The Devil's Regiment Read Free

him.
    “Does that always happen?” Elizabeth asked, as he grasped the horse's reins and tried to calm the suddenly skittish beast.
    “Every time.” Callum said sourly. “They can smell the magic.”
    “That's going to make this trip interesting.” She said sweetly.
    Callum shot her a cold glance, and lifted himself into the saddle. The horse froze for a moment, then relaxed as the dragon-blood stroked it's neck. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in response, Callum grinned at her.
    “It's a knack.”
    “Of course it is.”
    ***
    “So Reg, what do you make of this lot?”
    Corporal Reg Dunwit glanced up from securing his rifle to the holster on his horse's flank, and glanced at Private Harry Cavill.
    “The girl's pretty enough, but they're bloody civvies. Ain't got not place coming out to the fort with us.”
    “Lieutenant reckons they're inspectors.” Cavill said darkly, shooting a look in Callum's direction. “And that one gives me the bloody chills.”
    “Should be thankful for that in this heat.” Dunwit grinned.
    “Alright ladies, enough blathering on. Get those weapons secured.” Sergeant Ward said, his Welsh lilt musical amid the London accents.
    “Yes Sarge.”
    The pair started laying boxes of ammunition and supplies into the bed of the cart, stacking them neatly to prevent any unwanted accidents. Soon, sweat was pouring from their faces.
    Callum, having steadied his mount's somewhat fragile nerves, dismounted and strolled over to them.
    “Want a hand?”
    Dunwit and Cavill glanced at each other. Their instincts were crying out to say no, but before they could come to a decision, Callum had picked up a box of bullets in each hand and was walking over to them. He passed a box to each of them, and turned back to the stack by the wall.
    The two soldiers looked at each other. Each of the boxes weighed nearly thirty pounds. They heaved the boxes into the cart, then turned to watch as Callum turned back to them. Whilst the pair of them were sweating in the heat, the young man's features were dry, his face calm.
    Dunwit took the box from him, and shook his head.
    “How are you doing that?”
    “Doing what?”
    “Lifting those boxes.”
    A sly smile flashed across Callum's face.
    “I eat a lot of vegetables. They keep me healthy.”
    The two troopers stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Chapter Three
     
    Twenty-four people left the city of Bombay that night, and struck out for the distant fort of Kasharim. Accompanying the three members of the Order of Britain were twenty troopers, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any hint of a threat as they marched, and one rather young lieutenant. 
    From a balcony above them, a young girl watched, her dark auburn hair pulled back from pale skin, her blue eyes watching with concern.
    "Lucy, come back inside."
    She turned at her mothers call and went back inside, trying to shake a sense of foreboding from her mind.
    Lieutenant Roger Carlisle hadn't thought he would be drummed into action this quickly. He'd been assigned to the regiment in India in order to gain valuable experience – a trait firmly lacking in many of her majesties officers in these fat days of empire and peace. The young man desperately wanted to be a good officer, but to the hard bitten troops under his command, he was like a puppy – good, but rather too soft.
    Sergeant Ward rather liked the lad – he certainly didn't want him to be killed first time out by a pack of the rebels who haunted the hills and wastelands of British India.
    The veteran warrior glanced back at the three civilians. He hadn't wanted them on this trip, but his experienced eye was at least satisfied by what he saw. Wittington-Smythe was – ostensibly – in command of the trio, but treat the other two as equals. He and Miss Cartwright sat on the running board of the supply cart, their eyes as wary as any of the cavalry troopers. With an inward smile, Ward noticed that Nathaniel's hand was never far away