by Jacinta Jade
Siray tossed her head in acknowledgement and, moving carefully so as not to step on anyone’s feet, carefully pivoted and walked over to the yeibon tied to the tree, using the short distance to get a feel for her new body.
The yeibon snorted a little as she approached, its nostrils flaring, and Siray instinctively understood that it had caught a whiff of her strange scent.
She paused a few paces away, letting it continue to sniff for a moment. Then she tentatively extended her head and gave a nicker of her own. She didn’t have to think about any of these actions—she felt the impulse, understood it, and decided to follow it.
But she was careful to ensure that all her actions were by conscious choice.
The other yeibon finished its scent interrogation and also extended its nose.
Happily, Siray moved closer to interact with it.
Siray …
When the thought appeared in Siray’s mind, she stiffened and looked at the yeibon before her in stunned confusion. But then she promptly realised who it must be.
So much for it being a one-off occurrence then. And this time it had been stronger, not faint at all.
Look at this!
At Deson’s excited mental tone, she turned her head to regard him.
He had changed his position slightly and now stood balanced carefully on his two clawed feet, his wings outstretched.
Siray unconsciously expressed her surprise. Whoa.
Deson’s wings were purple on the inside and, spread out, had a wingspan of at least four paces each. He curled the tips of his wings around to view them.
Falir, who had gone to the cage that still held the other udun, called out, ‘Alright, Deson. Time for some exercise.’
The cook yanked on the bolt holding the cage door closed and swung it open, carefully stepping away and behind the cage.
Inside, the udun, who had been watching everything carefully, purposefully walked its way to the door and, after thoroughly scrutinising the immediate surroundings, hopped out.
Its clawed feet had barely touched the ground before it was springing into the air, its wings spread.
With one big sweep of its wings, it was climbing.
Deson, who almost seemed to be quivering in excitement, adjusted his body a couple of times before finally making his own leap into the air with a similar sweep of his wings.
Whoa! This is something else!
Siray arched her strong neck as she followed Deson’s ascent into the air, wishing she could join him. Have fun!
‘Your turn.’ Falir had moved across to Siray and the other yeibon, which snorted anxiously as it realised something different was happening.
‘That’s right,’ Falir said gently as he approached it. ‘Your turn to go.’
Siray watched as he untied the rope from the tree and lifted the harness from the head of the yeibon, carefully holding the beast’s head still while he lifted the rope away from the long horns.
As soon as the beast realised it was free, it backed up slightly, then swiftly whirled and cantered off towards the stream, following the water farther upstream and around a bend in the forest.
It was only out of sight for a moment before Siray heard a whinny float back through the trees to her.
She didn’t hesitate but broke into a canter of her own to begin chasing after her new friend.
***
That afternoon was one of the best of Siray’s life. After she had caught up to the other yeibon—who she referred to in her mind simply as Red—they had made their way through the forest to the nearby plains. There, Red had led her in a complicated game of chase that had them galloping after one another across the open plain, each of them snorting and tossing their head in delight as they played together.
Siray loved the feel of the wind moving through her mane, her tail streaming out behind her as her speed caused it to move like a living flame.
Her hooves pounded the ground as she raced Red across the open space, dirt and grass churning up underneath them.
Siray thought Red must have been a youngish mare, given her playfulness, as Red seemed to delight in prancing up to Siray, extending her neck so they could briefly touch noses, then dashing away in the next instant as she dared Siray to try and catch her.
For her part, Siray had never felt so wild, or so free. There was only her and Red, the plain, the purple sky stretching out above them, and the air whipping past her as she ran. Everything that had ever worried her now seemed so far away.
And she soon realised there was another danger that Honvil had not spoken of. That to be in a form could be so glorious that one could simply … slip away. Lose themselves in it.
As soon as she recognised this danger, Siray tightened her hold on her own mind. She pictured the faces of her friends—Deson, Jorgi, Tamot, Kovi, Rowp, and Loce.
And Baindan. Particularly Baindan.
It was enough to keep part of her mind always safely tied to her sense of self.
Occasionally, Siray thought she heard the cries of an udun from overhead but, looking up, could never see a sign of the giant bird’s form. Yet she knew Deson was up there somewhere, due to the occasional exclamation of delight that would enter her mind.
After a time, when the sun had moved farther into its second shift and her wide chest was heaving, Siray walked across to Red and extended her nose.
Red sniffed at her, and nickered, but Siray’s instincts told her that Red seemed to know that she wouldn’t be staying. They touched noses once more, a parting gesture of friends.
Then Siray began backing up slowly, nickered a final goodbye to Red, and wheeled away, heading off at a trot.
Red would be able to make her way back easily enough to the herd where Falir had found her, as Siray could smell their lingering scent trail even from the plain.
As she moved through the forest, Siray felt a shadow pass over her. Looking up, she saw the outline of an udun sweep low overhead, the angle of the sun and its low altitude only now making its shape visible.
