Change of Chaos

by Jacinta Jade

  Siray now scurried over the ground with a steady rhythm, reaching her hands forwards to both brace her body weight and pull herself onwards, always with her injured foot waving away dangerously in the air behind her. A couple of times it had smacked into trees as she passed close by them, and each time she had lost precious moments while she rolled and rocked back and forth as she exerted an effort not to scream in pain.

  Now, as her foot throbbed unendingly, she wanted nothing more than to retreat to a safe place where she could cradle it protectively.

  Each time this urge rose up in her—usually not long after her foot had again hit a tree—she had to fight herself to keep pushing on. Soon, she kept telling herself. Soon, she would find her tree, and the camp healers would tend to her foot.

  She would tell them to drown it in numbing solution.

  A short time later, when the cliff face itself appeared just ahead, Siray sighed in relief. She could make it, she realised, if she could just maintain this pace. After a brief consideration, she decided she would turn left, as turning right would take her away from the camp—counterintuitive to the goal the trainer had set her.

  As she began moving parallel to the cliff, Siray felt a breeze push at the damp hair clinging to her forehead, and although the wind caressed her, it didn’t bring the same relief as it had earlier to her warm body.

  She wasn’t exhausted enough to miss the fact that her skin felt gritty with salt and that her mouth was dry. Siray shivered as she tried to push her thoughts aside to focus on her search and slowed down her movements so she could take the time to scan as she travelled, stretching her neck up so she could examine the trunk and limbs of each tree.

  She reasoned that the tree itself wouldn’t be that hard to spot if it truly was close to the cliff; otherwise candidates would need to search half the forest in order to find the right tree.

  As she traced a path between the forest and the base of the cliff, Siray began stealing glimpses of the sky even as she scanned the trees, the continual movement of the sun a countdown she could see.

  After one such look, her adrenaline jumped in her veins, and a strong impulse rose within her, urging her to move faster. Yet she fought against it, knowing that an increase in speed would increase the risk of potentially missing the tree and failing the challenge. So she kept on at a steady pace, trying to block out the new doubts emerging in her mind and trying to calm her racing heart.

  She had progressed a fair way along the cliff when a mild panic began to set in, and the lower the sun sank, the greater her panic grew.

  Where is that tree with the orange tag, she thought over and over to herself. Where? Where, where, where?

  As the light began to turn a purple grey, the question became a chant in her mind, and Siray gave in and began to move faster, her eyes jumping from tree to tree as she relied more on the hope that the colour of the orange tag would jump out at her than on careful examination.

  Her mind was becoming more panicked even as she tried to ignore the steady movement of the sun towards the horizon. How far she had gone? Had she gone too far or not far enough?

  Siray paused for a quick respite, her body tired but tense with adrenaline as she debated the decision in her mind. Should she go back and rescan some of the previous forest or keep going forwards? Had she missed the tree earlier or had she taken so long to get to the cliff that she hadn’t covered enough ground?

  Siray’s body leaned forwards again, and she let it continue moving, her fingers propping up her hands, arms, and shoulders. One-two, one-two, one-two. Her hands moved one after the other, her knees following in a similar but different rhythm of their own. She probably hadn’t travelled fast enough earlier. But she did still have time. Not much, but some.

  Siray rounded a bend in the trees that was mirrored by the cliff and froze, stopping suddenly enough that there might have been a wall of air before her.

  Ahead lay the training camp. Her breath caught. That couldn’t be. Surely they wouldn’t place the tree so close to the camp? A feeling of dread began to fill her, yet there were still some trees to pass before she could actually enter the camp, so her body automatically began moving forwards again, hope driving her.

  As she moved, Siray glanced in desperation at the thinning trees around her, but even as she did so, the last of the purple light faded from the sky, and a dark grey settled firmly over the forest around her.

  Her mind went numb. She was out of time. She had failed.

  Now at the edge of the trees, Siray paused there on her hands and knees as she looked out at the camp. Nestled partly under the trees of the forest and partly out in the open air, the camp was a construction of brown and green tents. From where she was, Siray could see no supplies out in the open and no one wandering about. The camp appeared to be neat and orderly. And deserted.

  As night continued to fall around her, Siray considered her options. She hadn’t found the tree, so she had failed the challenge. She had failed her training even before it had really begun …

  Siray tried not to let herself dwell too long on this, lest her exhausted body curl up on this very spot. Plenty of time for her to agonise over her failure later when she travelled back to the commander’s camp, thought a mocking part of her. But she did need to rest. And eat.

  As soon as she thought the word, Siray’s stomach burned, and she felt like if she looked down at her midsection there might be a big, gaping hole where her stomach had once been. She also needed water. She didn’t know how long ago she had stopped sweating, but she knew as she licked her dry lips that it wasn’t a good sign.

  Above all, she was longed to stand up and stretch out her back, but she didn’t know how far she would be able to move on one leg even if she did, given the cramping and exhaustion she could feel radiating through her.

