation?” the General asked as he switched his TVD to Sadao’s view so he could get a look at the Danes.

“Clear.”

“Captain Hersey, move the rest of the force in close and set up a perimeter around the Stronghold. Captain Gardner, give me twenty minutes.”

“Aye Sir.”

General Peebles toggled back to his own view and looked over at the locals but asked Sadao. “How many prisoners?”

“Forty-one with twelve women and nineteen wounded. We’re tending to them now…and oh; I believe we may have actually captured their leader.”

“Interesting,” the General replied with a quick thought for the unlucky bastard on the rooftop.

“Gentlemen,” he said to the local noblemen, and motioned to what was left of the gates of the Stronghold. “If you would be so kind as to translate for us,” he said and led the way. The Earl was visibly shaken but he was in far better shape than Æthelnoth, who slowly climbed to his feet.

‘I’ll be needin’ to send another man to warn the king,’
the Earl thought, on the verge of panic.
‘He must be stayin’ away from the west…he must na come.’

Both the Earl and the Ealdorman followed along utterly astounded. It would have taken many men and months to drive the Danes from the Hill on their own…if they were even successful. Harden, who was younger, ran ahead in his excitement.

They entered the Countisbury Hill Stronghold and carefully made their way through the rubble that was once the main gate. Directly beyond the shattered opening lay hundreds of dead Vikings, some intact, some in gruesome pieces.

“Holy Father!”
Harden yelped and covered his mouth in an effort to keep down his lunch…he failed.

The captured prisoners huddled on the far side of the large courtyard, clearly terrified, and warily eyeing the strange man-demons that now stood guard over them. The wounded were being treated where they lay if their wounds were severe, the rest were moved to the north side of the courtyard. Per Dr. Rice’s orders no one removed their helmets, and no one would in the presence of the Danes. Most of the prisoners did not look up as they entered, but a few did and were relieved to see both the Earl and the Ealdorman...at least they were men. Most of the Danes were still praying, the women were crying, as were a few of the younger men…boys really. A tall, broad man with flaming red hair sat near the center of the prisoners and watched as the Earl approached, a look of relief on his face. All the healthy prisoners were cuffed with plastic ties, their hands secured behind their backs.

“Ye have joined with these Devils eh Anglish?” the large man asked in his own language, his eyes darting to the nearest demon. He half expected a loud and instant death for his flippancy, but the strange beings around the Anglish did nothing.

“Ye name?” the Earl asked and felt a wave of power course through his body, though to be truthful he was still trying to control his own fear and awe of these strange men. He hated the flat slate faceplates on the helmets and wished the soldiers would remove them…but they didn’t and the Earl was not going to insist.
‘These strangers must be tamed,’
he thought. He must learn their secrets...such power could indeed make Kings.

“Ubba of Fyn.”

“Ubba the torch?”

The man gave a devil’s smile.
“Yah…if ye wish.”

The Earl repeated his answer in English for the Devils. Ubba raised an eyebrow, wondering what kind of devils these were that could not speak Danish...obviously they were English devils, and were not sent by Thor as they claimed to be. This at least gave him some peace of mind.

“Ye be the leader of these Danes?”

“Yah.
I vas da leader,” he answered, and again the Earl translated.

“Vhat kinduf devils ye be dat
cant speak Danish?” Ubba asked in a fit of bravery. No one answered him; instead they moved off a ways and began conversing with the Englishmen. Ubba sat still, wanting to learn all that he could, though he knew it was likely a waste of time, at any moment he expected death to plummet from the heavens and take him.

“Do you think the Danes could sail a ship back to their own land with so few to man it?” Peebles asked the Earl, who gaped at him in horror.

“Na!” The Ealdorman interrupted, suddenly angry. He was grateful to the strangers for capturing these invaders but to just let them go was the height of folly. “We’ll na be lettin’ these heathen go. They must have a reckonin’ for the townfolk Pilton...and for many others.”

Peebles frowned and glanced over to Sir Æthelred, but he could instantly tell that he would get no help from the Earl.

“Come,” he finally said and they made their way back out sight of the prisoners. The General took off his helmet, and rubbed his face thinking. He did not want to kill the prisoners, nor did he want them killed. He’d seen enough killing in his day, and he thought their deaths would be unnecessary. The Danes were defeated, and these at least would be chased out of England. That was the main goal.

