Burning Night: A Tale of the Everburning City

Chapter 9, Part 1: Adrian

Most of the first week of training under Sergeant Varnell had passed in a hazy blur of agony. Ten mile runs, climbing, rope courses, weights and endurance training had consumed every hour of Adrian Keates' life. He wasn't sure he had spoken more than ten words in a single day to anyone besides the woman determined to run him into the ground, and all he said to her was 'yes, ma'am'."

It was a bit of a relief that no one else seemed to fare any better. Gerald had vomited once yesterday, at the end of their evening run. He wasn't the first, and as Varnell promised them after she brought him a soapy bucket and a rag, he wouldn't be the last.

Hard living in the Undercity had left Adrian better prepared than most of his compatriots, but only enough that he was never the last person through a drill. More than a few members of his new company came from distinctly coddled backgrounds; Raeth wasn't the only person with a high-central accent in the group.

So with nearly ten days of hard exercise, Adrian was actually a little afraid of what Varnell had in store for them today.

"Good morning, recruits! Bet you're all wishing you stayed under that damp rock you little maggots spawned from!" The dread lady of the abyss shouted cheerfully, rapping on their bunks with the butt end of some kind of large stick. Adrian opened his eyes, and struggled to ignore the aches in every muscle of his body.

"Muster at the flag, one mile due west of this building! You have fifteen minutes! If anyone doesn't make it, we skip the drill and run the watchtowers until I get over having my generosity wasted!" Varnell shouted, as she reached for her stopwatch. She pressed it, and marched back out the entrance.

Adrian hissed and rolled out of his bunk, reaching for a shirt.

Running the Watchtowers was a punishment drill. Each watchtower was spaced exactly one mile apart, along the Walls. Running them was usually done in full kit, except that with a Sergeant Varnell, the training kits actually weighed twice as much.

Doing that run again was something Adrian desperately wanted to avoid. "Everyone up! We have twelve minutes to make a single-mile run to an unknown location due west! If some flame-baked ass makes me run the watchtowers today, I will throw them off the wall! Gerald..."

He paused, surprised. Gerald was already dressed, and was lacing up his boots. "Reckon I'll scout ahead, find our destination. Straight lines make for a shorter trip."

"Good call, lamp-post," Adrian said, grinning.

"Hope you're okay herding the sheep, Keates," Gerald said, as he strode to the door.

"It's more like herding cats," Adrian retorted, shouting to Gerald's back as his friend ran through the doorway, leaving the others behind.

"Farah!" Adrian called, heading to the back wall of the barracks.

The women who volunteered were separated only by a single sheet that divided the long room in two. Adrian pushed his way through, and stepped around some people struggling to wake up to see Farah Respelli struggling into her boots. "I heard, Keates! Put on some pants! Any idea where the flag is?"

"Due west! Gerald's scouting for us," Adrian replied.

"Good!" she shouted back.

Adrian rushed back to his bunk, and threw his clothes on. While he laced his boots, he took a quick look around to anyone was still sleeping.

Thankfully, everyone appeared to have at least woken up, although there was a lot of confused wandering.

"If you're dressed, head west. Look for Gerald and a flag. If you find the flag, help guide the stragglers!" Adrian barked, as he shoved someone out the door.