Chapter 112:
It had been a long time since Gajeel had tailed someone, but in much the same way that a knife doesn't dull when retired to its sheath, he was still sharp with the knowledge how. The desert sand made things easier and more complicated at the same time. They could hang back and follow the footprints, always far enough behind that they would be hidden by the gradual roll of dunes. They followed distantly enough that Serrill marveled how they'd find their way should the wind blow away the path they followed, but Gajeel wasn't so concerned. He had tricks up his sleeve that the lieutenant didn't need to know about. Not yet, anyway.
Gajeel noticed when the buzzard flew overhead but he hadn't put much thought into it. They were in a desert, after all, things died all the time out here. When he saw another swoop low overhead and disappear in the direction they were headed, he'd stopped, garnering a curious look from Serrill. The third one, low enough for Gajeel to properly gage its size and knew definitely that it was going their same direction, made his heart start amping up its pace. He'd rushed quite suddenly up one slope and down another, gliding across the sand as if it'd promised him to behave under his footsteps alone. He stood at the precipice of one as the flock appeared from the clouds like a funnel, and then one far larger than the rest dropped down before Laxus. Feathers folded and revealed the shape of a woman before the massive army of condors converged and covered them all and then, suddenly, scattered like the ashes of a kicked campfire. Serrill had loped up next to him, breathless from trying to keep up.
"What the hell was that?" he huffed, "Where did they go?"
Gajeel clenched his teeth and stared angrily at where they had been standing, and then turned his eyes to the sky. A few vultures turned lazily overhead before dancing off one by one, each in the same direction, to the west. He'd nodded towards where the condors disappeared and they set off, giving chase.
Gajeel's stomach twisted when he saw the first of the tents in the distance. Serrill was griping about watering his horse, and was relieved when they approached. They had ridden through the night in order to catch up, Gajeel keeping the scent of carrion birds in mind as they tracked their way through the desert. He recognized immediately by the state of the tents that it was a nomad's camp, but it wasn't until they were close enough for him to be able to smell the faint hints of incense on the wind that he realized just what sort of camp it was. His eyes fell upon stones etched with protective sigils, the wagons and their sun-catching charms, the sound of women singing and sunbathing. He'd glanced over to Serrill as they approached and gave him a tense smile.
"Might wanna stay close, Serrill," he flashed his teeth, "The women here will eat a guy like you alive."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" his brow furrowed, but his smile was easy.
"You'll find out soon enough."
They'd taken their horses to the closest trough to allow them to drink their fill and Gajeel grabbed some jewel to offer in return. As they came closer, one of the women laying out in the sun quickly covered herself and ran off into the camp. The others, quite unbothered, sat up and stared at the men as they approached. Like sirens perched on rocks, a few of them beckoned them to come over. Gajeel kept his eyes on his path towards the largest of the tents, and he heard Serrill mumble an apology as he kept close to Gajeel's heels, blushing furiously as he turned his face downwards.
A condor swooped low overhead and perched on one of the tents. An older woman emerged from it, keen eyes squinting up at the massive bird before turning to the two visitors. Something about her smelled familiar, and Gajeel's stomach clench involuntarily at the memory that was attached to it. It slammed into him out of nowhere, causing him to nearly stumble in response. Copal incense.
"Gajeel?" Serrill sounded concerned, "What's wrong?"
"I just... Sorry..." he huffed, trying to focus on his feet, how they stood against the sand. He stared at the studs on his boots, counted and recounted them.
"It's not heat stroke, is it?"
"The incense..." he muttered, forcing himself to straighten back up. He wasn't sure when Serrill had taken hold of his arm to steady him, but he gently pulled himself free, "...it, uh, made me dizzy."
"Then I'm afraid you'll find your visit quite unpleasant. We do burn a lot of it here," the woman said, gathering up her skirts as she approached. Beneath the strong citrus and pine scent of her, Gajeel could taste the sickly-sweet smell of rancid meat. "I am called Madame Guéneva. What brings you to our humble camp?"
"I'm lookin' fer someone. Blonde wizard, lightning bolt scar over his eye... he was with four others, three men and one woman."
"And her dog," Serrill said, dropping his eyes to the side when Gajeel shot him a look.
The woman hummed as she looked him over, stepping up to him as if appraising a new cow at auction. Gajeel cocked a brow at her and noticed the way she stared him in the chest. For a moment, her face changed, but as if it were only an illusion it was gone again. Gajeel tried not to show how guarded he felt, but he got the distinct feeling there was something duplicitous about her.
"Come," Madame Guéneva said, snappishly, "We'll talk in my tent."
The giant condor dropped onto her shoulder as she led the way to a large, purple tent. Gajeel took note of the chimes dangling from the entrance made from glass and bone. Symbols were carved on them, one he recognized for protection, one for power. He didn't know any of the others but tried to commit them to memory all the same.
Entering the tent had them doused in shadow and shielded from the sun. He heard Serrill audibly sigh to be out of the heat, and he quite naturally took a seat on one of the plush pillows across from the old woman. The condor that had been on her shoulder had hopped off and was standing on a chair, eyeing him with an intelligence he didn't often see in birds. He realized it was a familiar about the same time that the woman chuckled.
"Never laid eyes on a Royal Highland Condor before?" she asked, and Gajeel glanced over just in time to see her pull out a pipe from one of her dress pockets. When he made no move to answer her or take a place next to Serrill, the old woman smiled a wide, deleterious grin, "Come and sit, dragon slayer, lest you insult an old woman in her own home... and I don't take insults lightly."
