Yazwa wiped sweat off her forehead, struggling to breathe the stuffy, humid air. The soldiers had taken her staff and pushed her into Ca Rago’s office with dozens of other women and girls. They were packed so tight there was no room to sit down. Guards stood at the edges of the lightwells above, occasionally calling out in a language Yazwa didn’t know, although she could figure out what was being said from the tone.
The crowd shifted around, and an older woman dressed as a scribe pushed her way up to Yazwa. “Speak Gray?” she asked.
“Yes!” said Yazwa, relief washing over her. “I speak Gray, what is happening?”
“I was hoping you could tell us,” the woman said with a sigh, taking a few deep breaths. “This has never happened before.”
“I heard that this city gets attacked all the time,” Yazwa said, failing to shuffle back to give her some space.
"Not like this," said the woman, shaking her head. "Most bandits or would-be conquerors are smart enough to leave the Temple alone. They hit here first and took control of it. Are you sure you don't know anything?"
“Why would I?” Yazwa asked. “I only sailed in a few hours ago. I’ve never even been here before. Why are they keeping us locked in here?”
"I pray it's not what I think it is," the woman said, tracing a circle on her forehead. "But there are rumors that bandits have turned to slaving to fill their pockets."
“But that...” Yazwa said, brow furrowed. “There haven’t been any slave raids north of the desert since Cu Magas broke the slave trade hundreds of years ago. He was a Chuxa of Justice. How could anyone go against that?”
There was a sudden bang, and the door pushed open into the crowded space. Someone started shouting, and the room slowly started to empty. Yazwa shuffled towards the door with everyone else until a soldier shoved her back. “No. Here,” he said, pointing at the floor.
“What?” Yazwa asked as the other women filed out around her, some carrying girls in their arms.
“No,” he said, pointing at her as the room emptied. “Here.”
Yazwa pointed to herself and then the floor. “You want me to stay here?”
“Here,” the man repeated, slamming the door shut and locking it when everyone else left the room.
With the crowd out of the room, Yazwa could breathe a little easier. She found a chair and took a seat as questions buzzed through her mind. Why had the Temple been attacked in such a way? Why had everyone been moved out, only to leave her behind? Most importantly, how was she going to get out of here? She didn't have long to wait and ponder. There was a soft knock at the door, and a servant hurried in, carrying a steaming teapot and two cups on a tray. Yazwa tried to speak to him, but he set the tray on the nearest table and hurried out without saying a word. As soon as he left, another man came in, holding a long staff.
“This is a pleasure. I don’t get many chances to practice my Gray,” he said with a smile. He was tall and solidly built, taking long strides as he crossed the room to grab a chair of his own. Leather sandals covered his feet, and he was wrapped in a bright blue robe with delicate embroidery at the hems. His head was shaved on the sides with many short dreadlocks running down the middle of his head. When he sat down next to her she saw a jagged scar running from his hairline down to the corner of his right eye. A burn scar covered his right cheek and jawline as well. “I must apologize for the rough treatment you received when we met. This is yours.”
Yazwa grabbed the staff, and recognized it as her own. “Thank you,” she said, jerking back when she realized who she was talking to. “You’re the rider that captured us!”
“I do cut a different figure when I’m not dressed for war. You may call me Ca Diro. What may I call you?” he asked, reaching for the teapot.
“Yazwa,” she answered, watching as he poured out two cups of tea.
“Well, Yazwa. To Achal,” Ca Diro said, handing her a full cup and taking one for himself. He tapped the cup on the table twice and took a quick drink.
“To Achal,” she said, copying the gesture. “Wait wait wait, what’s going on? Who are you?”
“I believe I already introduced myself,” he said, taking another sip.
Yazwa scowled, setting her tea down and keeping her staff in hand. “You told me your name, not who you are or why you attacked this temple.”
Ca Diro frowned and set his tea down. “I rarely get to have tea with educated strangers. I was hoping we could enjoy some small talk.”
