Change of Chaos

by Jacinta Jade

  Deson raised his hands, and Honvil gestured to him.

  ‘You said some of us might have this talent, and you keep speaking about it in relation to our generation. Why would only some of us be able to take on multiple forms?’

  Interesting question, Siray thought.

  Honvil looked as Deson for a long moment before he answered. ‘I do not know why this talent has emerged so strongly in your generation, or why it has not manifested itself in previous generations of our people. Even our best technologists have been unable to answer these questions, nor provide an answer as to why only some of you demonstrate this ability. Although they do have many theories, none are proven.’

  None of the trainees said anything, nor did any of them raise their hands.

  Honvil took the silent hint and smiled indulgently as he elaborated. ‘Some technologists think that it’s about having the right combination of genes. Some believe it is to do with patterns within the mind. Some think that we are slowly evolving, and that one day, everyone will have the ability to take on multiple forms.’

  Honvil moved his hand to call on Rowp, but a soft voice stopped him.

  ‘And what do you think?’

  Siray twisted to look at Loce.

  His face was flushing red at all the eyes turning his way, and his hands had actually stilled for a moment, leaving a half-braided length of grass rope on the ground before him.

  Siray turned back and saw the old master still looking at Loce, his face unreadable.

  When he finally responded, he spoke softly and slowly. ‘I think that this ability has been given to those worthy few by the Great Mother. And only she knows why.’

  That seemed to be Honvil’s final say on the matter, even though Siray felt that there was more the master was leaving unsaid.

  Rowp, finally acknowledged by the hand Honvil extended, said, ‘I’m curious. I thought taking the form of the sevonix was rare. But we have two.’

  Siray felt her neck prickle as the eyes of Jorgi, Tamot, Loce, and Kovi flicked between her and Deson.

  Honvil folded his hands. ‘It is unusual but not unheard of. As our second form reflects our characters and strengths, it is not surprising in a group such as this that we would have some very similar natures. And it is not any ordinary circumstances that have drawn you all together. If, however, I was to encounter this occurrence in an ordinary Change ceremony, then, yes—that would be highly unusual.’

  Honvil extended his hand to Jorgi, whose hands were almost shaking with agitation as he waited to be called on.

  As the conversation and questions rolled on, Siray relaxed a little, knowing that the others’ attention had been diverted. Yet she still felt a prickling at the back of her neck every now and again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  AT A LATER point in the afternoon, after much discussion of the theory behind a successful Change, Honvil brought his hands together in front of him, his fingertips touching.

  ‘You have absorbed much today, and here is where I will end the day’s lesson. Tomorrow, you will continue practising the process of Changing into your new forms.’

  Siray smiled in anticipation of the next lesson while Honvil stepped back, allowing Dirl and Gesad to take over.

  The two trainers actually let the trainees run at a casual pace back to camp, which meant Siray and the others could converse amongst themselves as they moved through the forest. Unlike their earlier journey, the group of trainees casually arranged themselves as they navigated their way back through the trees.

  Kovi and Siray pointed out to the others the spot where they had bested Dirl as they passed, making the others chuckle and celebrate anew the morning’s victory.

  Halfway through their return to the camp, Siray found Deson running by her side. She had almost managed to forget her unease following what had happened after they had Changed in the clearing, but Deson’s presence was a forceful reminder, and she found her spine tensing as she ran.

  Deson must have felt uneasy also, as they ran silently together for a while before he finally spoke, his voice low and flat.

  ‘So. We’ve both taken the sevonix as our second form.’

  Siray kept her eyes on the trail before her. ‘Seems so. I noticed Honvil quickly brushed past the “rare occurrence” part.’

  ‘Same. Although, he’s right. It’s not unheard of. It has happened before.’

  Siray risked taking her eyes from the uneven ground ahead to glance at Deson in surprise. ‘What? Two youths taking the sevonix form at the same time?’

  ‘Yes.’ Deson’s voice was soft and barely audible, yet it grew softer still with his next words. ‘With Tasde and Yealo.’

  Siray almost stumbled but managed to get her feet moving again in the right order, her mind whirling. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  The two of them ran the rest of the way back to the camp in silence.

  ***

  When the trainees arrived back at camp, the sun was halfway through its second shift towards the horizon.

  Siray tried to forget Deson’s mention of the ruling pair and made an effort to join in the laughter and excited chatter of the others as they walked through the main part of the camp to reach their cabin.

  Now that there were only seven of them, the trainers had moved them all into cabin one. Although she hadn’t needed to move, Siray had used the opportunity to take a bed closer to the back of the cabin so she wasn’t disturbed if someone else needed to answer a bodily need in the middle of the night.

  Following Jorgi up the stairs into the cabin, and putting a hand out before her in case she had to steady him after he tripped over the top step, Siray walked over to her bed and gratefully threw herself down onto it. Rolling over, she stretched out as she lay there on her back, listening to the chatter around her as she luxuriated in the thought of some lazy time before the evening meal.

  She was watching in amusement a clothing snowball fight Jorgi had started with Tamot when a knock at the door caused all of them to freeze.

