Chapter 95:
Gajeel could barely stand trains. Riding in the back of a cart, though, was even worse. Especially with the sun glaring down at him overhead with not a single cloud in sight, and the air so arid and hot he would have already been shirtless if it weren't for Juvia and Hajime riding with him. Sure, Juvia would call him crass, but Hajime would ride his ass for showing himself in mixed company (even though considering Juvia as anything more than a sister was comical to him). It wasn't exactly like they had much of a choice otherwise, though. The only way through here was by horse or donkey and cart. There were no trains, no vehicles, and although Gajeel could appreciate a people who knew how to live with the land as well as on it, he fucking hated riding in a cart.
"Fucks sakes..." Gajeel swore after one particularly rough stretch of trail made his stomach twist and dive like the vultures circling off in the distance, "and we have to ride all the way back?"
"Ya know what I didn't miss about takin' missions with ye?" Hajime huffed, "How much ye fuckin' complain."
"Oh, shut up old man," Gajeel bit back, "or we'll walk all the way back."
"If Gajeel wants to walk, Juvia will meet him back in Chia," Juvia sighed, opening up her parasol to offer herself the slimmest bit of reprieve from the sun's scorch, "It's hot."
"It's the desert, Rain Woman, what did ya expect?"
This country was very different than anything Gajeel was familiar with. It was all dry flatlands this far south with pockets of thriving life wherever people proved tough enough to break ground. Although Gajeel was accustomed to unbearably hot summers and dry spells from his time in Phantom Lord, it had nothing on the desert. This was the Z'thowsa de Aure's country, land that they had cultivated and thrived on since before Fiore had much history to speak of. It wasn't a complex living, no large houses or sprawling streets, or even much in the way of Magic. The Auré were cut from a different cloth, building their houses from stone the same way they had done in generations past. They didn't use lacrima and as far as Gajeel knew, no wizards had ever been born from their people, at least none of notoriety.
They were approaching Chuparosa, a small village on the edge of the Sonoyta River. Gajeel was relieved that they slowed their pace as soon as the wooden stakewall loomed in the distance, and took his chance to bail out and walk behind their tiny caravan through the bean farms that ringed the town. There were farmers in wide, straw hats working the field, filling the baskets strapped to their hips with vibrant green. They all stopped in turn to eye the travelers entering their home, all wearing masks of caution that made Gajeel wonder just how often the people around here saw tourists. If it were just Gajeel and Juvia out here, that might have worried him. But as it was, Hajime was leading their way through the dirt streets as soon as their cart came to a stop.
The honest truth is that most mercenaries don't live to see retirement, forced or otherwise. The life expectancy of a killer for hire drops to a few weeks as soon as their first contract is signed, and if they're lucky those odds will only improve over time. But even good mercs aren't expected to live to their late twenties, fewer still into their late thirties. As far as contract killers went, Hajime was about the equivalent of a sage. He had more than experience, more than desirability, more than notoriety. Hajime had connections, and they ran about as deep as a network of veins and worked just as relentlessly when called upon. Consequentially, Hajime even had a friend among the Auré, an equally well-aged individual by the name of Miztli who owned a thatch-roofed shop towards the center of the little village. Miztli, though, wasn't home.
"If that ain't my fuckin' luck," Gajeel growled as they stood in front of the empty shack decorated with vivid, glass-bead tapestries.
"Calm down, lad," Hajime replied evenly, "fer all we know, they could be back this evening."
"I can't waste all day doin' nothing," he griped, "I gotta get home."
"Get home? We just got here."
Gajeel clicked his teeth, "I still gotta go ta therapy..."
"Great, yeah... so that still gives ye a few days."
"Gajeel wants to get back home early," Juvia interjected, and ignoring Gajeel's pointed glare, she shot Hajime a look, "He has a date."
"A date," Hajime scoffed, "Don't ya think this might be a tad more important than gettin' laid?"
"We ain't been able to see each other much," Gajeel defended, suddenly finding one of the patterns hanging on the wall extremely interesting. It was full of fiery oranges, reds, and purples. Bright, he liked bright.
"And I ain't seen my wife in months because of your bullshit."
"Don't go blamin' me. I told ya to pull out, didn't I?"
"Remind me ta never do ya a favor again," Hajime muttered, rolling his eyes.
"What do we do, now?" Juvia asked, picking at her dress.
Hajime sighed, "Well, if ye're wantin' results quick, guess that means gettin' down to it the old-fashioned way."
Gajeel curled his lip, "I hate the old-fashioned way."
The old-fashioned way wasn't exactly difficult, it just typically generated something that Gajeel wasn't too keen on getting: attention. The whole point of meeting with Miztli was to avoid it, because Miztli - like most people who deal in the heart of their towns – was one of those people who sort of know all the goings-on. Without them, it meant their little group was about to go snooping around in a village that could recognize bad news from a mile away. Gajeel wasn't thrilled with the idea of sticking out, especially recently, and there wasn't a shadow big enough for him to hide in here where the sun was so bright and uninhibited.
Hajime decided that the best way to handle asking questions would be to be as honest as possible. They were looking for their friend, Krew, who sort of looked and talked like the rest of them, so that would probably check out. Tan with greasy hair, a rough accent from the north, and a briefcase close beside him at all times, there wouldn't have been another person to come through with a description like that, they were sure. Despite being obviously suspicious of the outsiders, most of the people were about as honest as Gajeel could have hoped. Krew had stuck out just as sorely as they did and so almost everyone in the village had noticed him passing through. It didn't take too much questioning before they were pointed to a raised building towards the center of the village. The local shaman lived there, and Krew had spoken to him before leaving early the next morning. If they were going to get a direction to go in, it would be from him.
Hajime put his best foot forward as they approached, all smiles and genial for the sake of winning people over. It wasn't exactly easy when you looked the rugged way the old man did, but he'd had years to cultivate this persona. The crow's feet, helped, and Gajeel was quick to point it out at Hajime's expense. The man ignored him, and knocked on the door of the hut.
The elderly man that answered was nearly a head shorter than Gajeel, with haphazardly trimmed, white hair and coal-dark eyes. He was dressed in a flowing, white tunic and pants, trimmed in bright and brilliant colors made from the same beads hanging in Miztli's shop. Despite the canyons that mapped his face with age, his eyes were vibrant and clear. He regarded the three travelers not with caution, but with a sort of expectance one might have just before hearing the first 'hello' of a conversation. His eyes quite suddenly fixed on Gajeel, scrutinizing him before the man nodded in what seemed to be acceptance, and for some reason Gajeel had the feeling he knew they'd be coming.
"Eh..." Hajime began, a little taken back, "Good afternoon, sir. We've been wanderin' 'round lookin' fer a friend of ours and was told ye might be knowin' where to find 'em?"
The old man didn't reply. Instead, he reached behind the door and pulled out a walking stick. He crossed his arms and stayed in the doorway. He was looking directly at Gajeel, lips in a flat, unreadable line. And Gajeel, not wanting to seem intimidated, set his jaw and met his stare right back.
"Ye are Master Ohmara?" Hajime asked and when the old man didn't reply, he cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Maybe he doesn't understand?" Juvia said quietly, "Should we ask someone from the village?"
