The Devil's Regiment Read Free Page A

from the service revolver he'd been given. He was surprised, however, by the professional way the girl held the Martini-Henry carbine.
    Callum, on the other hand, was a mystery. He held himself like a fighter, but the only weapons he'd taken were a revolver and – strangely – a sword. The curved blade was slung across his back, easily reached over his shoulder. His hands, however, remained firmly on the reins, guiding the horse through the patchy terrain.
    Of all the people in the small column, Callum was the only one who didn't seem to be unduly worried. If anything, that made Ward worry even more. The veteran turned back to his officer, his eyes querying.
    “When did you want to set up camp, sir?”
    Carlisle squinted at the horizon. A couple of miles in the distance, small rounded hills obscured the sky. He looked nervously at the sergeant.
    “Just before those hills? I don't want to be moving through uneven terrain in the dark.”
    “You're in command sir.” Carlisle flinched as Ward responded, the mild words striking as hard as any rebuke.
    “Lets do that, then.”
    Ward nodded, and glanced back at the platoon.
    “Stephenson, Cole, go find us somewhere to bunk down!” he called.
    The two troopers peeled off from the group, and rode ahead towards the hills, their mounts kicking up dust from the dry ground.
    “Thankyou sergeant.” Carlisle said.
    Ward shot him a piercing look, and wheeled his horse. He turned the beast to ride alongside Callum, who had passively watched the exchange.
    “Can I ask you something, sir?”
    “Only if you don't call me sir. It's Callum, sergeant.” 
    “Alright then, Callum. Why are you here?”
    “You don't know?” The young man said lightly.
    Ward glared at him. Callum gave him a slight grin.
    “All I know is that you're unsettling my lads, and I won't stand for that.”
    Callum's eyes went cold. For a moment, the hairs stood up on the back of Ward's neck, but he held the young man's gaze. Eventually, Callum's face split into a wide grin.
    “We're here to deal with an unpleasant situation, Sergeant Ward. We're not inspectors, and we're not here to scare your men. But it's probably good that your men are on edge.”
    “Oh aye?”
    “Definitely.”
    “And why is that then?”
    “If I told you, you wouldn't believe me. But there's far worse where we're going than me.”
    ***
    Nathaniel stepped down from the footboard of the cart, and stretched. Around him, the process of setting up camp had already begun, the outriders having already got a campfire going, it's warm glow fading into the darkness as the sun set behind the foothills. 
    Elizabeth shouldered her carbine and dropped to the ground.
    “Any chance of a cup of tea?” She asked him.
    “Do I look like the butler?” He glared.
    “A little bit, yes.” She grinned.
    He laughed, and headed for the nearest cook fire. Lieutenant Carlisle wandered over, a tin mug in his hand. The young officer gave her a smile, and handed her the mug. The delightful scent of freshly brewed tea wafted up to her nostrils. She fixed him with a  ravishing smile
    “Why, thankyou kind sir.”
    He grinned slightly.
    “Well, we have been ordered to provide you with whatever cooperation we can.”
    She flinched inwardly. Evidently Nathaniel's roughshod treatment of Major Thomas had made an impression.
    “We didn't mean to cause this much fuss – and I'm sorry if we've caused you problems.” She said sincerely.
    “No more than I had already, Miss Cartwright.” He said regretfully. “I'm starting to think I'm not really suited for this sort of thing.”
    She patted his shoulder awkwardly.
    “I'm sure it'll come to you. Trust me, if you can make it through this mission, you can make it through anything.”
    “Well, Miss Cartwright, that's a rather large if, isn't it?”
    ***
    Callum dreamed dreams of fire. He knew the dreams from long ago – the time he'd spent crucified in a pocket dimension, his blood being slowly drained to empower