Change of Darkness

by Jacinta Jade

  The gasps that escaped a couple of nearby captives stopped whatever Herrin might have said next, and he turned away from Siray to look back down.

  Siray glanced down too and almost gasped out loud herself. With relief.

  A female was curled up on the ground where a writhing animal had been only a moment before. Her chest heaving, the female stretched out her legs and proceeded to get shakily to her feet, her face white.

  The effort it required was obviously enormous, but even as sweat dripped down her face, the female straightened her back and lifted her chin.

  ‘I’m ready.’ Her voice was hoarse and weak, but they all heard her.

  Herrin just stared at her for a long, tense moment, his scarred face not giving away his thoughts.

  Yet Siray knew he was weighing up whether the female had earned the right to live. Or not. Which made it that much harder for her to keep the bored, if slightly smug, expression on her face. As if by attempting the task she had merely been seeking the trainer’s approval and now expected it.

  A mask. Because underneath it … Siray needed this female to live. Another death on this day, the first day of training, and she could feel that something would break—in all of them.

  She crossed her arms in a weary pose which was also excellent for hiding the slight intake of breath she couldn’t stop when she saw Herrin take a breath to speak.

  ‘Well, if you’re ready, then I’ll assume everyone else is too. Line up!’ Herrin finished on a roar.

  Siray’s own legs felt weak as she pivoted about and went to join the lines. Maybe, just maybe, the Mother had heard her prayer.

  Or someone else had.

  ***

  Much later in the day, the captives were all marched back through the long tunnel that connected the arena and the yard where their cells were.

  Siray was filled with a deep sense of relief. She had made it through day one, saved a life, and although just putting one foot in front of the other right now required a massive effort, she felt like she could handle whatever the Faction chose to throw at them.

  Siray knew she and her friends had a sleepless night ahead of them, nursing their wounds—she’d had enough injuries in the recent past to know how the body ensured you took care of it.

  And then they would have to repeat the day all over again tomorrow—with potentially more deaths.

  Her mood soured quickly, and she shook her head as she followed Genlie along the length of the tunnel. No. She wouldn’t think of it. Just deal with this moment, she reminded herself. All she wanted right now was to curl up in a dark corner and sleep. Yet she knew she would feel stronger in the morning if she ate first. So that had to take priority.

  If the Faction was going to be kind enough to feed them that evening.

  Yet her hopes rose as she entered the yard and a fantastic smell enveloped her senses. Her eyes tracked quickly to three steaming barrels that stood across the open space from their cells.

  Three barrels—enough food for all of them. This time.

  There was also a fourth barrel standing off to the side, its lack of steam indicating that it contained something other than food.

  The guards lined them up in their formation and then left them standing there.

  Exhausted, Siray kept waiting for them to say something. Do something.

  They didn’t.

  The smell from the barrels seemed to intensify, becoming mouthwatering.

  She was starving, Siray realised, her body having burned through the meagre portion she had eaten during the day. The pain in her back had intensified during the afternoon as well, with the exercises they had been forced to do causing the skin on her back to stretch, almost negating the little progress in healing it had made while she was in her yeibon form.

  But others were in far worse conditions. Captives from other units who had missed out on a portion of food at the midday break were now actually listing to one side in exhaustion. Some of them moaning under their breath.

  Yet they had all learned the lessons of the day by heart, so they waited.

  At one point, Siray started out of a daydream about food to realise she was almost tipping over. Soon after she had straightened, she actually heard a thud as someone did fall over, then the scramble as the captive got hurriedly back on their feet.

  Siray had thought the worst part was the smell—the tantalising aroma of whatever was in those barrels, which made her stomach growl and rumble violently.

  But the worst part was when the guards seemed to grow bored with watching the hungry expressions of the captives and a few wandered over to the barrels.

  And pulled out a portion each.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SIRAY DIDN’T KNOW how long they had been waiting when the guards began to eat from the barrels, but the sky had grown dark and the aroma of the food had noticeably lessened when a male captive unknown to Siray spoke from a row or two over to her left.

  ‘Hey, boulder heads—are you ever going to let us eat?’ His voice was defiant, angry … but had a note of pleading.

  The guards stilled and turned towards the starving captives, some of their eyes fixing upon the male.

  Siray held her breath, her pulse rising as she became sure that the guards were about to leap upon the male and deliver some brutal punishment.

  ‘Finally—someone brave enough to ask. I was beginning to think you lot would stand here all night.’

  Like flipping a switch, Siray’s anxiety was instantly replaced by a burning hatred that roiled beneath her skin as Captain Raque strolled around one edge of their formation.

  He halted before them, cruel amusement on his face. ‘Today, some of you performed well. And some of you did not. As I call your unit number out, you may move forward and help yourself to the food in the barrels.’

  Siray felt her shoulders relax as a little breath escaped her lips. She had expected something far worse.

  ‘Oh—and you’ll find new training gear in your rooms, to replace the rags you’re currently wearing.’ Raque eyed them all contemptuously, his own outfit meticulous. ‘Unit six!’