They heard a voice call from the bottom of the rise, "Ah! Hold on! So sorry!"
The old man in the doorway frowned, finally breaking his staring contest from Gajeel to gaze disapprovingly at whomever was fast approaching. Gajeel slowly followed suit and found himself staring at a young man, barely more than a teenager, racing up the hill towards them. His hair was long, fastened in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had a large straw hat similar to those of the farmers they'd seen on their way in, except that it was adorned with tassels that wiggled back and forth with each step he took. His shirt was embroidered cerulean and blue with geometric shapes and symbols. In the middle of his chest, there was what looked to be a sun outlined in bright red thread.
The man came to a halt and he wiped the sweat off his brow before sticking out a hand towards Hajime, "Hallo, yes, you were here for Papá Ohmara?"
"And yer him?" Gajeel growled. The man laughed.
"Ah, no... I am Teiyah, but um, Tai for short," he smiled, "I am apprentice shaman, here, and grandson to Ohmara, ah... translator, as well. You ah, you met Papá, I see?"
Papá Ohmara said something, and from the sounds of it he wasn't happy. But that wasn't what threw Gajeel off so much. What threw him off was how the words rolled off his tongue. He could practically taste the syllables in his mouth, his teeth and tongue could trace them, and it was no less startling to hear Tai's reply. If Davian's language was a strange, bastardization of Draconic, then maybe this was the watered-down version. It was familiar and yet completely different. Gajeel would catch a word and it would ring like he should understand what the two were saying only for it to completely lose its meaning. It was agitating and confusing, and Gajeel didn't like it.
He was quickly realizing he didn't like most things around these parts.
"So, um, you were looking for friend? Small man, um, skinny? Bag in hand?" Tai asked.
"Yes, our buddy, Krew," Hajime confirmed.
"Yes, Krew, that was the name. Sailor kept coming to mind and I knew that was wrong," Tai huffed, shaking his head and making the tassels on his hat wave again, "The pottery man."
"Pottery man?" Gajeel wrinkled his nose.
"Archeologist, I think he means," Hajime interjected quickly, "We're terribly sorry fer troublin' ye. If yens could point us in his direction, we can be gettin' out of yer way."
"Mm-mm," Papá Ohmara shook his head fervently. Tai crossed his arms and rattled something back but Ohmara didn't seem swayed in the slightest. He merely shook his head and muttered a couple fierce words.
"Ah, Papá is a superstitious man. He says it is not wise to search for your friend," Tai explained, "He is with the missing."
"Right," Gajeel growled, "That's why we gotta find 'im."
Hajime schooled him with a look, "Where was he goin', if I could ask? He wasn't exactly explicit with his whereabouts when he left..."
"Well, your friend, he was looking for Oragatohl'i-" Ohmara clicked his teeth and spat on the ground. "-is actually not a far walk from here. Only a few miles."
"He was looking for... what?" Hajime asked.
Gajeel's stomach twisted and he snarled, "God's Throat."
It surprised him that Tai would look so interested all of sudden. Gajeel hadn't really been thinking when he'd spoken, he was more musing aloud than he really was answering Hajime's question. It bothered him how Ohmara had fallen extremely still, his dark eyes once again snapping towards him. He didn't like that look, guarded and suspicious, like he'd just done something wrong. He chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from shooting him back a glare.
"You know the Old Language?" Tai asked.
"I know an old language..." Gajeel muttered, "Draconic."
"Draconic? Well maybe that is it."
Gajeel opened his mouth to scoff and say no, Draconic and whatever shit language Davian spoke were not the same, but before he could get that out, Ohmara had started speaking. There was a command to his voice, and he was speaking straight to Gajeel.
"Ah... Papá is asking if you are wanting to go to God's Throat."
"Ya said that's where Krew went..."
Ohmara shook his head and spoke again.
"Ah, not friend. Do you wish to go?"
Gajeel eyed Ohmara. The old man had a strangely dark look about him, like maybe he was preparing lead someone to a very unpleasant demise. Gajeel didn't like that in the slightest either, but he supposed that was just par for the course at this point. He narrowed his eyes at the old man.
"Yes."
Ohmara clicked his teeth and rattled something off to Tai. He sort of pushed his way through them, although Juvia and Hajime rushed out of his way as soon as they realized what he was doing. Tai looked confused before shrugging.
"He says he'll take you."
"Eh... thank-thank ye kindly," Hajime chuckled nervously.
"Is fine. I would have taken you either way," Tai dismissed with a wave of his hand. Ohmara said something and Tai rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, Papá. Only respect."
Once again, they were outside the palisade and dammit if it didn't somehow seem hotter. At least following the river there were trees for them to walk under, although the foliage did little to block out the sun. Crowding the river's edge were all sorts of palms, cottonwood, and desert willows with dainty purple flowers just barely in bloom in the hot sun. The brush was dry and briery, catching at their clothes if they walked to close. Tai twisted stories about althorn and catclaw, motioning around like he was taking them on a fun tour.
The sage Ohmara walked faster than Gajeel would have thought, especially given how he had a cane. His face was set in a disconcerted frown and Gajeel could catch that certain bitter scent he had come to associate with fear, although as thin as it was around the shaman Gajeel would probably describe it as wariness. But the old man seemed calm, if alert, which was in stark contrast to his grandson who seemed completely at ease as he chatted away nonstop.
"I've not been very far north, only so far as Pannoque mountain," he was talking to Juvia, the two taking up the rear of their little campaign through the oasis.
"Why doesn't Tai travel if it's something that interests him?" Juvia asked, tucking some of her navy hair out of the way.
"I will be shaman one day, so I must devote myself to rigorous study! There is no time for such things," he explained rather cheerfully, "But I do enjoy hearing the stories of travelers."
"Well, now, if it's stories yer in the mood fer...!" Hajime jumped in.
Gajeel rolled his eyes as the ex-merc began spinning a tale from when he'd first travelled to Edelweiss and met his wife. Absently, he thumbed at the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, itching for one but knowing better. He needed his mind and senses to be as sharp as possible. He didn't want to jeopardize his sense of smell. He ran his eyes over the trees, the bushes, the dirt trail they were on, trying to take everything in he possibly could. There was birdsong intermingling with the idle chatter of the river and here and there Gajeel could see animal paths to the water's edge. He could see the scrapes of where a large animal with its belly pressed ground had slid into the muddy brown water. It would have been easy to find himself falling prey to amiable nature, but he kept reminding himself that he'd learned the hard way things weren't always what they seemed.
"You have the spirit of a great beast," Ohmara spoke slowly but his eyes were sharp as they watched Gajeel. The corner of the elderly man's mouth pulled up at Gajeel's cautious look, an amused sparkle coming to his eye, "Do you speak?"
Gajeel could only guess he meant the Old Language, whatever its real name was. But Gajeel didn't, he could barely understand it. It was just similar enough to him to make sense but there was a nuance to it he wasn't sure he'd be able to master, if he even wanted to. Davian had seemed able to understand him when he spoke Draconic, though, so he figured that maybe it would be the same.
"No," he replied curtly, "I don't."
