Change of Darkness

by Jacinta Jade

  ‘So you use this technology outside of the city?’ An obvious question, Siraay knew, but it needed to be asked—she wanted to know his stance on the tradition. Oddly, she was unsure how she felt about it, because the fact that it was illegal to use technology outside of city boundaries was ingrained in her—an inhibition that even her altered mind couldn’t get around.

  ‘We do—but can you really call it using technology when the bands are not working pieces?’ Chezran looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

  Siraay frowned back at him. The bands, and her necklace, were not active pieces of technology?

  ‘We have not created these by using parts of other elements to enforce our will; we have simply shaped something nature already provides. Thus, it is purely a natural product of the Great Mother, which exerts itself upon those who wear the bands.’

  Siraay nodded in understanding, appreciating the difference.

  They reached the end of the room, and Chezran steered her towards one corner, where a glass cabinet contained a small, irregularly shaped object poised on a rotating frame.

  As they drew nearer, Siraay began to see that the object was merely a chunk of rock, and she wondered why one piece of stone deserved such an honoured placement.

  But as the frame continued to rotate, the other side of the rock was revealed.

  Underneath the first layer of dirt compacted by wind, rain, and the weight of other heftier boulders was a darker, more consistent layer. And beneath that layer was what really drew Siraay’s attention—a roughly fist-sized piece of stone that glinted in the light.

  ‘Tarzneum,’ Chezran said.

  Siraay glanced away from the rock and over her shoulder. ‘Tarzneum?’

  Chezran nodded. ‘My father had tasked some of his miners to dig away from their usual site one day in order to find some harder stone for the foundation of a new part of the palace.’ The lord gestured off to his right. ‘They were digging up the harder black rock when they hit a new vein of material they hadn’t seen before. Curious, they mined a portion of it and took some back to show my father.’

  Siraay straightened up from her examination of the rock to listen more closely as Chezran continued.

  ‘Then two things happened at the same time. The miners who were working the new material out of the ground would often touch it when they dug it out, looking at it and running theories past each other as they discussed what it might be. Turns out, some of the more interested ones pocketed pieces of it too, wanting to do a closer examination after their shift. Over the weeks, the miners became more productive and responded faster to orders but also became more aggressive.’

  Chezran chuckled. ‘Apparently, the effects were only noticed after my father had to send out a number of security teams to the site in order to quell the arguments and fights that kept arising. Those with long, drawn-out grudges, or who had had never had a liking for someone else, for some reason began acting on all those urges.’ He smiled. ‘But they weren’t the only ones. Once the metal was brought to the palace and placed in the hands of the examiners, my father began to notice a change in those who were handling the material. They became more confident, more capable, more determined—and more cruel and exacting towards others.’

  Chezran turned and gestured back towards the technologists that they had passed earlier. ‘My people now work with a more refined version, of course, and you will notice they do so wearing gloves to avoid direct contact. It took nearly a decade, but eventually my father and his technologists were able to work out the impurities in the material and begin creating these.’ The lord walked to a nearby bench and picked up a completed metal band. ‘Like when we heal through the use of an external stimulant, these bands emit waves through the skin that block some aspects of the mind and open up others.’

  He dropped the band back onto the bench, letting it clatter and ring as it fell from his hand to the bench top once more.

  ‘Thereby setting free that in ourselves which is stronger, which has no moral qualms about going after what it wants, and which uses the darker, base desires of our nature to our own benefit.’ Chezran stepped closer to Siraay and cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her face up towards his greater height.

  His grip was firm enough to hurt, but Siraay ignored it as she looked into a pair of darkly glowing eyes, her heart thumping excitedly at the touch of the powerful male. ‘And this is the result. Strong, devoted soldiers, and leaders, who can use all of their sleeping mind to help us achieve our goal.’

  Chezran let go of Siraay’s chin, his hands moving now to her shoulders, and Siraay could feel the strength behind those arms as the lord continued speaking.

  ‘I will see a Kaslon that will be strong enough to defeat any threats. Like this metal, we will purge those elements of society that lack strength, or who resist us, leaving a pure Kaslon in which to bring about change that will result in the beginning of a new age.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHEZRAN ALSO SHOWED her the armoury that morning and took her out of the palace grounds and into the city itself, a retinue of guards following, but at a respectful distance—they, too, knew what their lord was capable of.

  Siraay took note throughout her tour of the palace and grounds who was wearing bands and who wasn’t. Although it was possible that the accessories could have been hidden under the sleeves of some people, she observed that most persons in positions of authority usually did not wear the bands, but most who assisted in menial duties and labour, and the majority of the soldiers, did.

  Chezran noted her glances. ‘There are those who are true believers in our cause,’ he said, nodding towards a female who was giving orders to a large group as she supervised a building project of some sort. ‘And there are those who, awakened by the tarzneum in the bands, become valuable contributors. Either through simple efforts or through the value of a special skill set.’

  Siraay nodded, appreciating the strategy, and ran a finger over the detailed lines of her necklace. It was the most important thing in her life now—without it, she wouldn’t exist. And then a new question popped into her mind. ‘So, why does the chief archon wear a mask?’ She wondered if it was similar to why she needed to wear the necklace.

