Change of Chaos

by Jacinta Jade

  After a moments silence from the group while they waited for Dirl and Gesad to disappear around some tents, the trainees promptly agreed amongst themselves that a solid breakfast was a good way to start the rest of the day.

  And that was where Siray found herself now, listening to the others’ stories of how they had arrived at the camp to become a soldier for the Resistance. Trainee nine, Jorgi—who Siray identified as the trainee who had been last out of the cabin that morning—had revealed a quick wit while telling his story of trying to find the target tree during the initiation test.

  ‘So here I am, running through the forest, moving faster and faster as my time runs out, looking for that flippin’ tree—and then, bam!’ Jorgi slapped a palm onto the surface of the table, making the empty bowls on it jump.

  ‘I collide face-first with Dirl, flattening him to the ground with me on top, and he goes, ‘Do I look like a tree to you?’‘

  Siray and the others burst out laughing, the image of Jorgi lying spread-eagle on top of Dirl too much to take.

  Jorgi was shaking his head sadly. ‘I don’t know what was worse—ending up in that position or having Gesad find us like that before I could actually get up.’

  Siray’s hands were at her mouth as she giggled, and some of the group were almost uncontrollable in their laughter.

  As they all calmed down slowly, Jorgi’s face became more serious. ‘Before yesterday, I had been homeless for a while. My parents had learned what was happening to some of the youths and left the city with me before I reached my tenth cycle. I think they told the city administrators we were making for one of the other cities where we had family that they wanted me to meet before the Change. My parents had some kind of influence, I think, in order to pull that off so close to the ceremony. They obviously had other plans for me, but I never found out what they were, as we were attacked by a group of Faction soldiers before we reached wherever it was my parents were trying to take me.’

  Jorgi looked down at his bowl as he paused.

  However, Siray didn’t think he was seeing anything on the table before him.

  ‘I was captured,’ he continued, ‘but I wasn’t their captive for long. Days later, the Resistance attacked the group that held me, and I found myself soon amongst friendly folk living in a camp similar to this. Like the rest of you, I was offered the opportunity to fight, and here I am.’

  As Jorgi finished his story, his gaze returned to their faces, his expression determined and full of purpose, and everyone was silent for a moment, reflecting on their own histories.

  The next person to speak was a male who looked to be just one or two cycles older than the rest of them, but the gravity in his voice made him sound older.

  ‘Name is Deson, or trainee four. I know some of you have only recently gone through the Change—or haven’t yet—but for me, I’ve already done some time in my second life.’ Deson spoke in a flat voice, his face hard and his lips pressing together when he paused.

  ‘It was during that time that I happened to come across some of these mystery soldiers, who, of course, I now know as the Faction, apparently making an example of a small group.’

  Siray felt everyone becoming very still as Deson spoke.

  ‘What I saw …’ Deson closed his eyes briefly before opening them again and shaking his head. ‘I never returned to any city after that. Couldn’t stand to look at our people going about their normal lives when everyone knows that there is something going on, even if it’s not actually our ruling council condoning it.’ He seemed to almost spit out his words in disgust as he looked around at his fellow trainees.

  ‘People disappearing, most of them youths just as they reach their tenth cycle. Yet somehow the disappearances all manage to get explained away …’

  Deson shook his head angrily again. After a moment, though, he met all their stares again, his expression lighter.

  ‘They actually found me trying to steal some of the food here and managed to convince me about what they were trying to do.’ He shrugged. ‘So, I stayed.’

  A female from farther down the table leaned forwards.

  ‘I’m Tira, from Tunet,’ she said quietly, her pale face framed by wisps of brown hair.

  Siray looked at Tira with interest. Tunet was the capital of their world, but she had never seen it.

  ‘I was taken right after my Change ceremony,’ Tira said, her voice growing slightly in volume. ‘They took me and one of my other classmates, Mishalla. We didn’t have time to say goodbye to anyone. They put us in dark cages in a wagon, and we could only whisper to each other when we thought they weren’t around.’

