The Devil's Regiment (4 page)

On the parapets of the fortress, the soldiers of Her Majesties army watched as the sergeant reached out and pressed his hand against an invisible wall of energy. Electricity crackled from around his fingers as he pushed at the ward Nathaniel had put in place.

The leader of the three agents began to tremble as he pushed back with his own will, energy against energy and force against force. He felt Elizabeth lay her hand on his left shoulder, and then Callum's lay on his right. He felt their wills join with his as they fought a tense, invisible battle against the being at the edge of their defenses.

Carlisle glanced at Mortimer, and called out.

“Stand ready men!” 

Along the wall, the sound of rifles cocking filled the air. Although they didn't understand the action the three mages were taking, they could see the result before them.

The sergeant of the dead brought up his other hand, and pushed against the ward with all his strength. Nathaniel's vision began to fade, blackness creeping in at the edge of his sight.

“Help me!” he called silently.

He felt his consciousness shoved to one side as Callum took the load of the ward. The dragon-blood began focusing his own substantial magical energy into the shell Nathaniel had created. Through their shared link, Elizabeth and Nathaniel could feel the depths of power Callum could tap. There was no end to it – but it was chaotic, and unless it was tightly controlled, it could spin loose, causing untold damage to the universe.

The two fully human mages began to move at the edges of the stream of energy flowing from Callum, funneling it, channeling it to where it needed to be. 

The sergeant of the dead stared up at the walls, hatred burning from sunken eyes. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Callum grinned back at him. He could feel the tight mesh of energy his friends had woven around his power, and he focused his mind down that channel.

And pushed. 

Along the line of the ward, fire sprouted from the bare ground, flashing upwards in a wall of flame. The red-coated sergeant leapt back, and dropped his hands as the flames faded away. With one final look of hatred at the walls, he turned to his troops, and gestured back the way they had come.

The line of redcoats turned, and marched away, their forms fading into the heat haze.

A ragged cheer went up along the wall of the fortress as the phantoms vanished. 

“Enough of that!” Ward shouted. “I want sentries posted, and changed out every hour. I want fresh eyes up here all the time, and that's a bloody order. If those buggers come back, I don't want to be caught with my arse out of my trousers, is that clear?”

“Yes Sarge!” Perkins said, snapping to attention. 

Mortimer tiredly grinned his thanks at Ward, but his fellow sergeant was staring at the three agents of the Order of Britain. 

“Who are they, sir?” he asked Carlisle.

“I don't know, Ward, but I intend to find out.” 

***

Elizabeth rubbed her hand across her tired eyes, trying to push life back into them through her palms. Beside her, slumped against the wall, Nathaniel's wan face spoke louder than words how much the magical battle had taken out of him. Callum sat heavily down next to him.

“Well, that was fun.”

Nathaniel offered him a wry smile.

“Those wards won't hold off too many attacks Callum – and we can't fight that thing off forever.”

“So why don't we just evacuate?”

“Do you really think it'll let us?”

Callum's silence was all the response Nathaniel needed.

“We need to figure out why they're attacking.” Elizabeth said solemnly. “This sort of incursion doesn't just happen out of the blue – there has to have been a cause.”

“Whatever it is, we need to find it quickly.” Callum added. “That bloody thing we fought isn't human.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Carlisle asked, storming over to them. “I demand an explanation!”

“Well, Lieutenant, that's what we were sent here to find out.” Elizabeth said tiredly. “And until just now, we didn't have any better idea than you did.”

“And who are you, Miss Cartwright? How did you three end up involved in this?”

Callum got to his feet, and stared into the young officer's eyes.

“We're the Order of Britain, Carlisle, and we're here to try and make sure good men don't die. And in case you didn't bloody notice, we were the ones just defending your troops from an enemy with god only knows what powers – and frankly, it was bloody knackering, so will you let us get some rest?”

Carlisle glared at the young dragon-blood.

“This isn't over, Mr Drake.”

“I dare say you're right, lieutenant, I dare say you're right.”