He ignored Serrill's questioning look as he stalked over. Instead of sitting with his legs crossed as Serrill had, Gajeel opted to stay on his knees, ready to jump to his feet at a moment's notice. This choice didn't go unnoticed by the Madame, and her smile was no less wicked as she appraised him once again. She took her time packing her pipe and then lighting it, puffing on it a few times before breathing a ring of smoke into the air. The smell of it, sickening and brazen to him, made the fine hairs on the back of Gajeel's neck rise. He focused on steadying his breathing and lowering his heartrate and ignored the prickling of his skin. He found himself unconsciously tightening his fists against his knees.
"So..." she sighed and began fishing through her pockets, eventually procuring a small pouch tied by a golden cord. The sound of the contents were the same as the dried bones on her chimes at the entrance to her tent, "You're following a blonde man and his companions through the desert. Is there a particular reason why?"
"Not to hurt him, if that's what yer thinkin'," Gajeel said as his eyes swept around the tent, taking in the various things heaped around in near disarray. The more she smoked, the more his stomach churned. He swallowed around iron that had swelled up into his throat, "I want to make sure he's ok."
"Is that right?" she mused, and shifted her eyes over to Serrill, "And you? Following him for the hell of it?"
Serrill shrugged, a genuine smile on his face as if this was all a fun little excursion, "I'm just here to make sure he stays out of trouble."
"Seems you're doing a piss-poor job," her smile was biting and her brown eyes turned back to Gajeel. Again she gave him a thorough once over, "The man that you're after is not well, I'm afraid. Some dark, vengeful entity has attached itself to him. We gave him safe travels as far as the edge of the desert, but once he enters the forest, I'm afraid he's on his own."
"A vengeful entity?" Gajeel scoffed, leaning towards her, his sneer hateful and derisive. "A ghost."
"Ghosts are mindless things, and they don't feed on the living. Whatever it is that you and that man have gotten yourselves into, it is old and it is far from mindless... and it has collected quite a bit of power since I last met it."
Gajeel opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Serrill interrupted him.
"Could you tell us about when you last met it?" he asked, something about him changing subtly. He still spoke easily, calmly, but was also suddenly rigid, all straight lines and hard angles. The old woman narrowed her eyes at him and leaned back. Her long, black hair shifted down over her shoulder.
"And you are?" she asked pointedly, noticing the change to him like one might a shift in the weather.
"I am Lieutenant Keirin Serrill," he said, pragmatic and formal, and dug into his pockets to pull out a card to hand to her. She took it, holding it out slightly so she could look down her nose to read it.
"A Rune Knight," she sighed out another smoke ring, "We don't typically get along with your lot."
"I certainly have no quarrel with any of you," he said plainly, "And I am not here on official business. As I said before, I'm merely here to keep my friend here out of trouble."
"You would swear to that?" she spoke slowly, smoke curling from between her lips. Something deep in her brown eyes sparkled with the color jade, and Gajeel recognized it as something similar to what the Major conjured when his eyes flashed gold.
"Serrill-" Gajeel warned, but the other man disregarded him. In fact, he seemed more earnest.
"Neither of us will do you any harm..." he said solemnly, "...and we will leave you in peace."
"How interesting," she breathed, "I will have to speak to that priest again and learn how he was able to garner the sympathies of so many wizards."
"Wouldn't call it sympathy," Gajeel snarled, and dodged a sharp look from Serrill.
"I have been doing this for quite a long time, nearing five decades now, and I have come across your spirit several times, though never attached to a wizard."
"Five decades? You hardly look fifty yourself," Serrill said, easing into conversation as naturally as if he'd known this woman before.
"Do you mean to charm me?" the Madame laughed, "I could be your great-grandmother."
"I only mean respect," he replied, a reserved smile on his face, "Do you mind me asking what it is that you do? You seem prepared to travel."
"We are a traveling coven, one that seeks to keep balance in Fiore. This country was built on blood and bones, as many countries are. There are cultures that have been lost. Their old gods hunger for worship and dark spirits that they had otherwise kept sated now haunt this land. We seek them out, placate them as best we can, and move on." she said, a sly look to her features as her eyes slid over to Gajeel, "And I believe one of you may already be aware of this."
Serrill looked over to him, a meaningful thing that demanded an answer. Gajeel clicked his teeth, "A few of them rode into town back when I was with Phantom Lord."
"And you did assist in a few different ways, didn't you?" she said, knowingly, "Celeste spoke very highly of your abilities. She's still around, if you feel like catching up."
Despite himself, Gajeel blushed. He itched at his neck, "I'd rather not."
Serrill's inquisitive expression turned into one of amusement, "Ex-girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend implies a lot, don't it?"
"This spirit... was it around at Phantom Lord, too?" Serrill asked.
"Oh, no. That was a drought, if memory serves. Mostly beseeching the local god to send rain and a few fertility rituals to coax a strong harvest. It was run of the mill." Madame Guéneva said, "Your spirit, though, I've come across near the old ruins. It typically attaches itself to first nations women, women who often go missing shortly after. I've been asked to dispel it on more than one occasion, though it never quite worked."
Gajeel's stomach turned and again iron effervesced up his throat. He could nearly taste it on his tongue. He remembered speaking to Papá Omara, how he'd lost his daughter to a spirit that came in the night, that he'd heard it speaking to her. The fact that Madame Guéneva mentioned ruins immediately turned his mind to Oragatohl'i. It wasn't all that far from here, was it?
