The Devil's Regiment (7 page)

Watching from the main building, Elizabeth and Nathaniel focused on maintaining the barrier ward at the rear of the wall.

The towers rolled slowly up the walls, and their wooden panelled doors began to drop. The drawbridges hit the top of the wall with a crash, and the soldiers peered into the towers.

What charged from the black depths of the siege towers was not the dead soldiers they had come to expect, but grey, malformed creatures that scuttled on all fours, fangs and claws sliding from sheaths beneath the skin as they moved. The lead creature took a running leap at Callum, who ducked under it's path of flight and slashed at it with his sabre. The blade sheared through the monsters skin like paper, splattering blood across the sandstone of the wall. 

“Use bayonets! Save your bullets!” he shouted at his detachment of men. To the sides, he could hear Ward and Carlisle repeated the command. A second creature barrelled into his chest, slashing at his side with razor claws.

He was saved by Corporal Dunwit, who lanced the beast with his bayonet, and kicked it off the wall. The corporal pulled Callum to his feet.

“You alright?”

“Fine. Let's sort these buggers out.” 

They turned back to the grisly work at hand, hacking and stabbing the foul creatures as they leapt from the towers.

Callum felt a surge of energy inside his head, and aimed his hand at the inside of the tower. A gout of flame surged up inside the tower, to the sound of bestial screaming from within.

Callum and Dunwit shared a look, then the dragon-blood turned his attention to the other towers. One by one, they burst into flame, the conflagration gouting up to incinerate them. The soldiers fell into a reverent silence as the flames crackled up the inside of the wooden towers, which slowly collapsed in upon themselves and vanished. Ward, his face awed, walked over to them.

“A neat trick, boyo, but I'd rather you did it a bit sooner next time.” He grinned.

Callum smiled slightly

“If I'd known I could, I would have done Ward. Seems I'm learning new things all the time.” His smile faded. “...Did we lose anyone.”

Ward's smile vanished as Carlisle joined them.

“One of the lads who was already here, Coker... And Private Cavill.” He laid a gentle hand on Dunwit's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Reg. I know you two joined together.”

Dunwit slumped, his eyes misting. 

“Jesus. I've known him since we were lads. I know his mum... What will I tell her, when we get back, Sarge?”

“What we always tell them, lad. That her son died a hero.”

He looked out into the distance, his eyes far away.

“That's what we always tell them...”

***

Callum slowly dismounted the steps from the battlements, and walked unsteadily towards the main building. Elizabeth and Nathaniel came out to meet him. As they saw the glazed look in the dragon-blood's eyes, Nathaniel reached out to take his arm.

“No!” 

The lead agent's hand froze halfway to his.

“The soldiers are watching. If they see me pass out, it'll ruin everything we've just accomplished. Get me inside first.”

He walked through the door, then staggered as his legs failed to bear his weight. His friends grabbed his arms, holding him up on his feet as they half carried him back to the mess hall.

“God almighty Callum, how much energy did you burn?”

“A lot. I hope we've got time before the bastard comes again.”

Elizabeth came over from the kitchen, wielding a cup of tea and a mug of brandy. She handed them to the exhausted mage, who drank gratefully.

“That'll pick you up a bit.” she said flatly.

“Thanks.”

“What possessed you to do that, you stupid sod?” she snapped. 

“It was instinct. When those things came out of the towers, it all got a bit complicated.”

She glared at him, then sighed, and glanced at Nathaniel.

“What were they? I've not come across them before.”

“Bogtrolls.” he said primly. “It seems our enemy has a long arm. They're offshoots of goblins, and they're usually only found in eastern Europe. I'd never have expected to see them here – they need swamps to survive.”

“I don't think survival was the goal.” Callum said “It just wanted to whittle us down. And it's working.”

“Do you think we can hold out for another two days?”

“I don't know, Nathaniel, I truly don't.” He sipped at the tea. “All I know is that we have to. That spell we built into the wall won't reach terminal mass until then.”

The three agents sat in silence, and then Callum slowly got to his feet. 

“I need to get some rest...”