  Tira’s dark eyes looked around at them all. ‘They were taking us somewhere, but we never got there. One evening, after days of travelling, a storm came upon where we had stopped for the night. The winds were terrible, and an old tree just…fell across the wagon.’

  She let her arm fall to the tabletop to demonstrate.

  ‘The tree fell right through the canopy of the wagon and crushed part of my cage. I worked my way out through the debris and then went to Mishalla’s cage to get her out. But then the soldiers came. So I ran.’

  Tira bowed her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. ‘I could hear Mishalla screaming for me as I ran away. But I just kept running.’ She gave a slight shrug of her thin shoulders before she peeked up at them all again, her face ashamed. ‘And I guess here you’ll know me as trainee eight.’

  Something banged onto the table then, and Siray gasped, jumping in her seat along with the others. She looked to the opposite end of the table.

  The cook, Falir, stood there, his ladle on the table. ‘Now, now—I can’t have so many serious faces in my tent. What’s gotten you all so low?’ he asked, his face serious despite his jovial tone.

  Siray smiled at Falir’s bluntness. Only her second day, and she already had a soft spot for the cook. ‘We’re swapping our stories, Falir.’

  The cook scrunched up his mouth. ‘Mmmm. Don’t imagine there would be too many happy ones, if you’re all training here.’

  Siray shook her head with some of the others.

  ‘Still’—and Falir tapped his ladle harshly on the table again, not seeming to mind the noise it made—‘I imagine there are also other ways you could get to know each other.’

  This time Tamot spoke up. ‘How do you know we are supposed to get to know each other?’

  The cook laughed, waving his ladle in the air. ‘Lad, I’ve seen so many groups go through training now that I probably know your training schedules better than your trainers!’

  Their eyes must have lit with interest, as he waved his ladle sternly at them.

  ‘Now don’t go and start asking questions that you know I’m not allowed to answer. And trust me, some questions are best left until after you have the answer.’

  Tamot pointed at Falir, not giving up so easily. ‘But you were hinting that we should be doing something else?’

  Falir narrowed his eyes and smiled at Tamot. ‘You’re a quick one—probably means I’ll have to watch you around the desserts.’ His eyes crinkled. ‘But, yes, you’re right. Here’s my hint—you can swap stories anytime.’ Falir pointed his ladle at them all individually.

  ‘What you should be doing is learning about each other’s strengths and weaknesses.’

  Siray frowned, but Deson jumped in with the question.

  ‘Why?’

  Falir raised his eyebrows. ‘Why? Well, if I was going to be fighting side by side with a group of strangers, I’d certainly have some questions for them before we saw any action.’

  The cook sighed, altering his grip on the ladle. ‘The point of this training is to turn you all into a fighting unit—although not all of you will pass the training. Some of you will wipe out, and some of you will give up. It’s the same way every time. But you can help yourselves and each other by finding out what each of you does best, and what is likely to challenge each of you. Remember, most of these tests will be tests of you
as a team. If one of you fails, you all do.’ Falir rapped his ladle once more on the table and walked off, whistling as he headed towards his kitchen again.

  ‘Well, then.’ Tamot stood up with an energy that made the other trainees blink and Siray smirk in amusement.

  ‘Let’s move this gathering outside and get to it.’

  His eyes found Siray’s, and he raised one eyebrow in question.

  Taking the hint, Siray nodded and stood carefully, grabbing for her tray as she began manoeuvring herself awkwardly over the bench.

  Behind her, she heard the others start moving.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  SOON THEY WERE all outside, heading by some unspoken agreement for the training field behind the cabins. When they all paused at the near end of the field, it was no surprise to Siray when Tamot again spoke.

  ‘I think the best way to do this is for us to make a big circle, with cabin one on one side and cabin two on the other. Then we can take it in turns to speak.’

