Frenzied shouts and acrid smoke filled the air. Each streetcorner marked its own unique take on the violence and depravity that had overcome the panicked city. Gaba’ké ducked under a destroyed awning as a pair of looters on his right stepped through the wide hole where a display-window once welcomed merchants and customers. Now the ravaged storefront was a burnt shell of itself, its merchandise stolen.
Kuta ignored the looters. She ignored the panic and the ambient violence bleeding into the streets. Her single-minded focus remained on finding and killing Janos Tydana. Gaba’ké did his best simply to keep her in sight; not that he could truly lose her. That was the strange catch about being an Aginjigaade; hiding from one of their own was like trying to hide a tree in an empty field. Finding Janos hadn’t taken long. It was simply a matter of looking for the right spiritual imprint on the world. They both knew its shape, and Janos wasn’t hiding. He was high above the chaos in Patzau Palace. Right in the rotten heart of Caso.
Gaba’ké collided hard with a man running with a heavy travel bag, sending both men and the luggage crashing onto the cobbles. On instinct, Gaba’ké threw out both hands to break his fall. The problem was he only had one left and the raw stump at his wrist collided with the stones and a wave of pain tore through him. He didn’t remember screaming, but the flinching faces of the crowd suggested he had. As he splayed out in the road, wincing, an unfamiliar face loomed over him and spoke in rapid unintelligible Casoyan. The stranger helped him out of the street. He had scraped his knees and cheek in the fall, but that was inconsequential compared to the sharp agonizing pain that radiated from the reopened wound where his hand had once been. Blood soaked the bandage in heartbeats. The stranger repeated the same apologetic sounding phrase until Gaba’ké shood the Casoyan and he disappeared into the crowd.
Gaba’ké sat in a daze. His mind, once free from the overwhelming pain, slid back to his anxieties; to Kuta. Frantic worry gnawed at him. He saw her resolve. He recognized the rage and determination. It was a passion he understood, one he knew well enough to fear. Now he wouldn’t catch her. Not in time to stop her, to dissuade her, to protect her, to help her. He feared the very real possibility that he had sent her to her death; straight into a fight she wasn’t ready for. But just as real was the fear of what might happen should she succeed, like he had. But as he looked up, ready to rise and try again, she was there before him.
“Kuta” he said, surprised by her appearance.
“What happened?” Kuta asked, staring at the bloody stump and the scrape across his cheek.
“I fell” he said plainly. “You came back.”
“Why are you following me?” she demanded. There was a look in her eye that Gaba’ké couldn’t pinpoint. It was as if she were angry, or sad, or hurt but none quite matched the complex expression on her face.
“I thought you might need my help” Gaba’ké said, standing straight. His arms felt weak. There would be dark bruises on his skin tomorrow. Kuta remained silent. Gaba’ké quietly added, “I wanted to try to stop you from going.”
She raised her voice, the anger bubbling up to the surface. “To stop me?” Kuta scolded. “You don’t understand anything!” she snapped. “He murdered her! He took her! I was fifteen!”
Gaba’ké’s voice faltered, unable to articulate his own fears. “Revenge takes more than it gives, Kuta,” he pleaded. “You think I don’t understand, but I do. You can’t see it now, but it will consume you.”
“You think you understand me but you don’t!” Kuta seethed. Tears welled in her eyes, “You don’t understand what they’ve done to us.”
“Then help me understand!” Gaba’ké pleaded.
“You don’t know what these monsters have done to us” Kuta said. “Growing up as an Aginjigaade is dangerous enough, but the Guilds have been culling us for decades. My people. Our Aginjigaade. Our children! They’ve been sending their own, people like Janos, across the island to pull the weeds. They find us and make sure that we can never become a threat to Caso. They’ve been doing it for generations, Gaba’ké.”
“Tell me about her” Gaba’ké said, “the woman who raised you. The Aginjigaade he killed.”
Kuta frowned. “Her name was Hiri. She wasn’t my birth mother…” she spoke slowly. Gaba’ké listened, knowing not to interrupt, “but she raised me. She was wise and kind. She was my teacher, my mentor. When I started showing signs of the curse, my mother took me away from Caso and across the mountains. She carried me, an infant, all the way to Cabiya. She found Hiri and Hiri raised me. She taught me how to protect myself, especially from myself, and how to understand the world that only we can see. And then…” she trailed off.