“We have beaten the Danes here,” he said finally deciding on the tack he would take. “And we will beat every Dane on English soil.” The two noblemen just looked at him, hoping these strangers were truly on their side.

“I’d like you to let these Danes go free,” Peebles finally said getting to the point, and immediately he saw the faces before him go hard.

“Na!” the Ealdorman said his face twisted in anger. “These Danes kill and kill and kill me own people. They
na be goin’ free. They be for the fire.”

“Yah,” the Earl agreed. “Tis
na the time to show weakness or ye be bringin’ the whole of the Danes down on us.”

The General shook his head. “These Danes were not defeated in the normal way. How long would it have taken you to drive them out?”

The Ealdorman was quiet, still angry, but the Earl was beginning to get an inkling of what this tall stranger had in mind. “Two moons if luck was with us...and many men. Mayhap never,” he finally admitted.

“These Danes were routed, killed in one afternoon and we lost no men. They will tell others what happened to them. Do you think they will be eager to come back?”

“Na,” the Earl agreed with a slight smile, and after his anger subsided a bit the Ealdorman finally agreed.

“Ye may let the others go, to be warning the others, but Ubba of Fyn will stay and face the fire for his people’s crimes,” the old man demanded, his serious manner in stark contrast to his usual easy going, quick to laugh, demeanor.

“Fine,” Peebles replied, his voice becoming hard. “His death is on your head then, and he’s your prisoner. We will have no part in it,” he added and began to walk away.

“Skawps!” a frantic yell echoed from the ramparts above. Peebles glanced up and then immediately put on his helmet. Seconds later an M18 opened up on full automatic, firing hundreds of rounds a minute. The General’s heart sank in his chest, fear gripping him.

“Gardner...” he yelled running back to the courtyard, looking for the stairs which led to the walls above.

“Treadway...cease fire,” The General heard someone yell...possibly Corporal Hernandez, but the firing continued.

“Sir,” Gardner reported from overhead, “all is clear, repeat all is clear. Treadway is firing on the Earl’s knights.”

“Computer identify Peebles code 357, deactivate Private Treadway from IWS,” he said quickly, and almost instantly the firing stopped.

“Skawps!” Treadway yelled again still depressing the trigger, still trying to fire, but Corporal Hernandez, who had pulled his own helmet off, grabbed Treadway by the shoulder and yanked off the man’s helmet. By now Colonel Lemay and Captain Hersey were there to help. Treadway’s gaze flickered from man to man. He was clearly panicked and wondered just what was going on with his friends and fellow soldiers.

“Skawps!” he repeated, but this was heard only by those surrounded him since he was cut off of the IWS.

“Killian,” Lemay said at once. “Get up here now...this man needs a sedative.”

“Captain Gardner,” Peebles said. “Are there any injuries?” he asked a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Hard to tell, Sir. But I think not. They were out of range when Treadway opened up, but I can’t be sure. They’ve scattered all over the countryside,” Gardner said then added. “He scared the hell out of me as well.”

“Aye,” Peebles answered finally beginning to relax somewhat, and he heard nervous laughter over the airwaves. He looked about and saw the Earl and the Ealdorman staring at him questioningly.

“Slight mistake,” he explained, then with his helmet still on, he signaled for the two local noblemen to follow as he moved back to the prisoners.

“Ubba of Fyn,” he said in his deepest voice, trying to sound very impressive. “Ye now
be in the hands of the Ealdorman of Somerset.” The Earl translated.

Ubba’s expression did not change. He expected to die.

“The rest of ye...begone!” Peebles added but for several moments no one moved. It was only at the insistence of the Ealdorman and the Earl that the shocked Danes realized that they were to be set free by these devils and allowed to board their ship for home. Suddenly, they were up and gone, the women rushing about in their midst.

Though all the women were English, they went willingly. They would be killed for dallying with the enemy if they stayed. It mattered little to the locals that they were raped and
beaten countless times before their spirits finally broke and they settled in with the Danes. There was no forgiveness for betrayal, no matter how much suffering was behind the act.