Burning Night: A Tale of the Everburning City

Chapter 9, Part 2: Adrian

It was another four hours before any of them were allowed to fire a Salamander. It seemed like an extraordinary amount of tedious drilling for Adrian, but Caitlin assured him that the reality was almost precisely the opposite.

"It's normally a week," Caitlin told him, as they looked over what a defective casing on a Salamander shot. "With an exam. Done after you pass Basic. Letting recruits do this probably violates a dozen different regulations."

"I guess we're special?" Adrian asked. "The sergeant did say we were less likely than most to be irredeemably stupid."

"Special? Well, I am. Seventeen seconds to assemble a Salamander, I can already sense my parents' smug glee. But with what sergeant Varnell is putting us through right now, I wouldn't be impossible for us to learn Valkyries by the end of next month. I'm pretty sure she's going to keep throwing challenges at us until we fail." Caitlin mused.

"Glad she leads with Gerald, then," Adrian laughed.

"Just for that, mister Keates, you'll be demonstrating how to fire a Salamander," Varnell said, somehow sneaking up on them despite barking orders the entire time.

"Ahh....." Adrian stammered, thinking of running away.

"You're a true friend, to take the hit for me!" Gerald laughed, calling from a nearby group.

"Careful, recruit. You're already in remedial training territory for having the worst time in your company!" Varnell said, but the smile on her face belied the gravity of her tone.

"Aye, ma'am," Gerald replied. "I'll do my best to redeem myself during target practice."

"See that you do. Mister Keates, bring your weapon up front." Varnell ordered, gesturing towards a mob of hundreds of human-sized targets.

"A Salamander has an effective range of roughly ninety yards. After that, the wounds it inflicts are unreliable, and may not bring down a target," Sergeant Varnell explained. "At under fifty yards, the shots can penetrate three feet of flesh, or almost a foot worth of stone. If you're good, you can fell two or even three Gloamtaken with a single shot."

"But, in case you've all forgotten, you're here because you're not yet good at being soldiers. Mister Keates, aim your weapon at the closest target," Sergeant Varnell instructed.

Adrian levelled the weapon towards the target, setting the butt into the crook of his arm and aiming down the weapon's sights. He grinned a little, almost calling the end the 'buttress', and forced-away the irrational fear that Sergeant Varnell knew what he was thinking.

He pulled the trigger, and the flash of bright-red light stung his eyes and made him turn his head away, blinking until he was comfortable again.

Varnell saw his reaction and chuckled. "Bright, isn't it?"

Adrian nodded. "Aye, ma'am."

He had managed to hit his target; a roughly human-sized bundle of moulding crops held in a sack. His shot had burned a hole where a man's left leg might have been.

"Not a bad shot, for your first time." Sergeant Varnell said, pointing to the target. "You have a solid grasp of how to use your sights. See if you can get closer to centre mass with the next shot. Exhale as you pull the trigger."

"Aye, ma'am," He replied and aimed at the target again. He put the sights into the middle of his target, started to breathe out slowly, and pulled the trigger.

As Adrian blinked away the burn spot from the flash of light, he checked the target.

The burn hole was about a hand's length below the neck, in nearly the centre of the chest.