“Thank you, sir,” Khollo said through gritted teeth, bowing. They turned towards the outer gate and were starting off when Wilkes stopped them again.
“On second thought,” Wilkes said. “These specimens here look like good choices. Take one each.”
Khollo’s heart sank as he made out the shape of the boulders he had been rolling back and forth all week. “I dare say at least one of you is familiar with these particular stones,” Wilkes added smugly.
Khollo sighed in frustration and knelt next to the nearest boulder, opening his pack. This would weigh nearly twice as much as a normal load, but there was no protesting. They would have to make do. As Khollo and Sermas wrestled their new loads into place, the rest of the cadets set off on the long trail, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Finally, Khollo stood, stumbling under the weight of his boulder, shifting the pack straps on his shoulders. Not only was the boulder heavier, it was also awkwardly unbalanced and shifting constantly. Sermas appeared to be having similar issues.
“Off you go,” Wilkes said, grinning darkly. “Wouldn’t want to finish outside the time limit and miss breakfast would you?”
Khollo scowled but said nothing, instead mustering his strength and taking a step forward. Slowly, he accelerated to a jog, his legs already screaming with agony at the unusually heavy load. Khollo heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, and Sermas moved slowly into his field of vision.
“Looks like we’re still paying for helping a comrade,” he observed.
Khollo nodded grimly. “He’ll come around soon enough,” he muttered.
“Not likely,” Sermas countered. “Even if he does, we may not see it. We’d have to survive this run.”
“We’ll survive,” Khollo said hopefully. His foot struck a rock in the trail as he was speaking and he stumbled for a moment, nearly losing his balance. Maybe, he added silently.
Ten minutes into the run, a light, freezing rain began to fall, water mixed with small pellets of ice. The water, barely warmer than ice itself, quickly soaked through Khollo’s clothes, chilling him to the bone. The trail turned to mud, and Khollo’s feet began sinking with each step. Soon, his boots had doubled in weight with the sticky mud clinging on for the ride, and each step was a battle with the earth to free his feet. Sermas fared no better. Khollo had hoped the weather might slow the other cadets, but there was never any sign of them.
The halfway hill came and went, and the sun began to rise in the east, turning the slushy rain into a gray veil over the land. Khollo and Sermas were reduced to a stumbling shambling run, bouncing off of each other every now and then. They descended to the stretch directly behind the West Bank, the place where Hern had been injured. Khollo would ordinarily have worried about this stretch of the trail and his habitual clumsiness, but today he was too exhausted to focus on anything more than putting one foot in front of the other. Again, and again, and again.
Time passed. The pain of each step faded into dull, barely noticed impacts. Khollo’s head drooped so that all he could see was his feet and a three meter stretch of trail in front of him. His labored breathing, and Sermas’, drowned out all other sounds. The trail wound about the base of the West Bank, looping back to the south, until finally the ground began to rise again, rising right up to the front gate of the fortress.
At the threshold, Khollo stumbled, nearly falling. Sermas tried to catch him, but the combined weight was too much and they both collapsed on the ground, panting. The guards made as though to help them, but a voice cut the morning air crisply.
“Leave it!”
Wilkes stalked over and knelt in front of them. “You’re late.”
Khollo had fallen face down and made no effort to lift his head, or even speak. His body was racked with tremors, his legs twitching uncontrollably.
“Get up!”
Khollo grunted, and slipped off his pack, pushing it away. It rolled a few feet with a trio of muffled thuds, then came to a rest. Still, Khollo did not rise.
“I said get up!”
Khollo vaguely registered that he was being given an order, but he was much too tired to care. Then, he felt hands reaching under his arms, wrapping around his chest, hauling him upright. Khollo swayed on his own two feet, held by Sermas.
Wilkes was standing directly in front of them. “Attention, cadets!”
Sermas’ grip faltered. “Sir – ”
“Attention!”
Sermas snapped to attention. Khollo tried, but without Sermas’ support, he merely collapsed again. Wilkes snorted in disgust and knelt in front of Khollo, who lay on his side on the damp ground.
“It would appear you’re not cut out for this life after all, cadet,” he growled. “You would never have made the Academy on your own. Being Lord Kurkan’s pet though, I suppose they had to accept you.”
Wilkes straightened. “I will see the pair of you in drill, as usual,” he snapped briskly. “That’s in five minutes. Try not to be late.”
Khollo let his forehead hit the ground again. I’m too tired, he groaned inwardly. There’s no way I survive a drill session. I’ll just lie here quietly. The guards won’t mind.
But apparently the guards did mind. “Move it, cadets,” one growled, jerking them to their feet. “Come on, inside. You heard the sergeant.”
Khollo stumbled past, leaning on Sermas. “Hey, you forgot your packs,” the guard added.
Sermas stopped and turned slowly, dragging Khollo around as well. He’s good at following orders, Khollo realized. It’s been beaten into him. No ability to stand up for himself whatsoever. Sermas took a half step forward before Khollo found his voice.
“If you
