“Here they come! Black as hell and thick as grass!”
That was all it took for the native contingent to bolt after the other who had already fled. Several of the British regulars, outraged, fired at the fleeing militia, killing a few.
Chard saw no reason to make an issue of this fratricide. His command had just been more than halved in the space of a few minutes. As he shouted orders, realigning the defense to close the gaps just created, he sensed first, rather than heard, something in the distance. So, apparently, did everyone else, as the station came to a standstill.
There was the slightest vibration in the ground. Then there was a noise. The nearest Chard could describe it was like a locomotive engine in the distance — a rhythmic pounding. It took him several moments before he realized what he was feeling and hearing: the Zulu army on the march, coming this way.
The right horn of the Zulu army came over the high ground to the northeast, more than four thousand strong. Their spears had not tasted blood at Isandlwana due to the roundabout march, and they were eager for the battle. Technically, Rorke’s Drift was not a target in Cetewayo’s plan, but the commander of the right horn felt he had enough flexibility in orders to swing this far out of the advance. The station was simply too tempting a target, obviously lightly defended. Also, it represented the missionaries who had corrupted many of the people.
The Zulu force did not halt on the high ground but came straight on, deploying from column to wide front for the attack while on the move, an example of their superb training.
There was no time for a plan, Chard knew as he watched the Zulu come on, nor was one needed. They had to hold in place. As soon as the front of the Zulu line was in range he gave the order to fire.
The massed volleys did their job, smashing into the ranks of Zulu warriors, killing and wounding many. But the ranks behind leapt over their fallen comrades and kept coming.
The odds were not good for the small outpost. There · were slightly over one hundred defenders while there were thousands of attackers. And some of the Zulu also had rifles, scavenged from the edges of the Isandlwana battlefield as they had passed by. As the main force charged. A cluster of Zulu riflemen fired down into the camp from a nearby hill. Their fire was terribly inaccurate, yet they did hit an unfortunate few British regulars.
Volley after volley rang out from the British walls, yet the Zulu kept coming, useless shields held in front of their bodies, their shoulders hunched, in the way all men advanced against fire, as if moving into a fierce wind.
“Independent fire,” Chard called out as the Zulu got within one hundred yards of the wall, allowing each man to fire at his own pace. He pulled his pistol out and checked the rounds, then cocked it. He drew his saber with his other hand and waited for the inevitable.
Shakan and Ahana reached past the track that crested between Isandlwana and the next hill to the south. Ahana had her Valkyrie suit tied off to her waist now, pulling it along as she moved. They had been hearing the fire for a while and now they could see the cause. The missionary station was a small island of red surrounded by a surging black sea. As they watched, the sea hit the island.
The defenders of Rorke’s Drift had two advantages that their comrades at Isandlwana had not had. First, they had tighter lines, allowing better volley fire. And second, they · were behind a wall. As each Zulu reached the wall, he had to lower his shield to try to climb over. As he did so, he left himself vulnerable to British steel. Bayonets glinted in the setting sun as British soldiers spitted Zulu warriors on their bayonets as they tried to climb into the compound.
Still, numbers counted. Here and there, the outer wall was breached and Zulus poured into the compound. They were met with more volley fire as Bromhead rushed to and fro with a platoon that he would form up wherever there was breach. And when the volley fire wasn’t enough, the platoon would charge, shoulder to shoulder, bayonets in front, to push those Zulu still alive out of the breach and reseal the perimeter.
The battle raged for what seemed like hours, days, to the participants, but in reality was little more than a half hour, before the Zulu finally managed to breach the outer wall in so many places that Bromhead’s platoon could not seal them all. Darkness was falling, but the battle was well lit by the burning hospital roof.
Most of the patients had already been evacuated from the hospital to the storage building by that time. But some men were still in there as the roof burned and Zulus began to surround the building. Chard realized the outer wall was lost and ordered a withdrawal to the final outpost 17, near the storage building, unfortunately abandoning the hospital in the process and the men trapped inside.
The situation was further exacerbated by the fact that the rooms of the hospital did not have inner connections, only opening to outside doors. As the Zulus broke into the end room, the British inside were forced to use a pickax to cut through the internal walls to create an opening to the next room in order to retreat, dragging their wounded with them.
Those who fought the rear guard action in this room-by-room retreat were overwhelmed and hacked to death as Zulu swarmed over them. A handful of men managed to make it to the other end of the building in this manner and then dashed across the open ground to the final outpost.
Shakan and Ahana were making their way closer to the besieged station. In Ahana’s hands was her muonic detector and as they closed the distance, the reading got stronger.
Shakan put out a hand and halted Ahana. The Zulu woman pointed. About three miles from the station, a column of British soldiers was approaching. Even as they watched, though. the column came to halt, seeing the glow of the fire ahead and hearing the firing.
Ahana noticed that the amulet that Shakan wore around her neck was beginning to emit a faint glow. Shakan noticed it too and wrapped her hand tight around the crystal.
On the roof of the storehouse, Chard also saw the column. He· d climbed up there in a brief lull in the battle. As the Zulu pulled back to prepare another assault. Thankfully he was the only one who could see the column, because as he watched, it turned and headed back the way it had come, obviously assuming either everyone at the station was dead or that they could do little to help.
Chard watched the last of the soldiers disappear in the moonlight with a heavy heart. The Zulu had smashed the entire outer wall and were just on the other side, preparing another attack.
He had no doubt they would come again and again until they wiped out every living soul.
Ahana and Shakan reached the rear of the Zulu force assaulting Rorke’s Drift. Lifting her crystal amulet high, Shakan cried out for the warriors to let them pass. As they · made their way forward the glow from the crystal grew brighter and the muonic reading on Ahana’s instrument was beginning to spike.
Abana’s instruments gave her some idea of the amount of power that was flowing through the Isandlwana Gate. She knew this was the latest tap by the Shadow to draw power to itself.
She just didn’t see how she could do anything about it. If anything, this battle at Rorke’s Drift was adding more power.
Colonel Chamberlain had the MH-90s deployed along the Palisades, using the craft as temporary lodging for his battalion. He’d sent out patrols, both on the ground and in the air. Not that he expected trouble, but one thing that had always concerned him was that the Final Assault didn’t necessarily mean it would be his forces attacking the Shadow — it could also mean the Shadow attacking this timeline for the last time and completely wiping it out.