The Devil's Regiment (8 page)

“That'll buy us some time.” She said.

“How much?” Ward asked.

She glanced at Nathaniel, who shrugged.

“An hour, maybe two?”

Ward nodded, and turned to the dust-covered soldiers.

“Alright lads, I want barricades across this corridor. Seal off the two rooms at the side, and fall back towards the rear of the building – Dunwit, you take charge of that. Move!”

A volley of musket fire sounded from outside. It struck the door with a sound like a bell ringing, then fell silent. The soldiers stared at the door for a few moments, before Carlisle spoke quietly.

“You've all got your orders. Get moving. Sergeant, lets get to the mess hall and see what we can come up with.”

The sergeant nodded, and followed the officer towards the mess hall. The trio of mages headed towards the officers quarters, and the entrance to the crypt.

“You think it's time?” Nathaniel asked as they strode through the dust of the abandoned fortress.

“I can't see any alternatives. At least if I've got the stone, that bastard doesn't.” Callum replied. A faint smile touched Nathaniel's face.

“Is suppose you're planning on being heroic about this, aren't you?”

The dragon-blood winked at them, then his face turned serious.

“When I face him, I want you two to hold back. I don't know what kind of magic this is going to unleash.”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“If you think we're going to stand back while you take all the risk, you're off your rocker Callum. We're in this together.”

Something passed between the three of them then, a mutual understanding that they were in for a penny, in for a pound. Callum shrugged, smiled, and kissed her on the cheek in thanks, then did the same to Nathaniel. The three stood there, grinning for a moment, before Nathaniel shook his head and laughed.

“Alright, if we're going to do this, let's get it over with.”

Callum nodded, and opened the silver-bound door to the crypt. He strode to the sarcophagus, and lifted the lid.

The warm white glow of the void stone filled the room, bathing them. Callum took a deep breath, and reached forward.

There was no shock this time, no feeling of hot or cold, and no otherworldly girl to discuss things with. He simply lifted the stone, and held it in his palm.

“Now what?” Nathaniel asked.

Callum concentrated, speaking within his own mind.

“Help us.”

The stone pulsed briefly in acknowledgement. It communicated with him without words, a series of impressions filling his mind. The void stone began to pulse in his hand, it's light beginning to flow like liquid up his arm. Elizabeth and Nathaniel watched with bated breath, feeling the impressions flowing from Callum to their minds. The bond between them showed them the power flowing from the stone as it wrapped around Callum's arm.

There was a blinding flash and when their vision returned, the dragon-blood's right arm was covered in an intertwining silver design, his skin coloured in a tattoo of power. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.

“Well, Callum, it's very pretty, but I'm not sure it'll help you in battle.”

“We'll see about that.”

Callum flicked his wrist, and a sword appeared in his hand. It was heavier and longer than the sabre he'd been using, it's crossguard glittering silver and it's blade shining steel. Callum sliced through the air, the blade leaving a flickering silver trail as it passed through the stillness of the crypt. He flicked his wrist again, and the sword vanished. The tattoo on his arm flashed once, then faded to black.

“That might even the odds a bit.” Elizabeth breathed. “Is there anything else it can do?”

Callum grinned.

“I'm sure we'll get a chance to find out.”

***

They returned to the mess hall to find Carlisle and Ward preparing the barricades. Ammunition crates and tables had been overturned to form rudimentary fortifications. The lieutenant glanced at the design on Callum's arm, but said nothing, and turned back to Ward.

“I still think we need to be able to fall back further.”

“There isn't anywhere else we can fall back to sir. If we go back to the officers quarters, we’re in a dead end, at least here we've got other routes out.”

“I know, Sergeant, but it also gives them other routes in.” 

“I'm open to bloody suggestions Sir.” Ward snapped.

“There's no need to take that tone.”

“I think we should make our stand here, Lieutenant.” Callum said quietly. “There isn't enough space to fight hand to hand in the officers’ quarters, and we're going to be doing that before long.”

Carlisle threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Well, if you've all made your minds up, who am I to argue?” he grinned.

A volley of musket fire sounded from the front of the building, and the door rang with it's bell like music. The five of them turned to look in the direction of the corridor. 