  Chezran snorted. ‘Chief Archon Pyron is allowed to indulge himself in wearing that mask, as he been unfailingly loyal and valuable to our cause since he has been with me. Although,’ the lord continued in a quieter voice, ‘I suspect he might be scarred underneath—from some fire when he was just a youth. But you should not bring it up, as the chief archon would not appreciate it, I’m sure.’

  Pyron? Viciously scarred? Siraay was inordinately pleased for a moment to have discovered such a weakness in her foe, but then grimaced as she touched her own facial scars and realised it made her and Pyron all the more similar.

  She moved on to her next question.

  ‘I was wondering,’ she asked casually, ‘if my—’

  ‘My lord.’

  A female’s voice called out from behind them, and Siraay glanced back to see who it was. When she recognised Archon Atalia, she schooled her face into a carefully neutral expression, and she only turned after Chezran had faced the approaching female.

  Atalia was looking particularly attractive this morning, with her shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back into a complex tail, the daylight bringing out the colour in her pale-green eyes.

  And the skin-hugging gear she wore did reveal a shapely form.

  Was it Siraay’s imagination, or did Chezran’s head tilt just a little before he verbally acknowledged the archon?

  ‘Yes?’ invited the lord.

  A simple question, but Siraay could detect layers of meaning within it, and she knew that the archon’s approach was something out of the ordinary.

  ‘We have had an update from the second division—they have new intelligence on the movements of the Resistance.’ Atalia hesitated, just for a heartbeat, her gaze flicking to Siraay, a look of mild concern mixed with weighted consideration
crossing her face.

  A brilliant piece of acting. Just enough to make Chezran wonder why his head tactician might be concerned about revealing critical intelligence in Siraay’s presence but not enough to offend him outright by questioning his new lady’s loyalty.

  Siraay mentally adjusted her evaluation of Atalia—attractive and cunning. A mix that would appeal to Chezran.

  The lord flicked his fingers. ‘Speak—Lady Siraay will be privy to most matters that hold my attention.’

  Siraay noted with satisfaction how Atalia’s eyes seemed to darken a shade at the mention of her title. But the archon had enough control to conceal whatever she might be thinking, and she nodded sharply once, her hard eyes resting on Siraay.

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ Her gaze shifted back to Chezran. ‘It appears that the Resistance groups are slowly coming together—so far, the second division has intercepted two groups that appeared to be making for a hilly area near the capital.’

  Chezran nodded. ‘Did we question those we captured?’

  A cruel smile spread across Atalia’s face, sensual and slow. ‘We did—bands were placed on those who were susceptible, giving us some new intelligence, and those who weren’t … eventually answered our questions anyway.’

  Surprise almost broke across Siraay’s face as she registered that interesting fact—that not everyone was susceptible to the bands. She bit down hard on her tongue to still her face and pushed the thought to the side for the moment, turning her attention back to Atalia’s words.

  As much as Siraay didn’t like the female, she had to respect her methods. She reflected on the torture her previous self had been subjected to. And she had confidence that the skills of those doing the questioning would be suitable.

  Beside her, Chezran shifted slightly. Just a slight transfer of his weight from one foot to the other, but it had the same effect on Atalia as if the lord had snapped at her to get on with it.

  This time, Siraay bit her tongue to stop a grin rising to her face.

  The head tactician hurried on with her update. ‘It seems the Resistance leaders have issued orders for all groups to reposition themselves at various points within easy reach of the capital. We even know where a number of those points will be, although I doubt that the Resistance would be so stupid as to offer themselves up all at once for us in one location.’

  Lord Chezran had stilled again, and Siraay could see that he wasn’t looking at Atalia now. He seemed to be staring past the archon, deep in thought.

  Then his lips curled up at the edges as he began speaking. ‘The Resistance knows we have our divisions in the area. And they’re positioning themselves to respond. But they don’t know our full numbers yet … otherwise, they would be moving a lot faster.’

  His eyes half closed for a moment, then opened again. ‘And we would have had word if they had approached the Ruling Council to beg them to reconsider a more pro-active response to our presence.’ He nodded to himself. ‘We could chase down the Resistance—destroy them as we find them. But that will take time. But if we could force the Resistance troops to group together …’ He trailed off, raising one eyebrow at Atalia.

  The archon was nodding. ‘Then we could wipe them out in one go. Cleaner. More efficient.’ Siraay could almost see the cunning mind behind those green eyes working through solution after solution. The female smiled. ‘I’ll order the second division to allow two of the captives to escape. After overhearing some choice information, of course.’ She stood taller, smiling more broadly at her lord.

  Just like a youth seeking praise from a cycle guide, Siraay thought derisively. Didn’t Atalia realise that the lord didn’t want an adoring lap animal?

  Chezran was nodding, his face revealing nothing. ‘Good. I’ll want an update this evening.’

  The smile was wiped quickly from Atalia’s face. ‘Yes, my lord.’ She glanced at Siraay as Chezran began turning away, and the icy dislike in her eyes was clear.

  Siraay, for her part, enjoyed turning her shoulder to the archon, making the female watch her and Chezran as they walked away. Together.

