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

it past Genlie and Kovi and one or two others from unit five before the rest of them caught on to her logic and began to run as well.

Barely slowing as she reached the weapons rack at the same time as unit one, Siray kept moving, dodging a couple of captives as she grabbed up a staff and spun on her heel, her feet digging into the sand as she began sprinting back. She dodged the slower captives who were making up the tail end of the pack, racing the others who, like her, were smart enough not to raise Herrin’s ire any more than was possible.

When most of the captives were lined up again, Herrin paced to the end of the formation before casually turning away to walk back once more.

Siray counted that there were ten captives still on their way back.

The first five had passed him and the other five were still hurrying to catch up when Herrin moved. He flicked his staff out low behind him, and the first of the last five face-planted into the sand. The second and third were so close behind that, even though they saw what had happened, they were unable to react quickly enough to avoid the blows that Herrin aimed at their stomachs with his weapon. Both went down in a tumble, and Herrin turned to face the last two, one male and one female, who had skidded to a halt some paces away.

The training master spun his staff effortlessly before him, and waited.

Neither of the captives shifted even a step, although the one slightly behind kept sneaking glances at the other.

Herrin took a step forwards, and the male, who was farthest away, took an involuntary step back.

‘Coward,’ growled Herrin. Then he launched himself. He was across the sand and had knocked the male to the ground before Siray could even blink, his staff a blur as it moved. The captive’s back had barely hit the sand before Herrin had dropped to one knee on the male’s chest, the master’s weight causing the captive to cry out as the air was abruptly forced from his lungs.

Herrin grabbed the captive’s chin with his hand, forcing the male to look him in the eyes. ‘You do not, ever, back away from a fight when threatened. You fight, and you win, or you cause enough injury that the soldier behind you can win.’ Herrin raised his voice, practically shouting into the captive’s face, which was less than a handspan away from his. ‘You retreat and you die. Either by my hand or by the enemy’s.’

Herrin lifted his staff and spun the weapon around smoothly a couple of times in the air above his head before he leaned forwards and rammed it down—right into the sand next to the male’s head.

Herrin snorted as the male winced and went pale, then stood, peering down at the captive in disgust as the male rolled over onto his stomach, wheezing and coughing now that the pressure on his chest had been removed.

The trainer scrutinised his prey for just an instant longer before he turned towards the guards by the door, halfway across the arena. ‘Throw this one into the pit,’ he shouted at them.

‘No!’ the male cried out, raising himself onto his hands and knees and turning to beg the master’s mercy. ‘No, please! I’m not a coward, I can fight!’

Herrin didn’t even deign look at him. ‘And you can prove it by fighting your way out when someone else joins you in that hole.’

The guards were approaching now and, having risen shakily to his feet, the male began backing away.

Siray’s eyes were wide as she watched, and she wished she could shake her head or call out to the male. He wasn’t making the situation any better for himself.

The male now held up his hands in entreaty. ‘No, no, please don’t throw me in there! Please!’

Siray felt like closing her eyes, but that would do nothing to block out the male’s cries. In fact, it might even bring Herrin’s wrath down on her, if he thought it was a display of weakness. So she clamped her lips together and made herself watch stoically as the terrible business was conducted.

The guards closed in on the male even as he turned to run, though there was nowhere to go. It was over swiftly, as the more nimble of the black-and-gold-clothed pair leapt forwards, sending a fist crashing into the side of the male’s head, laughing as the captive dropped to the sand, a dead weight.

The captives in formation were silent and still under Herrin’s sharp gaze as they watched the guards each seize one of the male’s wrists and proceed to drag him away.

‘I hope you all put a lot more effort into your training today,’ the trainer warned. The threat was unmistakable.

***

Herrin tortured them with exercises all through the morning, making them move faster than they had the day before, strike harder and perfect a longer sequence of blows against imagined opponents. His approach to correct them was direct—he merely had to spot someone perform a technique incorrectly or not keep up before Herrin would sweep up to them and use the same technique to lay them flat on the ground.

Lesson learned.

Almost everyone ended up sprawled in the sand at least once as the morning was devoured, Loce three times, but Siray also observed that nearly everyone’s technique and application of the weapon seemed to have improved markedly by the time the sun was becoming almost unbearable.

When Herrin barked at them to drop their weapons and run five laps, the thud of multiple staffs hitting the ground was almost one sound, so responsive they all were to his orders now. This time, no one held back. The laps were a continuous sprint for all of them, and Siray was sweating heavily as she completed the last circuit, moisture dripping down her face and back as she slid to a stop in her original position.

Everyone finished