Change of Darkness (The Change Series Book 3) by Jacinta Jade (best new books to read txt) 📕

To Siray, their battle against unit three seemed to finish quickly and with a similar result, mostly thanks to Wexner and his experience. As the opposing unit charged Wexner’s group, he had Loce, Tamot, and Kinna break one way, and he and Annbov went the other. This simple tactic caused instant confusion amongst the members of the other unit, giving Wexner and the others a precious moment in which to turn back on their opponents and rapidly take two of them down.

Siray observed that Wexner didn’t rush in to disable his opponents, but neither did he waste energy. He was an efficient fighter—block once and then one, two, three strikes with his weapon, each landing in quick succession on the vulnerable parts of his opponent’s body, and they were down.

The efficiency of his attack clearly alarmed the remaining two members of the opposing unit, their concern swiftly turning to resentment as they both rushed to attack Wexner.

Observing their charge across the sand, Siray’s own anger flared and she yearned to join in the fight. But her orders had been clear, so she resigned herself to watching impatiently as Wexner, Tamot, and Loce quickly knocked down the remaining two enemies. She was sure their battle had been completed in less time than hers, and it looked like no one on their side had really been injured either. Envious, Siray mused over this for a moment and decided that it was the element of surprise that had been the decider in this encounter. Something she would have to remember for next time.

Next time. Her pulse pounded at the thought. She wondered when Herrin would let them fight again. Maybe she could do another round against Melora … seeing as she’d left her alive.

Hang on—I almost killed her? Something in Siray’s mind seemed to flicker, allowing the errant thought, before the same feeling of complete confidence took over again and the odd thought was gone.

As Wexner’s group rejoined them all, Herrin had the next two units moving out on the sand, repeating the process until all twelve units had gone through the vicious exercise.

As per the previous day, the healers filed out of the tunnel and quickly tended to Melora, Kovi, and the other captives who had been knocked unconscious or injured, reviving some using the vials of strong, clear liquid and applying healing strips as required.

Standing off to the side amongst her friends, Siray watched Melora regain consciousness, her scars stretching slightly as she smiled with satisfied as the bruised female climbed unsteadily to her feet. She would happily knock Melora back down again, given the chance.

When the final confrontation was over, and the healers had examined the last two units, Herrin commanded them to line back up, and he proceeded to stalk back and forth along the front line, his body rigid with agitation despite his scarred face being clear of emotion.

‘It seems I have much work to do in order to get your skills to where they need to be. Many of you forgot tactics and strategy and got lost in the heat of battle. While it is fine to let your anger fuel you, you must still keep your objective always foremost in your mind. Dispatching your opponent quickly and efficiently is only the short-term goal so that you can get closer to achieving your real objective. Whether you use brute force, surprise, skill with a weapon, or numbers to do this doesn’t matter—what you don’t do is draw out the fight for your own pleasure.’

Herrin turned and, after a brief moment of scanning, found first Siray’s, then Melora’s, face. He blankly held each of their stares in turn with his own cold eyes, a far more unpleasant experience than if he had glared at them. ‘Tomorrow we will try this again. And next time, I expect to see a difference.’

His words promised dire consequences if there wasn’t.

‘Replace your weapons in the rack, run five laps, then return through the tunnel. Go.’

Siray broke into a sprint across the sand with the others.

***

Panting, Siray was on her fourth lap of the arena when the odd feeling returned. But this time, it didn’t go away. And slowly, some deep part of her that had shut down during most of the afternoon reawakened. She had fought with the other captives. Wanted to hurt them, beat them down into submission. Her stomach turned as she remembered the feel of her weapon impacting upon flesh and bone, and how close she had come to killing Melora.

As bile rose in her throat, Siray stumbled, but she felt a hand speedily seize her elbow to steady her. After swallowing with some difficulty and taking a few big, steadying breaths, she snuck a look to her left.

Where Zale was running and looking at her with concern.

Recovering her balance, Siray shook her head at Zale to let him know she was fine, and increased her pace. She wasn’t fine, of course, far from it, but now was not the time to discuss it or think on it.

So she focused instead on completing her fifth lap, counting her steps over and over. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

She slowed with the others as they reached the end of the lap, moving into a walk as they all began forming a line at the exit to the tunnel, and she noted that some of the others were looking uncomfortable and confused. One particular male who she thought had fought in the first battle had actually gone pale, and he was looking hard at a female ahead of him with horror.

And shame.

Siray’s heart was pounding again, but this time it wasn’t from excitement or exertion.

What had she been doing, agreeing to fight the others? Against her will, her mind was replaying images of other captives dropping during the fights—both in her own and in the other confrontations she had watched. Striking one male in the head with her staff … trying to choke