  But the lord had only taken two steps when he paused again and twisted his head slightly so his voice would carry back to Atalia. ‘It only takes one imbecile to deliver a message. Let two escape, but make one of them an example of our … prowess.’

  The last word was almost a light caress, and Siraay could see the small, hidden smile playing about the edges of the lord’s lips.

  ***

  They were headed back into the palace when Chezran broke the silence. ‘Ask me—I won’t think anything of it.’

  Siraay smiled automatically, her gaze straight ahead. ‘I would hate to think that I’m that transparent.’

  ‘Not at all, my lady. You hold yourself so tight, so controlled, that I imagine the others find you very hard to read.’

  ‘Others?’

  He gave her a knowing smile. ‘Ask, my treasure.’

  Fine, she thought. ‘There are those who tarzneum does not affect?’

  Chezran nodded as they turned a corner of the hall together. ‘There are. Not many, mind you, but some. Maybe one in a thousand.’ He brushed away a stray lock of shoulder-length dark hair from his face. ‘I was very glad to see that your many gifts did not include that particular one.’

  ‘Why are they able to resist the metal’s effects?’

  ‘Unknown. I did task my technologists to find out why, having similar questions to yours, but even though they studied a number of subjects, they never could distinguish a real reason.’ Chezran shrugged. ‘It’s a phenomenon that occurs so rarely that I decided to drop the matter.’

  ‘What do you do with those who aren’t affected?’

  The lord looked at her with emotionless eyes. ‘We either broke their mind enough that they could be remade into a soldier if they showed promise, or … removed them completely.’

  Siraay returned his gaze calmly. ‘Is that what you would have done in my case?’

  ‘Yes. We would have needed to break you.’

  Siraay nodded and swivelled her eyes back to look down the hallway as a pair of servants passed them.

  ‘But I’m glad it didn’t come to that. A complete mind is much more valuable than a fractured one,’ Chezran said.

  True enough, Siraay thought.

  ‘Now, I’m due in a meeting at noon, but I have enough time to eat with you, and then I’ve asked Pyron to escort you to another training area, so you can meet your unit.’

  Siraay glanced at Chezran, not bothering to hide her surprise. ‘My unit?’ Was he relegating her back to mere soldier duties?

  ‘Yes. An elite unit that will accompany you whenever you leave the city. I am assuming that you would like to join one of the scouting and hunting parties from time to time, in order to keep your skills honed?’

  She grinned. Checking the countryside for Resistance spies and hunting down extra resources to pour into their growing army sounded like an excellent diversion. Much better than just constant training. ‘I would like that very much.’

  Chezran’s eyes gleamed. ‘Excellent. You will meet the unit this afternoon. Spend some time getting to know them, so you will be comfortable operating around them. Then your usual escort will guide you wherever you wish to go afterwards.’

  This flattened Siraay’s mood a bit. ‘I’ve actually been wondering about that …’ She waited until after they’d passed a pair of guards stationed along the hallway and were walking down a more empty corridor before she continued. ‘Do you not trust me?’

  Chezran stopped so suddenly that Siraay actually took two more steps before she also came to a stop. She turned to look back at him but found that they were already face-to-face, the lord having moved swiftly up behind her.

  She went to take a step back in surprise, but Chezran grabbed at her shoulders and flung her hard against the wall, his strong arms pinning her there.

  ‘Do you really think I need an escort to keep tabs on you?’ he hissed. ‘If I didn�
�t trust you, you would not be walking side by side with me as you are. I would be visiting you in a dark cell, or just having Pyron provide me with updates.’

  So Pyron is in charge of torture here too, a part of Siraay thought numbly while her pulse raced at the lord’s nearness. From fear or lust, she couldn’t tell.

  Chezran leaned closer, bringing his head down near to hers, his gaze flashing to her lips for just a heartbeat. ‘The majority of the people walking about this palace are trained killers. And most of them don’t wear a bracelet or other tarzneum restraint, because they are, supposedly, loyal to me.’ His eyes bored into Siraay’s. ‘I trust almost no one—but I weigh the risks, keep my mind sharp and my claws even sharper.’

  His grin was feral, and Siraay almost thought that some of his teeth were looking a bit more pointed than normal …

  Chezran leaned closer still, so that his warm breath tickled her ear, even as those arms kept her solidly in place against the wall. ‘I trust you, because I know I can trust the desires that now motivate you.’

  Siraay felt one of Chezran’s hands shift from where it pinned her arm and sink down to brush over her hip, causing her to gasp softly.

  He leaned back slightly and raised an eyebrow, seemingly asking her to prove him wrong. ‘Besides, without the necklace, you wouldn’t exist—not as this mind, anyway. And without me, you wouldn’t have the necklace. Or your current standing.’ He finally dropped both arms and stepped back, his voice resuming normal volume again. ‘Your escort is there for your protection.’

  Siraay waited a breath to see if he had anything more to say on the matter, but when he didn’t, she launched herself away from the wall, her strong legs propelling her forwards and into the lord so that he was forced to stumble backwards into the opposite wall, a loud thud announcing the impact.