  Her back hurt. Her foot hurt. Actually, there were few spots in her body that didn’t hurt at this point.

  Shaking her head, Siray narrowed her eyes. There would be water in the camp. That was what she needed, so that’s where she would go.

  Trying to steady her shallow breathing, Siray silently shouted at herself until she was perched once more on her fingers and crawling down the slight slope towards the camp.

  ***

  It seemed to take ages to reach the first tent, but once she had, she paused in the hope that she might hear voices or activity that would lead her to someone who could assist. But when only silence met her ears, Siray crawled farther past the tent and looked around.

  The quietness of the area seemed odd to her, but, her fuzzy brain reasoned, most of the camp would probably be welcoming the new trainees.

  The mental image of a row of trainees who had successfully found the right tree being warmly welcomed made her spirits fall again, but she forced herself to move again, crawling quickly past tent after tent, all the while looking around continuously for signs of movement or where water might be.

  Seeing neither, while her thirst continued to grow, Siray paused again, wondering what she should do.

  She was just considering ducking into a tent at random to see if they had supplies—and risk being treated as a spy if she were caught—when a distant noise finally registered itself in her mind. Her whole body stiffened.

  Water.

  Or the sound of it, anyway, was coming from somewhere ahead.

  She was moving before she’d even realised that she had pinpointed the sound of it, licking her lips as she thought of the cool liquid rolling over her tongue. Driven by her thirst, she passed by the next few tents briskly.

  One moment she was between the tents, and the next she had emerged so suddenly into a clearing that she was paces away from cover before she realised she was exposed.

  Exposed, and being watched.

  Siray froze where she was, her parched mouth working soundlessly as her body yearned for the stream, her eyes taking in the silent crowd watching her. The majority of them sat quietly on the opposite bank of the stream, although a very
small group was also positioned on Siray’s bank, their heads all turned to look at her.

  It was while she was still considering what to do when a voice spoke, loud in the stillness of the clearing, and almost offensive after nothing but the quiet trickling of the stream.

  ‘And our final trainee of the group, trainee fourteen.’

  The crowd on the opposite side of the bank murmured for a moment before they fell quiet again. Siray looked around for the owner of the voice before she realised it had come from Sergeant Bulmer who was projecting his voice to the crowd from Siray’s side of the stream.

  When he saw Siray look at him, he motioned for her to approach the stream.

  Even though all those eyes were still weighing on her, Siray continued to crawl forwards at his order. Under any other circumstances, her cheeks would have burned to have so many people watching her move around in this shameful manner. But given her thirst, the aches in her body, and the painful throbbing of her foot, she just didn’t care.

  Reaching the stream, Siray bent her elbows so her weight rested on her forearms on the bank beside the water. Braced that way, she cupped one of her hands and dipped it into the river, raising it back up quickly to her mouth.

  Blissfully cool, the water trickled consolingly down her throat, and Siray groaned at the relief of her thirst and the easing of the tightness in her throat and chest.

  Dipping her hand repeatedly, she only stopped when she began coughing, her head hanging as her shoulders heaved, eyes watering as she gasped for breath. When she looked up, she received a shock at seeing the silent faces again. Her fuzzy mind had forgotten about them already.

  Exhaustion began to sweep over her like a wave now that her thirst was gone, and Siray felt that she simply couldn’t move her limbs any more. Not that she wanted to move away from that stream anyway.

  Sergeant Bulmer gestured, and two young males approached her from the small group seated beside the sergeant. She tensed, but mutely, and they stepped to either side of her and offered their arms. Relaxing slightly as she understood what was expected, Siray forced her body up into a balanced position on her knees, gratefully grabbing hold of their arms, and gasped out loud as the muscles in her back were forced to contract when the males pulled her upright.

  Holding tightly to her, they promptly shifted their grips to a position underneath her shoulders and lifted her so that her feet were hovering above the ground, and, instinctively, Siray curled her back foot up as they carried her across the short distance to where the others sat on the bank.

  The two males gently lowered her and assisted her to a seated position before resuming their own seats.

  Then Sergeant Bulmer marched out to stand in front of their group, surveying all of them silently. He looked at each of them in turn for a moment before he spoke.

  ‘Now, your training begins.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  FOLLOWING THE INITIATION on the bank, Siray sat waiting with the other trainees as the crowd crossed the stream and dispersed around them back to their duties. Sergeant Bulmer had shifted to watch the crowd leave and seemed to Siray like a rock in the midst of a stream as the crowd flowed around him, talking to each other as they left.

  Siray was grateful for the moment of rest this afforded her and noticed the sky around her darkening to a deep purple, with nearly all the light gone. She was also convinced that her foot was trying to speak to her, the way it continued to throb painfully even as she sat motionless with her foot raised as best she could, crossed over her other leg.

  She stared in anguish at the top of her foot, mentally trying to will it to stop complaining. Stop it, stop it, stop it!