"That's disconcerting," Serrill said, frowning, "When did this happen?"
"Oh, it's been close to thirty years now. The thing had gone quite silent. I was hoping that maybe it had satisfied itself." she spoke thoughtfully, but Gajeel had a suspicion that it had little to do with missing women and the shadow that took them away, "It is much stronger than it was when I last met it. It is almost as if it has gained worship of its own."
"Forgive me, Madame, I don't know much about spirits," Serrill said with a pained smile, "What would worshiping this spirit, entity, do?"
Her smile was treacherous. The longer Gajeel looked at her, the more he disliked what he saw. The lines of her face told stories, and not of a compassionate, grandmotherly woman who doled out help because of the kindness in her aged heart. She was cunning, and shrewd, and more and more Gajeel began to question her motives to speaking to them at all.
She shifted the bag in her hands and again Gajeel heard the sound of brittle bones sliding against one another, "Do you know how a god comes into being, little wizard?"
"Unfortunately, no." Serrill confessed, not bringing any attention to the invective tone she'd taken, "The heathen gods of this land were never my area of study."
Her eyes sparkled with mirth and she laughed, sounding every bit like a woman trying to hide the dire drip of poison into a cup, "A spitfire, you are, Lieutenant."
"I try my best." he said, flashing her a charming grin. Gajeel raised a brow at him, but the man still had his attention on Madame Guéneva.
"There are a few ways in which gods come about. Some take shape where a need exists that must be filled, as the god I follow was. Some are born from gods that already exist. Others still are made. Typically, ones made are spirits with some power. They may be leftover wraiths of priests, those blessed with life energy while alive and retain a piece of that once they've passed. They grow strong with worship and offerings made by those they help until they ascend into the realm of the gods."
"Typically?" Serrill asked, picking apart her words in a way outside of Gajeel's grasp. He tilted his head to the side, taking on the appearance of someone curious simply for curiosity's sake, "That implies untypical ways as well."
"Why yes," the Madame stared into him, looking both impressed and suspicious, "There are other ways. But they take a lot more doing, and they are methods I'm not privy to."
"But you do know of them." Serrill pointed out, "Your god, could he not tell you?"
"He could, but the price for such knowledge is high, little wizard. You could imagine that the gods would guard such knowledge quite zealously." She replied. Gajeel was very aware that she was becoming more cryptic, as if sensing some trap Serrill were trying to lay.
"Do you think this entity is trying to become a god? That's pretty arrogant, especially if it's been in and out of your domain. If the gods are so protective of such things, why doesn't your god banish it?" Serrill pressed, his smile faltering just for a moment before he wrested it back into place, "And if it's being worshipped, what would it need those women for? What would it need our friend for?"
"It is a thing to wonder at, isn't it?" She said in a distant way, and began to loosen the cord around the bag.
"I've made an assumption, haven't I?" Serrill said lightheartedly, and the Madame stopped her movements, waiting, "I didn't mean to imply your god allowed such a thing."
"What areyou insinuating?" Madame Guéneva asked. The shadows of the tent pooled around her like a great veil to her dark skirts. The smell of carrion became stronger, and Gajeel ran his eyes around the edge of the tent. There was incense burning on her altar, next to the skull of a great condor. Her familiar puffed its feathers, making itself seem large.
"Oh, well, you mentioned that the spirit was so much stronger since the last time you met it. If you couldn't banish it before, well, certainly you can't now." he said, chuckling and shooting Gajeel a look as if to say of course, I should have known, although Gajeel had no idea what he was trying to play at.
The shadows pulled closer, dousing the three of them in an artificial night. Green sparked in Madame Guéneva's eyes and changed her look entirely. Her eyes sunk deep into her sockets, like the face of a skull, and Gajeel didn't miss the way her lips pulled taught into a furious line. Something rustled outside the tent. A scavenger was searching for scraps of a meal.
"Do you insinuate I don't have the power?" her voice resonated like the toll of a bell, ricocheting off Gajeel's teeth and making him flinch. Serrill didn't seem fazed.
"My sincere apologies, Madame. I didn't mean any offense." he said, his eyes brimming with concern, "You said that when you dispelled the spirit in the past, the women just went missing anyway. That must mean that whatever it is, it's stronger than your god's power. Otherwise, well, that would mean you allowed it to happen."
The Madame's eyes widened just enough to damn her. Serrill's expression fell. He was no longer sympathetic or thoughtful or curious. He was rigidly the Lieutenant that Gajeel knew from Ember Island Prison, staid and resilient, and as merciless as a cave in.
"Are we done pretending we care, now?" he asked, his tone chilling. "I'm sorry, Madame Guéneva, I lied to you. I have been studying up on heathen gods."
"How insolent," she said, and another voice spoke as well. Gajeel could hear it like the cantor who speaks just before the congregation follows him in song. The Madame's words were not her own and neither was the rage that made Gajeel's incisors taste like blood.
"I truly meant no offense, but I won't be played with, either, My Lord," Serrill said calmly, "I understand why you wanted to speak with Gajeel. I'm assuming his reputation proceeds him, since you already knew he was a dragon slayer before he mentioned anything about it. And if that's the case, then you probably know what's going on with the spirit, and with Davian. I am curious, though. If you won't stop anything else that the spirit is doing, why would you help Laxus?"
Something oppressive alighted on them, knocking the breath from Gajeel's lungs. He was a rat in the grasp of a great hawk and massive talons curled around his ribcage. His skin was hot and blistering from an overbearing sun, his throat parched and livid. Rage, a living thing, sank fangs into his flesh and filled his veins with venom.