As she stretched her neck up to get a better look, the udun seemed to circle and dip its wing.
Time to head back, Deson thought at her, his words clear in her mind.
I know, Siray sent back at him. Race you there!
Siray reared up on her hind legs and then leapt forwards, breaking into a canter, even though she knew that Deson would beat her.
Sure enough, when she arrived back at the clearing, Deson had already resumed his own form.
Out of breath, Siray paused and focused for a moment before she walked forwards to join him and Honvil in her own first form. Deson was smiling widely, and Siray couldn’t help but smile back, elated at her experience.
Falir was gone, having obviously returned to the camp with the cart in their absence.
Honvil appeared to survey the clearing once critically before turning and leading Deson and Siray back in the direction of the others. On the way through the forest, he had them tell him about their experiences and answered their questions as they arose.
Siray listened attentively to Deson’s reflections on the afternoon as he tried to explain the feeling and freedom of flight, which she could only wonder at. She, in turn, tried to give words to how she had played with Red and the lesson she had unexpectedly learned.
Honvil seemed quite pleased with them both, saying as much just before they reached the large glade. They were the last group to return, and Siray and Deson quickly joined the others seated on the ground.
After a quick word with Dirl and Gesad, Honvil turned to the trainees. ‘Tomorrow morning, I will begin your instruction on fighting as a unit in your forms.’
The trainees all murmured excitedly.
‘This skill is not an easy thing to learn, and it may take some time before you are able to master it. When you do master it, it will allow you to function and fight together as a unit far more effectively than you ever could as individuals.’
Honvil signalled the end of the lesson to the trai
ners and headed in the direction of the cart that would take him and the trainers back to the camp.
Dirl approached the group. ‘Alright, you know the drill.’
The trainees stood up and headed towards the trail back through the forest.
Still feeling energised from her experience on the plains, Siray playfully pushed past Deson and the others, charging to the front so she could lead the run back.
She grinned once over her shoulder at the males, daring them to try and outpace her just before she broke into a sprint.
***
Late that afternoon, Siray found she was enjoying her session with Wexner more than the previous ones. Now that she had sparred with him a couple of times, she was more experienced with his fighting style and felt she was able to better anticipate his moves. Her ability to defend against his attacks had also improved, and although he still managed to strike her frequently, it wasn’t happening all the time anymore.
After a long session, she returned to the cabin to speedily shower and dress in fresh clothes before leaving to join the others at the meal tent.
Following her arrival within the confines of the warm and noisy tent, Siray made her way to the far end where Falir was supervising some of the newest trainees as they served themselves dinner. Seeing him again reminded her of the question she had wanted to ask him, so she hung around at the end of the dinner queue until she was sure that she would have a moment without anyone overhearing.
Falir met her eye as she picked up a bowl of food.
‘Think it went pretty well today, don’t you?’
Siray nodded. ‘It did. Without your assistance, though, it probably wouldn’t have gone as smoothly.’
Falir shook his head but smiled. ‘There you go flattering me again.’
He heaped an extra spoonful of the stew, a favourite of hers, into the bowl she held.
Siray smiled at him again and then tilted her head as she considered the cook. ‘It makes me wonder, though. You’re so knowledgeable about Changing and other things, so why aren’t you a trainer, or out fighting with a unit? And don’t tell me you’re not as good as the other experienced fighters,’ she warned him playfully.
Falir held her gaze for a long moment, and this time, his smile had a new edge. It was more … secretive.
‘I’ve had my share of fights,’ the cook admitted, ‘and done my best to contribute to the cause that way. But after doing a stint in here a long time ago, I realised that there were even better uses for my skills.’ Falir waved his ever-present ladle at the hall around him. ‘So many busy minds, so many conversations and questions. What better way for me to assist in educating our own than to be a rock of information whenever you youths require it?’
Siray frowned, something in Falir’s response telling her she still wasn’t getting the complete story. But then, she thought, what right did she really have to know?
She settled for nodding at him and, accepting that the mystery would have to remain a mystery, made to move to her seat.
But Falir tapped his ladle against her tray, stopping her. ‘And what better way,’ he said quietly, ‘for me to learn all about you lot?’
This time when Siray met Falir’s eye, there was a different type of spark there that she hadn’t seen before.
The cook’s voice was as casual as ever, but his eyes showed a glimpse of an awareness and intellectual depth that at all other times must be have been consciously concealed.
After a pause, Siray gave Falir the same casual nod as before and then moved away.
There was obviously more to the old cook than she had first thought—a lot more.
A history of fighting, highly knowledgeable about Changing and training, able to blend in with the rabble and glean useful information from careful observation?
To continue to see Falir as just a cook from this point on was akin to classifying her sevonix form to be in the same animal family as a quison.
There was no doubt in Siray’s mind that Falir must have some kind of specialist role in the Resistance—what, she didn’t know.