  Siray felt an immense sense of relief as her gut tightened. Her unit was going to be given first access to the food—yet being the first out of the ranks meant that she, Genlie, Kovi, Zale, and Baindan had both the eyes of all the captives and the guards pinned on them. Siray kept her chin level and her face expressionless as she followed Genlie’s tall form out of the formation and towards the barrels.

  When they reached the container of food, Siray saw Kovi hesitate before reaching in for his meal just as Genlie drew alongside him. Hopefully, to everyone else watching, it only looked like Kovi was searching for the largest portion he could find. But Siray knew he was actually trying to fight down his male instinct to let his mate retrieve her serving first.

  As Kovi and Genlie each stepped away from the barrel with a chunk of meat wrapped in thin bread, Siray decided not to risk Kovi’s almost mistake and automatically reached in for hers, realising as she did so that the barrels were only partially full.

  Siray forced herself to step away, carefully cradling her meal as she strode after Kovi and Genlie, keen to remove herself from the vision of the other captives.

  It helped that one of the guards briskly instructed them to keep heading across to a far part of the yard, and when they all reached a comfortable distance, they began consuming their portions.

  Siray stayed standing as she ate, the experience earlier in the day having taught her that food here could come and go quickly.

  ‘Unit seven!’

  Her mouth full as she chewed vigorously, a tense part of Siray relaxed as Wexner’s unit was called out. Now Wexner, Tamot, Kinna, Loce and Annbov would also get to eat.

  Someone’s shoulder brushed ever so slightly against hers, and she turned her head a fraction, her body tensing and prepared to fight for the meal she was still consuming.

  But there was no need. Stormy-grey eyes glanced her way before turning back
to take in the rest of the captives still waiting for their turn to get food, Captain Raque still calling out unit numbers, now in pairs.

  ‘I’m assuming you noticed the trick with the barrels.’

  Siray nodded, swallowing her mouthful quickly so she could respond. ‘I did.’

  Baindan’s gaze jumped back and forth between the captain, the guards, and the captives. Like he was calculating something. ‘This could get interesting.’

  ‘I don’t suppose they would let us share?’ Siray asked quietly, nodding her head in the direction of the guards. After all, some other captives had already missed out on food earlier that day.

  ‘I doubt it,’ muttered Baindan in a low voice. ‘They’ve set it up this way on purpose. And don’t forget their motto …’

  Only the strong survive, Siray thought. ‘Well, not much we can do but stay together, then,’ she said regretfully. ‘And eat quickly,’ she added, taking another big bite of her the wrapped meat as the number of captives waiting began to dwindle down to the last four units. Wexner, Kinna, Loce, and Tamot had joined Siray’s group, all of them busily chowing down on their still-warm supper.

  Baindan grunted. ‘That way, we’ll be harder targets than they will.’ This time his nod was in the direction of another unit; the members had grabbed their portions from the barrels but then drifted apart, each effectively standing on their own as they gleefully consumed their food.

  The moment Baindan had anticipated came sooner than expected.

  ‘Unit three and eight—off you go!’

  The captives from the remaining two units exploded into a sprint, their hunger driving their bodies quickly towards the barrels.

  Siray hurriedly chewed and swallowed as fast as she could, downing the remainder of her portion quickly enough that she knew she might have a sore stomach later. Not that she cared right now.

  Her hands now empty, she risked looking away from the two units of starving captives swarming around the barrels and towards her friends.

  Kinna was still eating, Zale urging her to hurry.

  Loce looked like he was on his last mouthful, and the others were done.

  Except …

  ‘Where’s Annbov?’ Siray raised her voice to pose the question to Wexner as she turned her eyes back to the commotion beginning to break out around the barrels.

  In the corner of her vision, Wexner’s head shifted rapidly back and forth as he scanned the yard for the fifth member of his unit. ‘There,’ he growled.

  Siray looked. Annbov had wandered off to a corner of the yard by herself. Apparently, the female didn’t fully trust her unit yet.

  Kinna, who had finally finished eating, took a step in the female’s direction.

  ‘Don’t,’ Wexner told her quietly. ‘It’s already too late.’

  As if on cue, Tamot, apparently still their eyes and ears despite his recent suffering, remarked, ‘Get ready.’

  The last two units were exclaiming loudly to one another as they discovered that the barrels were empty—which showed that they still had enough awareness to know not to turn their growing anger and foul remarks directly on the guards themselves.

  Which makes them twice as dangerous, Siray realised, if they can still think that clearly.

  As one, the eyes of the two groups of captives focused outward, and Siray stood impassively next to Baindan and Tamot as the hungry gaze of ten captives scanned them.

  Yet seeing that the nine of them were empty-handed, their gazes quickly moved on.

  And landed on those who had unconsciously isolated themselves and were still savouring their supper.

  Two of the hungry captives made a dash for Annbov while the rest went after five captives from another unit who had split up.

  Off by herself, Annbov panicked as she saw them advancing, and tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

  Siray pressed her lips together as the female went down quickly, her arms flailing as she tried to ward off the blows of her attackers.

  Off to the right, the other eight hungry captives were fighting it out with the five members of another unit—literally brawling over any scraps of food that might be left.