"You mages are so brazen, arrogant, shameless. All of you. You think your magic protects you, that you are above the gods that made you. You should all be wiped off the face of this country!"
"Then do it." Serrill said, a cruel curl to his lips that hadn't been there before, "Smite me. Smite him. Show us your divine wrath."
Wind howled, or maybe it was coyotes. Madame Guéneva's face contorted. Her teeth took on a hue of green and she bared them like a cornered animal, her eyes blazed the color of royal jade.
"You can't, can you?" grey eyes stared apathetically into the Madame's, stared into the manifestation of her god through her. Serrill was as stolid as he was defiant, "You can't go against the god that I follow, and you won't go against the shadow that's claimed him."
The wind, the growling and screaming of wild dogs, the hiss of vipers, it all died suddenly. The ethereal dark, though, did not fade. The jade of Madame Guéneva's eyes intensified until they were all steeped in the harsh green light of her gaze. The pressure of the god's wrath was nearly unbearable, and Gajeel could feel his pulse against his eardrums as if his own heart were trying to push frantically back at it. He choked on iron.
"You mark me, impudent little nothing, the time of wizards will soon come to an end and when it does, I will relish in the sounds of your screams when the carrion birds pick apart the flesh of your still bleeding body," the Madame's head snapped to Gajeel in a way that was bird-like and unnatural. Her smile was the grimace of a fox before it sank its teeth into a starling, "He was willing to pledge himself to me to save your life. The fear of blood on his hands was the only thing that made him reconsider. It angered me before, but now I am so pleased he turned down my offer. Your death will be worth every year bound to this contemptible desert. I impatiently await the day your cities run red with blood just as ours did so long ago."
Like the insufferable snap of a rubber band, reality was suddenly back to the way it should be. Madame Guéneva blinked, seemingly slightly confused before her gaze centered back on the two men. She flashed them her insidious smile once again, and the contents of her pouch fell into her hands. Her voice was serene.
"Would you like me to scry the bones for you, before you leave?"
They were quite a ways away from the camp before Gajeel turned his horse around to stand in Serrill's way. The lieutenant gave him an unamused look, pulling his own mount to a stop and waiting expectantly.
"I think you owe me a goddamn explanation, Serrill." Gajeel growled at him.
"You know, I thought you'd make a really good Rune Knight, but the way you froze up back there leaves something to be desired." he replied coolly, "Don't you pick fights for a living?"
"Since when did you believe in gods, lieutenant?" Gajeel demanded, baring his teeth, "Didn't you tell me you didn't know anything about any of this?"
"Since I owe one my life. Suffice to say, I took an interest." he replied, thorns running the length of his words, "And you asked me what I knew about the Ulrich case. You never asked me what I knew about Davian and the god he follows."
Gajeel clicked his teeth and Serrill crossed his arms.
"Will you be suspicious of every person you meet that follows a god, or is it a particular type of follower you're prejudiced against?" Serrill demanded.
Gajeel's eyes widened, shocked that the man in front of him would be sympathetic to chameleons, of all things, "They kill and eat people, Serrill!"
"I'm not convinced they must." he replied, as if it were something up for conjecture.
"Of course they don't fucking have to. They choose to. Ain't that worse?" Gajeel needled at him, making him grimace, "And what will you do? Eh? Go up to the things that have done this shit for hundreds of years and say hey guys, don't do that anymore? Do ye think ye'll make it that far? Do ye think they'll care if you do?"
"I think when new leaders come into power, rules tend to change."
"Human leaders change human rules." Gajeel growled, "And we both know, the new leadership ain't any more human than what is currently in charge."
At that, Serrill's eyes turned hard, "I see. So, if it were humans practicing these things, there'd be empathy in your heart."
Gajeel went rigid, his smile twisted and sardonic, "You have no idea what they've done to me."
"Humans rape, kill, and cannibalize, and yet you don't despise the entire human race. All people are capable of evil, Gajeel. You should know."
Gajeel felt like Serrill had just slapped him in the face. The two stared each other down, both daring the other to speak first. Gajeel didn't want to back down. His stomach still felt like so many moths were trapped inside of it, and their frantic wingbeats for freedom bade the iron in his stomach to come to a roiling boil. For a brief moment, Gajeel thought of Erandi, a lad not much younger than Ezal, and how similar they had been. Both clumsy and naïve, boys in their own right, and similar despite one being scared of his own shadow and the other believing the world owed him something his age didn't entitle him to. And then he remembered that only one of them was still alive.
The lieutenant took a deep breath through his nose, and Gajeel braced for what was going to be said next only to have the wind knocked out of him in an entirely different way.
"While you were busy trying to keep your cards close to your chest, I learned valuable information. You can either continue to judge me for my decisions and stew in your prejudices or we can talk through it together while we catch up to Davian and your boyfriend," Serrill said, folding his arms across his chest and straightening his spine, conveying silently and sternly that this conversation was over whether Gajeel liked it or not.
Gajeel decided he really didn't want to lose Serrill as a friend, and so he didn't just drop the issue as Serrill had hoped. He did something a little better.
"Yer right," he said, albeit a little through his teeth, "I shouldn't... be that way. T's just hard for me to change my mind about things that have hurt me. I don't trust anything that I don't understand. I also don't understand how someone like you would believe in any of this shit, but I respect you and I know you're a smart man. Maybe there's somethin' you know that I don't."