***

That evening, the group gathered in the mess hall in the hope of coming up with some kind of plan. With several hours to cool his heels, Carlisle had settled down into a more reticent mood – but his face still showed resentment as the three agents sat at the table. Nathaniel noticed the look, and despite himself, allowed his irritation to get the better of him.

“Alright everyone, we need to get to work – and lets make one thing clear, we have been granted the authority to take whatever steps we need to in order to solve this problem. I'm going to do my best to make sure everything goes smoothly, but I don't have the time or energy to play nicely anymore. If we tell you to do something, we need you to do it, not stand around asking questions, is that clear?”

Carlisle's jaw dropped, and Callum groaned under his breath. He readied himself for the table to burst into argument, when Ward and Mortimer began to laugh. The officer and the agent turned to stare at them, their mouths agape.

“Bloody typical, isn't it Mortimer? All the bloody Ruperts think they're in charge – and they always forget that it's really the sergeants the boys listen to.”

Callum leaned back, and put his boots up on the table, Nathaniel and Carlisle glared at him. 

“Well, sergeants, its good to know that someone around here isn't acting like children.” He looked from the agent to the officer, his eyes cool.

“We don't have time for you two to have a pissing contest gentlemen. I don’t know about you, but I'm more concerned about the army of dead soldiers that keeps knocking on the door.”

“He's right.” Elizabeth said. “Currently, we're holding the wards together as well as we can, but I don't think they'll be able to hold back a sustained attack. Sergeant Mortimer, how often are the redcoats attacking?”

“Every couple of days, miss. There ain't no particular time they choose – that's why we're all so bloody ragged trying to spot them.”

“Was there anything strange happening when this all started?” Callum asked Mortimer.

“Well, they were starting to expand the officers quarters.” Mortimer said dubiously. “The Lieutenant and the Ensign brought in native workers on orders from headquarters to expand the fort. Seemed they wanted to beef up our complement – at least before all this started. The Indian lads all took off sharpish just before this all kicked off.”

The three agents glanced at each other.

“It has legs – and it seems awfully coincidental.” Elizabeth acknowledged.

“Has anyone been back to the officers quarters since all this happened, Sergeant?”

“No sir. We've all just been trying to survive.”

Nathaniel and Carlisle gave each other a hard look. 

“I think this is something we should look into Lieutenant.”

“I think you're right Mr Wittington-smythe. And I'll be coming with you.” He grinned wryly at Ward. “I'm rather surplus to requirements here; the sergeant has made that abundantly clear.”

“Sorry sir.” Ward grinned at his commander. Carlisle shot him a smile, then turned back to Nathaniel.

“Besides, this is British army property. You should be escorted.”

Nathaniel looked like he was about to argue, then caught the looks his fellow agents were giving him. He shrugged.

“You're more than welcome, Lieutenant.”

“Alright then.” Callum said. “We'll go investigate the officers quarters, while the two sergeants hold down the fort – as it were. Should someone stay with them to maintain the wards?”

“I will.” Elizabeth said. “I'm already holding them, so it makes more sense for you two to go ahead. Besides...” She grinned. “If they do come back, I'm a better shot than you two.”

Callum shot Nathaniel a sour look.

“Was she always like this?”

“No. she used to be worse. Let's go get some work done.”

***

The officers quarters reeked of mildew and dust, a stale miasma that hung in the air as the three men picked their way through the abandoned building supplies. The dark corridor stretched out ahead of them like a throat, inviting them into some dark hell.

“Callum, would you...?” Nathaniel asked nervously. 

Callum nodded, and raised his hand. A ball of fire formed above his palm, illuminating the empty rooms.

“I will never get used to that.” Carlisle complained.

“It comes in useful from time to time.” Callum grinned, and set off in the lead. As he wandered down the corridor, the flame hovering above his hand flickered.

“There's a breeze coming in here.”

“That shouldn't be possible. The back wall of the fort is built flush against the mountainside.” Carlisle said.

Nathaniel frowned, glowering into the darkness.

“Alright, let me try something.”