"You understand," Ohmara amended.
"Barely."
Gajeel narrowed his eyes at the old man, focused on him as closely as he could. The thought slowly shifted up through his mind that he only knew one person who spoke the Old Language, and it was Davian Bishop. But when Gajeel breathed in, he couldn't tell if the scent was any less human than it should be. The old man didn't seem defensive, and an intent look up and down him didn't make Gajeel see him as anything more than just what he looked to be. But Gajeel could hardly trust his instincts anymore when it came to chameleons, at least not what was presented before him to be seen.
"What is God's Throat, if ye don't mind me soundin' completely ignorant?" Hajime asked, lighting himself a cigarette. Ohmara gave Tai a pointed look, but Tai just waved off his grandfather with a smile.
"Remnants of a lost time, is all. Ruins. A good history site," Tai explained. Ohmara scolded him, speaking angrily. Tai gave an exasperated sigh and then quickly masked it with a smile.
"What did he say?" Juvia asked.
"Papá says it is a place where the gods still walk, a weak point in between this world and the other," Tai's voice took an edge, sort of like he were telling a creepy story by a fireside, "And if you go and touch the alter the throat will gobble you whole, never to be seen again... or so has been passed down."
"Ye'd think ye were scared of the place," Hajime laughed.
"The elders are," Tai replied lightly, "it all seems like a ghost story to me."
Gajeel regarded Ohmara. The old man didn't seem to acknowledge his grandson's words although it was clear he understood them. Gajeel looked away when Ohmara noticed him staring.
"You believe in legends," the old man didn't phrase it like a question.
"Legends start somehow," Gajeel returned.
The old man gave him a gentle smile with normal, human teeth, "You have questions?"
"Why do you call it Oragatohl'i?"
"We do not." Ohmara stated, coming to a sudden stop in the path, "It was here before the Z'thowsa de Aure. It is the remnant of things forgotten. A bad place."
"How do you know it's bad if it was here before?" Gajeel asked, standing at the old man's side.
"We go missing."
"Why does Master Ohmara stop?" Juvia asked tentatively.
Ohmara nodded to where the bushes were thick and swaying. A long, scaled snout was resting just at the edge of the road. A lizard, Gajeel realized, and a big one at that, probably the size of a small dog. It looked nearly black in the undergrowth and its scales glistened like it had been freshly waxed. It flickered out its tongue as it slowly stepped forward, edging itself from the cover of the brush. A large orange and yellow eye turned to watch them as it swung its clawed foot forward, lazily walking into their way.
Lizards. Of course, there would be lizards.
"Ah, sorry friends," Tai stepped to Ohmara's other side and crossed his arms, "We must wait."
"Wait?" Hajime asked, his skepticism seeping into his voice more than he probably wanted it to, "For the lizard to pass?"
"It is his path, after all," Tai nodded, "We show respect to the anak and the anak will show respect to us in turn."
Hajime's eyebrows hitched up high on his forehead, but other than that he didn't make another sound.
"Juvia has never seen a lizard so big," Juvia whispered. Gajeel grunted his reply.
As the monitor meandered by, Ohmara bowed over his cane and muttered something. He rose slowly, balling up his fist and holding his knuckles against the flat of his straightened hand. To Gajeel's surprise, Tai made the same gesture as the creature passed, although he seemed a little less reverent about it. They stood there in silence until it was gone and the bushes had stopped shivering from its passing.
"Well..." Tai grinned, taking the lead, "Shall we go? It is not too much farther, now."
Gajeel found himself gravitating towards Ohmara again, and he certainly wasn't typically someone attracted to wisdom. Information, though, he was after. Maybe the old man lived through a curtain of superstition and legend, but that didn't make anything he had to say useless by any means. Gajeel had meant what he'd said. Legends start somehow, even if it wasn't as glorious as people initially made it out to be. But Gajeel felt the need to be careful. Despite Ohmara seeming to just be an old shaman, he didn't trust how well he knew Davian's language. He'd had to have learned it, if not by studying himself then by one of the lizard people. Having deference towards lizards certainly didn't help ease Gajeel's suspicions.
"You look at me as if I mean you harm," Ohmara said, that glint coming back to his eye.
Gajeel tried not to snarl, "I don't trust you."
"Why?"
Should he be honest? Would it even matter? If this were a trap the old man had set, Gajeel was sure they'd already fallen for it. He supposed the old man had fought to keep them from going, though. There was just something about him, the soft, humanness of him, Gajeel didn't want to resent him. Maybe that was all part of the game. He hated how much he had to guess.
"How do you know the Old Language?"
"Would you believe me if I told you?" he mused aloud. The old man chuckled at Gajeel's obvious mistrust, but very quickly became serious. He didn't answer Gajeel's question, and that didn't sit very well with him, "Do you know the face of your friend?"
"Of course," Gajeel scoffed, not even trying to hide his agitation.
Ohmara's voice turned stern, "Do you know it well?"
Gajeel curled his lip, "Does it matter?"
Ohmara shook his head and stopped, resting his hands over his walking stick, "If you do not know what it is you seek in Oragatohl'i, then you will join the missing."
"Good thing I know, then," Gajeel snarled.
"My daughter was to be shaman until she passed by Oragatohl'i on her way home from a long journey. I cannot remember why, so much knowledge of her is lost to me. She has joined the missing and no one remembers her face, not even her own son." Ohmara sighed and he gazed over at his grandson who was still talking with Hajime, an easy-going smile stretched across his face, "Your spirit is not one of a man. I will pray it guards you on your journey."
"Papá will not go any closer to the ruins," Tai was explaining, motioning them to continue, "I will take you to the edge but after that you are on your own, my friends."
The old man bowed to them and then picked a nearby rock to recline on. He crossed his arms over his cane again and rested his forehead against them. Gajeel furrowed his brow, hesitant to just leave him there alone.
"Gajeel?" Juvia called, already quite a ways down the path ahead, "Is something wrong?"
"No..." Gajeel said slowly, and then quickly picked up the pace to catch up.
Gajeel wasn't all that surprised when as they approached there seemed to be less and less life. The trees became sparser and they found themselves walking on ground that was more sand than dirt. The birdsong had stopped and Gajeel felt uneasiness twist in his stomach at the silence. Juvia took to walking closer to Gajeel. She closed her parasol and tucked it away, feeling more of a need to be ready and vigilant. Even Hajime's lighthearted banter became more forced, and he was running his eyes over the stone structures puncturing the sky in the distance. Columns, four of them, carved from the red stone that they walked on.
"Here we are, friends. God's Throat," Tai declared with a smile as they approached the shadow of the columns, "You can really feel the history, eh?"
"There's one way ta put it," Hajime muttered.
"Ah, did Papá's ghost story get to you?" he laughed.
"What was this place?" Juvia asked.
"We're not really sure. The elders ban us from entering, so all we have is the old stories," Tai explained, gesturing towards the columns, "The Auré came here after the witch hunts. Much of what was here had been burned and the first people killed or moved elsewhere. But the land here is good for farming, so we came in their absence. They did not build with stone like we do, so we can only guess this place was important to them."
"Like a meeting house?" Hajime asked.