“I’m sorry,” Yazwa said automatically before she shook her head. “No! This isn’t time for tea. Tell me what’s going on!”
“I would like to point out that as your captor, interrogating you is my prerogative,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms. “From your dress and your accent, I’m going to guess you come from Ibscaal. Am I right?”
Yazwa blinked. “Yes, that’s right. Gaori City.”
Ca Diro sighed and looked up at the guards standing watch at the lightwell. “I’ve always wanted to travel to Ibscaal. I imagine the stories I’ve been told of the architecture cannot do it justice. Are there really palaces built rising out of the water?”
“Two in my city, but I’ve never been to either of them,” Yazwa said, reaching for her tea.
“I imagine your studies keep you too busy to sightsee,” Ca Diro said, bringing his gaze back down to Yazwa. “Much is demanded of us Achali.”
Yazwa froze, cup halfway to her lips. “Us Achali?”
“The burden of talent,” Ca Diro laughed. “When I was young I didn’t have time to court or drink or stay out at night. I had special skills, and no one else could do what I do. So many expectations, so little time. But I hardly have to tell you that.”
Yazwa furrowed her brow but decided to play along and took a drink. "I didn't sleep for three nights once, because I couldn't get something just right."
Ca Diro nodded, setting down his empty cup. “But it’s all worth it in the end. All that sweat and toil to finally get where you deserve to be.”
Something about his tone sent a chill down Yazwa’s spine. The more she looked at his eyes, the emptier they seemed. “To sweat and toil,” she said, tapping her cup against the table twice and draining it.
“Indeed,” Ca Diro said, watching her over steepled fingers. “So, what is an Achali all the way from Ibscaal doing here? If that old goat brought you straight to his office you must have had something important to tell him.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, finding it hard to meet his eyes.
“Now now, don’t play coy with me.” He chuckled. “My men told me about a foreign Achali who jumped in to break up a fight. They then went to pray to the Chuxa of the Hunt and were joined by the venerable Ca Rago, who then hurried her to his private office. The old goat keeps careful records of who comes and goes, and you aren’t mentioned anywhere, so this is a surprise visit. What message did you have for him?”
Yazwa shifted in her seat as her heart started to pound. He thought she was some kind of high official or something. “What we spoke of is between me and him,” she said, taking another sip to soothe her dry throat.
An uncomfortable silence dragged on until Ca Diro spoke. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. What I really want to know is how you got here,” he said, dropping his hands and drumming his fingers on his legs
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“Why?” asked Yazwa, straightening up in her seat.
“How did you get here?” he repeated.
“By ship,” Yazwa replied slowly.
"No," Ca Diro said, shaking his head and standing up. "I know that's not how that works. They don't send powerful Achali by ship through pirate-infested waters to deliver messages. I know you came in through the Akolos."
Yazwa stared up at him. If a Temple of Illitzo was built to the proper dimensions, the Akolos would appear somewhere within. It was a simple square stone room with a covered door on each wall. At the center were nine statues where the shrouds of the Chuxa rested until they were taken up once again. Each Akolos was connected, if one knew the path they could walk from Ibscaal to the holy city of Otzon in a heartbeat. Or to any other temple of Illitzo. The location of the Akolos was a carefully kept secret, only the powerful and privileged knew where to find them. "I've…I've never seen the Akolos," she said.
“Oh don’t lie,” Ca Diro groaned, leaning in close to her. “You took everyone by surprise. Powerful Achali don’t just show up like that unless they come through the Akolos. You're just like the rest of them," he sneered, looming over her. "Claiming ignorance, telling lies, hiding my destiny from me. I deserve to be the next Chuxa, and you won't stop me from getting what I deserve. Where is the Akolos?"
“I don’t know, I’m not even an Achali!” Yazwa blurted.
Ca Diro stopped and leaned back, breathing heavily. “That…could be the worst lie I ever heard.”
"It's true," Yazwa said, opening her sight. Ca Diro's essence was bright and steady, with sharp jagged edges around the sides. "I failed the Tellatl Rites when I was a child. I just…never stopped using the sight like I was supposed to. The reason he pulled me into his office was to reprimand me and send me home."