She pushed this new information to one side of her mind as she placed her bowl down near the end of a wooden table and squeezed onto a bench where her friends were.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
SIRAY PROCEEDED to devour her dinner, enjoying the atmosphere of the meal tent. It was especially noisy that night, with Siray’s group of trainees, half of Sergeant Bulmer’s unit, all of the new trainees, and a fair portion of the normal camp staff all having dinner at the same time.
Siray was laughing with the others as Jorgi did an impression of Sergeant Bulmer criticizing his beans for not lining up on his plate in order of size. Jorgi’s antics was so good, it had their group and others close by in fits of hysterics.
Thankfully for him, the sergeant was not at the trainer’s table at that moment, though Siray thought that even the sergeant would have had to admit that Jorgi’s impression was good.
After he punished him, of course.
She was leaning back in her chair, gasping for air between fits of laughter, when she saw Falir hurry from his kitchen into the main section of the tent. The cook’s face was grim enough that her laughter faltered, then died away completely, as she watched him walk straight to the trainer’s table. Falir rarely left his kitchen during meal service and knowing what she did now about him made each of his movements more significant somehow. And his face … Falir was always the model of detachment and amusement, taking everything in his stride. So this face … unnerved her.
When Falir reached the trainer’s table, he spoke quickly with the trainers gathered there, but it wasn’t until Siray saw the reactions of the trainers that she really started to worry.
Upon the delivery of Falir’s news, half of them sprang up from their seats.
‘Siray, what’s the matter?’
Siray startled and pivoted on her seat.
Tamot, who was seated across from her, was looking at her in concern.
‘I’m not really sure,’ she said, ‘but I just saw—’
A loud bang came from outside.
Jorgi froze in the middle of one of his impressions, and the laughter at the table died away.
Siray turned back to watch the trainers’ table. All of them were now standing, and they seemed to be holding a quick conference amongst themselves.
Dirl had left the trainer’s table and was positioned at the opening of the tent, his back to them.
Then a deep, low rumble sounded from outside.
Siray stood. Something was definitely wrong.
Dirl twisted his head to shout something at the other trainers and then retreated back inside the tent.
She couldn’t hear what it was he was trying to communicate over the lingering chatter around her, but the sound of him shouting was enough to swiftly halt all remaining activity in the meal tent.
It also meant that she and everyone else in the tent could finally begin to discern what it was they could hear coming from outside.
It was the sound of battle.
Gesad separated from the group of trainers and moved to the tent’s entrance to take a look outside. What he saw seemed to be alarming enough to make him turn back around instantly to face the sixty or so people spaced throughout the tent, all of whom were now muttering nervously as they realised what was happening.
The lean trainer waved his arms and called for silence, which was given to him promptly.
Siray sank down slowly into her seat.
‘Listen carefully!’ shouted Gesad. ‘A division of Faction soldiers has been observed entering the camp and has engaged our forces. I need you all to—’
A loud roar from right outside the meal tent interrupted Gesad, making everyone gasp.
Siray heard Dirl give a warning shout right before a large, dark limb swatted at Gesad and sent him flying across the meal tent to slam into a table and the people sitting there.
Gesad crumpled to the ground.
Breathin
g fast, Siray turned back to the tent’s entrance in time to see a massive gedoni enter and take a swipe at some of the other trainers who were standing closest.
Its eyes were of coldest blue.
Chaos took over.
Some of the trainers nearest to the entrance to the tent Changed, and growls and roars sounded as they charged the attacking gedoni.
Siray and her group stood and watched, stunned for just a moment, before Dirl leapt onto a table and shouted for all the trainees to get out. Snapping out of it, Siray and the males in her unit began heading towards the kitchen at the back, her shoulders jostling with the others as everyone in the tent pushed to get away from the fight that was beginning to decimate its entrance.
Looking back quickly over her shoulder, Siray saw several members of the newest group of trainees fall where they stood as they were attacked by enemies in animal form.
She didn’t even know how she could tell which forms were the enemy and which were friendly, and she squeezed her eyes shut for an instant before forcing herself to turn away and open them again.
They had to get out—this was no place to do battle.
Looking around, Siray saw that the only clear path forwards was the tabletops, which were still littered with bowels, trays, and cups.
‘Follow me!’ she yelled at the others as she climbed up onto the top of the closest table and began running along its surface, jumping from one table to the next.
Behind her she could hear someone breathing hard and knew that at least one of her friends had heard her.
When she reached the last table, she didn’t slow but launched herself over the heads of the people pushing at each other below and over the top of the counter and into the kitchen itself.
Siray tucked her head against her chest, rolling as she landed to absorb the hard impact and swiftly clear the space for whomever was coming behind her.
She then sprinted to the rear entrance of the tent and waited just inside its opening for the others to catch up.
Tamot, Kovi, and Deson were the first to join her, followed a moment later by Loce, Rowp, and Jorgi.