"It is much larger than a meeting house, my friend. Maybe a church? Burial ground? We do not know," Tai shrugged, "The first people were a fighting sort. They often held wars with the other people nearby, including our ancestors. I often wonder if maybe it is a tomb to one of their warriors."
Gajeel caught a sound on the wind. It wasn't something inherently threatening, but it did stir a bit of restlessness inside his chest. Like instinct, he turned his head towards it and his eyes caught movement farther away in the brush. The crunch of and tear of bones from meat, the smell of blood, he let it all sort of wash over him. Gajeel narrowed his eyes to try and make out what was in the process of taking its meal.
"Lad?" Hajime asked.
Gajeel wrinkled his nose. It was another one of those lizards, much larger than the one that crossed their path. There were others with it digging into what may have been a deer or large goat. In the light of the sun, unobstructed by the tree's shade, Gajeel took notice that they were deep, navy blue, not black, and they turned a deep teal towards the fronts of their faces, the bottoms of their feet, and down the tips of their tails. The dark scales of the animals were iridescent, casting rainbows down their bodies each time they wrenched free a chunk of meat.
"Ah, more of the anak. You will see a lot of them here," Tai hummed, "But they do not attack people, so you have nothing to worry for."
"Anak," Gajeel hummed the word, curling his tongue around it like it was something bitter. Was there a reason why the word meant something like children in Draconic? With the temple beginning to loom over the sparse trees, he was finding it hard to think not, "Got any ghost stories about them?"
"You enjoy the legends?" Tai laughed, taking the lead again.
Gajeel smiled back at him, "What can I say, I like scary stories."
"Ah, I hate to disappoint, friend. There is nothing scary about the anak. They are like, ah, big dogs with forked tongues. Gentle beasts as long as they have eaten recently," Tai said, "They used to run everywhere but now they mostly stick to the ruins. They prefer their solitude and we prefer them out of our goats."
"Ah, I'd trade ye. We have wolves and bears up where I'm from, an' they will cause some harm if yer not careful," Hajime said.
"They do keep the coyotes away," Tai laughed.
They were nearly under the shadow of one of the columns now and Gajeel could see that there was something carved into the base of them, going up maybe ten feet. It only took him a moment to realize that the grinning likenesses were skulls. Gajeel was hardly bothered by a lifelike sculpture, even if it was of human bones, but it was strange to him that it didn't seem rough or aged. Something like this, as old as it was, should show wear. But the stone was clean and clear, devoid of creeping vines or centuries of weather. The white paint seemed fresh, like it could have just been doctored yesterday. There was a glossy, silver veneer over the structures, punctuating the details. The closer they drew, Gajeel could feel the weak hum of magical energy.
"This... this is strange..." Tai muttered, alarm coloring the insouciance he'd clung to for so long, "The gateways..." he gasped, "The temple..."
It was sitting on raised ground, sort of like the shaman's house in town. Cut from red stone, the temple sat on two large levels, like steps. A staircase had been carved into the face. The open mouths of two large lizard heads sat at the bottom of the stairs, flanking the way up. The silvery sheen was over this as well, covering the deep cracks in the walls and painting over foliage, creating an image of the place in its glory. Even from here, he could see the relief of some sharp-toothed maw above the doorway, the gold that framed it and the entrance. The visage was ghostly, flickering like a blazing wildfire in the wind.
"That's Krew's magic," Hajime said, glancing over to Gajeel, "Wouldn't ya say?"
"Your friend did this?" Tai asked, the edge of fear in his voice dulling just a bit, "Ah... of course. Magicians, you always do strange things."
"Krew's got a sorta rewind magic, ta make things look like they did in tha past. He uses it ta learn..." Hajime explained, patting Tai's back, "It wears off after a day 'er so."
"Wonder if that means he's still around?" Gajeel mused, shoving his hands into his pockets and blazing forward.
"Hard ta say..."
"Well, I wish you luck on your hunt, but ah, I'm going to go wait with Papá," Tai stepped back from them, "This magic is dangerous, yes?"
"Not dangerous, really..." Hajime started, but Tai was already backing away.
"No, is no good. We will wait for your return. The sun passes the trees in a few hours. Papá and I will leave then, so, please, hurry your search..." Tai insisted, before pulling up one last friendly, but nervous, laugh, "Try not to get swallowed, friends!"
"Of course, of course," Hajime chuckled, waving him off.
The old man started mumbling to Juvia about searching for Krew's camp, since he had stayed out here for at least one night. Hopefully the lizards hadn't eaten whatever remained of it. Little chance of that, really, they were sort of everywhere. Gajeel could see several of them on the steps leading up to the temple. Big and nearly black against the red stone, they were all just basking in the sun with their heads lifted up. One would think he'd be more of a lizard fan, being raised by a dragon and all, but he held a sort of disdain for them. Reptiles weren't like dogs or even cats, they were only ruled by instinct. They didn't grow affectionate towards people. They didn't hold loyalty. They only ever seemed to have a short range of things on the mind, one of them being to eat. And in Gajeel's experience, they had a tendency to eat anything.
Something in his chest felt heavy, nearly like guilt. He felt like he was missing something, and not in the way that he was forgetting it, for once. It was a broken-puzzle feeling, an unraveled string that needed following. He could feel it as clear as those steps up to the temple. He should ggó o łloøok kk... ...
"Ye alright, lad?" Hajime asked, placing a wide hand on his shoulder.
"Fine," he growled, shaking him off, "Just thinkin'."
"We don't need ya thinkin'. We need ya trackin'."
"Don't tell me what ta do," Gajeel snapped.
"Eh?" Hajime crossed his arms, trying to make himself seem more imposing, "And just what tha hell is y-"
"Juvia found Krew's camp," Juvia called.
The old man relaxed his stance, but still shot Gajeel a glare as he turned towards her. Gajeel followed, neglecting the prickle at his wrist that demanded his attention. That cigarette sounded really good right about now, so he crossed his arms and ignored how heavy his pack suddenly felt. He was just agitated because he wanted a smoke and he hated this damn place. The red stone and the ghost imposed by Krew's magic, and all the harsh shadows kicking up now that the sun was starting to swing down, it just bothered him. It didn't help that the lizards were starting to pop up even more as they approached the remains of the camp. They all stopped and stared, their pupils dilating and contracting as they took them in, like children watching strangers pass through their garden. It was unnerving.
"It looks like the anak did a number here," Hajime sighed, kicking over what was probably Krew's tent. Juvia was rifling through the fabric, her hands popping through tears in the canvas. There was an old can with the top of it torn open and claw marks along the sides from where something had tried to scavenge what was left after it had been discarded. The fire had been kicked out. It was hard to tell if the warmth was from how recently it had been doused or because it had been setting in the desert sun all day. There was no smoke, no embers, just ash and the black marks from claws and bodies dragging through them.
"Juvia thinks this is still pretty fresh."
It was. The camp probably hadn't been up for more than a day before it had been torn down. Gajeel could see stakes in the ground from where Krew had pitched his tent, probably to stave off the wind as night set in. There was line still tied to the stakes, but the poles had been snapped. Watching Juvia turn it over in her hands, Gajeel couldn't see any soot from the fire, and the direction of the marks from one of the anak made him think it was one of the very same that had torn down the tent after it had been abandoned.