“…he murdered her” Gaba’ké finished.
Kuta nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to help her; to protect her. I could have helped her. I should have been there!”
“You’re not being fair to yourself” Gaba’ké soothed. “You can’t live your life carrying the burden of what might have been.”
“What do you know?” Kuta sobbed. “How can you say that?”
“Because I have been that man” Gaba’ké replied calmly. “I see my own failures reflected back at me everywhere I go. I’ve spent most of my older years trying to protect others from the mistakes I made. It’s why I don’t think you should face Janos. But, it’s also why I won’t stop you. If you know the cost and think facing him is righteous, I’ll trust you and be right there by your side. For you, and for Elvi. And for all the other people he’s hurt. But only if you think its right.”
Kuta sniffled and wiped away tears. “You would fight him with me?”
He nodded. “I would.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“That’s true” Gaba’ké admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I think helping you is the right thing to do. The weight of the world can never be carried on one back alone.”
Kuta stewed on those words. People ran past in panic. Eventually, she found the courage to ask the question she had been pondering. “What did you mean when you said we’re that man?”
Gaba’ké sighed and smiled bitterly. “Like you, I couldn’t protect somebody dear to me,” Gaba’ké admitted, his voice small. “I believed that having power meant the same as being invincible. And I wasn’t ready for the moment that belief was proven false. In my grief, I got angry and made impulsive decisions—decisions that made things worse, rather than better. I lost my grasp on what little remained, the things that mattered. Most of my life passed me by and I missed it. I found myself an old man before I found any healing. Grief, anger, vengeance… they feel like fuel but they burn too hot and leave you empty.”
“We’re not the same” Kuta grimaced.
“I never said we were the same,” Gaba’ké said defensively. “Only that I’ve felt similar pains and sought similar vendettas. Anger consumed me, and it took a long time to understand that it was just a symptom of the powerlessness I felt. If I had a second chance and knew what I know now, I wouldn’t walk that path. I don’t wish for you—or Ohacha—or anyone to walk that path. It is the path of self-destruction.”
“Then what changed?” Kuta asked, her eyes pleading. “How did you find healing? How did you rebuild after everything was taken from you? How do you choose between two impossibilities?”
“The hard truth is that I can’t answer that” Gaba’ké said with a bitter sigh. “For me, it was finding new ways to love, rather than hate, and that took time. But for you, or someone else, another path may be offered. I ran away from my problems. I ended up in Gaag and found work with Ohacha’s grandfather, the old King. He accepted me into his home, knowing I was a broken man, and he never tried to fix me. But he treated me with the dignity and respect I had lost for myself.”
“Would you be disappointed in me if I said I still needed to face him?”
Gaba’ké chuckled ruefully. “No. All I need to hear from you is that you think facing Janos is both right, and wise. If you can do that, I’ll follow you up there and fight at your side.”
Kuta thought about it and then nodded in affirmation. “I can’t say with certainty that it’s wise, but I know its right.” She pulled him back to his feet.
Gaba’ké dusted himself off, then said, “Lead the way.”
*
The grand façade of the Patzau Palace was remarkably untouched in the panic and chaos. The doors to the palace, wide enough to invite large wagons and great beasts, remained closed. Those fleeing the rampage and riots to the south seemed to avoid the large building in their flight north across the canal. The palace, usually adorned with ceremonial guards and soldiers felt naked without their presence. Something was amiss. Kuta and Gaba’ké approached the grand domed building without any trouble. They climbed the steady steps up to the entrance and approached the smaller reinforced doors reserved for foot traffic.
Gaba’ké felt the activation of Kuta’s sorcery. So close, he could feel her willpower focused on the spirits around them. The barred door opened as if recognizing her right to enter. He expected soldiers on the other side. He was wrong about which side they would belong to. Six warriors, each armed with spears and shields, jolted alert and pointed weapons in their direction. They wore no guild armour or crests. Instead, they were covered in war paint and their shields and spears were adorned with beads and feathers.