  Jorgi snorted. ‘Who put you in charge?’

  He said it lightheartedly, but Siray figured most of the trainees were wondering the same thing. Including her.

  Tamot shrugged. ‘Hey, if someone else wants to organise this thing, go ahead.’

  To Tamot’s surprise, someone else did.

  ‘How about you let me lead this? I’ve spent a cycle surviving in my other form, so I might have more insight as to what to ask.’ Deson’s flat and serious voice sounded from the rear of the group.

  What surprised Siray was that Tamot actually agreed to relinquish control. Albeit a little reluctantly.

  ‘Okay …’ he said, stepping aside and waving Deson forwards with a frown, the others looking on.

  Deson nodded in thanks and stepped forwards so he was positioned in front of Siray and the others. ‘Tamot’s idea is something we can work with.’

  Siray tried to not to turn her head as she heard Tamot snort quietly close by.

  Deson continued. ‘Let’s make that circle, and I’ll ask each of you a few questions, to help us get to know each other’s abilities a little more.’

  Siray and some of the others nodded and split first into their cabin groups before sitting down on the grass with much shifting as they approximated something close to a circle shape.

  Siray was the last to be seated, moving slowly as she lowered herself down, folding her legs carefully so they were comfortably arranged beneath her, her injured foot protected from further harm.

  She started twining her fingers in the grass near her knees, as she had always been prone to do when they had held classes out of doors when she was younger, and she watched with interest as Deson took a moment to look around at everyone, his serious face examining them all.

  When his eyes flicked to her, she looked straight back at him, trying to read the thoughts in his eyes.

  But then he pointed at Jorgi and began asking him questions.

  A wise choice, Siray thought, as Jorgi seemed talkative anyway and was probably the most comfortable being put on the spot like this.

  ‘Have you been through the Change?’

  Deson was blunt, and Siray started a little at the first question being so direct.

  Jorgi blinked. ‘No. As I said earlier, my parents and I left the city before the ceremony. Haven’t felt a twitch either.’

  Deson nodded, then continued, pressing for more information. ‘What are you good at?’

  Jorgi mused quietly for a moment but took the question a lot more seriously than Siray had anticipated he would.

  ‘Diversions. It took a lot of knack to leave the city and get past the first group of Faction soldiers.’ He nodded to himself. ‘I appear to be good at it.’

  Deson kept on. ‘What weaknesses do you have?’

  Jorgi took longer to answer this question, his neck flushing red. ‘Clumsiness.’

  Some of the others giggled, and Deson frowned.

  Jorgi raised his hands. ‘Not a joke—although it did figure into my story this morning. Honestly, though, I’m not the most graceful person.’

  Deson merely looked at Jorgi for another long moment before saying, ‘Okay,’ then turned away to look around the circle. He pointed at another male.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  The male was slightly built and had blond hair that contrasted sharply with his dark eyes, which he blinked once, slowly.

  ‘I’m Loce, cabin one.’

  Siray saw him look down and then back up at the group, his hands twisting grass ends together, in quick, agitated movements.

  She stilled her own fingers and looked more closely at him as Deson pushed his questions.

  ‘What are you good at?’

  Loce looked up at Deson and the others again quickly, then back down at what he was doing. ‘I guess I’m good at building things, or doing repairs,’ he responded quietly.

  His hands stilled, and Siray saw that he had not just been twisting grass mindlessly but had been weaving the blades together in intricate patterns and had formed a small cabin made out of the grass. The design he had just done in the space of a moment gave credit to his abilities.

  ‘Weaknesses?’ Deson prodded Loce again.

  Siray frowned. She thought Deson could try being a bit kinder when asking them all to bare themselves to a group of strangers, yet he seemed keen to keep using a direct approach, no matter the unease of the others.

  Loce didn’t look up at Deson this time but moved his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. ‘I keep to myself a bit. And I’m not great at … mixing with others. Except when I can build or create things.’