Serrill coughed, taken aback by Gajeel's half-apology, "Well... thank you."
"Don't mention it." he said, walking his horse out of Serrill's way and heading in the direction of camel tracks in the sand. "So, tell me about this valuable information you discovered."
"For starters, we've verified Miss McGarden's suspicions, that your boyfriend is being actively fed on by something," Gajeel wrinkled his nose at Levy being called something so formal. Serrill didn't seem to notice, "and because those two stories match up, we can infer that despite Madame Guéneva's motivations, she at least wasn't lying to us."
"I coulda told ya that, Serrill." Gajeel said, and at the lieutenant's questioning look, he elaborated, "I can usually tell when people lie, or at least when they're nervous speakin' on something."
"Well, that's useful." he muttered, "We also found out that whatever is after you isn't a god, but it's trying to become one."
"Or maybe Madame Guéneva just thinks that," Gajeel pointed out, "Levy said that the spirit was feeding on Laxus to use his power to become physical. Why in the hell would it want to do that if it wants to be a god? Gods aren't physical, are they?"
Serrill went quiet at that, thinking, "So one of them is wrong?"
"Seems like it… and I'm personally inclined to believe Levy."
"Really? I was going the other way," Serrill said, shooting him a bit of an uneasy smile, "What happened in that tent just proved gods have politics, they recognize each other. Madame Guéneva seems to be something like what Davian is called to be? An avatar for her god? So, she would know her god's motives, and would know about this shadow, entity, thing… maybe her and her god aren't helping It, but they're definitely not getting in Its way."
"Any idea what god she follows?" Gajeel asked. Serrill shrugged.
"A death god of some kind… unless the Madame is some sort of death witch and that is completely unrelated to who she follows. Whoever he is, though, he seems mad he's confined to the desert and blames wizards for his fall from power. And from what the Madame said, he very purposely didn't banish the spirit when asked. He's complicit in whatever Its plan is." Serrill sighed, "But then wouldn't all the gods benefit from destroying the mages? We're the ones that made it illegal for the native people to practice. With us gone, they could have a revival of sorts."
"A revival." Gajeel said, thoughts returning to Oragatohl'I, to feeding the gods. The remembered when he spoke to Davian, and the visceral feeling of a god being fed. He thought of bodies rolling down stone steps and beating hearts pulled from chests. "But what if Levy is the one that's right? What if It's trying to come to Earthland?"
"That wouldn't be so bad, would it?" Serrill smirked, "You can fight something physical. I'm sure whatever It is, It's not a match for your boyfriend."
"Right…" Gajeel said, but he didn't return Serrill's smile. It didn't feel right, did it? To rely on Laxus to fight his battles when he was already suffering. What if he wasn't in a condition to fight? What if it killed him?
He shook his head and set his jaw, refusing to entertain the idea any more than he had to.
They travelled quite a while in silence, bidding their horses to trot in order to shorten some of the distance between them and the ones they followed after. Their sharp hooves left plumes of dust like crushed rubies in their wake. Gajeel took them in a wide circle from where they'd tracked Laxus and the others, being sure they were downwind and out of sight. Serrill thought it was ridiculous, voicing on more than one occasion that they should just travel the same path and catch up. Gajeel didn't believe it such a good idea. It was obvious Laxus was purposefully concealing what was going on, and so Gajeel was determined to not involve himself unless he had to. He'd watch from afar, he decided, and would confront him… eventually… probably… maybe.
He hadn't really worked out all the details yet.
When they had finally crested the mesa and gazed down upon the weary mountains from which rose the mighty slopes of forest up the steeps like the dreary stains of a sink left far too long uncleaned, mist was clinging to the emergent trees and spilling like the cloying fingers of smoke across a rolling ocean of green. It seemed the mountains had cut in two the atmosphere, as behind them the dry aridness of the desert died in the wake of warm humidity, immediately steeping them in a feeling like a smothering blanket, dampening them in the smell and weight rainfall without the relief. The afternoon sun was warming the treetops and bringing out all the wondrous colors of the range, striking red sand and rock giving way to the wild rainforest. In thin rivulets against faraway mountains Gajeel caught the distinct glitter of waterfalls disgorging the heads and shoulders of sleeping crags protecting alpine lakes, the remnants of a time when these mountains belched fire.
Usually when being confronted with something so rich and alive, Gajeel would feel that telltale ache to run and fade into the untamed archaism but today he felt no such compulsion. The horizon seemed jagged, whether with trees or mountain slopes he couldn't say. The distance and the mist made all of the big things mix with the small and he caught a glimpse of shape peeking from the grey swathed green, something striking in its departure from the natural colors of the land around and below but he couldn't determine what it was. The memory of Oragatohl'i became firm in his mind and he pictured it puncturing into the sky, a dark smear in an otherwise flawless, emerald sea of rubber trees, mahogany, copal, ceiba, and stilt-rooted palms.
Serrill whistled his awe as they stared over all that lay before them, the desert to their backs, and he placed his hands sternly on his waist.
"We're going to get lost," he said with a sharp frown.
Gajeel crooked his brow, "Not if ya keep close to me, yer not."
"By all means, then," he said with a grand gesture of one of his hands, "Lead the way."
Serrill hadn't spoken much since their previous discussion. Not really. For the most part, his eyes were in the distance, lost in thought. Gajeel didn't care to ask, because he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what the other man had to say. Sometimes his face was slack, eyes a chilling sort of stormy grey, and sometimes his jaw was rough, his brow furrowed, and a frown was carved sharply onto him as if some sculptor were trying to preserve his look of austere speculation for eternity, and he'd been asked not to move.
