Change of Chaos

by Jacinta Jade

  The jolting of the wagon as it came to a stop stirred Siray from her thoughts, and she realised that Hurtol had been speaking. She looked at him as he continued to talk—to his beasts.

  He hadn’t noticed her lapse in attention to his stories, then.

  ‘That’s right, beasties,’ he said, ‘time for a midday break and filling of the stomachs.’

  Hurtol jumped to the ground from his perch on the wagon, surprisingly limber for such a heavy male, and approached his beasts, giving each of them a pat as he passed them by and thanking them for their work.

  Siray smiled. She liked Hurtol’s kindness and the appreciation he showed to the munder beasts.

  Leaning backwards, Siray reached behind her and grabbed her staff. Turning her body to the side of the wagon, she stretched her hand out so the bottom of the staff touched the ground, and she leaned it against the side of the wagon. Then, reaching out with both hands to grip the wagon’s wooden sides, she turned and slowly lowered herself to the ground.

  Her arms were shaky as she held her weight, her tired and injured body not used to such exertion.

  When she felt her good foot come into contact with the ground, she relaxed a little, carefully putting her weight onto it. Then she released one hand from the side of the carriage and picked up her staff.

  Mobile again, Siray slowly circled the harnessed beasts to where Hurtol was standing at the head of the two columns. He was talking to the beasts as he worked his fingers at the harnesses.

  ‘Yep, that’s right—some of the best munching around to be had here. No finer spot to rest the hands and mind either.’

  Hurtol looked up as Siray approached.

  ‘Ah—you be injured then. Don’t know how I missed that. Would’ve assisted you m’self if I’d known. Thought the stick was just for trekking purposes, something you mighta been attached to.’

  Hurtol’s hands kept busy at the harness as he talked.

  Siray shook her head in response, smiling at Hurtol and waving off his apologies. If one of his beasts had stubbed a toe, Hurtol would have spotted it from a distance, but people seemed to be his blind spot, for all his kindness.

  ‘Just a slight foot injury,’ she assured him. ‘Nothing I can’t manage.’

  She looked closer at Hurtol’s hands.

  ‘Are you taking off their harnesses, then?’

  Hurtol nodded. ‘Beasties deserve a good break, and this ’ere is some of the best natural feed goin’ around.’ He waved an arm at the forest around them. ‘Beasties especially like the fondi bushes growing by the side there.’

  Siray twisted to look in the direction he had indicated and spied a couple of bushes she had walked past just a moment ago. Their leaves were a deep blue red, shaped like large teardrops.

  She shifted back to face Hurtol. ‘Why do they like them so much?’

  Hurtol shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at the same time—a physical feat that amazed part of Siray’s mind. ‘Not sure, though I guess it must have something to do with the smell.’

  Siray raised her eyebrows. ‘The smell?’

  Hurtol nodded, emphatic once more. ‘Yup, the smell seems to attract them. Go have a whiff yourself.’

  Curious, Siray shrugged. ‘Alright.’

  She moved slowly past the lead munder beasts and hobbled up to one of the bushes just out of their reach, leaning her weight forwards on her staff to examine the bushes more closely. Not seeing anything particularly of note, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  ‘Ugh!’ The sound exploded from her as hopped backwards quickly. ‘That smells terrible!’

  Laughter met her ears, and she turned around.

  Hurtol was holding his stomach as his shoulders bounced. ‘It most certainly does. But the beasties love it.’

  Siray hobbled back around to Hurtol, wrinkling her nose and trying to breathe in as much fresh air as possible. ‘I hope it tastes better than it smells …’

  Hurtol had unharnessed two of the munder beasts, who had wandered off to the nearest fondi bushes and were happily munching away. The four remaining beasts were lifting their feet in anticipation of the same meal, and Siray watched Hurtol’s hands for a moment.

  ‘Can I help unharness them?’ she asked tentatively.

  Hurtol’s hands stilled as he looked up, and Siray wondered if she had offended him.