The rebels have already taken the palace, Gaba’ké realized. I underestimated them. The Casoyans have underestimated them. But then why is Janos here of all places?
Kuta stepped forward and addressed the six men. She spoke with confidence of an equal. They listened. Gaba’ké felt their eyes measuring his presence but they lowered their weapons as Kuta walked in. Gaba’ké followed as promised. Without any assistance, the large wooden door closed behind them with a heavy creak. It clicked as the metallic bolt once again slipped into place.
Inside, the space expanded into a vast hall, dominated by colossal square pillars that supported a magnificent barrel-vaulted ceiling. Balconies lined the margins of the space and peered down over the grand hall between the domineering columns. Portals lined the walls on both floors, leading unseen chambers and offices. At the far end of the hall, a great archway marked the passage into the central atrium, where the palace intersected to form a massive cross. Kuta hastened towards the nexus. In the center of the palace, stairs beckoned skyward to where Janos waited.
Gaba’ké frowned. He could sense the agindan above them. It felt like Janos, yet his being here felt wrong. Perhaps he has hidden himself from the rebels. Or perhaps he has barred himself behind a door. Kuta must have shared his feelings, for she too looked troubled as they ascended. As they crested the long staircase, they stopped just outside an ornate door.
“This is the Patzau’s Council Chambers” Kuta said nervously. She hesitated at the door. Voices echoed from inside, loud and angry. “He’s in there.”
Gaba’ké held his breath. No guards at the door. No signs of struggle at all. Perhaps the rebels had captured him? “I’m right here with you”
Kuta pushed open the door and Gaba’ké entered and surveyed the strange scene. The council chamber was a large oblong room with tall narrow windows. The walls swept dramatically upward into a great vaulted ceiling, from which hung a large chandelier adorned with soft glowing illum stones. In the center of the room, an ornate circular table was ringed with eight equidistant wooden chairs. Janos stood on the far side of the room. At his feet cowered a man. The stranger was mountain-born and wore a sleek looking military uniform that might have suggested power had he been standing and unbloodied. He looked as if he had taken a beating and a glance down at Janos’ knuckled confirmed it. The bruises and blood across his face subtracted from the visage.
Opposite Janos were two men with their backs to the door. The first was a massive man, clad in armour. His blood stained clothes and weapons emphasized his severity. He looked more like a butcher than a soldier. The axe in his hand showed signs of extensive use. At the butcher’s feet knelt a plump man whom the butcher clutched by his lavish shirt-collar. He was clearly somebody of wealth, but it was only as the plump man turned to face them that Gaba’ké recognized him as one of the eight Patzau. The man was Patzau Adagizhi of the Resources Guild. Terror filled the soft man’s eyes. The butcher was shouting across the room at Janos, though Gaba’ké couldn’t understand the words. Janos held the butcher’s man, and the butcher held Patzau Adagizhi. They had interrupted what was, evidently, a stand-off.
All turned as they entered. Gaba’ké expanded his agindan sense outwards in a bubble of consciousness. Kuta’s agindan joined his and they filled the room until theirs pressed against Janos’, like fighters testing reach, or rams squaring horns. Janos held his own against their combined probing mental strength. They could feel the impressions of one each other’s consciousnesses. Kuta’s spirit was steadfast in its resolve. She embodied determination. Janos’ spirit was different. It embodied desire. A yearning. Hunger perhaps. The clash of wills happened in a mere instant. As far as the other two men in the room were aware, nothing had happened. And yet everything was laid bare at once.
Patzau Adagizhi’s face lit up. He looked pitiful and tears came as he began to beg. A harsh yank from the butcher silenced him, but the big man turned to face the newcomers. The butcher’s face twisted into a smile and Gaba’ké stared at the hawk-nosed face with a profound, icy dread blossoming from the pit of his stomach. The face, unmistakable, was a ruin of gore and scars and blisters. Uncertainty faded like mist before the sun as Gaba’ké recognized the hawk-nosed butcher. He was the man that had scouted Yohati’s estate and murder him in the street the day of the Auction House attack; Bartiin’s local attack-dog.