He knelt, and lifted his hand, palm up. Three glowing orbs appeared above his palm. He smiled, and blew on them. They flew down the hallway, each turning off in a different direction as they investigated the empty rooms.

“What on earth was that?” Carlisle asked.

“A seeker spell. It'll find any source of a breeze, and then come back to lead us to it.”

Carlisle shook his head in confusion.

“This is utter madness. I've got dead men attacking the fort and  three magicians within it”.”

Callum shot him a smile.

“You're better off just accepting we're on the same side Carlisle. It'll be easier all around.”

“That might be a bit difficult Mr Drake, since I'm not sure that we are.”

With a sound like chimes, the seeker spells came back down the corridor towards them. The three orbs hung in the air for a moment, then coalesced into one solid form, suspended like a diamond in the darkness.

“There we go. Let's get moving.” Nathaniel said with a hint of satisfaction. 

They headed down the corridor, the glowing orb leading the way.

***

Ward and Mortimer paced along the battlements at a steady measure, stopping now and then to speak to the soldiers. Elizabeth watched, fascinated, as the two men neatly encouraged their men, readying them for action if need be. Corporal Dunwit, standing by the alarm bell, grinned at her.

“Clever, ain't it miss?”

“I'm sorry?”

“The way they get everyone going. I've watched sarge do this for years, and no-one ever cottons on. The lieutenants alright and all, but it's the sarge we fight for.”

“He said something like that himself. I'm not sure I understand why though.”

“Because they don't think they're better than us. They didn't get their rank through being rich or having posh mates, they got it through fighting. We trust them because they used to be just like us. Officers come and go, but a good sergeant sticks by his lads.”

“Stop talking bollocks Dunwit.” Ward said cheerfully as he approached. “If I had half the chance I'd leave you buggers behind, and you know it. Any sign of trouble over here?”

“Nothing to report, sarge. Miss Elizabeth's magic spell seems to be holding.”

“I reckon so, boyo. What exactly is it you're doing, Miss?”

She frowned, trying to think of the best way to explain a ward spell to the two soldiers.

“It's like sandbags at the edge of a trench.” She said slowly. “The three of us built a defensive wall up to keep them out, but we can't hold it together indefinitely.” She smiled wryly. “It drains us, you see. We're channeling the energy through ourselves, and there's only so long you can do that for.”

“I imagine so. How well will it hold up to attack?” 

She bit her lip.

“I don't know. It took all three of us to fight the sergeant off last time. It depends what he tries and how well we can react to it.”

Mortimer and Ward shared a look, and sat down against the inside of the parapet. 

“If you can't hold them, then we need to have a plan in place.” Mortimer said. “Do you have to keep your spell solid, or can you open holes in it?”

Elizabeth looked doubtful.

“I probably can, but I don't know how long I can hold it steady. If you open a hole in a ward, it starts degrading outwards. It'll get wider the longer it's open.”

Ward nodded. 

“That shouldn't be a problem miss. If all those bastards are pouring through one hole, we'll be able to tear them to shreds.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded.

“I'll speak to Callum and Nathaniel. Maybe they can make it a bit more workable.”

***

They moved deeper into the bowels of the fortress, their footsteps echoing in the dusty air. The seeker spell danced ahead of them, eagerly beckoning them forward. After what seemed an age, they stopped in front of a massive iron door, it's surface rusted and pitted. 

“This has been here a long time.” Callum murmured. He reached out and laid his hand on the surface of the metal. A slight tingle, like the lightest of electric currents, buzzed through his hands. He frowned, and brushed away the deep layers of grime that coated the door. 

“They bound the door in silver.” He said flatly.

“So?” Carlisle asked. “I know it's expensive, but there are a lot of these ornamental doors around the country.”

“There are a few things that beings of magic are affected by. Silver is one of them.” Nathaniel said. “If they bound this door in silver, it means they were trying to keep something in.”

Callum pulled the door open. It was easily six inches thick. Silver, streaked with black tarnishes, was wrapped around the whole of the iron frame.

“Something dangerous.” He said quietly.

Chapter Five.