  ‘Have you ever harnessed a beastie before?’ Hurtol’s face was the most serious she had yet seen on their trip.

  She shook her head. ‘No.’

  Hurtol shrugged, and then his familiar smile burst out again. ‘Well, then, you ain’t got no bad habits, and I’m happy to teach the good ones to you. But this is the easy part. Watch ’ere for a moment.’

  Siray hopped close so she could see exactly what Hurtol was doing.

  ‘This bit ’ere wraps around the shoulders and down the flank, but it’s the bit underneath you want to undo first. Once that’s done, you can loosen the top and the bit around the front and peel it back like this.’

  He demonstrated, pulling the straps away from the front legs so that the harness now just rested on the beast’s back.

  Siray nodded to show she understood.

  Hurtol pointed to the beast opposite the one he had just unharnessed. ‘If you want, you can do Sheba over there.’

  Siray nodded once more. ‘Sure.’ She hopped over to Sheba and, needing both hands, rested her staff against the beast’s side as she stood on one leg. Then, copying Hurtol’s action from a moment before, Siray reached underneath Sheba’s legs and undid the bottom strap. Next, she loosened the top strap that sat across Sheba’s back, and, lastly, she unbuckled the straps that were placed around her front legs. The strap now sat loosely on Sheba, and Siray pulled the front straps away from Sheba’s legs completely, patting the beast when she was finished and taking back her staff.

  Sheba, sensing suddenly that she was unharnessed, bobbed her large head happily, gave Siray an inescapable lick on the face with her massive tongue, and moved off at a heavy trot for the nearest fondi bush.

  Siray laughed at the friendliness of the beast as she wiped saliva from her face with her sleeve.

  Hurtol smiled. ‘Sheba likes you.’ He waved at the next beast in line. ‘Next one’s Donbi. Mind his feet—he gets impatient.’

  Hurtol shifted his attention back to his last beast, and Siray focused on Donbi. To Siray’s eye, Donbi certainly looked upset about something, stamping his feet and giving small irritated snorts. She moved forwards to grasp his harness a little more cautiously than she had with Sheba, but once she had a hold of the harness, Donbi stopped his fussing. Siray repeated the process with him, swiftly grabbing her staff and hopping well clear of Donbi as soon as the last strap was off. Her anticipation was a good thing, as Donbi chose to shift and stamp his feet several times before he headed in a straight line for his very own bush. Siray chuckled at his eagerness and then moved towards the wagon where Hurtol was pulling out something from behind his seat.

  He turned to Siray as he stood in the wagon to show her a small package. ‘I always get the supply officers to provide a little something for lunch—part of the deal for me transferring all those goods in as short a time as possible.’

  Siray watched as Hurtol took the package down from the wagon with him and searched the ground for a moment before finding a suitable spot and settling himself down. Walking over to the same spot, Siray lifted her injured foot behind her so it was well out of the way and slowly lowered herself down so that she stood for a brief, shaking moment, with her good leg bent deeply beneath her. Then, lowering just a little more, the knee on her injured side met the ground, and she was able to sink to both knees before carefully curling her legs around so she could sit and face Hurtol comfortably as he busied himself pulling out items from his small sack.

  First he pulled out a flask of water, followed by some fruit, bread, and then a long wrapped cloth. He set out the things before them on the grass, arranging each item carefully, as
if the quality of the meal could be affected by their placement. Siray sat silently before him, watching his hands moving in a detached sort of way. Then Hurtol’s hands stilled, and Siray looked up.

  Hurtol gestured to the food spread before them. ‘Guests eat first,’ he said.

  Siray smiled, thanked him, and reached for a piece of fruit.

  ***

  Following their meal, Hurtol showed Siray how to harness the munder beasts back up to the wagon once more. He demonstrated with the first beast, showing Siray had to get a munder beast’s attention and drive it back into position. Once she was familiar with the process, Siray took a turn herself, herding one of the beasts back to the wagon to be harnessed. It was harder than Hurtol made it look, even taking into account her injury, as the beasts were reluctant to turn away from the fondi bushes.