Ca Diro worked his jaw, eyes never leaving hers. “Then why are you so far from home?” he asked.
“I’m cursed,” Yazwa sighed as she was forced to tell the same story all over again. “That’s why I’m going west, to find someone who can cure me.”
"Stay there," Ca Diro said, rummaging through the desk until he found a candle. He crossed to the other side of the room and lit it. "Come closer."
Yazwa rose out of her chair and walked towards him until she got too close and the candle flared out. “See?”
Ca Diro gently tapped the cold wick with his fingers and smiled. “Huh. No good deed goes unpunished. Follow me,” he said, leading her out the door. “This explains why none of these candles would light.”
“They’re going to keep going out,” Yazwa said, shifting her grip on the staff as the hallway got darker.
Ca Diro’s eyes glowed a vivid, electric blue as they continued on. “Good for you, not giving up the sight.”
“What?” Yazwa asked as she followed him, eyes glowing gold.
“The Tellatl Rites are pointless. They’re only there so the high priests can shut people they don’t like out of learning Achal,” he said, stepping out into the light. “I admire your ambition.”
“Thank…you?” said Yazwa. “Where are you taking me?”
"Here, with the other women," Ca Diro said, leading her to a ramshackle pen built in the plaza of the temple. It had high wooden walls on three sides and a waist-high wall on the last side, the whole area inside shielded by an awning above. The women and girls who had been jammed into the office were now spread out in the new pen. A line of soldiers armed with muskets stood guard against the short wall, stepping aside as Ca Diro helped her climb over. "Just stay here. I'll be right back."
Yazwa watched him go until he was out of sight around a corner. She stepped into the shade of the awning, looking around until she found the woman she spoke to earlier laying down on the stone floor. “It’s a lot less stuffy out here,” Yazwa said.
“You’re back!” the woman said, sitting upright. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing. Ca Diro thought I was someone else. Mistaken identity,” she shrugged. A look of horror crossed her face that made Yazwa’s stomach clench. “What is it? Who is he?”
“He used to live here,” the woman said, tracing a circle on her forehead with a shaking finger. “He was one of the finest Achali I ever taught. But…but he broke the blood taboo.”
Yazwa’s eyes went wide as a commotion broke out behind her. Two soldiers dragged Ca Rago into sight, his face beaten to a pulp. Ca Diro followed, shouting something at him. Yazwa couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she heard the word ‘Akolos’ more than once. Ca Diro bellowed again and pointed at the pen. A chorus of screams rose up around her as the women threw themselves on the ground, covering the children with their bodies. Ca Rago dropped to his knees and clasped his hands together begging through a mouth of broken teeth. The soldiers cocked the hammers of their muskets, and Yazwa broke into a dead sprint. Her eyes blazed gold as she barreled forward, reducing the soldiers to wispy red outlines. She was only three strides away when they put the guns to their shoulders and pulled the triggers.
Every single gun misfired.
Yazwa leaped over the low wall and slammed into one of the soldiers. The force of the impact sent him flying backward as Yazwa scrambled to her feet. The wispy red outlines reached for their knives, but she was upon them, staff hammering every target it could reach, sending crackling bolts of yellow pain shooting through their bodies. "RUN!" she shouted at the top of her lungs as more wispy red outlines swarmed her. Again, she rushed towards them and their guns failed to fire. Again, she rained blows down them and scattered them like leaves before a storm.
Out of the corner of her eye, a jagged blue aura approached her, wreathed in yellow with a searing white light in its hand. Yazwa lunged forward with a thrust to the chest, but the aura shrugged it off and closed the distance. It struck downward with its hand. Yazwa raised her staff to block, but the hand passed through it like it was air, cutting it in two. The light was so bright Yazwa dropped her sight, stumbling and sprawling into her back. She opened her eyes to find Ca Diro's hand in front of her face, so close she could see a pair of triangles tattooed onto his palm.