"So, Miss McGarden thinks the entity is just trying to manifest itself on this plane. Why would It want to do that?" Serrill asked.
They had gotten to the edge of the wood. The sun was hanging low in its decent, lounging on the shoulders of the mountains and spilling over them as if in desperate need of a rest before continuing in its downward projection into night. Gajeel had just slipped down off his horse, and was in the middle of grabbing his belongings to travel on foot. He clicked his teeth.
"Wouldn't we all like to know." Gajeel replied absent-mindedly.
"What would It need a physical body to accomplish that It couldn't accomplish as It is now?" Serrill asked, "If It is Father, which you seem to infer, Irena has told me that she heard Davian speak to Him, It, before. That would imply It is ethereal… Well, but she didn't see It, I suppose. She heard Davian talk to something but didn't see anything."
"Father is a person," Gajeel said, "Krew was looking for It."
"But you said you trust Levy, and she said It's a spirit." Serrill said, "And It's attached to Laxus."
"Maybe it's another weird thing lizard people do," Gajeel muttered, "They can read your mind and alter what you think by touching you. Why not feed off your magic, life energy, whatever Levy called it?"
"Davian doesn't feed off people's magic, life energy, whatever." Serrill said, "I would know by now."
"You with him all the time?" Gajeel sneered at him. He heard the frown in his voice when he replied.
"We've spent a lot of long days and nights at the prison."
"Whatever you say, Serrill." Gajeel hummed.
"By that logic, you're saying not only has Father been feeding off of Laxus, but that It has been in your home. Often. When you're not around."
At that, Gajeel stopped in his tracks. Serrill continued unperturbed.
"If that were true, and I don't think it is, why would It feed off of Laxus instead of laying in wait for you? Why not come for you in the night instead?"
"I don't… know." Gajeel conceded.
"So, Father is somehowa living person that Davian could talk to and Krew could track down and a spirit that feeds off Laxus's energy?" Serrill said, clearly more perplexed now than before, "And It wants to be a god."
"You can't be a god, and a spirit, and a living person." Gajeel rolled his eyes, standing before Serrill who was still on his horse. The blonde looked down at him, his arms crossed over the horn of his saddle.
"Could you be a spirit, and need to become mortal to become a god?"
"I wouldn't know." Gajeel said plainly.
"You know who probably would?" Serrill said in earnest, eyes sparking.
"Who?" Gajeel asked, and then immediately regretted it when Serrill's expression turned sarcastic and his lip curled.
"Davian. Bet we could ask if we just... you know, caught up with him." his voice was cutting and stern. Gajeel huffed and turned his back to him, gathering his things, "Like normal people!"
"And what do we say when we catch up to them, Serrill?" Gajeel snapped back at him, "Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here? Mind tellin' us about what this weird witch woman said to us while we definitely weren't following you?"
"Or, and just hear me out here, we tell the truth? Gajeel was worried about his boyfriend because he didn't seem well, so we decided to follow you guys out here. Thank the gods we caught up?" Serrill finally dismounted. He patted the red sand that still clung to him off of his pants as he spoke, "While we're here, mind helping us think through a few things?"
"You go ahead. Let me know how that goes." Gajeel growled.
Serrill fastened his sabre to his waist and began grabbing supplies off his own horse, "I'm starting to think maybe Laxus didn't tell you what was really going on because you're obsessive."
Gajeel stopped what he was doing and turned to glare at Serrill who didn't pay him any heed, "I'm not obsessive!"
"You're right, it's completely normal to secretly board the train your boyfriend is on and follow him out on the trip he's taking, but far back enough that he doesn't see or know you're there... don't they have a name for that? It's called something..." he snapped his fingers and pointed at him, "Oh that's right! Stalking."
"I'm not stalking Laxus. I'm making sure he's alright!" Gajeel defended, "You saw him too. Did he look like he should be out in the middle of nowhere? No! He looked like he should be in the infirmary."
"Wait... What if It's a spirit that wants to be a god but has to be a person to do it?" Serrill asked, abruptly switching back to their previous conversation and nearly giving Gajeel whiplash.
"You just said two seconds ago that you can't be a person and a god." Gajeel transformed his arm into a lance and began slashing at thick vines, carving a trail into the sea of trees.
A large bug startled and climbed up the trunk of a tree; its shell was jet black and shimmered in the newly exposed daylight like a large, wet eye staring at them as they entered the rainforest. Gajeel's skin prickled from the humidity and sweat was already slicking his neck and chest. He sniffed at the air but the dampness hampered scents, and so he relied on his internal sense of direction to pick their path through the trees. They were quickly surrounded by teeming life and a rainbow of colors. Not just shades of green, but there were the bright oranges and reds of flowers, vibrant birds hopped on thin branches ahead and called into the leaves for one another, violet and blue tiny frogs crouched together near the base of trees. Echoing in the distance, he heard the screams of monkeys as they alerted to something on the hunt. Gajeel had never before been in a forest so loud. Everywhere his eyes touched there were splashes of color and unchecked noise. If the Dreadwood forest on the other side of the mountain range was the night, this place was the bright and brilliant dawn and everywhere the light touched felt the need to scream to the heavens I am here and I am alive.
"We said you couldn't be a spirit and a god and a mortal," Serrill corrected, "A god is already ethereal, they'd already exist as a spirit. And a god can't be mortal, either, because by definition they're immortal. But a god couldbe on this plane."