"Where d'ya suppose he headed? The man couldn't have gotten far. Don't think 'e had a horse or anythin'..."
"All his shit is gone," Gajeel growled, "He left."
"It does seem that way," Juvia sighed, "Where does Gajeel think he could have gone?"
"Hell, Juv, I'd have to see a map or somethin'," he snarled.
Hajime crossed his arms and sort of turned that over in his head, "Ya know... there might've been somewhere he was headed."
Juvia perked up and Gajeel rolled his eyes at the dramatics Hajime put on. The old man was a little ridiculous sometimes. Gajeel didn't know if he even realized it or not.
"There's a prison near here, see, where Davian has been sendin' people off. They sorta disappear before they make it."
"Hajime has talked about this before. He thinks maybe that's where Krew went?"
Poking around prisons was just about the last thing Gajeel wanted to do, especially given how he was already staring down one every week. While Hajime started talking about whatever small-fish prison was out in the desert, he wasn't doing much listening. Gajeel had taken to tracing the lizard tracks with his eyes, following them as they scurried off into the desert. Not even ten feet away, one of the anak was sitting on a stone. Actually, looking a little more closely at it, it wasn't really a stone. It was another carving of one of those lizard heads and the detail was warn away and hard to discern. Where those feathers or scales? Actually, it might have been hair.
Gajeel looked over at the temple. Whatever Krew's range of influence had been, it must have stopped several yards away, forming something of a bubble just large enough to encapsulate the bottoms of the pillars. He wondered what Krew had been looking for all the way out here. If it had something to do with figuring out who Father was, would it do him much good to just stand around out here? He must have gone inside, why else restore it? Krew must have gone inside. Maybe he was just lost, swallowed, whatever. He probably needed to go track his ass down, bring him back into the light. He needed to ggö oô įín ńsš i dde ęe. ...
Gajeel could make out old footprints leading up to the temple. The ground sounded strange as it crunched beneath his feet, like an echo maybe, or a whisper. It just didn't really feel like it was real. The noise was muted like he was walking under the cover of snow-laden branches. He didn't mind the heat so much when he thought of it that way. Actually, with the breeze the way it was, he might have felt a little chilly.
It was strange how suddenly he was reminded of a place very different from where he was. Metalicana used to take him up to the mountains to drink from the spring water at the top, where the sky met with the peak and the clouds spilled down the great giant's shoulders like a waterfall. He missed being able to kiss the sky, how his lungs found it hard to bring in enough air when they were so high.
He passed by the mouths of the lizards. It wasn't hair carved into the stone, it was scales and feathers. Scales and feathers. He didn't know any lizards with feathers. Maybe it was a mix of the anak and a bird. There weren't a lot of birds around here, though, not pretty ones. Even though the stone wasn't painted, he was sure those feathers were supposed to be teal and royal blue and iridescent... like the scales of the children.
Gajeel missed going up the mountains, but he didn't really miss the climb. He used to jump from a low-hanging tree branch and cling to Metalicana's tail. He'd hold on for his dear life as his dad dug trenches into the cliff face with his talons, hoisting them up in a few massive strides. He didn't use his wings because he enjoyed the strain on his legs. He liked the feel of all the tiny particles of rock and metal shifting beneath his weight. He'd join them one d day, he used to say, they all would. He'd turn to ś stone and then to du ûstt and then be scattered all acros sš s the earth like every other d dragon, man, or b be åa st before. One day someone would e ę æat t them. What was better than such a beautiful cycle? The earth will sustain life forever in this cycle of give and take. Every living thing is just so much carbon and bad timing, energy forever shifting from one form to another. That was why the humans worship. It's why they must give because they're always doing so much taking. Humans destroy if they're left unchecked. They dig and plunder and murder and hate. Ugly things, humans. Dark things. They don't understand the importance of sacrifice. They don't understand the need to give back. Become one with the earth and the cycle. They try to run from it but it will always catch them. The ouroboros, the dragon that eats itself, the circle, infinity, forever, god and humanity, the universe and all of its thousands of reiterations and retellings and teeth at the doorway opening wide
"G...j..."
The children are watching. There's a figure in the doorway. Its head scrapes the bricks.
/';.. - -,..;#;.-R RRûuú u üńn n,/^,..; ;. ;-';..
Gajeel started to run up the steps. He liked to run. He liked to escape. To thrill, to push, to climb, to be in motion fluid and never ending. He was a motor and a belt, a constant rotation, a conveyor that churned into forever. A part of him always moved, be it mind or body, and the only way he ever seemed able to properly turn one off was to turn on the other. He couldn't handle it anymore. His wrists were itching and he wanted to dig his nails in.
The children are watching and there's a figure in the doorway. Its head scrapes the bricks. There are people praying at the base of the temple. The equinox is approaching and you have to ; ;.-'; b bbe ę c cl éea nñn -,..;#.
"Gaj...!"
Gajeel felt open and simple and as chaotic as the winds that tumble from the mountains. He could feel his heart leap into his throat like it was trying to evacuate, to crawl into the cracks of the stone and make its home amongst the insufferable. His sweat slicked down his neck and somehow it felt like freedom. Freedom was summertime spent in running mountains and nights that breathed. Freedom was a river on fire with the sunrise and making god a liar. It was dogwoods and weeping cherry trees and empress trees snowing petals and sweet perfume. It was white clover and chickweed and dandelions and yellow woodsorrel and all of those things called with a snarl and harsh lip weeds.
But weeds thrive, don't they? Weeds spread and populate and infest and choke and climb where they're not supposed to, where no other can bare witness and brave they plague and bully and push stubborn roots to rock if they have to. Gajeel begged not to be sentimental, but he never found what was so bad about weeds. They were flowers too, weren't they? They were sustenance? Staple? Why is it the thing that lives when all else falls labelled ugly? Why can't it just be beautiful? Why can't he just be -;; . .,/, bb eæ a uû tti ifu ll l ll;-? -; . ,?
The children are watching and there's a figure in the doorway. Its head scrapes the bricks. There are people praying at the base of the temple. The equinox is approaching and you have to be clean. It reaches out its hand and the sun can't touch it so it waits in the shadow of the temple. You are creation both haunted and holy, nearly complete, nearly complete, w woø ul dn't .- ' yyÿo óø õ u ú.- ~_- l lłli ke ęe*^,#`~_- t tto.;#;.- ; b bë ee. ;- .,/, bb eæ a uû tti ifu ll l;-? -;; . , ?,?
"Gaj...l!"
The figure vanished just when Gajeel would have grabbed its hand. He stumbled into the temple and caught himself with his hands. The sound of his fall echoed back at him off of the tall steps and every flat surface in the place. He felt confused. Why wasn't he in the mountains? The silver shine of the stone beneath him and the glyphs on the walls wasn't what he had expected. There were carvings all across the walls of something... something fighting a dragon. Gajeel pushed himself up and gazed around him. There were pictures of men decorated like warriors walking up the steps to someone waiting, someone with a headdress of feathers and a mask of a skull. There was something in his hand. Something gold...
