37.

The maker god

Dominic learned quickly that, when introduced to far less than optimal circumstances, Aster revealed that he had the tongue of an old drunkard ranting on the roadside. Perhaps that’s how he’d been in the slums too, before meeting him, because the vocabulary really seemed to come naturally.

“Motherfuck of ass!” he shouted as another vine latched onto his ankle.

Before it could drag him off his footing, Dominic hacked it with his knife in one swing, the severed piece still attached to Aster sagging limply to the jungle floor.

“I told you, you have to coat yourself in a layer of mana so they don’t aim for you,” he said.

“I’m not a mage!” Aster replied, obviously frustrated. His mana already stuck close to his skin as part of his transformation affinity, but consciously solidifying it was a different matter.

“What the hell is wrong with this jungle, anyway?!” he complained, indignant. “Why do the plants eat people?!”

“I’d like to know why too.”

Another vine shot out from the thick undergrowth, whizzing past Dominic’s face. He grabbed it before it could reach Aster and crushed it, plant matter splattering between his fingers.

“Bitch shit!” the boy shouted as he slapped aside a mosquito the size of a dinner plate coming at him from the other side. It recoiled back a few feet, where it was promptly snapped up and dragged away by another vine.

“Maybe we should’ve started with an easier target,” he mumbled. “I can see why His Majesty abandoned this place.”

“Well, none of them were going to be easy,” Dominic replied, brushing the plant guts off of his glove.

The really devout Marshals liked being close to their god. To them, proximity to Mars meant proximity to the original Denea, as it was made. So they chose the most wild, unexplored places there were. Aster frowned, but kept trudging forward.

Dominic monitored the forest closely around them. He had actually chosen this site—a secluded Marshal monastery—because it was the most difficult one to reach. Its remoteness meant it was closer to ‘the origin’ than anywhere else. If dragons thought anything like the most extreme of the Marshals, then this was the place to be.

He felt a new presence emerge just ahead of them, and grabbed the back of Aster’s robes.

“Egh—what now?” the boy said, stopping in his tracks.

“Stay near me.”

He shut his mouth and shuffled closer. The underbrush rustled, and a huge, black paw emerged. A sleek, muscular body followed it, the head of a giant panther turning to them and scrutinizing them closely.

Aster definitely had stopped breathing in alarm. The beast took one step towards them, and Dominic glared into its yellow eyes.

“Stay there,” he commanded.

The panther stopped, then tilted its head as if confused as to why it had obeyed. It took another step forward.

“I told you to stay,” Dominic said.

It stopped again, halting more abruptly this time. He felt no malice from the beast, just curiosity. Still, it wasn’t welcome.

“Go back,” he said, nodding back towards the trees it had emerged from.

The cat didn’t seem to understand, and instead sat down on the ground in front of them, blocking the path. Dominic sighed.

“Let’s just go, Aster,” he said.

Aster’s eyes went wide.

“With that there?”

“I don’t think it’s going to move. We can go around quietly.”

“Uh. I think the fuck not.”

Dominic gave him a look, impatient.

“Either you come with me,” he said, then pointed upwards, “or you fly above. The panther’s not gonna get you if you’re in the sky.”

“What a jokester, of course I’m coming with you, brother!”

Aster stayed glued to his side like a magnet. He had tried flying the first day they were here, and he’d quickly realized that the safest place he could possibly be was right next to Dominic.

They slowly made their way around the beast, its eyes following them all the way. It didn’t lunge or growl, but as they finally passed the big cat, it rose to its feet and unexpectedly began following behind them.

“…What’s it doing now?” Aster mumbled, glancing back.

Dominic shook his head.

“Just stay close to me,” he said.

It remained at a distance as they moved through the forest, careful not to come too close. Aster slowly started to relax as he realized that the vines had stopped attacking him with the beast present.

“What’s this?” he murmured. “Is the panther a plant repellent?”

Dominic didn’t understand it either, but it was a welcome surprise. They had wasted a lot of time cutting Aster loose every few steps.

They continued for a while this way, peacefully hacking a path through the dense jungle. He could feel it, the mana that came off the abandoned site like smoke. They were getting closer. Dominic extended his senses, trying to map out the place in case there was even more trouble awaiting them there, then stopped in his tracks.

“…Brother?” Aster called tentatively, noticing Dominic’s apprehension.

“We’re not alone.”

“What?”

He stared through the forest, unable to see far enough to spot the presence he was feeling in the mana.

“There’s somebody there already.”

Aster took a step back, forgetting about the beast lurking behind him.

“A person?” he asked.

“A person.”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, no words coming out. Dominic clenched the knife in his hand and forged forward.

“We’re still going?” Aster exclaimed.

He just slashed down another branch in their way.

“We should greet our guest.”

