The Devil's Regiment (6 page)

“I have no idea. But I know that standing on these walls trying to fight all those buggers off wasn't getting us anywhere.”

She laid her hand on the stone of the wall, and focused. Reaching out, she joined her mind with Nathaniel's and Callum's, communicating across the distance.

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?” Nathaniel asked.

“Of course I'm not.” Callum replied.

“Oh, that just fills me with confidence Callum.”

Nevertheless, she felt them start to push energy into the stones of the wall.

“How's it holding, Elizabeth?” Nathaniel asked.

“It's keeping together. We should be able to take a bit more.”

She felt them oblige, filling the stones with raw magical power. As she reinforced the barrier against the rear of the wall, she felt the energy strain against it.

“A little more... There!” She carefully disengaged her mind from the work at hand, allowing the barrier ward to take the weight of the magically charged stones in front.

“Will it hold?” Callum asked, walking over from his end of the wall.

“You'd better hope so.” She snapped. “This is an awfully big risk.”

“No risk, no reward.” He grinned at her. Movement out in the scrubland caught his eye.

“Nathaniel! Ring the bell!”

The British soldiers ran to the wall as the army of the dead began to form ranks once more. Callum drew his revolver as Carlisle ran to join him.

“Are you ready for this, Roger?”

“Fighting off an army of the dead? Of course I'm not ready. What a stupid bloody question.” He grinned. “Alright everyone, you know what to do! Keep these bastards back from the wall!”

The demonic Sergeant appeared in front of the ranks of red-coated dead. He drew the serrated sword from his belt, and silently motioned for the charge.

A volley of rifle shots spat from the walls as the fifty defenders began their work. Carlisle had picked the best of the remaining men – men who would stand their ground and shoot until they had nothing left to fire. Shot after shot blazed from the wall to fell the ranks of dead soldiers who ran at the huge sandstone bulwark. A second row of soldiers appeared from the haze, carrying ladders. Callum squinted down the sights of his revolver, and fired. A dead eyed soldier fell to the ground, and faded away. Around him, the rifles of the British soldiers continued their rapid barrage.

The Sergeant let loose a mighty roar as the tide began to turn, the withering fire from the battlements driving his troops back, even as they charged mindlessly into the hail of bullets. Sergeant  Ward squinted down his rifle’s barrel at the leader of their opposition, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet flew out from the walls, over the heads of the charging redcoats. As the demonic Sergeant turned to look at the walls, the bullet took him high in the forehead. His head snapped back, and he vanished in a flash. The redcoats shimmered and faded, the attack dying in an instant.

Corporal Dunwit clapped Sergeant Ward on the back.

“Good shot Sarge!”

“Not bad for an old fella, you mean!” He grinned.

Carlisle reloaded, then holstered his revolver.

“Alright, Sergeant. Send half the men to get some food, and get the rest to...” He caught the look in Ward's eye, and smiled. “You know what to do.”

“Aye sir! Alright lads, stand down.”

As the soldiers began to move in different directions, Nathaniel leant on the wall, and conjured up a seeker spell. The glowing globe hovered over his palm, then vanished.

“Anything at all?” Callum asked.

“No. I think we're alright for now.”

Callum nodded, and sat next to his friend. He opened the cylinder on his revolver, and began to reload the spent shells.

“How long do you think we'll have to wait?” Elizabeth asked.

Callum frowned, and squinted up at the sun. It was high overhead, shining down onto the courtyard.

“I think he'll wait for sunset – come at us with the sun at his back. Whoever that Sergeant is, he doesn't seem to have a grasp of modern tactics; he's trying the good old fashioned ones.”

Elizabeth nodded, and pushed a bullet into the breach of her carbine. 

“How are we off for supplies?” she asked Nathaniel.

“We can hold. Without the troops we've sent off, we've got enough ammunition and food to hold for weeks.”

“Let’s hope it doesn't come to that.” Callum said. He levered himself up to his feet, and stared out into the scrublands.

“How's the ward holding up?”

“It's taking the strain – we'll be able to use the spell at any time.”

Nathaniel smiled wryly.

“We don't really have anything more to do at the moment, do we?”