Gajeel stopped and glanced back at him, "You're really caught up on this shit, aren't you?"
"They've been on this plane before, you know. Earthland. They used to rule over humans before shedding their bodies and entering the realm of the gods."
"Why would they do that?" Gajeel mused, not really all that interested but willing to listen if only to have something to work to.
"It was something to do with remaking mankind, or the end of the world... or both." Serrill said, arms crossed firmly over his chest as if guarding it from something, "If their stories are to be believed."
"Thought that was the whole point?" Gajeel mumbled as he ducked under what could have been a large vine or a very heavy snake. Serrill flinched and tiptoed around it, scraping his back against a tree to avoid touching it, "If you believe in your god, why wouldn't you believe in their stories?"
"The gods aren't perfect beings, and they work in their own interests... I wouldn't be surprised if they also embellished." Serrill said, suddenly pressing close to Gajeel as he sliced their way forward, narrowly avoiding aerial roots that threatened to send them both tumbling to the ground. He was stepping sideways, body facing something as he tracked it in the trees, "Fucks sakes... look at the size of that thing."
"Hm?" Gajeel glanced the direction Serrill was staring. On a low-hanging branch, lounging out in the dying light that was able to filter through the leaves, was one of the anak. Its eyes were half lidded as it sunned itself on the branch, "It's not going to hurt you, Serrill."
"It's like... six feet long!" he gaped, "You can't tell me that thing doesn't hunt things our size."
"If it was going to hunt us, you wouldn't be looking at it right now," Gajeel smirked, "'Sides, they're scavengers."
"I didn't realize you were an expert on rainforest fauna." he muttered, still refusing to turn his back on it as he followed Gajeel along.
"I'm not, but I recently spent a little time with the Auré. They live alongside them. Said they're like big dogs." he chuckled as Serrill took a wide step over another large bug, "Yer not big on nature, are you?"
"I love nature walks... in a park... where the animals are scared of people and aren't as big as me or larger."
"Wait until after dark," Gajeel grinned, flashing his teeth, "That's when the cats come out."
"Cats?"
"You know, the big ones. Cougars and Jaguars..."
"Jaguars?!" Serrill huffed.
"If it makes ya feel better, the chances of us attracting the attention of an apex predator are pretty slim, Serrill," Gajeel smirked, "I'd be more worried about giant venomous bugs and snakes, if I were you."
"Great. Love that for us."
"Prison riots are fine, but not wildlife?"
Serrill curled his lip, "People are predictable. Animals aren't."
"See, I'd argue the opposite." Gajeel muttered. Something caught his eye and he paused. There was a shifting pattern set into the bark of a great tree, or maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him? Gajeel locked his gaze to it, as if looking away or blinking would make it disappear. Serrill questioningly followed his gaze and seemed to see it also, but he just gave Gajeel another curious look. "You see that?"
"It's just an odd patch of... oh." Serrill blinked a couple times, squinted, and took a step towards it, "It's gone."
"Or we're not supposed to see it," Gajeel said, remembering distinctly when he'd seen something just like this once before, in the Dreadwood Valley, "I'm startin' to think they're markers."
"Markers?" Serrill asked, giving it one last glance as they continued on.
"Yeah..." he murmured as he cast his eyes about, trying to find anything that would confirm his theory. There wasn't much in the Dreadwood Valley that had been manmade, other than memorials. Now, as Gajeel looked, he began to notice something beneath the roots of the trees near the symbol. Stones were stacked one atop another, something made by skilled hands and not the passage of time. Roots and leaves hid from view a wall that descended down the slope, alongside it was what appeared to be an animal path. He immediately abandoned the trail he had been cutting through the trees in favor for this easier path.
"Wouldn't the point of markers be negated if you weren't supposed to see them?" Serrill mused aloud.
"Only if the way you were marking wasn't s'posed ta be hidden," Gajeel replied, shooting the Rune Knight a look over his shoulder, "Yer too used to doin' things by the book, Serrill."
"Says the ex-criminal to the uniformed officer."
Gajeel replied with a smile as patient and cunning as a well-fed predator. Serrill smirked back at him, a touch of nervousness in his grey eyes.
"Did you know there is a god of travel?" Serrill piped up after they'd made their way down a particularly treacherous part of the path. Gajeel was eyeing a pit viper coiled in a gap in the bricks, giving it a wide berth, "Several of them, actually."
"Really..." Gajeel said coolly.
"Yeah, one for traveling in groups and traveling alone. There's one for seafarers. One for good weather..." he stumbled a bit on a tall root and caught himself against a tree. He jumped back, shaking his hands as if he'd touched something rather unpleasant, "There's a goddess over streets and roads, particularly Y junctions..."
"Seems a bit niche, don't it?" Gajeel said, taking note of another marker further down the path. One blink later and it was gone.
"Before magic mastery people didn't have much choice I guess... you appealed to a god for aid. There was a need, it was filled..." Serrill yelped and Gajeel heard him stumble. He turned to see him hopping up to him quickly, feigning as if nothing had happened, "Except for the primordial gods. They just existed."
It suddenly occurred to Gajeel that the blonde was babbling, like maybe by speaking he could talk out of existence the noises of wildlife all around them. It wasn't quite nervous, but it was certainly uncomfortable. Gajeel immediately suspected the reason. The further they delved into the forest, the more obfuscated the sun became by leaves and vines, rainclouds, its natural path down into the westward mountains, or a combination of all these things. Very soon, it would be night in the forest.
