Change of Darkness Page 13

  So she carefully drew her body away but shifted her head to point her lips at where she knew his ear was in the dark. ‘I care for you, Baindan, really I do,’ she whispered. ‘But where we are …’ She swallowed. ‘I can’t …’ She trailed off, not sure if she should even say the words here, given the danger.

  She felt a searching hand touch her knee before Baindan found and clasped her hand.

  ‘I understand. We’ll get through this, though, Siray.’ He squeezed the hand he was holding. ‘Tomorrow. We just need to get through one more day.’

  She squeezed back. ‘One more day.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE CLUNK OF the cell door unlocking and swinging open a fraction, letting in dim light, awoke Siray the next morning. She stretched, sliding her front legs out in front of her, even flicking out her claws briefly before she opened her mouth wide to yawn, bearing her sharp teeth. Her tail twitched as she considered what they had ahead of them that day—and that night.

  Drum beats began to thrum through the stone, a wake-up call that no one could miss.

  Around Siray, the others were waking up rapidly now. Someone behind her snorted in amusement, and Siray twisted her head, although she had already scented who it was.

  Zale raised his light-coloured eyebrows at her. ‘Forgetting something?’

  Siray blinked at him, wondering what he meant. It was only when he stretched out a hand to slap at her long tail that she realised. She quickly Changed back into her normal form, giving Zale a sheepish smile. ‘Odd, I didn’t even realise I had Changed back during the night. And then it felt so natural when I woke up …’ She shrugged.

  ‘You Changed without realising?’

  Siray turned slowly at the sound of Baindan’s concerned voice, trying to quell the sparks her body felt at the mere thought of looking into those stormy eyes. She rebuked herself mentally for being so distracted. ‘Yes,’ she managed to say. ‘Late during the night, I guess.’ Sometime after the conversation she and Baindan had had, obviously. ‘Why?’

  Baindan shook his head, and it was clear from his grim face that his mind was definitely not on how close they had come just spans before to going that final step to committing to each other. ‘I’ve never heard of it before. But the fact that you didn’t realise this morning once you were awake … it sounds too close to instances in which the person has forgotten themselves.’

  Siray’s breath caught. Kaslonians who forgot themselves while in another form usually allowed the animal part of them to take over completely. And it was notoriously difficult to fight your way back to conscious once you let go. As her eyes met Baindan’s, she knew he, too, was once more hearing that wild cackle in the dark.

  She forced a smile and made herself glance around at the shadowy faces of the others, projecting a confident if tired facade. ‘I’m alright,’ she told them, despite the nervous clenching of her gut that made a mockery of her words. ‘I must have just Changed during the night to heal my shoulder some more and don’t remember doing it.’ She purposefully rolled it in demonstration and was surprised to find it did indeed feel alright now. She shrugged again when they all kept looking at her uncertainly. ‘I was pretty tired.’ Though her hands still felt rough from the mostly healed blisters from the previous day’s training.

  It took a lot of Siray’s willpower not to look at Baindan, who was partly the source of her tiredness. They had continued holding each other’s hands as they had settled back down to sleep the night before, and as a result, it had taken Siray a long time to calm her pounding heart enough to doze off once more.

  As she turned away from the others and headed towards the cell door, still affecting that same shroud of indifference, she sensed that Baindan’s eyes remained on her as she waited for Genlie to push open the heavy door and then stepped through behind her, the morning light streaming over them.

  Tamot was just passing as they emerged, and after he let Genlie slip in front of him, Siray stepped in place behind him, and they all made their way down the stairs.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured as they both moved towards the growing formation of captives.

  Surprised, Siray almost stopped walking, but she caught herself in time. She leaned closer to his shoulder as they walked, a light frown on her face. ‘What for?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘For stopping me from rushing out there yesterday,’ he said, inclining his head to the right.

  Siray glanced over and saw Captain Raque striding through the yard, his armour gleaming. She shook her head. ‘I was just as close as you were,’ she told Tamot truthfully. ‘We helped each other.’

  Tamot nodded.

  Siray wanted to ask him how he was doing, even though she realised the question would sound like a foolish one—she knew, after all, just how well she was doing—but by then they had already reached the rows of captives, and the risk of being overheard by the guards was too great. So Siray fell into place behind Genlie silently, although she was slightly shocked when she saw Melora hurry past the front row, the bruises on her throat and cheek still evident from their fight the day before.

  Shortly after the captives were all lined up, the Faction captain was before them, his usual grin in place.

  How Siray wished she could slap that smirk right off his face. Right before she did other things, like—

  ‘Let’s hope you all perform much better today for Master Herrin. Your lives may depend on it.’ Captain Raque’s smile grew even wider, but they all knew there was no joke hidden in his words.

  They followed the usual protocol of forming a single file before they marched off to the door in the wall. While some captives still appeared to be unhappy and rebellious about the events of yesterday, Siray made a special effort to control her expression to appear as if she had resigned herself to this new way of life. It was essential that Raque, Herrin, and any of their underlings did not suspect what she and her friends would be attempting that night—escape.

  As she emerged into the bright morning light of the arena behind Genlie, Siray could see the captive at the head of their file making for the centre of the large space.