Corporal Dunwit stuck his head round the corner, and tossed off a half-hearted salute.

“They've started Sir. We took a look out the upper windows, and it seems more of the buggers have arrived. There's about three hundred of them now.”

Ward shot a glance at the three mages.

“He’s been summoning soldiers by the thousand before now. Why so few?”

“Part of the effect of our spell was to temporarily use up all the magical energy in this area. It takes a while to build back up.” Elizabeth explained. She glanced at Nathaniel. “I think that whoever the Sergeant has got with him now, that's all he can bring in.”

“So, three hundred of them against fifty-one of us.” Carlisle said. “Long odds, aren't they?”

“Oh, I've faced worse in Cardiff on a Saturday night, sir.” Ward said cheerfully.

“They're breaking through!”

The shout from the corridor roused all of them to their feet, and they sprinted for the long corridor that led down the centre of the fortress. Wordlessly, the soldiers took up firing positions on either side of the corridor, their rifles held ready.

A thudding blow hit the doors, causing the bar to jump in it's hooks. Another blow followed, then another.

The wooden beam barring the door began to split, a crack appearing down it's centre as the doors buckled.

With a wrenching sound, the doors burst open. Sunlight flooded into the corridor, silhouetting the phantom redcoats against the sky.

The final, bloody battle of Kasharim had begun.

Chapter Eight

There was a moment of curious stillness as the two groups looked at each other, dead eyes meeting the eyes of the all-too-living. It was Ward who shouted the order.

“Fire!”

The Martini-Henry rifles of the besieged soldiers spat fire in the gloom of the corridor, scything into the dead soldiers. The front row of the redcoats collapsed, forcing the others to step over the bodies of their fallen comrades. A second volley flared from the rifles, pushing back the redcoated foe. In the front rank of the soldiers, Perkins worked the lever on his rifle, slid a new round into the breach with practised hands, and resighted. Next to him, Dunwit did the same.

“Didn't expect to end up fighting in here.” the private murmured.

“Well, you're here at the end mate. Make the most of it.”

The second rank of riflemen fired, and the two prepared their weapons. They sighted on the redcoats, and pulled the trigger, before reloading.

“Slow buggers, ain't they?” Dunwit added.

“Lots of them, though.”

“That's alright, we've got lots of bullets and all.”

Callum aimed his revolver, pulled the trigger, and thumbed back the hammer. He could feel the void stone's power pulsing in his arm., begging to be unleashed.

The void was the stuff of creation, the foundations of the universe. And he had the power to manipulate it. A part of him now understood why the demonic Sergeant wanted the stone so badly. He could feel the temptation to use it, even as he resisted and used his more conventional weaponry.

In his distraction, the hammer clicked on empty. He swore and opened the gun, tipping the empty shells to the floor. He fumbled in his pocket for fresh rounds, and ducked behind the barricade. Elizabeth stepped forward to take his place, her carbine uttering it's sharp crack in the confined space. He glanced through a gap in the stacked ammunition boxes, and swore. Redcoats were starting to come from the side rooms, their overwhelming numbers pushing into the choke-point of the corridor. Elizabeth crouched and started to reload.

“There's an awful lot of them, isn't there?” she said, a grin on her face.

“Seems to be that way, doesn't it?” He smiled in return.

“We're going to have to fall back – we can't put enough rounds into this corridor to stop them reaching the barricades.”

Callum nodded, and took another glance at their attackers.

“Alright, get everyone moving. I'll cover you.”

“I'll help.” Nathaniel said. “I've got a little spell I've been saving for this occasion.”

“Ward!” Callum yelled. “Back to the mess hall!”

The Welsh sergeant glanced at him, nodded, and shouted the order. The rearguard kept up their rapid fire as they covered the escape of their colleagues.

“Ready?” Callum asked Nathaniel.

“As ever.”

The two stood, and levelled their revolvers. As one, they fired, emptying the chambers into the mass of enemies that pressed shoulder to shoulder in the corridor. As the hammers clicked on empty Nathaniel raised his left hand. A bolt of lightning arced over his hand, jumping from man to man. At Callum's shouted command, the rearguard ran for the door to the mess hall.