He slumped back into the seat, and his eyes closed. A low, rumbling snore escaped from his mouth.

Elizabeth looked at Nathaniel. The pair had worked together for years, first as master and apprentice, and now as fellow agents. He knew what she was going to say almost before her mouth opened.

“We can't let him keep channelling that much force Nathaniel. It's liable to kill him.”

“I know – but do you want to be the one to tell him that?”

She stared moodily at the sleeping dragon-blood.

“He's the only one here who can use the void stone. We need to protect him Nathaniel. And if he won't accept that protection...”

Nathaniel nodded, and grinned.

“Then he doesn't have to know about it. I like it.”

“Of course you do. It's underhanded.”

***

Roger Carlisle felt exhausted. His eyes felt like sand had been rubbed in them, and his head pounded like a kettle drum.

Despite that, he also felt strangely exultant. He had fought, he had killed, but most importantly, he had survived. He pulled one of his cigarettes from the pack at his side and lit a match, taking a deep draw.

He leaned on the wall, and stared out into the scrubland, his eyes alert for any threat. The few hours sleep he'd got before had done him the world of good. He felt refreshed, almost reborn.

Ward was watching him carefully, for any sign that the lieutenant was starting to get a bit too overzealous. He'd seen this too many times, officers that had their first taste of combat got cocky, and got themselves and others killed.

He sat at the edge of the courtyard, and drew his sabre. Taking a whetstone from his pouch, he began to sharpen the blade in long, smooth strokes.

The rasping sound of the stone on steel drew Carlisle out of his reverie. Smiling slightly, he drew his own sword and inspected the blade. The sabre had been a gift from his father on his commission, one of the finest that could be bought from the Wilkinson company in London. The blade had worked hard over the last few days, and in the last fight had taken a deep nick. He frowned, and began to dig in his own pocket for a stone to polish it to razor sharpness.

“How you managing, sir?” the sergeant asked.

“Tolerable, Ward. I'm starting to think we've got the measure of them – if we can hold for two more days...”

“Easy enough to say, sir.”

Carlisle smiled bashfully.

“I suppose your right. It all depends on our three magicians, doesn't it?”

“Well, they seem to know what they're doing – at least I think they do. Half the time I have no bloody idea what they're talking about.”

Carlisle laughed.

“You're not alone in that, Sergeant.”

Around their leaders, the forty-eight remaining defenders of Kasharim did their best to relax, as they waited for the next attack.

Chapter Seven

They were waiting until the next afternoon for the bloody work to resume. Once again, the heat washing off the scrubland solidified into ranks of men, who swiftly began to march towards the fortress, their weapons lowered. This time, the Sergeant stood back, out of range of the British Rifles. Volley after volley clattered like hail against the walls, forcing the defenders to cower behind the battlements from the constant stream of fire. 

There were more of the phantom soldiers than ever before. Rank upon rank firing their muskets at the handful of defenders.

And so the soldiers cowered, and tried to filter out the sound of gunfire. Some thought of home, some of lovers. But all of them were combined in their hatred of the demonic besiegers.

Callum walked across the courtyard towards the walls as the constant barrage continued. The force of channelling the fire spell into the siege towers had drained him, but nothing was more frustrating than being forced to wait while the enemy attacked.

He could feel the spell they had infused into the wall building by the minute, a ticking time bomb of magical energy approaching the critical amount they needed.

He could feel time playing with him. The seconds ticked away and  every one brought them closer to victory.

“Callum! Get your arse up here!” Ward yelled from the wall.

The dragon-blood sprinted towards the steps, and took them two at a time towards the top. Ward was crouched behind the battlements, staring out into the distance.

“What do those look like to you?” He snapped.

Callum squinted, and swore.

“Those are cannons.”

The horde of dead redcoats ceased their fire, and silently stood to attention. In the distance, Callum could see men standing by the cannons. A moment of clarity pierced his mind.

“Everybody off the wall, now!” 

The soldiers glanced at him, and as one, turned to sprint for the dubious safety of the courtyard. 

