Burning Night: A Tale of the Everburning City

Chapter 21, Part 1: Adrian

"Attention!"

Sergeant Varnell's order rang like a bell in the tranquil morning air. Dew still cling to the leaves of the nearby rows of coffee plants, and Adrian's sheath was still slightly damp from the condensation clinging to the fabric.

Adrian snapped into the stiff, rigid posture expected of his sergeant's order, resting his Salamander on his shoulder. Around him, his friends and fellow recruits did the same, the sound of their boot heels clapping in synchrony, making a single, powerful note.

"Present arms!" Varnell shouted.

Adrian turned to his right, set the butt of his rifle against his shoulder, and aimed his weapon towards the sky.

"Fire!"

All around Adrian, a hundred streaks of fire carved the morning air. A hundred explosions cracked the air, echoing several times in the quiet morning.

"Fire!"

Adrain squeezed the trigger again. Warm air rushed past his face as another hundred lances of fire drowned his vision in light.

"Right turn! At ease!" Varnell shouted, her orders as audible as a train whistle, and as hard to ignore as an oncoming train. Adrian turned to his right, spreads his legs apart, and rested the salamander on his right shoulder.

He grinned as he dared a glance at his right shoulder. The heavy pad of oiled hemp fabric, attached to the right shoulder of his formal uniform, had confused him for most of the morning. Now, as the blisteringly hot barrel rested against his shoulder, it made perfect sense.

As the smoke dissipated, and Adrian returned his attention to the ceremony in front of him, he finally noticed the hundreds of people standing in a wide semicircle.

An elderly woman, Adrian guessed her to be of an age with Varnell, stepped forward with a small sprout in her hands. The woman might have nearly been as tall as Gerald, though her stooped posture and slow, careful gait made it difficult to be certain.

She stepped up to one of the furrows, and knelt down. With her bare hands, she scooped out some of the soil. Adrian could see a smile spread across her face, as she took several scoops of dirt and made a small mound beside the hole.

Gently, she took the plant and set it into the hole. She fussed with the plant for a few moments, orienting it so the stalks pointed straight up before she reached with one hand and pushed the mound of soil onto the plant. She covered the roots, and left the soil loose around the base of the stalk.

She then took out a flask, and dumped its contents into the soil, careful to make sure even the dregs made it out onto the ground.

The old woman stood up and smiled. "It's another little victory," the woman said.

Louder, her tone still very gentle, she said, "nothing grows in the Gloam. Absolutely nothing. It chokes the life out of plant and person; strangling trees and shrubs just as it kills anyone unfortunate enough to find themselves inside it."

The woman paused, glancing down at the plant. "That's why the Seed Bank is such a miracle. Because just as assuredly as if the Crafters hadn't made the Spire, if we hadn't gathered up every species of edible plant we could find, we would be dead."

The woman glanced towards Adrian. Her eyes lingered for a moment on some of his companions, and when she met eyes with Sergeant Varnell, she actually waved.

"This plant is a crop. Food, like everything we've ever dared to put back in the soil. But a luxury like this plant is meant to put a smile on a child's face, and help remind us all that there's more to our lives than the siege," the old woman said.