The desire for vengeance rekindled as if the fire within him had never been snuffed. Gaba’ké reverted to a part of him he had kept buried for decades. The part that yearned for justice and retribution, and would claim it at any cost. It was a visceral feeling and Gaba’ké, already primed for violence, acted on instinct. He wouldn’t let this man escape a second time. He reached out and channeled power. And in that frenzy, he overlooked the triumphant satisfaction plastered across Janos Tydana’s face.
*
Kuta entered the room with Gaba’ké at her side and froze. Janos stood on the far side of the room with Viiran at his feet, bloodied and bruised. More shocking was that Yoharum stood across from him, as if an equal. In her cousin’s study hands was Patzau Adagizhi. He was in poor shape. Yoharum was shouting at Janos. “If you kill him” he threatened, “I’ll kill Adagizhi and you next! My revenge will be swifter than a summer storm! Your deaths will serve as payment for countless years of injustice…”
Patzau Adagizhi spotted her and begged for his life. Yoharum yanked the Patzau back by his collar, forcefully silencing him. The shift in attention was enough to draw her cousin’s eye away from his enemy. There was a dangerous look on Yoharum’s face. His teeth were snarled like a beast’s. The blood and burn marks made him resemble a demon; frightening, even to her. She who knew him like a brother. Insurmountable hatred and rage were all that seemed left. For the first time, she saw him as the violent warlord her uncle saw within his son.
He turned to her with that rage on his face, but as they locked eyes, his anger dulled. The savage snarl disappeared as the spark of recognition and kinship replaced the odium. In that moment, she saw the same boy she had grown up with as a child. Even without an agindan spirit, Kuta could sense his inner being. There was a bond between them, one of kin; family. Somewhere in there, he was the same kid that had eagerly brought her along to catch frogs and chase wild hens. He was the same boy who led her out of the house with an uplifting smile when her mother closed the door to hide her tears. It would be that brief look on his face, the one devoid of the anger and hatred, that would stick with her in the years that followed. It would also be her last.
A blur of speed raced past with sickening speed. It left only a headless corpse towering above a blood-splattered Patzau Adagizhi. A frightening crash sounded as whatever shot past exploded noisily against the wall. Kuta blinked and the world changed. Yoharum was dead. Dust and debris rained outwards and the room went still. Kuta stared, uncomprehending. Adagizhi whimpered; Yoharum’s blood had splattered across his face and his fine clothes. Her cousin’s headless figure stood there for what felt an impossible amount of time until slumping onto the polished tiles with a heavy thud.
“Oh! Thank you!” Patzau Adagizhi whimpered into the silent room. He crawled forward on his hands and knees to where Kuta stood frozen. “Thank you both” he added, taking her hand while on his knees. “If you two hadn’t come… that brute would have killed me. Thank you, thank you!” Kuta looked down at Patzau Adagizhi with disgust. She pulled her hand out of his clammy grasp. He continued to ramble, ignorant of her feelings. “I knew you were one of the good ones, Kuta. Janos!” Adagizhi hollered, hoisting himself up onto his feet, “Janos, kill that mongrel you’ve got there and let’s get out of here. I’ll reward the three of you handsomely for this. Janos!”
Janos didn’t move. He held Viiran tight in his grasp, but he didn’t come at Adagizhi’s call.
Kuta blinked. Later, she would recognize that it was the shock of the moment. She had too many thoughts flowing too fast to comprehend; like a cupping a hand into a waterfall and hoping to draw out a drink. She didn’t even remember killing Adagizhi. All she remembered was the overwhelming grief and how thoroughly it mixed with her anger and hurt. And in all of those feelings, Adagizhi had reminded her at exactly the wrong moment why she loathed the man. He had betrayed her twice already. He betrayed Minoc. He was a fervent enemy opposed to everything that made Kuta who she was. But worse than all of that, he was shameless. She knew he would go on pretending. Act as if he had never said all those terrible things about her people. About her.
In the end, the Patzau signet on his finger was the death of him. It was made of gold and bent easily to her will. Patzau Adagizhi still wore the look of surprized triumph on his face as he dropped to the floor dead next to Yoharum’s corpse. The happiness on his face troubled her. She regretted letting him die with a smile. It was better than he deserved.