“Good trick,” he said. “Too bad it was pointless.”
Yazwa looked around. The soldiers on the ground were getting up, helped to their feet by their backup. The women and girls were still cowering in the pen. “Don’t do it,” was the only thing she could think to say.
A shadow passed over them, followed by a rush of wind and the sound of splintering wood. The back wall of the pen collapsed into kindling. An enormous, two-headed bird soared overhead, flapping its giant wings to gain height.
Ca Diro spun around, following the path of the bird through the air. “Shoot it down!” he bellowed.
When all the soldiers pointed their guns at the sky Yazwa crawled until she reached the shattered pen. She jumped over the low wall and ran to the women. “There’s a distraction, make a run for it! Go!” she said, grabbing arms and hauling people to their feet. “Go, while you still can!”
The bird dove again and the soldiers fired, only for it to twist away at the last moment. As they frantically reloaded the ground began to shake. From the front of the plaza two beasts charged forward. One looked like a six-legged rhino with a smooth, bulbous head. The other a white gorilla with an extra pair of arms. They charged the soldiers who fled in panic before their onslaught.
Yazwa kept pulling people up and urging them to run to the steps and away from the temple. The trickle became a flood as others took their chance and ran. The creatures ignored them, focusing their wrath on the soldiers alone. She leaned against a shattered wooden post, trying to catch her breath as the chaos unfurled around her.
“This was far more complicated than it needed to be,” came a familiar voice behind her.
“Tsen!” Yazwa shouted, spinning around. “You, you came back for me!”
"Aven and Saiyun were being remarkably annoying about the matter, so I took it into my hands. I had hoped to just snatch you up, but there were far too many guns to make that feasible." He watched idly as the four-armed gorilla chased a squad of soldiers off the side of the platform. "Once I clear out the guns, we will be able to leave. Excellent use of your curse."
“What are you talking about?” Yazwa asked as the giant bird dove low and scattered more soldiers with a gust from its wings.
“When you rushed the guns,” Tsen said. “Your curse prevents burning. Gunpowder must burn to ignite. Very clever.”
Before Yazwa could answer, a deep bellow of pain echoed over the temple. Ca Diro charged the six-legged creature and swung his hand, slicing off two of its legs and sending it slumping to the ground. It let out one last cry before flashing to a pile of stones. Ca Diro pointed at Tsen and stalked towards him, ignoring the madness around him.
“Hm,” Tsen said, scratching his chin. “He is remarkably skilled.”
“Be careful,” Yazwa, taking up the broken halves of her staff.
“Who are you?” demanded Ca Diro, stopping a few paces away. “What have you done?”
"One question is irrelevant, the other self-evident," Tsen said, holding his hands clasped behind him. "Are you responsible for those Otzen I encountered in the marketplace? They were impressive pieces of work."
A low chuckle rumbled out of Ca Diro’s throat. “Yeah, they were mine. Like them, did you?”
Tsen nodded. “If we had more time, I would love to discuss them with you. But I have other obligations, the first of which is bringing her back to our ship. Perhaps another time.”
“You’re not leaving here alive!” Ca Diro shouted, surging forward and swinging his hand at Tsen’s neck.
“No!” shouted Yazwa, racing to help. But when Ca Diro’s hand fell she stopped dead in her tracks.
Tsen's hand flinched, eyes blazing bright purple as his skin took on the hardness of the stone under his feet. "An interesting combination. Challenging, but effective."
“How?” croaked Ca Diro, hand still pressed against Tsen’s neck.
"You could teach me something someday. I would ask that you survive." Tsen landed a short jab on Ca Diro's chest and he went flying backward, smashing into a pile of wood. "I believe we are ready to make our exit."
Yazwa’s jaw dropped as the purple light in Tsen’s eyes dimmed. “How? You can’t be a Vao and an Achali.”
“Yet I clearly am,” Tsen said as the giant bird swooped in for a landing. Tsen climbed up onto its back and offered his hand to Yazwa. “Let us be off. There is much to do.”