Gajeel raised an eyebrow to him, "You can turn back, you know. I can go alone."
"Then who will convince you to just talk to Davian and Laxus like a normal person?" Serrill replied keenly.
"Not you."
Serrill crossed his arms, silently reiterating that he was staying. Gajeel rolled his eyes and continued walking.
"I like the primordial gods, personally. You know, like the sun and the moon. Mother earth." Serrill said from close behind him, "Oros is a primordial god."
Gajeel grunted.
"Creation and destruction, the beginning and the end, eternity… that's why I like him. He's not some god that craves power. He was here before there were creatures here to worship him, and he'll be here when we're gone." he was saying, "He's easier to worship. Less picky."
"Oros..." Gajeel mulled that name over, "Is he the same as Aowas... of the Auré?"
"Aowas?"
"Yeah... he looked like a big snake with blue feathers. One of the Auré told me he was the god of destruction, chaos, and shamans." Gajeel said, "Sounded similar."
"Davian told me Oros has other iterations, so maybe that's who he is to the Auré."
"He ate the spirits of warriors... and might have fought my dad."
Serrill chuckled a bit, "Well that's not right. None of the primordial gods have been on this plane since before the time of the dragons… since before the first gods walked Earthland, if what I read is true."
"So... something else fought dad?" Gajeel muttered, furrowing his brow, "Another god that isn't Oros?"
"Your dad ever talk about fighting a god?" Serrill asked.
Gajeel stopped for a moment and carded through the many stories his dad had told him. He'd spoken of wars before, of fighting men and wizards and even other dragons. Gajeel used to brag that one day he'd be strong enough to fight him one day, and his father would simply sigh and make mention of the nasty look in his eye. Of all the stories, though, never once had he spoken of fighting a god.
"No." Gajeel said.
"Would he have told you?" Serrill asked.
Gajeel's brow furrowed, "Yeah... I think so."
"Then he didn't fight a god either."
"What in the hell did he fight then?"
Serrill shrugged, "Another dragon?"
Gajeel shook his head, "It wasn't another dragon."
"That doesn't leave a hell of a lot of options, Redfox," Serrill sighed, eyes turning to the forest around them as he thought. A smirk crossed his face that promised mischief, but his demeanor was so warm it was easy to forgive, "Maybe it was just a really, really big lizard."
Gajeel huffed and rolled his eyes. He turned his mind back to their path even as Serrill continued to fill the humid silence with his vapid muttering. As they went, Gajeel began to notice things in the overgrown wood. Alongside the wall, there mingled with the chicozapote and palms were stone structures. The crumbling remains of walls which marked the long-overtaken bones of a building. A few yards further and there was another. Here and there shattered pieces of something was trampled into the ground. Limestone was melting away from the heavy rains, crawling with vines and bromeliads, ferns and orchids. Finally, Gajeel stopped and stared before him, completely taken aback.
"Gods alive…" Serrill said at his side, "Is that a road?"
Because of how pristine it looked, it could have been made a decade ago, and yet Gajeel knew for certain that it was far older than that. Down the road a ways from them a massive tree with aerial roots that rived the stones apart, standing as if on massive stilts to puncture through the canopy and emerge above the trees around it. It had to have been hundreds of years old, and the road existed before it. Gajeel felt a cold trickle like a mountain stream two steps from turning to ice run down his spine as he gazed around where they stood.
"This was a city." he said.
"What?" Serrill scoffed, looking around them, "A city? All the way out here? A hamlet, maybe, a village. Not a city."
Gajeel approached the tree and gripped one of its roots, hauling himself up.
"H-hey! What are you doing?"
"Checkin' something out." Gajeel replied, pulling himself up into the branches.
From this height, he could see the traces of a forgotten world. The forest had long overtaken this place but he could tell they were in the decaying remains of a city center. The further up he climbed, the more the leaves and branches hid from view what Gajeel had just seen, showing him exactly why when they'd been on the mesa he hadn't seen it before. Finally, he broke through the canopy and clung to the trunk of the emergent tree. What he saw took his breath away.
In the distance, still partially obscured by mist and trees, stone rose up from the jungle like a mountain naked of its trees. What had been hidden when they'd been on the mesa now took shape, and Gajeel knew immediately where Davian was taking Laxus. It was a massive step pyramid, the likes of which made Oragatohl'i look like a mud and thatch hut. The stairs were painted a striking scarlet, the color not dulled with age but vibrant and well kept. Trees with their choking roots and vines didn't clutter the great stones like they had done the remnants of walls he'd glimpsed on his climb up. From here he could catch the reflection of polished gold, though what it was exactly he couldn't tell from this distance. Past the pyramid, an even larger shape loomed, still cloaked in mist from the humid air trapped by the mountains.
He felt his stomach twist as he gazed at the dark stains at the top of the stairs, where a grand temple sat. Curtains of vibrant teal, blue, and black were drawn back, revealing darkness beyond. A stone altar stood, marred in the center with a recognizable stain. Davian's words uttered under duress echoed in his mind as he turned his eyes upward to the moon, so full only a slim shadow remained, shining as threateningly as teeth on a caged animal.
The height of noon on the day of a full moon, a body is rolled down the steps of the Temple of the Sun.
The apex of the full moon was tomorrow.
Author's Notes:
It was while writing this chapter that I realized I accidentally recreated the Holy Trinity. It wasn't done on purpose, but it's kind of funny considering.