by Jacinta Jade
Siray sighed. Her new ‘tutoring’ sessions would take up the small amount of free time she had in the afternoons. Then she shrugged to herself. She’d worry about it later. What she should be worrying about now was the results of the test itself.
When Siray shifted to look for her fellow trainees, she saw most of them sitting together in a group to one side of the field. Keen to join them, and to sit and rest, Siray began walking to the edge of the field, her steps awkward and short.
As she moved, she spotted Deson and Tamot talking together as they sat to one side of the group. Curious as to how they had faired, she adjusted her path so her steps would bring her straight to them. Yet, even from where she was, she could see that one of Tamot’s eyes had already swollen shut and was darkening nicely.
When she reached them, both gave her a curt nod in greeting, which was as much as could be expected in their current state. Exhausted, Siray let herself collapse gracelessly down beside them on the grass, some dried mud shifting from her body as she did. Thankfully, this part of the training field was dry and the grass shorter.
‘What now?’ she asked them tiredly.
Deson shrugged, then winced as the movement caused him pain, and grabbed for the offending shoulder, which appeared to be at a different height to his other one.
Tamot seemed to have enough energy to mumble, ‘I believe the sergeant and our esteemed trainers are conferring about our results right now.’
Siray blinked at Tamot in surprise. How did he know these things?
Tamot tilted his head to indicate something over his shoulder.
Siray obediently leaned forwards to peer past Deson, and, sure enough, Sergeant Bulmer, Dirl, and Gesad were talking in a quiet huddle.
Even as Siray watched, she saw the two trainers nod in response to something the sergeant said and turned in the trainees direction.
It seemed the three males had come to a decision.
Dirl was walking swiftly towards them, ahead of the other two. ‘Trainees, form up!’
They were so tired that it took a moment before any of the trainees were able to actually physically respond to the order.
Siray forced her heavy legs to move, unlocking them from her sitting position and, by rocking herself forwards to gain momentum, swung her body up to a standing position. As soon as she righted herself, though, one of her knees barked in pain, a nice accompaniment to the blasting her back was giving her.
Now that her adrenaline levels had dropped completely, the injuries she had sustained during the test were making themselves felt.
Yet she kept her face neutral and tried to walk slowly enough that her limp might go unobserved as she hobbled carefully over to join the other trainees in their rows of threes. They were all a lot slower to move into their correct positions than they had been prior to the test.
As she shifted around some of the others to find her spot, Siray saw a range of injuries.
Tira was holding her left wrist in an elevated position.
Kovi was sporting some impressive bruises on his arms and legs but otherwise seemed okay.
Rowp was standing precariously on just one foot while he kept the other raised above the ground.
And Jorgi, who, besides having bruises on every exposed part of him that Siray could see, had blood running down his face from a bad cut near his left eyebrow.
Overall, it looked like herself, Deson, and Tamot had the most numerous collection of injuries—no doubt a direct result of removing their armour.
Kovi, of course, seemed to be the exception to that rule.
Once they were all in position, an expectant silence promptly settled over the group. Siray was nervous but keen to know what her result was. Then she quickly reflected on some of her injuries. Maybe she didn’t want to know …
Sergeant Bulmer stepped forwards. As usual, he was direct and blunt in his delivery, enough so that he made Deson appear eloquent in comparison.
‘While I will leave the breakdown of your results to your trainers, it is enough for the moment to say that two of you did not pass the test.’
Siray thought that she could almost hear the collective intake of breath around her. Two of them had failed!
Siray looked at the faces around her, and saw the others doing the same. It could be any of them that had failed … but if it wasn’t her, then she didn’t want to guess at who wouldn’t be continuing on with the group. Yet she certainly knew what they were all thinking in that moment.
Please let me have passed!
Wexner had said she had fought well, but he had also said she could improve further. Had his offer of tutoring been meant to assist a failed or close-to-failing trainee? Or had the offer been to genuinely offer her a chance at furthering her skills?
Siray could have chewed on her own hand from nerves.
Instead, she watched in nervous anticipation as Sergeant Bulmer’s eyes roved slowly over the group for a moment. Siray almost felt like running up and shaking him as the suspense built, and she clenched her fists at her sides lest her exhausted mind actually let her do something so stupid.
But then the sergeant finally said. ‘Trainee eight …’
Tira. Siray’s was now biting her lip while still squeezing her fists.
‘And trainee twelve. You will accompany me back to the camp now for reassignment,’ the sergeant finished.
Siray almost slumped to the ground in relief. She had made it!
Her elation disappeared directly, though, as she saw Tira and Fomil step out from their places in the ranks of trainees and form up to one side of the group. Their faces showed bitter disappointment, and Tira’s eyes looked watery in the light.
Siray glanced at the trainers to see if they had noticed the effects of the announcement, but when she peeked at Tira again, her face was composed.
Having delivered his news, the sergeant nodded at the two trainers and, signalling to Tira and Fomil to follow, moved off towards the camp.
The two trainers watched and politely waited until the sergeant’s small group was out of earshot.