The demonic cannons fired, their deadly payloads flying from the barrels towards the fortress. The cannonballs smashed into the wall, and exploded.

In the courtyard, the soldiers were thrown flat by the energy of the blasts.

“The buggers cheating!” Ward yelled. “Cannonballs don't bloody do that!”

“Did someone bring in a rulebook while I wasn't looking?” Callum retorted, getting shakily to his feet, and staring at the wall. A crack was running down the sandstone edifice.

“It won't take much more of that.” Carlisle noted in a strangely detached voice. Callum nodded.

“Get everyone back into the main building. We're going to have to spring our trap a little early.”

He moved swiftly to the door of the building, and opened the door as the cannons thundered again. A horrifying crunching sound came from the wall, and blocks of stone crumbled away from the top. He paused just long enough to see the gate begin to buckle, then stepped inside the keep.

In the sudden coolness and silence, he could almost believe the world was at peace. The thunder of the guns dispelled that hope. Elizabeth and Nathaniel ran to join him from the mess hall, their weapons at their side.

“We need to do this now.” He said bluntly.

Nathaniel shook his head.

“There isn't enough power Callum. The spell’s too finely balanced – if we activate it now, the results could be catastrophic.”

The building shook as a cannon round sailed clean over the wall and struck one of the upper stories.

“Do we really have a choice?” Elizabeth said. She rammed a bullet into the breach of her carbine, and headed for the door. As she laid a hand on the handle, she glanced back at the pair.

“Are you two coming, or do I have to do this on my own?”

Callum grinned, and drew his revolver.

“Lets do this.”

The three agents stepped into the courtyard, and raised their free hands towards the wall. Callum felt their minds join, a strangely intimate feeling, a feeling of belonging. He'd fought alongside these two, worked with them, cast spells with them, but as their minds joined to release the spell they'd made, he felt something between them he'd never felt before. The doors between them opened, their individual powers combining to release the spell.

As a volley of cannon fire slammed into the sandstone wall, it exploded, not inwards, but out towards the waiting redcoat army. A blaze of golden fire followed the stones, flaring outwards like a wave breaking on the sand.

Held in place by the demonic Sergeant – who could only stare as the wave approached, the redcoats merely stood and waited as the wave washed over them, annihilating them in droves as they silently waited for oblivion. 

“Keep it up!” Nathaniel shouted in the depths of his mind. He felt the others push harder, trying to maintain the wave of dispelling magic that obliterated the troops. The three mages had built the spell into the very walls of the fortress itself channelling their powers through the stones that protected them.

But without having had sufficient time to build, the spell was already starting to fade. Holes were forming in the solid sheet of magic as it swept outwards. Finally the wave fell into the ground, fading away and vanishing.

The multitude of redcoats had been wiped from the face of the earth, but clustered around their Sergeant, there remained enough to outnumber the British soldiers by at least three to one. 

And now they had no wall to defend them.

As the dust settled, the redcoats began to march towards the keep.

“Get those bloody doors open!” Sergeant Ward yelled. “Form two ranks, ready to fire! Come on, you useless bastards, it's time to be heroes!” 

He pulled his sabre loose of its sheath, and rested it on his shoulder. Carlisle stood beside the second rank, and took the same stance.

The redcoats were marching on, their dead eyes fixed on the exposed keep. They began to slow as they reached the tidal line of rubble from the exploded walls.

“First rank, fire!” Ward screamed, sweeping his sabre downwards.  At his signal, the front row of soldiers squeezed the triggers of their rifles, sending a volley of .45 calibre carnage into the enemy.  The front rank knelt, reloading their weapons

“Second rank, fire!” Carlisle yelled. A second volley scythed into the massed ranks of the enemy. Still they marched closer.

“Front rank, fire!”

“Second rank, fire!”

Ward glanced at his lieutenant, who nodded.

“All men withdraw to the keep!”

With practised discipline, the soldiers swiftly moved inside the building. Callum and Nathaniel slammed the door shut behind them, and barred it. Elizabeth conjured a spell, and threw it at the door, which shone briefly before fading back to it's usual colour.