  ‘Alright, then!’

  Siray jerked her head up, bewildered, a part of her exhausted mind thinking for just an instant that her foot might have actually responded to her thoughts.

  When the voice continued speaking, she shook her head slightly. Did madness come on in stages? She struggled to refocus as Sergeant Bulmer addressed them.

  ‘You have just had your first test.’ The sergeant still stood a little way from them and had pivoted back after watching the last of the crowd depart. ‘Tomorrow, your training begins for the next one.’

  Siray saw motion from the corner of her eye and twisted her head slightly to see a few heads to one side of her droop. Not that she didn’t share their feelings—but she worried that allowing herself to slump forwards might be the catalyst for her succumbing to exhaustion. So she sat stiffly upright, monitoring herself closely.

  ‘You will be at the training ground tomorrow at dawn,’ the sergeant finished, giving each of them another quick glance before performing a precise quarter turn and striding off in the direction of the camp.

  His abrupt departure caused a few mutterings, and Siray sat there and blinked a few times herself. Now what?

  Her stomach had ideas. It gave a deep, long groan, which then turned into a high-pitched gurgle that slowly trailed off.

  There was a moment or two of silence before someone giggled.

  Someone else snorted.

  Then a gasp of laughter from someone to Siray’s left set them all off, slightly crazed laughter coming from the entire line of trainees.

  But Siray’s stomach wasn’t quite done, and a follow-up groan caused tears to appear on a few laughing faces. As she joined in, Siray understood that the laughter was as much about the comedic timing of her stomach as it was about exhaustion and relief—they had all made through the first test.

  ‘Gee, as they’re all in such good spirits, maybe we should begin the next phase of training right now?’

  Siray spun carefully on the ground as a dry voice spoke from right behind her.

  The laughter died out quickly around her, and the other trainees scrambled to right themselves and stand up. In the purple-grey darkness, Siray could just make out the faces of trainers Dirl and Gesad as they stood there, considering the group of trainees who stood wobbling or, in Siray’s case, kneeling on the ground before them.

  Dirl’s smooth voice answered Gesad’s question. ‘Mmmmmm. It could be good for them—make them really see what it takes to become a soldier for the Resistance.’

  Siray slowly took a deep breath, trying not to move her shoulders or chest much while she fought to mentally keep herself from crumbling at the prospect of starting any new training right now.

  As the other trainees easily straightened up in their line, Siray, with a quiet but monumental effort, bent almost in half as she pushed her body up using her hands so that she stood on her good leg facing the trainers. It took her a long, shaky moment to find her balance.

  While she despaired at the thought of any more activity that day, she also was willing to risk that the trainers were only bluffing. She hoped. She raised her head and spoke slowly and clearly while working to keep her balance.

  ‘Trainee one-four, ready to go.’

  She thought it helped that her voice croaked a little, a result of her fatigue and earlier thirst. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep her face and eyes serious, she felt her neck grow hot as the gaze of both trainers settled on her.

  She also sensed the other trainees stiffening at her words and could almost hear their myriad thoughts raging at her.

  As the silence from the trainers lengthened, Siray allowed her body to give a tiny, barely noticeable wobble as she stood on her one good leg, the other tucked up behind her and off the ground to protect her foot.

  Trainer Dirl crossed his arms. ‘On second thought, Gesad, I don’t really feel like dragging trainee fourteen back to camp after she falls over with that injury of hers.’

  Gesad grunted. ‘Agreed. I’ve had enough of looking after this lot already today. Trainees—follow us.’

  Both trainers spun on the spot and, without looking back to see if the trainees were actually following, walked away from the stream and headed left past the community of tents that Siray had passed through earlier.

  The other trainees turned to
face the same direction and began to file past Siray, automatically stepping around her as she hesitated. Just as she was gathering herself to begin hopping after them on her tired leg, one of the trainees stepped out of line and came back up alongside her.

  Their face was masked by the evening shadows that had well and truly taken over.

  ‘Put your arm around my shoulders.’ The male’s voice was a quiet order.

  Siray blinked but lifted her arm to place it as instructed. The male was taller than her, and she leaned against him as they moved to follow the other twelve trainees, who formed a dark line of silhouettes against the pale smudges of the tents in the background. Siray’s whole body was tired at this stage, and she longed to soak her injured foot it in some warm water. Anything, really, to stop it from throbbing as badly as it was.

  The male spoke as he assisted her to follow the others. ‘Your wobble was just right, you know.’

  Siray twisted her head to look at him before turning her eyes swiftly back to the ground. Wouldn’t do to trip and fall over herself in front of her new friend.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said sweetly.

  The male snorted. ‘Sure you don’t. All the same, thanks.’

  Siray smiled to herself as they moved towards a big tent up ahead, the way lit by the light of torches situated throughout the camp.

  Then the smell hit her.

  ‘By the Mother—can you smell that?’