Gajeel heard a shuffle and a voice, a whisper coming from a gaping hole in the middle of the floor. There were stairs leading down into more illuminated ground. Gajeel approached it, straining to hear. There were two of them just outside of his earshot. He could hear their voices droning, the lifts and dips of speech, and he thought if only he could get a little closer he'd be able to understand what they were saying. He stepped down into the stairway and the stone closed around him as he descended to where the heat of the sun could never quite venture.
There were reliefs covering the walls of people on their knees praying. Some upright with mouths open and others kneeling down low, lower, until at the farthest end of the hall the worshipers had their faces to the ground, hands splayed on the floor in complete surrender. There were golden bowls and an altar fixed into the wall decorated with teal stones and long feathers. Ah, not the alter, a mask. The feathers seemed new, shimmering dully in the dim light cast by the magic, and they formed a long headdress around the front of a skull. It was gilded and stones had been set into it. Gajeel ran his fingers across it, across red splatters that had never been washed off. He could feel beneath his fingers a void of life. What was it like on?
One of the children, large and sleek and black, was laying against the altar and its tongue slid out lazily as it watched him approach, not minding his presence any more than it had every other. It didn't turn its head when he heard the whispers, but Gajeel was sure it could hear them. There was another door to his right and more stairs downward. Gajeel turned and followed, running his fingers over the guards carved into the walls.
There were clothes in this chamber, half-eaten by moths and bugs and all piled neatly and stained from time. He passed by a golden bowl that held beaded necklaces and metal rings. The whispers were getting louder as he got closer to it and he glanced down at his hand and the ring resting there. He didn't really want to take it off. Did he have to? And his clothes, he didn't really want to get rid of those either. But... why? All of these things were so trivial, weren't they? They'd hardly last a decade, certainly not a millennia. Except the ring, maybe. The ring of familiar metal, something a part of him. He didn't want to take it off. Thinking about it made his wrist itch.
There was a woman in the doorway. Her dark brown hair was long and it trickled over the shoulders of her white and red coat.
"You don't have to," she said, her voice silken and gentle. She had thin wrists and she reached out her hand towards him. She smiled and her throat smiled, "you've done this once before."
He'd done this once before. He'd done this once before. He'd d d øonńe êęe ;- .,/, ~_-
"We're almost there," she promised. He took her hand and she coiled her arms around his, interlacing them and resting her head on his shoulder.
The next room smelled like dead flowers and myrrh. There were bottles of oil that hadn't been touched in the better part of a century, maybe longer. The dust was disturbed from where people had walked here before and a large, golden tub decorated with carved flowers and palms sat in the middle of the room. Something brown stained the inside of it, and it was empty. He wondered what used to fill it. Water didn't usually leave a stain like that...
Bianca vanished at the bottom of the last staircase, where the temple suddenly opened up like a massive wound into nothing but black abyss. The guards here weren't carved from stone, they had been pressed into the walls with rubies set deep into their eyes. Two full skeletons brushed at his shoulders as he walked through the entry, their jawbones lined with mortar so they'd smile for eternity. Here in this chamber, the walls were lined with row upon row upon row of carefully cleaned skulls, still the off color of tan from where the flesh had been stripped and they'd been set. How long had it taken to do this? How many were here? Were they all victims or had some of them been volunteers?
There was a bridge that led to an altar. The stone was long and carved from something older than the skulls on the walls. The deep burgundy set into the rock wasn't very old at all, probably not even a decade. It was stained in long rivulets that ran down into the ground, because who would roll the body when you came alone down here? There was a golden blade on the altar, laying as if it had gently been placed. Bianca was reaching for it and she watched him with a meaningful look.
Gajeel suddenly felt hesitant.
"Don't you want to know what it was all for?" she asked, her mouth and her neck smiling.
He felt numb and his wrist itched. Why did his wrist itch?
"I don't want to die."
He said it like a reflex, like he didn't really mean it but had been trained to say it anyway. Bianca was holding the blade in her hand, turning it over and over. The teeth on the serrated edge looked hungry. He could hear the whispers again and they sounded like they were coming from the pit. There were more of them now, many, many more.
"Do any of us die?" she asked. He took a slow step towards her.
He didn't like looking at her. Every time she spoke her throat would open, the sinews and severed veins gaping and slipping against each other. She shouldn't be able to talk, not with that slice in her neck. Why was she talking?
Gajeel itched at his wrist.
"I promised..."
It died in his mouth. What did he promise? Who did he promise to? Bianca was smiling and her throat was smiling. Something was wrong. Something was w wrõ oø nńg g g.;- .,/, ~_-
What was wrong?
There were skulls lining the walls and they were leering down at him in the dark. It was so hard to see so he had to breathe deep to be sure he was really existing in this tomb. He could smell stale blood and damp rot and lizard skins. His foot shuffled against the path and pebbles pattered down the edge, knocking off stone and skull and hard dirt and disappearing amongst the echo of empty noise. The room breathed and he felt so lightheaded being watched like this. Typically, he didn't mind an audience but his heart was racing so hard he felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He could smell old blood and rot, he could smell dirt and sand and the desert, he could smell the musk from cold-blooded children...
"Lie down," she whispered.
Her hand was on his back and he could see the knife. She seemed excited. Her shirt was wet but it didn't stick to her and he couldn't smell it. There was a clear outline for him to follow from congealed blood that had been pressed into stone. He laid down and it wasn't really uncomfortable. There were divots in the alter from all of the shoulders before his that had laid down here. Her hand slid up his hip and it made his stomach twist.
"I don't..." he started to feel dizzy again, "I don't..."
"Yes, you do," she breathed, slipping up onto the altar with him. Her knee pressed against his waist as she relaxed on top of him. His stomach buzzed and his breathing hitched. He didn't like this. Something was wrong and he didn't like this.
"I don't like this..." his words were so small he felt like he might have just swallowed them. Her neck was open and it shivered when she laughed. There was no blood. Why wasn't there any blood? Why didn't he smell any blood?
Gajeel felt something in his mind shift into place, "I killed you."
"You did," she reassured him, slipping a hand up his cheek while the other let the knife rest at his throat, "but it wasn't your fault."
"It... wasn't..." because someone else was there. He wasn't crazy. Someone else had been there. Bianca, he'd killed Bianca. So, who was this? He started to feel nauseous, "You're dead... I killed you..."
Her form wavered for just a moment, breaking apart and coming back together. The knife slipping down his neck stopped in the middle of his sternum. Gajeel's wrist itched and he wanted to scratch it but he couldn't move his hands. He gritted his teeth. He... he couldn't move his hands. He couldn't move his hands. Panic surged up his throat and her form splintered again, scales surging up the split in her throat before scattering away like roaches on her skin. Her eyes widened and one of them flushed with yellow. It was wrong. It was wrong. It was wrõ oø n-
He grabbed the hand holding the knife and twisted. The noise that came out of her was like a hiss and he heard the knife clatter off to the side. He tried to get his feet beneath him as the glamour ruptured, to get out from under whoever was on top of him, but he was at a disadvantage. With lightning speed, the free hand rushed around and grabbed him by the throat, slamming him back into the rock. White stars burst from behind his eyes and he choked as nails dug into his skin. He snarled and arched his back, trying to shake them off but there was an insane amount of strength behind the hand that held him down and he was thrown back down into the altar with a loud crack. He gasped through the spots in his vision.