Callum gave him a dark look.

“I wouldn't say that.”

***

The burial chamber was shrouded in darkness when the agents entered. Elizabeth gave Callum a worried look.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No. But we need to find out anyway. Make sure you keep your protective wards up.”

“You don't need to tell me twice.”

They walked up to the dais, and Nathaniel placed his hands on the sarcophagus. He looked questioningly at Callum, who nodded. With one hard shove, the lid was pushed off of the Sarcophagus, revealing the bright glow of the void stone within.

“Callum...” Nathaniel said, “I'm not sure about this. Every human who has picked up a void stone has either been killed or corrupted. We don't know if your dragon blood will be enough to protect you.”

“Only one way to find out.” Callum murmured. “We don't have any other options, Nathaniel.”

His friend opened his mouth to object once more, then sighed.

“Alright. Good luck, my friend.” He beckoned to Elizabeth, and the pair retreated to the doorway. Elizabeth raised her hand, and cast a ward spell, a protective spell enclosing the two human agents.

Callum reached into the Sarcophagus, and gripped the void stone.

Chapter Six.

It was like sticking his hand into a bucketful of ice. Then it was like sticking his hand into hot coals.

The sensation flashed up his arm in an instant, agony flaring in his mind as the void stone tried to bond with his body. He could feel the energy of the void trying to push into him, to burn into his very core. 

He reached deep into his own blood, to the power his father had granted him. As a dragon, Gorton was a creature of the void, a being tied to the essential substance of the universe. Callum tapped into that power now, looking to oppose the force of the void with it's own heightened energy.

Within Callum's soul,the two titanic forces clashed together, seeking for dominance over the halfblood’s body. A part of the young man was detached, watching the battle inside, curious as to which side would win.

And then, time stopped.

“That, Callum, was a gamble.” 

He turned his head as a girl in white strolled from the shadows, her eyes faintly amused as she crossed the room towards the dais. He watched her carefully, unable to move his body.

“You're...”

“Yes. Your father sends his regards by the way. He's back with the rest of the clan now.”

“Is he alright?”

“Recovering. Being controlled by an external force is a difficult thing for a dragon of his power to deal with.”

She walked to the sarcophagus, and tapped her finger lightly on the back of the hand gripping the void stone.

“This, however, could go one of two ways – it could either burn you to a cinder, or it could become the single greatest power you'll ever wield. The choice is yours.”

“Mine? How is the choice mine?” he said. “It's an artefact of pure power – it'll either destroy me or it won't!”

She smiled slightly, and sat on the edge of the sarcophagus, one leg crossed over the other. She looked around sixteen, her brown hair held at the nape of her neck in a long ponytail. Her white robe was clasped at the shoulder by an elaborately designed brooch.

“The choice is always yours Callum. It was your choice to pick the stone up, now it’s your choice whether to wield it or let it destroy you. A human wouldn't have the opportunity to make that choice, but you have advantages, don't you. But be careful – Time is always on my side, it isn't necessarily on yours.”

The world moved again, and Callum focused on the stone, his eyes boring into it's white depths. He felt the dragonpower rise up inside him, seeking to overwhelm the power of the void.

He pulled it back, seeking instead to find the balancing point between the two, the point where the two energies would form harmony, not chaos. Gradually, the pain in his arm subsided, to be replaced by a warm glow. Gently, he lifted the stone from it's resting place, and held it before him. The light inside danced, almost happily, at his touch.

“Good lord.” Nathaniel said, his voice awed. Elizabeth carefully let the ward down and walked over to the dais.

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly.” he said. She leaned over, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“I'm glad. Now please never do anything like that again.”

He shot her a wry grin, and laid the stone gently back into the sarcophagus.

“Are you not taking it with you?” Nathaniel asked.

“No. We don't need it right now.”

“Don't you want to use it?”

“Yes, but it's not overwhelming. Come on, I could really do with a cup of tea.”

Nathaniel glanced at Elizabeth, his face relieved.

“Infinite power in his hands, and he wants a cup of tea.”

“And a biscuit, if there are any left.” The dragon-blood added.

