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

‘You won’t fight?’ Herrin’s voice was like the slightest brush of fine cloth against Siray’s ears, his question so relaxed that you could almost believe Loce might be forgiven—that is, if Herrin hadn’t been prowling slowly towards his victim as he asked it. ‘If you won’t fight, then you are of no use to us.’

The speed with which Herrin launched himself at Loce was stunning, his staff a blur as he swung it, and he had already hit Loce twice on either side of the head and stepped away again before Siray could even react.

But as Loce dropped to his knees, blood welling from his temples and staining his pale hair as Herrin paused to gloat, Siray managed to get her body working enough to take a step forwards. Then another, until she had moved beyond the rows of captives, someone hissing her name from behind her while she tilted her head down in time to watch Loce fall onto his side, his face clearly visible as his dark eyes rolled up to show the whites.

A gasp sounded from the ranks of arrayed captives, most likely Genlie, from the sound and location of it.

Meanwhile, Siray’s heart was beating furiously, the fog in her mind pierced by fear for her friend. Wexner and the others had also moved forwards, and a warm presence behind her told her that either Baindan or Zale was standing just beyond her, peering over her shoulder.

Herrin merely peered down at Loce’s still form for another breath before callously turning his shoulder, dismissive and contemptuous of the young life that lay fading on the ground.

It might have been because of the drugs still in her system. It might have been because she was still worked up from her own fight. Or maybe it was just that she couldn’t handle seeing another one of her friends being treated like their life was worthless.

Siray was moving before she even realised it. Leaping forwards over Loce as she spun her staff, the weapon parting the air before her, she made a final daring spring and swung her weapon around in a swift and deadly arc, targeting the soft spot just above Herrin’s right ear.

‘Siray, no!’

Zale’s shout made the training master spin, the experienced male’s broad hands bringing up his own staff with lightning speed, thus allowing him to block what could have been a fatal blow.

Herrin’s steely eyes narrowed as he stared past the lengths of their engaged weapons at her, the simple movement of his brows almost shocking on his usually blank face. ‘You, obviously, have no issue with fighting.’ With a strength that was startling, the training master swung the tip of his staff out and down, forcing Siray’s weapon to the side and thereby leaving her exposed as he backhanded her across the face.

The power behind the blow made Siray’s head snap around, her body spinning to follow, and she fell to one knee, her hands automatically flying out to prevent her from falling face-first into the sand. Owing to the shock more than anything, she didn’t cry out as she fell, but her entire face went numb.

Dizzy, she clumsily managed to roll onto her back on the sand and bring her staff up so that it was parallel to her body.

Just in time.

Her eyes watering from the searing pain in her face, Siray felt more than saw Herrin’s next blow, the crack of his weapon on hers thundering in her ears while the impact itself was hard enough to make her grip shift on the smooth wood.

Yet using her flat position as leverage, Siray flicked the training master’s weapon upwards, let her staff fall to the sand, and somersaulted backwards, grabbing on to the far end of her weapon as she rose, a slight wobble in her stance as she faced Herrin once more.

Seeing the telltale sign in Herrin’s shoulders of his impending movement, she raised her staff, intending to attempt a second blow at his head, knowing that the only way she could win was to end this quickly.

But the training master was swift to demonstrate how he’d earned such a title as he inverted his weapon in a smooth motion, the arc of his swing telling Siray that his next blow was aimed at the side of her knee—probably to disable her.

Her mind did the calculation unconsciously in less time than it took her to blink. She would never get her staff down in time to block the blow, already committed as she was to her own attack. Knowing what was coming, Siray braced herself for the strike as she continued the swing of her own weapon towards its intended target. She only hoped that she could endure the pain of Herrin’s blow just long enough to land her own. For Loce.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Herrin’s staff sweep lower and lower, almost in slow motion, moving with a force that made her realise that the blow was not just going to hurt but could shatter her knee. She gritted her teeth, preparing to risk it all, and—

Another staff came streaking down past Siray’s face and blocked Herrin’s blow, forcing the training master’s staff to the side.

And without anything to stop her, Siray’s own strike hammered home against Herrin’s right cheek and ear, the impact forcing his face and shoulders sideways.

She wanted to glance at whoever it was that had been brave enough to come to her rescue, but the master was resilient and recovered quickly, continuing the spin the blow had forced his body into and coming back around on the offence, a line of blood snaking its way down the side of his head from Siray’s blow.

But Siray was ready this time, and as she swept her weapon around in an arc that met against Herrin’s staff with a mighty clash, the person beside her took advantage of the training master’s exposed midsection, the tip of their weapon spearing into