"Well, look at youuu~..."
Gajeel squinted his eyes open and was greeted by rows of sharp teeth. Blue scales ran down his long neck and thinned around his jaw, revealing copper skin and one grinning, yellow eye. There was a patch over his left eye and tattoos cutting across his right. He was covered in those glowing scars. They disappeared down his throat, beneath what Gajeel could see of his shirt. Something flashed back and forth behind him but Gajeel couldn't tell what it was. He was too busy glaring up into the face of what had to be one of Davian's siblings. The resemblance was... creepy.
"You do not disappoint, do you?" he hummed, tilting his head to the side. He had long black hair, nearly as long as Bianca's, and not tied. It fanned out around him with a life of its own, as opalescent as the anak's scales.
"Who the fuck're you?" Gajeel growled out beneath constricting fingers.
He didn't respond, only grinned. Gajeel could see a black tongue on the other side of his serrated teeth. Gajeel could feel the psychedelic pull from the Chameleon as he tried to reactivate his glamour. His mind spun viciously, like he'd had too much to drink or even more to smoke. He gasped and writhed, pushing up his hips to try and throw him off, to wriggle free, but only managed to dampen his concentration. The Chameleon chuckled dryly, eyes ever-widening.
"How interesting..."
"Piss off!"
He clicked his teeth, "Oh, come now, I just want a good look at you."
Fingers tangled into Gajeel's hair and forced his head back. The man crouched above him rocked onto his toes and his body drew still.
"There you are..." Gajeel could feel his breath on his chin. His eye crinkled at the edge and Gajeel felt his mind hum. He screamed and tried to pull away but his hands were stronger than concrete holding him in place, "So this is what all the fuss is about, hm?"
He felt like he was being violated. A hot, hungry presence ripped down his spine. He felt several things at once and none of them made sense. He felt confused and small, angry, ferocious, and lustful. He gasped and fought and was forced deeper into the stone. All the while the bastard over him just smiled, and his smile seemed... familiar.
"Oh no, oh no," he simpered down at him, "Are you onto me? Oh my, look at you... are you trying to make it all make sense? You really do see past it all, don't you?"
"I'll show you exactly what I see," Gajeel growled, "Ya get off me and fight me like a man."
"But I am so much more than just a man, aren't I?" he hummed, leaning down so that his forehead brushed his own, "A woman," his figure blurred and for an instant, Gajeel was staring into Bianca's face again, "A friend," he shifted again, his skin lightening, his hair cropping short and scars scorching down his throat. Ezal, he'd turned into Ezal, "Even someone you care very much about..."
"You... bastard..." Gajeel dug his nails into his skin as he shifted back. His hand turned back into talons and his tail slithered up to hang by his ear. Delicate feathers danced in his line of sight, shimmering in the dank light. Gajeel shifted his weight on his ankles, trying to get them beneath him, trying to think of a way to get free, "What do you want from me?"
"Personally?" he sighed as if he had to think it over, "Not much, really. I'd love to cut you open, pick you apart, figure out how that body of yours really works..." his eyes lolled off to the side, his expression tipping towards manic before he snapped his attention back to the struggling man beneath him, "But it's not about what I want, is it? It is far more important to feed the gods."
Gajeel scoffed, "There are no gods."
"Of course, there are gods," the Chameleon chuckled, "Why do you think this place was built?"
"They ain't done shit for me..."
"They haven't?" he asked, a sly lilt pulling up the end of his words, "Or maybe you just don't know the right questions to ask... the right offerings to give..."
Gajeel rocked his hips and threw his entire body into rolling. He knew it was too easy to flip himself on top of him and pin him down. He knew it but he did it anyway, grabbing a hold of the Chameleon by his biceps and forcing them down. He hardly struggled, and actually raised his hands above his head like he was offering to surrender. He could feel that tail swishing back and forth behind him, flicking about like an amused cat's. He didn't look scared in the slightest, in fact, he somehow seemed even more smug. Gajeel didn't see the golden knife, so he summoned his scales, casting them both in his eerie green light for just a moment. Now, at least, they both had claws.
"Come now, Dragon Slayer, no need to be so defensive..." he purred.
"What does Father want with me?" Gajeel snapped.
The Chameleon's smile waned, "Father?"
"Yes, Father," he snarled, "Ya gonna play stupid now?"
"No, no, I know exactly what it is you're asking. I suppose I'm just surprised."
"Surprised?"
"Well it wasn't Father who got you down here to the altar, was it?" his eye lolled off to the side. Gajeel felt long fingers beneath his skin thread down his back, prying, searching. He shuddered, "No... it was Bianca, wasn't it?"
"It was you,"
"What was it...? Oh yes. Don't you want to know what it was all for?" he asked. Gajeel felt him shift beneath him, the long tail caught between them curled around his thigh and then slid away, "Don't want to know why she did everything she did to you?"
"I know why."
"Do you, Dragon Slayer? Was it all just to get that illustrious venom of yours?"
Gajeel bared his teeth, "That's not important!"
"Isn't it?"
"No! It isn't!" Gajeel picked him up and slammed him back into the altar in his rage, "Stop dodging the fucking question!"
"I'm dodging?" the bastard laughed, "The only one dodging anything here is you, Dragon Slayer."
"Answer me!" Gajeel turned his arm into a blade and thrusted it against his throat. The Chameleon was grinning like a madman now. His tongue flickered out of his mouth, "What in the hell does Father want with me?!"
"You're asking the wrong question."
"I know it's a fucking ritual," Gajeel snarled, slamming him back into the altar. He could feel the stone crack beneath the force. The chameleon grinned, "Tell me what it does."
"Everything is ritual, Dragon Slayer..."
"Answer the question!"
"Do you not sacrifice a piece of yourself every time to call upon your magic? Everything in this world is a battle of give and take. If you want an answer so badly, then you have to be ready to sacrifice."
"And what's to stop me from sacrificing you?" Gajeel pressed the edge of his iron blade hard against his throat, digging in until it slipped beneath navy scales.
"An interesting idea, isn't it?" his tongue slid passed his lips, nearly flicking Gajeel in the face, "And I'm sure you wouldn't hesitate to kill me, would you? You've killed so many, after all..."
Gajeel winced at the sudden sharp pain that lanced through his skull.
"How many has it been? Tens? Dozens? You're an incredible warrior, wouldn't you say? So much blood on your hands..."
A picture of Phantom Lord surged to the front of his vision, blocking out anything he could see. He could see Jose, his grinning teeth, talking. It was gibberish, but somehow Gajeel understood. A mission, he was being sent on...
"Stop it...!" Gajeel gasped as the picture changed. He was pushing his knife into someone's chest, holding them by their throat. There was dark hair and... he couldn't... he couldn't really see who it was, "Get outta my head!"
"But it's such a lovely place to be..."