Gaba’ké’s demeanor metamorphized. His spirit changed from an unshakable mountain, unyielding and protective, to that of molten earth and its all-consuming rage. His power was terrifying and it was hard to imagine the old man she had helped to his feet back on the streets was the same man capable of this power and fury. The old Aginjigaade turned his attention to Janos, who remained snickering across the room. Kuta bore into Gaba’ké with her own hurt and rage. She drew power but stayed her hand. How do I choose between two evils. The one killed my master. The other my cousin.
His spirit flinched at her grief. “When this is over,” he implored, “you and I can resolve the hatred you have for me in this moment. But only after we face Janos. Not now. Not while he still lives.”
Kuta’s fingers twitched. She sensed the silver necklace at his collar, the pewter buttons on his coat. With a single pulse of her affinity, she could skewer him the same way she had Adagizhi. He had sworn to help her. Instead, he had murdered Yoharum. There was a desperate desire to rage at him for it. Every fiber of her being screamed for it. Kill him, and Janos next! Kill all the traitorous bastards!
“I didn’t know,” Gaba’ké rasped. His eyes remained fixed on Janos ahead. “Not until it was too late and I felt that part of your spirit tear away with his. I don’t know who he was to you, but he killed Aramuk. He took my oldest friend from me. And I am sorry.”
“He was my cousin.” The words fell from her lips, lifeless.
“I didn’t know”
“I grew up with him,” Kuta stammered. Breath didn’t seem to come. Emptiness formed in the pit of her stomach. “Before I left for Cabiya… before Hiri. We used to chase wild hens…”
“You were close.”
“Once,” she replied after a suffocating silence. His blood splattered the floor. “We were close once. We made different choices… and we had different choices made for us.”
“Kuta!” Gaba’ké’s voice cut through the fog. He had been repeating her name before she finally blinked. She looked up at him, her mind glossy. Janos seemed to be enjoying this strange turn of events. Kuta squeezed her eyes shut and willed the world to move on without her. It didn’t.
Janos spoke from across the large chamber. “Gaba’ké of Ayaan. I never thought to expect you here of all places and times. Where is your little princeling? Not gotten himself killed, I hope. Shouldn’t you be at his side like the loyal dog you appear to be?”
“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing about Yohati” Gaba’ké replied.
Janos’ face remained emplaced and his voice cold, “Yohati and I have a mutually beneficial partnership. We both get what we want.”
“That’s precisely what all loyal dogs think,” Gaba’ké goaded.
Janos scowled. “It’s the other way around. Yohati is the tool I use to get what I want!” he snapped. “These are my plans now fruiting. I will be the one to come out on top.”
“Unless I kill you today” Kuta said emotionlessly.
Janos cocked his head in interest. Suddenly he was directly in front of her face and his close proximity startled her. “You sound mighty confident, child.” Janos’s voice seemed to echo around the large room. It felt as if it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, icy and cold. “How did you expect to barter for your dear Viiran’s life now that you’ve killed Adagizhi? It’s hard to have a rebellion without your precious leader.”
“It’s just an illusion” Gaba’ké’s said reassuringly.
Kuta heard his voice and focused only on Gaba’ké, ignoring the uncomfortable presence that she knew wasn’t really there. “I’ve not come here for Viiran” Kuta answered. “I’m not with the rebellion. You can threaten him all you like. It won’t save you.”
Janos’ illusion dissipated and he was once again opposite the large stone table on the other side of the room. “Oh?” he said, taunting. “Not with the rebellion? No love for your own people? I have your blessing to kill him then?” he asked, gesturing to a desperate looking Viiran at his feet.
“Viiran is dead” Gaba’ké said. “He was dead before we ever entered the room.”
Janos’ wicked smile widened. “Oh, thank goodness” he said, letting the illusion drop. His hands were smeared with blood. “You know, I killed the poor man right in front of Yoharum and he couldn’t even tell I’d done it. Remarkable, how invisible the world is to those too blind to see.”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Kuta demanded.
“Fair enough” Janos said with a shrug, “I suppose then, based on what has transpired, that you came here to murder poor old Patzau Adagizhi in retribution for trying to have you branded as a traitor. It’s a shame about what just happened with your cousin. Although, it is strange that you never mentioned to your friend Gaba’ké that you knew your cousin was the one who killed his prince and stole their fortune. That’s a cruel secret to keep from a friend, don’t you think?”