  She quickly learned the trick, however, of grabbing the beast’s attention with a quick pinch to the nose, which allowed her to then start herding it back. Once she had its complete attention, the beast seemed to lose its earlier rebelliousness and calmly followed Siray back to the harness. It almost seemed like once the beasts accepted that the break was over, they were keen to get back to work in order to reach the end of their journey.

  Placing the harness back onto the beasts was also a lot more challenging than removing it had been. First the straps had to be placed just right. Then you had to tighten each of them just a little bit before moving on and doing the next one and so on to ensure that they were all tightened equally without the straps moving overall or any one strap pulling too tightly on just one part of the beast.

  Hurtol continued to give Siray tips as they worked to reharness all the beasts.

  ‘If strap too tight, beastie unhappy. If beastie unhappy, he might become impatient, veer off course, or ignore commands. So, best drivers always make sure their beasties are comfortable to ensure good journey.’

  As they worked, Hurtol would promptly check Siray’s efforts once she had finished, making the slightest adjustments here and there and showing her what to look for to check that no rubbing would occur. When it came down to harnessing the last beast, Siray realised it was Sheba she was leading into position at the front, and she glanced across at Hurtol, wondering if she had erred.

  ‘Hurtol?’

  He looked up from nearby where he was finishing with the harnessing of the other lead beast.

  ‘Is Sheba supposed to be at the front? I mean, when I unharnessed her, she was in the middle.’

  Hurtol smiled and shook his head. ‘No, no, position is right. Beasties need to swap around to stay fresh. Lead beasties watch road ahead. A beastie always at the front does less watching.’

  Satisfied, Siray nodded and finished moving Sheba into position. Once she had Sheba strapped into the harness and Hurtol was happy with her work, they moved back to the wagon to take their seats.

  Siray saw Hurtol glance over at her in concern as she approached her side of the wagon, but she shook her head quickly and waved him off, smiling at him to remove any sting from her refusal for assistance. Like the harnessing, getting into the wagon was harder than getting out of it, but Siray managed by doing a small jump to get her good foot under her on the wagon while she supported her weight by holding on to the wagon. When she was sure she was stable, she twisted on her good foot and slid into her seat, a trickle of sweat sliding down her back from the effort. Reaching back out of the wagon and down to the side, Siray picked up her staff once more and stowed it securely behind her.

  As Siray leaned back into the seat, Hurtol picked up the reins.

  ‘Heya!’

  They moved off.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  IT WAS LATE in the day when Siray caught her first glimpse of the training camp, Hurtol pointing it out to her in the distance as they crested a hill.

  ‘That there is the camp. We’ll reach it soon.’

  Siray took in the camp in the few breaths she had before it disappeared from sight as the munder beasts began to pull the wagon down the hill. Unlike the commander’s camp, the training camp appeared to be built within the forest itself, its tents and fences barely discernible from a distance unless you knew where to look, as Hurtol did. The camp seemed to be fairly large and had a cliff rising high above it to one side. There also seemed to be small clearings dotted here and there around and within the camp itself.

  Overall, it didn’t look like anything special, and Siray felt a little disappointed, even though she didn’t know quite what it was exactly that she had been expecting.

  As the camp disappeared completely from her view, Siray sat back in her seat and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare herself for whatever was to come.

  Hurtol noticed her nervousness. ‘Why you so anxious?’

  Siray gave a half smile while still facing forwards, acknowledging his concern. ‘I’m about to enter training, and I’ve no idea what to expect.’ Her comment was met with an unusual silence from Hurtol, and she glanced in his direction.

  Surprisingly, Hurtol’s expression was one of mild distress, and he actually took his eyes away from the road and his beasts for a moment as he spoke to her. ‘But you are injured. And training is hard. Very hard. Not all make it through.’

  Siray sat stiffly in her seat for a moment, not knowing what to say. It wasn’t the response she had been expecting. She swallowed, then finally managed the question. ‘Why don’t many make it through?’

  Hurtol shook his head, not saying anything for a moment, his lips pressed together. When he did finally speak, it was slow and quiet.