He had to š st tøoöpp p,..; . ;- --
"Get out of my head!" Gajeel yelled.
"Gajeel!" the voice sounded faint, but someone was yelling for him. It was echoing distantly, somewhere, "Gajeel!"
"Well, well, he has friends. Wouldn't it be terrible if someone went missing...?"
"Goddammit…" probing turned into pain. Those invisible fingers that clutched and tugged at vague were now digging, rifling, tearing. He felt heat and a scream stuck in his throat. Scars started igniting like they were fresh wounds; the ghosts of nails and knives rebranded his skin. Somehow, he knew the bastard was grinning at him, his mouth getting wider, and something was glowing gold.
"Tthęerrêe y ÿyoøu ù åarręe ēe…" the words fragmented into whispers and murmurs, "…aãl łl I ñ nēeęd dd… iįs šs ø ońne ę g ggóod d lłooõk kk…"
"Gajeel!"
Red light flooded his vision and everything in his body snapped straight in pain. It was just a moment, not even that, but still it made him taste metal in his mouth. He fell back into his hands, stunned and aching. His arms felt weak. Everything, everything on him that had ever been in pain before… hurt…
"Yer outnumbered," Hajime yelled, "Come quietly and we won't have ta kill ye."
Gajeel weakly turned his head to see Juvia standing there with Hajime at her side. They were both gasping like they'd just been sprinting and red lighting was dancing around Hajime's fist aimed in his direction. It occurred to Gajeel that the body he'd been holding beneath him was no longer there and with dismay he cast his gaze around. Where did he…?
"Oh, how absolutely dull," his voice was garbled, here and gone again like maybe his mouth was covered. There were hums and whispers, and screams. They started quietly at first and then began to grow in volume, louder and louder until the void beneath him was filled with it, "Your friend would really be disappointed."
"What in the hell are you talkin' about?" Gajeel growled, forcing himself to stand despite the weakness in his legs, "Show yourself!"
"Do you remember why you came down here? Do you remember why you were attracted to this place?" he was smiling, the bastard was smiling, Gajeel knew it, "Because I do."
"Come out here and fight me head on!"
"Stand down, this is yer last warning!" the air around Hajime began to crackle and turn red.
The screams turned into laughter. The walls started to shiver, or maybe it was him, Gajeel couldn't tell anymore. He heard a scream and spun, trying to track it, but there was so much noise. Was it all him? It couldn't all be him?
"It's been so dull for so long…" his voice bounced out of the skulls, came from the pit, from right beside him. Gajeel's chest was aching and he was feeling dizzy again. His vision blurred, "How's about a game? Four mages came to a Temple of Oros to feed the gods… how many go home?"
Pain slammed into Gajeel's side and suddenly he was cartwheeling. He tumbled down onto the narrow walkway, his breath fleeing him as he cracked his side on the stone. Juvia rushed forward to grab him but Gajeel held out a hand to stop her, trying to quickly scramble to his feet. There was a sheer drop on either side of him and the whispers were so loud now. He pushed himself up despite the pain in his ribs. A gust of wind rushed up from the depths and it echoed around them, pulling the walls out and in, like one massive exhale.
"How many go home, Dragon Slayer?"
Gajeel stumbled and nearly fell again as the walkway shivered beneath his feet.
"Gajeel!" Juvia lunged for him again.
"Goddammit, Rain Woman! Don't come out here!"
"Tick tock," his voice reverberated through the air but it was strange. It sounded nearer than before, like Gajeel could reach out and touch it. He stumbled back as another tremor wracked the sacrificial chamber. He tried to focus on the shifting beneath his feet, to ground himself, to stand firm.
"We're all going home," Gajeel snarled into the air. The laughter started again from deep within the darkness, climbing up. He could feel it in his throat, "We're all going home... or... or I'll jump."
"Jump?" he laughed and it echoed from everywhere, "Is that the best you can do?"
Gajeel gritted his teeth, "You need me. Father needs me! What are you gonna do about yer fuckin' ritual if I'm dead? What happens when I can't be a sacrifice?"
The entire hall erupted in a new wave of screams and laughter, "You won't."
"Try me! Ain't you been in my head? Ask me how hard it would be?" he challenged, standing his ground. He felt stronger, somehow. The pain across his body ebbed and his vision seemed clearer, like whatever hold was over him was easing. He stamped his foot and growled, "What's the matter? Scared to call my bluff?"
The chattering, the whispers, the laughter, it all suddenly stopped. The shaking beneath his feet stilled. Gajeel was standing in the middle of the bridge, his legs shaking, turning his eyes around the darkness.
"I bet you think you're oh so clever. It's a shame we both know the truth…" the voice distorted and came together. An eye opened up in front of him and suddenly the chameleon was before him, his grinning teeth just inches away, "…that all you really are is a coward."
"I'm not a coward!"
"You're right," there was a flash of gold and the knife from before struck his scales. Gajeel staggered underneath his inhuman strength, nearly falling to one of his knees, "You're a coward and a liar."
A hit to his stomach sent him tumbling back into the ground. Juvia's hands were around his arm, dragging him to safety. Hajime was at his side in an instant, helping him back to his feet.
"Gajeel is not a coward!" Juvia snapped, "Gajeel is brave. You are the coward!"
"Oh? Has he really convinced you?" his smile nearly split his face as he pulled something seemingly out of thin air and held it aloft for them to see, "A gift, Dragon Slayer, since you've such a talent for tracking people down."
He tossed it and Gajeel snapped his hand forward and caught it. It was a large gold coin and where it sat in Gajeel's hand it left something red and warm on his skin. He knew it was blood immediately, more of it than there really should have been sticking to the coin. It slipped through his fingers and dripped swollen, crimson drops onto the ground. So much blood... and it smelled like Krew. It suddenly dawned on Gajeel that the silver shine that had been cast on everything had long since gone out.
"What did you do to him?" he snarled, red rage bubbling up inside his chest, "Where's Krew?"
His tattoos started to glow bright and hot. Beneath his eyepatch, something began to throb with light. His tail swished back and forth, "Well... they don't call me God's Hunger for nothing."
Gajeel snapped forward, "You bastard! Where is he?!"
"Gajeel! Don't!" arms wrapped around him, holding him down as the walkway began to splinter and give way.
"You'd better hurry, Dragon Slayer..." the ground beneath him fractured and the alter cracked in half, "...it's almost time to feed the gods."
The entire shelf fell down into the abyss, taking the chameleon with it.
Author's Notes:
Orotrushit likes to play games. :)
Also, here's a list of all of the Old Language words we've learned so far! If I missed one, let me know. I tried make the list comprehensive. When I use more I'll add it to the list and repost the list.
I hope you're all doing well beautiful beans!
Learn Oumnic:
Oros - Ancient god of Creation out of Destruction, Rebirth, Divine Wrath and Blood Sacrifice (chiefly worshiped by Lizardfolk)
Aurincarae - Golden Flesh or Gold Incarnate
Oragatohl'i - God's Throat
Z'thowsa de Aure - literally translates to The Thousand Golden. Most would translate it to The People of Gold or The Golden People
Auré - Gold, Golden, The Golden
Orotrushit - God's Hunger
Anak - children