The main attack wave was trying to fight its way up the ridge, while more groups of Montagnards and a handful of Panzergrenadiers tried to flank the defences to the east and west. As he approached the ridge, his helmet began to receive messages from the company net. Volkov’s voice barked orders. Lieutenant Merle asked for status.
Logan could just turn around, and look for a place to hide out the day. Wait for the end of the battle, and see who won. He was too late to warn them before the insurgents attacked. He could only provide one more body to shoot back.
But he couldn’t just sit there and watch them die, to save his own skin.
Besides, what would happen to any surviving villagers if the Montagnards found them? He wasn’t having another massacre on his conscience. If all he could do was take a few of them with him, so be it.
“I have to get in there.”
The girl leaned past his shoulder. “I’d rather be in one of those buildings than out here while the sun is up.”
Logan swung the rifle around to his side, grabbed the pistol grip with his right hand, and used the sling to support it from his shoulder as he held it against his hip.
“So, what is your name, anyway?”
He waited a second for her to respond. Then she did.
“It’s Nicole.”
“Well, Nicole… hang on.”
Logan pulled the right rein hard, and kicked the horse’s side. It began to walk, and he pressed harder with his legs against its side, until it broke into a fast trot. He pulled it around toward the village as it accelerated to a gallop. There were only a few dozen men between him and the village.
Only.
The horse’s hooves thundered across the ground, and the creature gasped for breath. Spit flew from its lips as it used up whatever reserves of strength it had left.
Two Panzergrenadiers lay prone behind rocks, firing rifles at the village. Logan pulled the horse around to the left, and sprayed the nearest suit as he passed. Most of the bullets went wide, and impacted the dirt around the rock, but sparks flew from the suit where some hit.
For a few seconds, the Panzergrenadiers seemed to have no idea of what had happened as the horse passed them and charged on.
Then the riflemen behind them began to fire. Rounds tore up the dirt to Logan’s right, and he swung the horse to the left.
A Montagnard rifleman was crawling forward among the rocks ahead of the horse, and another was setting up an RPG behind a rock to their left. Logan pulled the left rein harder, and swung the horse between the rifleman and grenadier.
He twisted the rifle to point across the horse’s neck and fired. The burst threw up a shower of dirt around the grenadier, and Logan raised the barrel. The next burst ricocheted off the rock. The Montagnard dropped the RPG, then ducked behind the rock.
Two Panzergrenadiers up ahead.
They raised their arms, aiming their suits’ built-in grenade launchers at the village, and firing bursts of grenades that way. One turned toward Logan. Their net must be full of reports of some crazy guy with a rifle on a horse by now. Logan fired at him. Splinters of glass exploded from the man’s helmet visor as rounds impacted, but failed to penetrate. Maybe it would make them hard to see.
Then the horse was past the front line of Panzergrenadiers on this side of the ridge. A handful of the Montagnards were crawling up the hillside ahead of him, or making a run from cover to cover. Some turned toward him, and fired their rifles as he approached. Logan ducked as rounds cracked through the air around them, swung his rifle their way, and fired until the magazine was empty.
A Montagnard went down, oozing blood from what was left of his face. Another fell backwards, screaming, as a round tore off the lower half of his leg. The rest took cover and fired as the horse passed, moving too fast for the riflemen to aim.
There was nothing much left to do, except gallop as fast as the horse could until they reached the village. Logan pulled the reins at random, and the horse followed a twisting path up the ridge. Rifle rounds slammed into the ground around them, and more passed over their heads. Whether aimed for them, or heading for the village, was hard to say. But the horse was now racing directly into the crossfire between the two sides.
Logan ducked low over the horse’s neck, and the girl leaned over him. The horse was panting hard now, and beginning to slow. After running for so long, how did it have any energy left? Its hooves continued to hammer the ground, but the pace grew slower with every second.
Logan kicked the horse’s side, willing it to move faster. But there was only so much it could do, after the long run from the mine. It needed a break.
Upended trees lay on top of each other at the entrance to the village, blocking the wide main street that ran between two rows of houses. More trees lay on their side on the approach to the village, two directly across the track in front of the street, two more at an angle on each side.
Logan gave up on trying to weave as they approached the barricades, and let the horse make its own way as fast as it could. But more rifle rounds hit the ground ahead of them.
Every second put more distance between the horse and the Panzergrenadiers and Montagnards. But it reduced the distance to the Legion.
And now they were firing at him.
“1st Company,” Logan called over the company net. “It’s Legionnaire McCoy. I’m approaching on a horse. Don’t shoot me, you stupid bastards.”
The fire lessened. A few more rounds came from the village, then they stopped.
“Relax, boys,” a voice said on the net, and laughed. “The cavalry is here.”
An RPG round slammed into the ground to Logan’s right and exploded, spraying dirt into the air around them. The horse reared and twisted at the noise, and the flying dirt that smacked against its body.
Logan clung to the horse with his legs, released the rifle and pulled on the reins, trying to get the animal to calm down. The girl squealed behind him as the horse’s front legs kicked the air, and it turned on the spot.
A grenade exploded behind them, and that gave the horse an incentive to run on.
It raced toward the first tree-trunk barricade as another grenade exploded to the left, and chunks of bark erupted from the tree trunks as stray rifle rounds hammered into them.
Logan hung on as the horse jumped the barricade. Its hooves clattered against the tree trunks as it barely passed over them, then slammed down on the far side. Just a few seconds now to the final barricade.
The Legionnaires who were crouched in cover behind the houses stood and stepped out, firing their rifles non-stop toward the Montagnards and Panzergrenadiers, spraying rounds past each side of the horse to keep their heads down.
Then the horse jerked beneath Logan.
He yelled as it lowered its head, then tumbled forward as its legs collapsed beneath it. He flew from the saddle, his left leg twisting until it slid free from the stirrup, then he slammed into the ground three metres from the tree trunks.
He tumbled with the impact, rolling aside just as the horse’s body slammed down into the dirt beside him. Blood gushed from a deep wound in its side.
Nicole crawled away from the horse as its hindquarters twisted and its legs kicked hard, barely missing her. It tried to twist back onto its feet, but that just caused more blood to gush from the wound.
Logan grabbed Nicole’s hand. “Come on.”
“We can’t just leave her.”
Logan pulled Nicole toward him. “She’s done. We’re not. Come on, before it’s too late.” He pushed her to her feet. “Stay low, and move fast.”
She turned to look back at the wounded horse, but he pushed her on, and followed as close behind her as he could. Another grenade exploded behind them. He winced as a chunk of hot shrapnel impaled itself in his leg.