  Deson regarded him. ‘Have you Changed?’

  Loce nodded, guardedly.

  Deson frowned, obviously annoyed at having to keep prodding. ‘Your first animal?’

  ‘A quison. Not much to boast about, I know.’

  Siray smiled. Loce was honest, and although a quison—a small marsupial animal—was not great for fighting, it could have other uses for their cause.

  Deson didn’t seem too impressed and switched his attention to someone else in the circle. Or maybe he was just keen to keep the exercise going. Siray couldn’t decide, but her thoughts were soon drawn back to listen to the next trainee’s answers.

  The questioning continued long enough for the sun to shift, trainees listing their strengths and weaknesses.

  There was Rowp, who was very strong but slow.

  And Kovi, whose lean physique credited his claim of being a good fighter but who had no sense of direction.

  Deson himself claimed to be a survivor and admitted to having a deep suspicion of all new people.

  There was Amital, a female who was fast on her feet but who confessed that she sometimes fainted at the sight of blood.

  Then Deson was turning his serious eyes to Siray. As she was one of the last to go through the questioning, she hardly needed Deson’s prompting, but he asked his questions anyway.

  ‘Who are you, and what are your strengths?’ he asked in his direct way.

  Siray took in a short breath. ‘I’m Siray. I’m quite determined when I set my mind to do something, and I don’t give up easily. But then I’ve also been called stubborn before.’

  She smiled around at the group, but while a couple of the others gave her small smiles back, Deson merely voiced the next question.

  ‘Have you Changed?’

  Siray’s eyes flicked unseeing to his as images flooded her mind. She took a moment to respond while she got her lungs working again, mentally building a wall to block the images out.

  ‘No.’

  Her response came out softer than she had intended, but Deson didn’t give her any more time to recover from the reel of images.

  ‘Any weaknesses?’

  Siray blinked, trying to refocus. ‘Well, I don’t really have any training in fighting, although I’ve clashed with members of the Faction once or twice.’

  That pinned the attention of most of the others on her.
<
br />   Even Loce looked up from his grass works.

  Deson spoke again, his careful words reaching her clearly. ‘What about your injury?’

  Siray shifted her eyes back to him but noted that most of the others were paying close attention to her response.

  ‘What about it?’

  Deson returned her gaze, detached and measuring. ‘Wouldn’t you consider that a weakness?’

  Siray regarded him coolly. ‘Only a temporary one. Its healing fast, and I’ll soon be able to join in the regular fitness training with the rest of you.’

  She kept her eyes on Deson, challenging him to disagree with her.

  After looking at her for a moment more, he merely said, ‘We’ll see.’ He turned to the next trainee in the circle.

  Siray’s eyes narrowed. She would show them soon enough.

  ***

  The afternoon of that same day was spent talking together more casually and checking out the layout of the camp. The group even took time to go back to the cabins and make their beds, not willing to risk Gesad or Dirl getting excited enough to make them run several laps before dinner.

  After they finished tidying the cabins, the group met up again outside, chatting with each other about what they had learned that day, and connecting further with those who they felt they had a greater affinity with, and Siray was surprised to find herself talking more with Jorgi as they sat in the warm sun.

  At first she had thought him a bit of a simpleton, but as she listened to him chatter away, she found that, although he liked to be a clown much of the time, he also could be serious and focused when he wanted to.

  ‘So, who do you think will be here at the end of the training?’ Jorgi asked.

  Siray looked at him with her eyebrows raised, smiling incredulously at the question.

  Jorgi shrugged. ‘Isn’t that what we’re all wondering? And now that we know more about each other, it’s probably going to be easy to determine who the stayers will be.’

  A low voice interrupted them from behind. ‘Let me guess—you both think you’ll make it through?’

  Siray twisted, annoyed, to see Deson had sat himself down close by. ‘Is listening to other people’s conversations one of your weaknesses or strengths, Deson?’