  A scrunched-up shirt flew past Jorgi’s face as they all looked around at each other, confused.

  The trainers never knocked. Instead, they preferred to surprise the trainees by walking straight in.

  Loce was closest to the door, and, after seeing the glances everyone threw his way, he walked over to the door and opened it part of the way.

  Being on the side of the cabin that faced the hinged side of the door, Siray couldn’t see who it was.

  Loce talked to the person for a moment, then shut the door again. He turned and looked at Siray. ‘It’s for you.’

  Siray frowned but rolled neatly off her bed and, standing, walked to join Loce at the door.

  As she passed Kovi, who was reclining half off and half on his bed, he mumbled, ‘Wex doesn’t like time wasters.’

  Siray’s eyes widened as she remembered her agreement to meet Wexner two spans before sundown, and she hastened to the door. Pulling it open, she started speaking rapidly to Wexner before she could even see him, not wanting to give him the chance to rebuke her.

  ‘Sorry, Wexner, be right with you, just changing into my fighting gear.’

  She closed the door in his frowning face before he could argue and hastened back to her bed to grab her gear from the trunk next to it. As she pulled out the bits and pieces she needed, Tamot wandered over.

  He looked at the gear she was donning. ‘Going out again so soon? A little keen, aren’t you?’

  Siray sighed as she let the lid of her trunk fall shut with a thud and stepped past Tamot to dump her things on the bed. She really didn’t feel like indulging Tamot’s curiosity when she was in such a rush. Thus, not paying him much mind, Siray stripped down to her shorts and chest wrappings, baring her toned midriff and legs, and picked up a fresh shirt.

  ‘Expecting some action?’ Tamot probed further.

  Siray pressed her lips together, but finally spun to face him as she shook the shirt the right way out. ‘Tamot, I have a potentially gru
mpy new mentor waiting outside for me so he can beat me up a couple of times over, and the longer I take, the grumpier he’ll get, so let’s make this quick.’

  Siray slipped the sleeveless training shirt over her head and then picked up the overtunic.

  ‘Yes, I’m going out to do a bit of extra training. No, I’m not that keen, but it seemed like a poor idea to refuse an offer of assistance.’

  Her tunic now on, Siray stood and walked past Tamot, calling back, ‘Kovi would be happy to answer any further questions you might have.’

  She pulled open the door, stepped out, and let it swing shut behind her.

  As she came down the cabin steps, she saw Wexner was standing a little way from the cabin, and he did indeed look a little grumpy. Siray did her best to smooth over her lateness, minor as it was.

  ‘I’m sorry for being—’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Wexner said. ‘I saw you all just return from your last training session as I was walking across to your cabin.’ He turned away from Siray and began walking past the cabin to the training field where the trainees had fought in their sparring matches yesterday, gesturing for Siray to follow.

  Siray smiled grimly as she obediently followed him, lengthening her stride to keep up with his vigorous pace. Had it really been just yesterday they had fought out here? It felt like it had already been days since the test. Well, at least mentally anyway.

  Once they were on the training field, Wexner stopped and pivoted to face her. ‘From what I saw yesterday, you’ve done a good job absorbing the combat training lessons from the instructors.’

  Siray felt a little smug at that compliment, especially with it coming from someone like Wexner.

  ‘However, your skills are still raw, and you hesitate when confronted with the unexpected.’

  Siray’s smug mood quickly wilted. Then she asked the question that had been bothering her since the previous evening. ‘Why did you offer to train me, and no one else?’

  Wexner appeared to consider her for a moment. ‘It was a couple of things. You showed great tenacity during the fight. While you were the only female to pass the test, you were one of the best fighters out there. You showed a considered approach with your tactics. And …’ He trailed off.

  Her interest definitely piqued, Siray prompted, ‘And?’

  ‘And … a mutual friend asked me to check on you while my division was posted here.’

  Siray blinked a couple of times.

  Her surprise must have shown, as Wexner ventured to say, ‘Having seen for myself your current skill level, I thought I might be able to help further your skills for a short time. And I owe this person several favours.’

  Siray thought furiously, unable to fathom who Wexner could mean—she hadn’t met that many Resistance members yet. Then her stomach warmed as she realised who it must be.

  Baindan.

  He was still looking out for her.

  Siray clamped down on her thoughts regarding Baindan and forcefully shifted her mind back to the task at hand.

  Wexner was watching her. ‘You should know, though, that I wouldn’t have offered to teach you if I hadn’t thought you were worth it. Not even as a favour.’

  Siray looked at Wexner in shock. Had he really just given her a straight compliment?

  ‘But, of course, you still need a lot of improvement.’

  Ah, there it was. Familiar ground.

  Wexner continued, outlining his training plan for her. ‘So, I thought we would start with defence, as any trainee can hit something, but successfully defending yourself is an art form in itself. And then we’ll move on to dealing with multiple opponents.’

  ‘But we did this during basic training,’ Siray said.

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t have me.’

  Siray fought against the temptation to roll her eyes, and just settled for giving a quick nod. Mother help her if Tamot and Wexner ever became friends.