Gaba’ké frowned and cast a quick glance in Kuta’s direction. Kuta opened her mouth to protest but couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“Is that true?” Gaba’ké asked. She could tell by his face that he knew the answer.
It was true. She hadn’t told him. In protecting Yoharum, she had betrayed Gaba’ké’s kindness. And in leaving that truth unspoken, Yoharum was killed for it. Regret filled her. What if there had been a way? Had I trusted him, would Yoharum still be alive? Is his death my fault? I could have trusted him. He’s always been kind, hasn’t he? But then she remembered the swift ferocity of Yoharum’s death and questions that thought.
“Of course, its true” Janos taunted. “Kuta here is quite the little secret keeper. She’s been privy to all kinds of information she hasn’t deemed worth sharing with those who need it most. Isn’t that right, Kuta?”
Kuta met Gaba’ké’s disappointed gaze and spoke plainly, “Yes, its true. I knew Yoharum was one of the men who tried to kill you, who killed your prince. I found out after it had happened.”
“You didn’t know before hand?” Gaba’ké asked.
Kuta shook her head. “No. Only after. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter anymore. Yoharum lost your fortune when his masters betrayed him to cover their tracks. Every man who killed your prince is dead.”
Gaba’ké stared back with an unreadable look. His lack of expression made her feel worse, somehow. “Thank you for being honest with me” Gaba’ké said. He turned his gaze back on Janos, who looked delighted with himself. “I have two questions for you as well, Janos. Promise me you’ll answer them.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because, if I like your answers I won’t try to kill you. I’ll leave.”
“Go on then” Janos said.
“Why did you kill Elvi?”
Janos seemed taken-aback. “I don’t know–”
“Don’t lie to me. I was there.” Gaba’ké said. “You attacked her on the roof.”
Janos’ brows furrowed. “You were there? I doubt that. I would have sensed you.”
“I was there,” Gaba’ké assured him. “In addition to your illusions, you control an ice affinity. How else could I know these things?”
The Casoyan Aginjigaade seemed to chew on those words for a moment. Instead of answering, he asked, “Was that before or after you lost your hand?”
“After. You’re avoiding my question.”
“I killed her because she was in my way…” Janos answered. “Now, I’d like to know how the impervious Stone Aginjigaade lost himself a hand?”
“You promised two answers,” Gaba’ké replied. “For my second question, I like to understand how you came to learn that Kuta’s cousin was one of the men hired to kill Aramuk and Ohacha?” Janos mouth shut tight. The silence that followed was remarkably informative.
Kuta’s eyes widened as she made the connection, “You knew!” she shouted. “You knew about the plot!” She blinked rapidly, her mind racing. “You were the one working with the Careyago Ambassador. You used Burm to clean up the evidence!”
Suspicions confirmed, Gaba’ké began putting the pieces together himself. “And since the dog told us who his master was. Yohati also knew. He knew there would be assassins waiting for us. He planned for it. You used your illusions to hide those thugs in the shadows the day of Aramuk’s death. You helped them try to kill us. To kill me. You and the Careyago Ambassador crippled us, stole our fortune, and setup the crackdown in Mudtown all in one fell swoop.”
“You were more resilient than I expected” Janos admitted. “I altered you senses and then that weakling wax-witch waved her agindan at you and you swatted her away like an insect. Then, you survived the hired killers and I knew right then and there that you were the prize I have been waiting for. You are what I get out of all of this. Both of you are my prizes. Best of all, you came to me willingly.”
“I don’t understand” Kuta muttered. “You want to fight us? You want to determine which of us is the strongest Aginjigaade?”
It was Gaba’ké who answered. “No. I understand now. He wants to add our power to his.”
Janos smiled coldly. It sent shivers down Kuta’s back. “He can do that? Is that possible?”
“There is a way” Gaba’ké said. “He would need a third affinity. Am I right, Janos?”
A slow clap echoed through the expansive chamber. Janos held his gaze steady and answered, “Colour me impressed, Gaba’ké. People always speak highly of Ayaani Aginjigaade but I must admit, I am enthralled with the depth of your knowledge. What other great secrets did they teach you? And how did you hide yourself from me?”