  Siray’s and Wexner’s groups stayed close together, watching it all happen.

  Nearby, another unit was doing the same, standing almost back to back in a tight circle, their supposed leader giving them instructions. It should have come as no surprise to Siray to see that, upon further scrutiny, the hard-faced female who had taken charge of that small group was, in fact, Melora. Standing quietly alert, whispering orders to the others, she was the very picture of authority.

  Shouting off to Siray’s right side drew her attention back to the fracas.

  The attackers had successfully overpowered the members of the other unit, seizing what food they had, and Siray exhaled slowly as she surveyed the five captives now lying on the stonework amongst settling dust. They didn’t appear to be too badly hurt—if you didn’t count the injuries they had already received that morning.

  A few more scuffles broke out as the eight victorious captives argued over how to divide up their small winnings. Five of the eight walked away with a little food, while the others were left on the ground, in pain, exhausted and still hungry.

  ‘Mother save us, is this what it’s going to be like every day?’ Kinna’s murmur was quiet enough that she might just have been talking to herself.

  Siray shook her head slightly, trying not to think about the days ahead. Doing so might shake her courage.

  The sound of heavy footsteps coming from the direction of their accommodation made her turn her head slightly, but Siray couldn’t see anything in the corner of her vision. Yet she dared not turn her head any further, given the tension within the yard. She’d rely on the others to her sides and behind her to monitor those approaches.

  Yet she knew who it was as soon as he started to speak.

  ‘Well, now that that has all played out, it’s time for all good trainees to get their rest. After all, it’s only a matter of spans until day two begins.’

  His carefully chosen words had an obvious impact on some of the captives, and Siray steeled her mind against the despair stirring around her. One thing at a time.

  She heard the sounds of more boots moving over the sand and soon saw that guards were fanning out across the yard to herd the captives back into their cells.

  Moving with the others, Siray obediently walked across to the three-storey building, everyone quiet as they made their way up the stairs and into their allotted spaces. Siray’s unit split off into their cell, while Wexner, Tamot, and Kinna went into theirs, Loce lending a shoulder to Annbov as they followed the others inside.

  Once Siray’s unit was in their cell and the door had been closed behind them, Genlie faced them all, her slim frame taut.

  ‘They’re going to make us turn on each other.’

  ‘What?’ Siray couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.

  ‘I think that’s what this place is designed to do. To loosen bonds. Make us forget what we were fighting for. To break us.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’ Siray tried to speak strongly, but she could hear the doubt in her voice.

  ‘I don’t know that for sure, but I have some strong suspicions.’ Genlie had a look in her eyes that Siray hadn’t seen before.

  Baindan seemed to see something as well. ‘Tell us what you mean.’ His words were quiet, inviting.

  Genlie looked down for a moment at the bare floor, then she raised her head to look at them all again. ‘When I’ve fought the Faction, I’ve found that they have a certain ruthlessness. An all-out approach that almost always borders on being tactically wrong. Now I’m thinking that this training, this approach they have to weeding out the weak, might be the reason why.’

  Siray narrowed her brows. She’d had some experience fighting off the Faction but didn’t really have any solid combat experience. At least not compared with the others. She turned to Baindan, her eyebrows raised
in question.

  ‘It’s true.’ Baindan nodded. ‘When they fight, they go all in.’ He turned to Genlie. ‘And you think it’s because of exposure to these methods?’

  Genlie nodded, brushing back strands of blonde hair from her face. ‘Maybe everyone we’ve been fighting didn’t start out as believers in this cause—whatever it is. Maybe they started out like us.’

  Across from Siray but close by to Genlie, Kovi leaned against the stone wall and crossed his arms. ‘So, you’re thinking is that not only are we fighting to survive here, but we might not even be us at the end?’

  Genlie nodded, her eyes fixed on Kovi, and a silence filled the room.

  Siray scanned the faces around her. Baindan, Genlie, Kovi, Zale—all friends. Each one a Resistance member she had fought with, and all people she would fight for. How could she possibly be turned against them?

  ‘So what can we do?’ Zale, with his active mind, was already looking for a resolution.

  And Siray was ready with an answer. ‘We escape.’

  Kovi, Genlie, and Zale looked at her doubtfully.

  ‘And I just so happen to know someone who’s great at planning escapes.’

  She glanced slyly over to her left.

  Baindan gave her a slow, knowing grin.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SIRAY’S UNIT SPENT most of the evening debating several ideas for breaking out of the Faction stronghold, with Baindan leading the discussion. His experience and ability to see the flaws or holes in their planning was invaluable, and now that they had committed to escaping, despite the risks, they had the makings of a strategy. It was still only an initial proposition, though, and they had to talk to their friends in unit seven.

  Talking about ways to circumvent the Faction patrols had also given them something to focus on as they tried to ease each other’s injuries. Each of them had had their backs gently inspected by someone else in order to assess the damage.

  Genlie and Siray had gone into the tiny washroom, taking a small pile of clean clothes with them, the closed-off room affording them privacy while they stripped down to examine each other’s backs.