Then Gesad turned back around. ‘While your thoughts are still on them, let me assure you that you will have a chance to wish trainees eight and twelve well on their new assignments before they leave tonight. I’m sure they would also like to wish you well and inform you of their new roles.’
Gesad looked after the departing trainees for another moment, then squared his shoulders as he shifted back to face them.
‘This was a test of many things. You’re combat skills, your tactical assessment ability, and your courage. But most of all, it was a test of perseverance. A test of what you would do when you realised the odds were stacked unfairly against you, and when you realised that there might be no way for you to win.’
Gesad paused, surveying them all. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he continued.
‘And you seven made the right choice. You fought on. This is an attribute that cannot be underestimated, as many a time it is not the strongest, most experienced, or most skilled fighter who survives, but the one who continues on, despite the odds,’ the trainer said.
‘A strong opponent can be worn down. Experience can always be trumped by something new or unexpected. And skill can always be beaten by numbers. Yet how do you win against an opponent that won’t stay down?’ the trainer asked.
‘That,’ he informed them, ‘is what wins a battle. Perseverance.’
Gesad looked around at them again, and Siray listened carefully as he continued to speak.
‘Of course,’ he conceded, ‘there are also times in battle when it must be recognised that to persevere with a current course would be unwise; however, this was not the lesson today.’
Gesad looked to Dirl, giving the other trainer the signal to take over.
Dirl nodded. ‘Going forwards, your training will take on a different focus from tomorrow. Now that you have excelled in combat, you will also be trained in strategy. But the greatest portion of your time
will be spent on the most important part of your training. Changing.’
A thrill ran through Siray, and a couple of quiet but excited murmurs arose around her.
Dirl merely waited a moment before continuing. ‘We will not only teach those of you who are new to this how to Change, but we will also show you how to fight in your Changed forms.
Siray had almost stopped breathing in her excitement—she was going to learn to Change and fight!
‘There may also,’ said Dirl, ‘be some amongst you capable of Changing into multiple forms—a rare gift, although it can also be successfully taught, in some cases.’
Siray’s eyes widened at this new information. Baindan’s ability to shift through multiple forms was rare?
Trainer Dirl waved his hand, as if to wipe away the questions he must have seen appearing in the faces before him. ‘But this can all be covered in more detail tomorrow when the next phase of your training actually begins. For the moment, I would strongly suggest a shower for all of you before going to see the healers.’
Dirl looked pointedly at Siray, Tamot, Deson, and Kovi.
‘Four of you chose to discard your armour in favour of gaining other tactical advantages. For the most part, this worked, although it also left you open to greater risk of injury. Yet, I will also allow that those of Sergeant Bulmer’s division who had to face this tactic probably had a harder time against you than they otherwise might have.’
Dirl nodded towards Gesad, acknowledging the earlier words of the other trainer.
‘Perseverance, and the unexpected, make for a strong combination.’
Dirl twisted back to Siray and the others.
‘I would also advise a good meal, if you can stomach it, following which Falir might be able to assist with some other amenities. Then you’ll have to fend for yourselves, as I just might just forget to do my patrols around the meal tent tonight,’ Dirl said casually. ‘Dismissed.’
The two trainers turned and marched away across the field, leaving the group of trainees standing in stunned silence for a moment.
When Siray let out a loud cheer with the others a moment later, the departing trainers showed no sign of hearing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
‘WE DID IT!’
Cheers sounded in response to Jorgi’s shout, and the trainees all raised their mugs to clink against the mugs of those nearest to them.
Spans after the test, all of them were much cleaner, and various bandages and slings were in evidence, clearly distinguishing them from everyone else at the camp. Although nearly all of them were on some kind of pain-reducing herb that should have been making them drowsy, here they were, still celebrating well into the night.
Siray’s quick glance into the reflective surface of an eating implement told her that her face was beginning to display an interesting array of colours. Yet even those paled in comparison to the rainbow of bruises she had seen on her ribs when she had showered and been seen to by the healer. The healer hadn’t been able to do much for her except apply a numbing ointment and wrap her ribs, in order to provide additional support on that side, and tell her to be careful of how she moved during the next turn or two.
Thankfully, only one rib had been cracked. None were actually broken, but the healer had suspected she might have a few hairline fractures in two others.
At the moment, though, Siray could barely feel her ribs or her face, both due to the ointment the healer had applied and to the fabulous drink Falir had been providing to the group. She and the others were loud and energetic, although Siray could not account from whence all the extra energy had come from.
As she gazed around the room, she could see there were not many serious injuries.
Tamot’s eye was still swollen shut, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him at all.
Jorgi’s head had been stitched up—apparently, he had tripped and fallen on a random rock after the test had ended.
And Rowp’s ankle was bandaged.
Siray thought that She and Deson had probably received the greatest number of injuries due to removing their body armour, but all of them had some kind of injury, whether from being grabbed, hit, twisted, kicked, or thrown by the more experienced fighters.