“Yes, he's clearly gone power mad. We should lock him in here.” Elizabeth grinned.

Callum laughed, and headed for the door.

***

They found Carlisle and Ward sitting in the mess hall, their helmets on the table before them, and sheets of paper spread out to the side.

“How are we holding up?”

“We're all right. Just going over the inventory whilst we've got a moment.” Carlisle looked up, his eyes tired as they sat down opposite him.

“You look awful.” Elizabeth said critically.

“Thankyou, I was rather sure I did.”

“How about we take over here, and you go and get a couple of hours sleep.”

“I really need to do this work Elizabeth. It's part of my responsibility as an officer.”

“It's also part of your responsibility to be ready to fight when the time comes. Go and get some sleep Roger.” Nathaniel said.

Carlisle gave him a wry grin.

“Is than an order, Mr Wittington-Smythe?”

“I thought you didn't want me in command?”

“I don't but on this occasion I'll happily make an exception.”

“Then I order you to go and get some bloody sleep.”

Carlisle grinned, saluted, and headed off in the direction of the barracks. Callum gave Sergeant Ward an appraising look.

“What about you, Sarge?”

“Sarge, is it now Callum?” He grinned. “I'm quite alright, thankyou very much. I've done all this before.” He leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant.

“This is the difficult bit of it all, if I'm honest. Fighting, that's easy. When you're fighting, everything is just focused on bloody survival, and making sure the man next to you survives. This shite...” he tossed a wad of paper onto the table. “It's bugger all to do with being in the army. It's just busy work for officers. I've been a sergeant for fifteen years. I've fought in Africa, India and every other bloody place the armies sent me, and I'll tell you something – I'm not going to die at the hands of some devilish bugger who wants a shiny rock to add to his collection.”

The fire in the Welshman's eyes burned bright, leaving them in no doubt of his intention to fight to the end. Then, he settled back down into his chair, his face calm.

“How many attacks do you think we need to repel?” he asked Callum.

“We need three days. After that, things are going to get a little interesting.”

“Well, I do like interesting things my lad. But I'm worried, you see. I spoke to Mortimer before he left, and the bastards have never tried to bring ladders to the wall before.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Now, if you were trying to get into this fortress, what would you use next?”

Callum frowned.

“I'd look at some way to scale the walls without ladders. Grapples, maybe?”

“Don't be bloody stupid, lad. He's going to bring siege towers. And if that don't work, he'll try something else. After all, if you magical lot are right, he's got all the tactics of history to choose from.”

***

Callum floated in darkness, his mind soaring free from his body and drifting towards the distant light on the horizon. It pulsed a welcome to him as he approached, wrapping him in tender warmth. It seeped into his mind, searching his memories. 

A curious kind of consciousness joined with his, a distinct personality that sought his, searching for something it couldn't define, but would recognise instantly if found.

He welcomed it, and began to search in return, studying with a detached eye.

He was wrenched away by the sound of the bells.

***

Callum rolled from his bed and onto his feet in one flowing motion. He glanced at the candle on his bedside, and saw that barely an hour had passed since his exhausted retirement.

Out in the courtyard, the warning bell rang in the night. Hefting his sabre, Callum sprinted towards the wall, a strangely buoyant energy filling his muscles.

Out in the scrublands, two-storey tall towers were rolling on wooden wheels towards the walls. Callum joined Ward as they watched the ponderous progress of the siege towers.

“So, you were right. I suppose I owe you a shilling.”

“Pay me if we get out of this.” The Welshman snapped. Carlisle, his eyes still shrouded with sleep, moved to join them, his sabre in hand. 

“Your orders, Sergeant?”

Ward shot him a surprised look, then nodded.

“I'll take the right, you take the left sir. Callum, you hold here in the centre. Fix bayonets and be ready to use them lads!”

He marched off to cover his side of the wall. Carlisle clapped Callum on the shoulder, and sprinted off to the left. The dragon-blood drew his revolver, and readied himself. Along the wall, the remaining soldiers fixed the socket bayonets onto the barrels of their rifles. Unlike the dead men in the siege towers, they would have no need to remove the razor-sharp blades in order to reload.