  Where a lone figure stood, staff in hand.

  ‘Don’t bother forming up. Get your weapons and return. Quickly!’ Herrin’s voice was deep and cold, and his square body was rigid, as if made from stone. Definitely not in a patient mood. If he ever was.

  Siray broke into a run towards the weapons. She made it past Genlie and Kovi and one or two others from unit five before the rest of them caught on to her logic and began to run as well.

  Barely slowing as she reached the weapons rack at the same time as unit one, Siray kept moving, dodging a couple of captives as she grabbed up a staff and spun on her heel, her feet digging into the sand as she began sprinting back. She dodged the slower captives who were making up the tail end of the pack, racing the others who, like her, were smart enough not to raise Herrin’s ire any more than was possible.

  When most of the captives were lined up again, Herrin paced to the end of the formation before casually turning away to walk back once more.

  Siray counted that there were ten captives still on their way back.

  The first five had passed him and the other five were still hurrying to catch up when Herrin moved. He flicked his staff out low behind him, and the first of the last five face-planted into the sand. The second and third were so close behind that, even though they saw what had happened, they were unable to react quickly enough to avoid the blows that Herrin aimed at their stomachs with his weapon. Both went down in a tumble, and Herrin turned to face the last two, one male and one female, who had skidded to a halt some paces away.

  The training master spun his staff effortlessly before him, and waited.

  Neither of the captives shifted even a step, although the one slightly behind kept sneaking glances at the other.

  Herrin took a step forwards, and the male, who was farthest away, took an involuntary step back.

  ‘Coward,’ growled H
errin. Then he launched himself. He was across the sand and had knocked the male to the ground before Siray could even blink, his staff a blur as it moved. The captive’s back had barely hit the sand before Herrin had dropped to one knee on the male’s chest, the master’s weight causing the captive to cry out as the air was abruptly forced from his lungs.

  Herrin grabbed the captive’s chin with his hand, forcing the male to look him in the eyes. ‘You do not, ever, back away from a fight when threatened. You fight, and you win, or you cause enough injury that the soldier behind you can win.’ Herrin raised his voice, practically shouting into the captive’s face, which was less than a handspan away from his. ‘You retreat and you die. Either by my hand or by the enemy’s.’

  Herrin lifted his staff and spun the weapon around smoothly a couple of times in the air above his head before he leaned forwards and rammed it down—right into the sand next to the male’s head.

  Herrin snorted as the male winced and went pale, then stood, peering down at the captive in disgust as the male rolled over onto his stomach, wheezing and coughing now that the pressure on his chest had been removed.

  The trainer scrutinised his prey for just an instant longer before he turned towards the guards by the door, halfway across the arena. ‘Throw this one into the pit,’ he shouted at them.

  ‘No!’ the male cried out, raising himself onto his hands and knees and turning to beg the master’s mercy. ‘No, please! I’m not a coward, I can fight!’

  Herrin didn’t even deign look at him. ‘And you can prove it by fighting your way out when someone else joins you in that hole.’

  The guards were approaching now and, having risen shakily to his feet, the male began backing away.

  Siray’s eyes were wide as she watched, and she wished she could shake her head or call out to the male. He wasn’t making the situation any better for himself.

  The male now held up his hands in entreaty. ‘No, no, please don’t throw me in there! Please!’

  Siray felt like closing her eyes, but that would do nothing to block out the male’s cries. In fact, it might even bring Herrin’s wrath down on her, if he thought it was a display of weakness. So she clamped her lips together and made herself watch stoically as the terrible business was conducted.

  The guards closed in on the male even as he turned to run, though there was nowhere to go. It was over swiftly, as the more nimble of the black-and-gold-clothed pair leapt forwards, sending a fist crashing into the side of the male’s head, laughing as the captive dropped to the sand, a dead weight.

  The captives in formation were silent and still under Herrin’s sharp gaze as they watched the guards each seize one of the male’s wrists and proceed to drag him away.

  ‘I hope you all put a lot more effort into your training today,’ the trainer warned. The threat was unmistakable.

  ***

  Herrin tortured them with exercises all through the morning, making them move faster than they had the day before, strike harder and perfect a longer sequence of blows against imagined opponents. His approach to correct them was direct—he merely had to spot someone perform a technique incorrectly or not keep up before Herrin would sweep up to them and use the same technique to lay them flat on the ground.

  Lesson learned.

  Almost everyone ended up sprawled in the sand at least once as the morning was devoured, Loce three times, but Siray also observed that nearly everyone’s technique and application of the weapon seemed to have improved markedly by the time the sun was becoming almost unbearable.

  When Herrin barked at them to drop their weapons and run five laps, the thud of multiple staffs hitting the ground was almost one sound, so responsive they all were to his orders now. This time, no one held back. The laps were a continuous sprint for all of them, and Siray was sweating heavily as she completed the last circuit, moisture dripping down her face and back as she slid to a stop in her original position.

  Everyone finished more or less together, all of them breathing heavily but trying not to look like they were, very few of them managing it successfully. They looked to the training master for his reaction.