  ‘I thought you were going as support, to assist the healer or functions of the camp. Uninjured, training is hard. With injury …’ Hurtol shook his head again. Then he turned to Siray, and his eyes were intense, making them seem like the eyes of anyone but the relaxed wagon driver she had spent the day travelling with. ‘Guard your mind. Your injury may be used against you but guard your mind above all. Many break. Not here’—Hurtol gestured to his body—‘but here.’ His fingers tapped his temple.

  Hurtol shifted his attention away as they rounded a corner in the road, and Siray tried to digest what he had just told her.

  Guard her mind? From what? Whom?

  Frowning, Siray looked out at the road and, realising that they were entering a thicker part of the forest, sat up straighter. They were approaching the camp’s entrance.

  Not easy to see, the entrance to the camp for wagons was only signalled by two trees lying by the sides of the road, the biggest welcome sign the Resistance could afford in this time of war. Indeed, the commander’s camp had had two similar trunks on either side of the camp’s entrance, which Siray had noted when she had departed on the wagon earlier that day.

  As they approached the markers, Hurtol clucked to his beasts, slowing them and the wagon. Just as the lead beast reached the fallen trees, several males wearing deep-brown and green clothing stepped out from the cover of the forest in front of them. They moved so casually that Siray almost missed the fact that several of them had bows with arrows notched. Although the bows were not drawn or aimed at the wagon, she went stiff, and only her eyes moved as she regarded the group. Siray assumed the bows remained undrawn only because Hurtol was a familiar and trusted face. Yet many of the eyes before her watched her closely.

  As the soldiers approached and called for the wagon to halt, Hurtol twisted his head slightly to speak to her.

  ‘This where you begin. All trainees walk into camp. But don’t move ’til told.’

  Siray nodded. She definitely didn’t want to test anyone’s nerves, especially not when those nervous fingers were holding bows. One male approached the wagon on Hurtol’s side and greeted him.

  ‘Hey there, Hurtol. You’ve arrived in good time. What do you have for us today?’ The male cast his eye over the wagon, not looking in Siray’s direction.

  Hurtol pulled a paper from his pocket and showed the man the seal on it. ‘I ’ave a letter from the commander to th
e master trainer and bring supplies which came from Tulong yesterday.’

  Hurtol handed the sealed letter to the male before him, and Siray thought this must be the master trainer for the camp.

  Her stomach increased its twisting as Hurtol continued speaking. ‘I also bring new trainee.’

  Now the male’s eyes flicked to Siray, and she felt her chest tighten under that gaze as she tried to appear impassive. He seemed to assess her worth in an instant, and Siray realised that the male’s friendly banter was only a shell he wore, something to be thrown away when he needed to get down to business. His eyes flicked away from hers, almost discarding her with his sudden lack of interest.

  ‘Right, then, Hurtol, you know the drill. Forwards and check in with the supply master.’ Then the male’s tone deepened. ‘Trainee, off the wagon.’

  Siray sat stiffly for a breath before the casualness of the male’s order registered, and she got to her feet carefully.

  The male’s voice rose in volume. ‘What—are you sick and old, trainee? Get on the ground now!’

  Siray pressed her lips together and, snatching up her staff, repeated her earlier trick of getting to the ground. It seemed to take her twice as long to manage it, and she could feel every eye on her as she manoeuvred herself slowly, but safely, down.

  A tense silence fell, and the male giving the orders walked around the wagon and up to Siray. ‘What is this?’

  He gestured sharply at her staff.

  Reflexively, Siray clutched it more tightly. ‘It’s my support. I need it to move around while my injury heals,’ she told him, pointing to her foot. She felt defensive, as if she had to explain her current weakness.

  The male shook his head, not even bothering to look where she was pointing. ‘Gesad—what is the first rule for trainees?’ He let this question ring out as he strolled a little past Siray.

  A voice rang out from near the lead munder beasts. ‘That trainees are not permitted to retain any possessions in their first week of training.’