  Wexner crossed his arms and took another step away from her. ‘Show me your combat drills.’

  Siray worked hard through the next span, demonstrating each defensive drill for Wexner, who worked with her to perfect her technique in each position. Then he had her move through various fighting patterns using the techniques from each form before, finally, he sparred with her at a slow pace, correcting her use of the techniques as he attacked and she defended.

  Although sparring at such a slow pace felt odd and frustrating to Siray, she soon appreciated the time it gave her to really think about how to best defend against an attack.

  Throughout the session, Wexner continued to give her advice on her technique, mind-set, and tactics, reminding her that she should never commit more than she was prepared to lose in a fight.

  When Siray queried this, he explained that she should never overextend herself, and that she should try to know her opponent before she engaged. That still didn’t make sense to Siray, but she accepted it for now as something that she might eventually come to understand.

  By the end of their session, the sun was touching the horizon, and both Siray’s mind and body were exhausted, the latter drenched in sweat.

  ‘Alright, we’ve made some progress. Same time tomorrow.’ Wexner nodded to her, whirled, and walked off the training field.

  Siray stared after him for a moment, and then she shook her head and began heading back in the direction of her cabin. As she walked off the field, she though that Wexner could use a tutor himself in some areas.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  WHEN SIRAY ENTERED the cabin, her first thought was that it was empty, given the silence. It was only as she passed the foot of Jorgi’s bed that she heard a quiet snoring and paused to look around the room.

  Most of the beds were, in fact, occupied by her fellow trainees, who seemed to have unanimously decided to take a late-afternoon nap.

  Siray grinned as she kept walking to her bed. What a perfect opportunity for a nice, long, luxurious wash. Grabbing her towel off the rack beside her bed, some perfumed leaves from a small bag stashed in her trunk, and another change of clothes, she headed for the washroom.

  Reaching the back of the cabin, she quietly slid back the washroom partition and, slipping inside with her bundle, closed it again just as noiselessly.

  Reassured by the sound of Jorgi’s continued snores, which were audible even through the closed partition, Siray placed her towel and leaves on the bench across from the taps. Stripping off her soiled clothes and underlayers, she walked over to the taps and, reaching up, flicked on the release that would allow the naturally heated water to flow.

  Stepping directly into the falling torrent, she let the water run pleasantly over her hair and skin, goose bumps rising as her body relaxed under the pressure.

  Usually, Siray detested having a wash, as she was always forced to rush by the six males waiting to crowd in as soon as she was done. Having to dress quickly, or worse still, dress while holding her towel, was also an annoyance. Still, she’d gotten pretty good at it.

  Siray flicked her long, wet hair away from her neck so she could feel the water pound away at the spot between the base of her shoulders.

  Glorious.

  ‘Siray?’

  She jumped at the sound of a quiet voice and automatically crossed her arms in front of her chest as she turned only her head towards the door. She wanted to yell at whomever it was to go away, but that would wake up the rest of the males. Maybe if she didn’t respond …

  ‘Siray, I need to talk to you.’

  She groaned quietly. She knew that voice. Grumbling as she reluctantly moved out from under the spray of water, she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself as she walked to the partition.

  The person who had called her name had opened the sliding wall just enough so that they could call through.

  Holding tightly to her towel, Siray slid it open a tiny bit farther.

  The face and tousled hair of Deson met her gaze.

  ‘What?’ she whispered harshly, not bothering to hide her a
nnoyance. She really had been enjoying her wash.

  ‘Sorry, but can we talk?’ Deson asked.

  Siray frowned at him. ‘Does it have to be right now?’

  He nodded. ‘The others are still asleep, but we’ll be heading off to the evening meal soon, so I don’t know when we’ll get another chance.’

  Siray sighed and looked longingly back at the still-streaming tap for an instant before replying, ‘Alright, come in.’

  She slid the door open wide enough so Deson could enter.

  As he stepped through though, his eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, his usually serious face almost comically stunned.

  That was when Siray realised that he had probably meant they should talk outside. With her dressed. But she still might have time for her wash if he was quick, so she gestured impatiently and stepped back, inviting him farther inside.

  ‘Hurry up. I’ll leave the tap running so no one can hear even if they do wake.’

  Deson’s eyebrows resumed their normal position, and he nodded as he slipped fully into the washroom and slid the door closed behind him.

  While his back was to her, Siray speedily rechecked her towel. Everything was where it should be.

  Turning back around to face her, Deson paced out a couple of strides before deciding to take a seat on the bench that lined one wall. He looked at her, his expression intent.

  ‘Today in training, did you … hear anything while you were in your second form?’

  Siray’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face impassive. ‘What do you mean?’

  Deson looked at her nervously for a moment, hesitated, then quickly said, ‘Did you hear someone call your name today? While Honvil was talking to us?’

  Siray’s back went cold despite the heat that still rose from her warmed body. So, Deson had called to her. And he had heard her call out to him. Her mind reeled. Was this normal? What if it weren’t? Would this affect their chances to stay with the Resistance?