  A pause, then a slow nod of approval, and Siray felt at least one of the knots in her stomach unravel.

  Until Herrin’s next words.

  ‘Break time.’

  They all tensed but obediently dispersed from their lines, turning to gauge where the food barrels were this time.

  Siray spotted the two lots of barrels quickly, each one placed at one end of the arena.

  Baindan tapped her on the shoulder and motioned with his head to the set that was slightly farther away, and Siray twisted and saw that Wexner and his unit were already moving in that direction. She followed Baindan and the others, another unit joining them in their walk across the sands as well.

  This time it was as if the drive for food had been completely reversed. Whereas before the captives had run to be the first group to the barrels, had even brawled in the arena over who got first access, now Siray noted that they were all taking as much time to traverse the distance as they could without raising suspicion.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ Tamot’s voice was low, coming from ahead and to Siray’s right as he posed the question to the group.

  ‘There’s a plan?’ Loce asked, his serious face turning around to look at Wexner, Baindan, and, Siray was surprised to note, herself. Did Loce think of her as equal to Baindan’s and Wexner’s?

  ‘Not yet,’ Baindan muttered.

  They reached the pair of barrels, and Siray thought it almost funny how they proceeded to stand around uncertainly, hoping that another unit would grab their portions first. Or it would have been had they all not been so aware that any number of eyes—including Herrin’s—could be watching them.

  ‘I’d say we’ve got moments until Herrin emerges back into the arena and marches over here,’ said Baindan, half turned away from the group.

  Siray knew his position would allow him to both keep an eye on everyone around the barrels and on the door halfway along one edge of the huge space.

  ‘I don’t think we have an option,’ Genlie murmured. ‘The last two days, we’ve all rushed for the food. If we don’t eat now, they will know we are refusing to eat in case the food is drugged.’

  Tamot snorted. ‘It’s definitely drugged.’

  When no one said anything further, Genlie gave a resigned sigh and began striding purposefully towards one barrel, her long legs moving quickly.

  Kovi, however, was quick to leap towards her. ‘Wait,’ he demanded, grabbing for her arm.

  The captive who was obviously the appointed leader of the third unit at the barrels huffed a breath from behind Siray. ‘There’s no point debating, rock heads,’ he said in an imperious voice. ‘Get out of the way.’ And he shouldered first past Siray, and then Genlie and Kovi, his unit following.

  Annoyed, Siray was about to call the captive a choice term of her own, but she hesitated as an idea began to form in her mind. Seeing Baindan frowning at the other unit, she reached out to him and clasped his arm before he could say anything to the arrogant male.

  When Baindan glanced quickly towards her at the touch, his eyes showing both surprise and pleasure as they met hers, she let go of his arm and had to look elsewhere as warmth flooded her cheeks. ‘We don’t all have to eat it,’ she told him quietly. Then she also began moving towards the barrels.

  Kovi’s eyes registered the motion, and his mouth dropped open. ‘Siray, what are you doing?’

  The others were all watching her, and, in particular, Siray could see Zale’s eyes fixed on her. From his expression, she realised he was a heartbeat away from stopping her from reaching into the barrel. And that would give everything away. So she hurried forwards.

  The other unit had now grabbed their portions and were moving away, probably in order to allow any watching eyes to see clearly that they were, in fact, eating, and also to put more distance between them and Siray’s and Wexner’s units, in c
ase guards came after them.

  It was a good idea, Siray thought, and one she wanted to follow.

  So as she drew closer to the barrel, the others also moved nearer, their actions almost like a collective intake of breath. Her friends were watching her silently, Baindan and Zale clearly on edge. As Siray reached into the barrel with one hand, she tried to move purposefully and with little hesitation, as if her hunger had won out over her sense. And as she pretended to select a meal, Siray carefully broke the portion she had already grabbed in half, then grabbed the smaller serving.

  When she stepped away from the container, she didn’t look at her friends but looked down at her portion instead, still playing the part of an acutely hungry captive. ‘We don’t all have to eat,’ she repeated. ‘If only half of us do, then the others who are unaffected can help control the others during the fights. Or at least think up some strategy to ensure we all make it through.’ She looked down at her meal then up towards the far end of the arena before saying to the others without addressing them directly, ‘and don’t take a whole portion.’ Then she purposely walked a little way from her unit, who were still grouped conspicuously by the barrels, and began breaking small morsels off the wrapped meat and eating them, swallowing with difficulty.

  Knowing that you had to eat something that was laced with a drug and actually doing so were two very different things, she found. Especially when that drug could turn you into the worst possible version of yourself.

  Predictably, Baindan was the first to reach her, one hand cupped by his side as he joined her, facing away from the door and the viewing platform located high above it. His free hand moved repeatedly between the cupped one and his mouth, only pausing at times to allow himself to chew and swallow.

  As he ate air.

  Genlie and Kovi joined them next, and Siray guessed from Kovi’s unhappy expression that Genlie had won what must have been an almost-silent and furious argument as to who would eat the food. Yet Siray knew that if one of them had to stop or jump to the other’s defence, then it was more likely that Kovi would be able to still Genlie’s anger than the other way around.