“I wish you could have studied there,” Gaba’ké remarked, “you’d never have become this.”
“I still don’t understand,” Kuta said anxiously.
“Janos has a third affinity,” Gaba’ké said simply, “not just two. On top of his light and ice affinities, he’s a siphon…. A spirit sucker.”
“A siphon?” Kuta asked.
“It’s one of two very rare abilities” Gaba’ké explained. “Linked to spirits of vitality and spirits of decay: Amplification and Siphoning. Amplifiers can boost an Aginjigaade’s power. Siphons can steal power from other Aginjigaade to make themselves stronger, though I’ve never heard of the effects being permanent.”
“That’s because an Aginjigaade who’s power has been siphoned regains their siphoned power over time. The cup refills” Janos explained. “But… a dead Aginjigaade…”
“Then with Hiri…” Kuta trailed off.
“Yes,” Gaba’ké said, “and maybe with Elvi too. And likely many more before them.”
“I have always volunteered to silence undesirable Aginjigaade. Especially those nasty little seedlings from your people, Kuta. To this day, Yohati remains none the wiser to my true intentions. And, Aginjigaade are known to disappear from time to time in Caso” he boasted. “There are many wealthy benefactors from across the world. Leaving a patron is not unheard of.” He smiled impishly. “But I wouldn’t worry about any of that now. You should worry about me!”
Janos’ consciousness, still pressed against theirs, exploded outwards. It felt as if the weight of the sky pressed down on Gaba’ké’s mind and yet his first instinct was to protect Kuta from Janos’s sudden and powerful attack. He rushed to her with his physical body and put himself between Janos’ overwhelming strength and Kuta’s still blossoming power. The pressure against his mind was at a degree of agindan power Gaba’ké could barely fathom. He felt, for the first time in a long time, remarkably insignificant. It was everything Janos could muster and it took red-faced strain to keep the Casoyan from crushing them both right then and there.
Shielded from most of the onslaught, Kuta recovered and channeled. The metal pins she kept in her hair and sleeves shot out towards Janos like invisible missiles. They struck the place where Janos stood and pierced his body. Yet he didn’t react to their deadly touch.
“He’s… not… there.” Gaba’ké strained to get out the words, fearful that any escape of breath might collapse his strength to Janos’ conscious battering.
The agindan onslaught ended as quick as it had come and Gaba’ké found himself wheezing for breath despite his instinct to remain vigilant. He fought against his own body’s convulsive urge to recover, knowing Janos was already moving for his next attack. Ignoring exhaustion, Gaba’ké pushed his consciousness outwards, searching for the right spirit. Power, his power, spread out and overwhelmed the numerous stone spirits imbued in the polished floors, table, and walls until he found the one he was looking for. He channeled. Gaba’ké felt what the stones felt, as if they were an extension of his skin. The wave of vibrations expanded outwards rapidly, a hurried heartbeat spent on feeling each polished stone tile. One by one, Gaba’ké felt for Janos, the real Janos. Not the one on the other side of the room that had ignored Kuta’s attack. The real one, who stepped with real weight that could be felt if not seen. The one just a few short paces from where Gaba’ké and Kuta sheltered.
Invisible, but not undetectable, Gaba’ké mused. I’ll have only an instant before he’s in reach. He released the spirit, knowing it would once again render Janos invisible to him, but confident he would have the time to react. He searched for the same spirit he had used against Yoharum. But Gaba’ké had gravely misjudged Janos’s plan when he’d sensed him drawing near. He’s out of reach, he had assured himself. He miscalculated. Janos materialized before him in a terrifying flash. He was out of reach for a man attacking with sword or bare hand. Janos had neither. Instead, a long crystalline spear of ice formed in his hands and grew outwards towards him. Gaba’ké found his desired spirit too late. Janos thrust the spear of ice forward. Gaba’ké’s reacted instinctually, switching spirits to harden his skin against the blow aimed at his exposed chest. But Janos’s attack twisted upwards to Gaba’ké’s face. He was vulnerable as the crystal tip speared into his left eye.
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