A volley of musket fire flared from the doorway, felling the soldiers as they ran. A chip of stone spat from the wall and slashed at Callum's face, drawing blood. He flinched, and stumbled. Tripping over the body of a dead soldier, he slid headlong on the tiled floor and rolled to his back, winded.

Nathaniel stopped by his friend and reached down to pull him to his feet. 

The bullet took him in the shoulder, spinning him round, blood fountaining from  the wound. Callum watched him fall, his mind filling with rage. He pointed his right arm at the entrance, and shouted a wordless shout as the dead-eyed redcoats began to file in. The tattoo on his arm flashed briefly, a flare of energy lancing from his hand and into the corridor, obliterating the enemy.

“Get that door barred!” Ward shouted, running back across the room towards the two mages. Dunwit and Perkins sprinted past them, slammed the door shut, and pushed a table across to hold it closed.

Nathaniel's face was pale as they lifted him to his feet. 

“Well, that was bloody stupid.” he said quietly. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead as Ward lifted his wounded arm over his shoulder and helped him towards the barricade.

They set the agent down on the floor behind the upturned tables, and Elizabeth carefully opened his shirt at the shoulder.

“The bullet went clean through, but the bleeding isn't stopping. I need bandages.”

Wordlessly, Carlisle handed her a dishcloth from the kitchen.

“All we've got, I'm afraid.”

“It'll have to do.”

“I'm no doctor, but is it meant to be doing that?” Callum asked.

The flesh around the bullet hole in Nathaniel's shoulder was beginning to change colour, the veins around it turning an angry, pulsing red. Nathaniel glanced at the wound, then thankfully passed out.

Elizabeth and Callum shared a dark look.

“They really don't intend for anyone to get out of here, do they?”

Callum stared down at Nathaniel's face for a moment, then smiled at her.

“I suppose I should go and disabuse them of that image.” He reached out and touched her lightly on the face. “Take care of him.”

“Of course.”

He got slowly to his feet, and walked over to Ward and Carlisle.

“Well, gentlemen, how are we feeling?”

Ward cast him a withering look out of the corner of his eyes, then returned his attention to the door.

“Don't know about you boyo, but I didn't expect it to come to this. I'm really starting to think we shouldn't have sent those other lads away.”

“They're better off out of it.” Carlisle said.

“Oh, I agree. I just bloody wish we were as well. You got any tricks left to get us out of this predicament Callum?”

“No tricks. But I intend to go out fighting – and not hiding behind these tables like a mouse in a hole.”

A blow hit the blocked door as the attackers began their assault. Callum turned to the remaining defenders.

“Alright everyone, we've been through a lot these past few days, and we're about to go through a lot more – but if I’m going to go down, I'm going to go down fighting. It's your choice, but when they come through that door, I'm going to be there to face them. Anyone who wants to join me is more than welcome.”

Silence greeted his speech as he turned to the door and stepped out from behind the barricade. He drew his sabre.

“Alright lads, you heard the man!” Ward said. “Fix bayonets, and prepare for combat!”

Carlisle grinned at the sergeant.

“You know what, Mr Ward? If we make it through this, I'm going to suggest you be promoted to Sergeant-Major.”

Ward looked at him in surprise, then smiled.

“I may just hold you to that Sir.”

Another bang came from the door as Callum approached it. He pushed the table out of the way, and opened the door.

The group of redcoats carrying a battering ram almost looked surprised, although that might have been his imagination. His left hand drew his revolver, and shot the lead man between the eyes. The rest of the redcoats scrabbled for their weapons as he charged them, his sabre whistling through the air. The curved sword slashed into the neck of an enemy, and he ducked under the thrust of a bayonet, lancing his blade into the belly of another. His blade lodged in the redcoat's stomach, and he tried to wrench it free. Another dead-eyed enemy dived in, the blade attached to his musket sweeping up to disembowel the dragon-blood.

And then Carlisle was there, leading the charge. He parried the musket with a quick roll of his wrist, and slashed a ripping riposte that cut through the redcoat’s throat. Blood spurted, and the man fell.