Kovi, of course, seemed to be faring well, and had been the fastest to complete his examination with the healers. He was also drinking just as much as the rest of them, yet tonight, the more Kovi drank, the more he seemed to talk about his opponents.
Or rather, one female opponent, to be exact. Genlie.
‘She could really fight,’ he murmured dreamily to no one in particular. ‘She was controlled, explosive … graceful.’
Kovi’s free hand accompanied his words, slicing the air before him, tightening into a fist, then relaxing on his last word.
Siray shook her head in amusement. Trust Kovi to fall for someone based on how they fought. The next moment, though, her amusement ebbed just a little.
She wished that Baindan could be there to celebrate with her. He would understand how much this moment meant to her.
On Siray’s other side, Deson and Tamot were comparing notes of the fight between sips of their drinks, happily squabbling over who had had the toughest opponents. She also thought Deson might actually be smiling too. Probably one to many hits to the head.
As she scanned the group, Siray saw Falir heading over to them again. Probably to check on them. Or kick them out. It was quite late, after all. Yet Falir surprised her by holding up two more large jugs from which he expertly topped up their mugs.
He saw Siray watching him and grinning, hurrying around to her. ‘What now? Not drinking? Ah—I see the problem. An almost-empty mug!’
Falir put one jug down and reached out with the other jug to refill her mug.
Siray smiled at the cook and obediently took a sip from her drink. It really was good. Full of spice and sweetness while somehow being refreshing at the same time. It warmed her insides as it went down and made her mind swirl.
Now she remembered where their energy was coming from.
Siray giggled as she put her mug back down on the table and watched as Falir refilled what she had just drunk.
‘Aren’t the trainers worried about the condition we’ll all be in in the morning?’
Falir laughed at the question. ‘Not at all my dear, not with my brew!’
He slapped the side of the jug he was holding with his free hand.
‘This will make you happy, make you sing, and make you dance. It will make you let go of all your worries. But it certainly won’t make you sick,’ he assured her, waving the jug around, its liquid sloshing.
Siray smiled. The cook had obviously had some of his own concoction as well.
‘If anything,’ Falir continued, ‘you’ll all most likely just be tired in the morning from this late exertion of energy. But then, what kind of a celebration would it be without a good drink to toast with?’
Falir’s voice rose in volume at the end of that sentence, drawing another cheer from Siray and the rest of the trainees.
Siray raised her now-full mug to toast Falir, but then twisted back in amusement as Jorgi and Tamot started up a song.
Loce, Rowp, Deson, and even Kovi joined in the familiar tune, and Siray laughed at their terrible rendition before leaning in to join their off-key chorus.
***
After a few rounds of crazy singing, with the song selection deteriorating further with each round of drinks, the trainees returned to happily bantering amongst themselves.
Kovi had actually come over to engage Siray in conversation, and soon Deson joined them, although he seemed almost more interested in watching Kovi try to string more than a few words together at once.
Until the topic turned to one of Siray’s opponents.
Kovi took a sip from his mug, almost spilling as much as he drank in the process, which didn’t really matter, as, like all their drinks, it was kept almost constantly full due to the constant circulation of Falir with the jugs.
‘So. You must have had quite an interesting time with Wex as your third opponent,’ Kovi managed to say around the rim of his mug.
Siray, who was also sipping away happily at her drink, was only half paying attention, as thoughts about the next stage of their training kept popping into her head.
‘Wex? Oh, Wexner, you mean. Yeah, he was pretty tough, but I pinned him in the end.’ Siray grinned to herself as she reflected on her success.
Kovi chuckled. ‘You know he holds back when fighting in the test, right?’
Siray’s mug froze at her lips, and she hurriedly swallowed the gulp of drink she had just taken, so she could croak, ‘What do you mean he holds back?’
Kovi nodded, swigging his mug higher as he actually reached the halfway point in his drink. A fair effort, really, considering Falir’s continuing exertions.
Kovi swallowed his mouthful. ‘Just what I said,’ he answered. ‘He’s a legend around here. His fighting skills are pretty advanced for someone his age. Even in his second form.’
Kovi took another swig from his drink. ‘I reckon he could be one of the best fighters the Resistance has.’
Siray had almost forgotten she was holding on to a mug at all until her elbow sank and hit the table. She stared at Kovi. She couldn’t remember him ever complimenting anyone on their fighting ability.
‘So why does he want to tutor me?’
Kovi spluttered over his drink. ‘What? He offered to tutor you? But I’m the best fighter in this group!’
He looked furiously around the meal tent for a moment before he twisted back to face Siray and Deson.
They grinned at him with raised eyebrows, amused.
‘Ah, no offense, guys,’ Kovi said contritely.
Siray shook her head. What a night. Kovi apologising, and Deson smiling. She raised her mug to her lips, stealthily eyeing Deson over the rim. He looked so different when he smiled.
Deson was snorting now, shaking his head. ‘Smooth, Kovi.’
Siray waved her hand, dismissing Kovi’s poor social skills. ‘Anyway, you do have a point. I’m not the best fighter in our group, so why would he offer to tutor me?’