He could feel the mana coming off the person there. It was calm, almost strangely so, like they were lounging around and reading a good book, completely unperturbed in the middle of a jungle where even the plants were out looking for fresh meat. It was a little unsettling, but he chose to keep moving forward. They had already come this far.

They finally emerged on a small clearing, sunlight dappling the first patch of green grass they’d seen in a while. A makeshift camp had been made there, a tent and a few logs scattered about. An old woman was seated beside the unlit fire pit, which she had obviously built herself.

She looked up at the two humans and a panther as they entered and smiled.

“Wow,” she said, “visitors! It has certainly been a while.”

She stood from her crudely nailed together chair and put her hands together in a greeting.

“Good afternoon, travelers,” she said. “I’m Marion.”

Dominic clasped his hands together as well.

“Good afternoon.”

He glanced around. It looked like she had been living there for some time, despite how uninhabitable the place seemed.

“May I ask why you came to such a remote place?” he said. Although she clearly held no malice, the situation just didn’t make sense.

“Ah, yes, it must look strange.”

She nodded in agreement, sitting back down in her creaky chair.

“I’m an amateur, as you might say,” she explained. “I’ve always held an interest in old Marshal sites, so I’ve spent quite a lot of time tracking them down. This was my latest project, though I haven’t made much progress.”

“So you don’t have official permission to be here?” Dominic asked.

“Well, there was nobody to ask. It’s unclaimed land.”

“It’s my land, now.”

He produced a copy of the documents he’d kept with him from his bag. She studied them, then, surprisingly, smiled with satisfaction.

“Wow,” she murmured, “how nice.”

She glanced back up at him, her cat-like eyes curved merrily.

“Are you going to tell me to leave here, then?” she asked. “I certainly am trespassing.”

“Will you share what you’ve found about the site so far?”

“Of course.”

“Then I don’t see any reason to.”

She chuckled, then gestured towards her camp. There were quite a few makeshift seats scattered about—some built crudely like hers, some just logs that had been hacked flat.

“Please, make yourself at home,” she said. “This is all I can provide for the new landowners. Is that kitty behind you coming as well?”

Dominic and Aster both glanced back at the giant panther that was still on their tail.

“I guess,” he replied. It was an effective vine repellent. Regardless of how quickly Aster was shaking his head at him to say ‘no,’ the cat was a welcome addition.

“Wonderful. The more company, the better.”

They put down their bags, setting them beside the log benches and stretching their sore shoulders. Dominic glanced towards Marion, who was writing something in her journal.

“Do you know where the entrance to the monastery is?” he asked.

Marion looked up and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Can you lead me to it? I’d like to see it first.”

“Of course.”

She closed her journal and pushed herself up from her seat.

“It’s this way.”

She headed away from the camp, and Dominic followed. Aster, still organizing the bags, noticed them leaving with wide eyes.

“Wait, I’m still here!” he said.

“Make friends with the cat,” Dominic replied.

“What?!”

They slipped into the undergrowth, branches closing around them. Marion wove through the confusing mess with practiced ease, stepping over roots and ducking under wayward branches. Not too far off from the camp, they reached a sheer, vine-covered rock face. There was so much greenery clinging to it that he could hardly see the stone underneath at all, and it extended so high that it blocked out the Sun.

“It’s here,” she said.

“Where?” Dominic asked, glancing around. It was hard to pinpoint anything in the tangle of plants.

She carefully slipped her fingers between two twisted vines and placed the palm of her hand on the stone.

“Here.”

In an instant, a giant insignia appeared on the rock face. It glowed amber from beneath the greenery, Marion’s mana flowing through the ancient carved lines like aqueducts. A huge, intricate, circular design was revealed, and it clearly outlined a giant set of double doors.

Marion withdrew her hand and turned to Dominic.

“I haven’t been inside yet,” she said. “I was going to prepare some more before starting exploration. But if you are confident, then I’d be happy to tag along.”

He put his hand on the rock and felt the engraved lines. It was old, extremely old, but he could still sense magic circuits running through the entire cliff, and even further below. The ancient monastery, though abandoned and devoid of any presences save for the rats that had burrowed inside, was very much still alive.

“I’ll try it tomorrow,” he replied. “We should rest today.”

Marion smiled and nodded.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed.

They turned away from the imposing rock wall, and returned to camp.

∞

The night was warm and muggy, but comfortable once the Sun set. It was summer, but it was summer under the canopy, deep inside the jungle, shielded from the blazing heat. The trees around them were alive with sound, the songs of insects overlapping and creating a melodious din, which was slowly becoming simple white noise in the background. The stars above twinkled in the pinholes between the branches, clearer than he’d ever seen. He was starting to understand what it meant to be at ‘the origin.’

Aster, leaned up against the huge panther, had fallen deeply asleep, tired from the long trek—having somehow actually made peace with the beast. Marion, still sitting in her chair, coincidentally met Dominic’s eyes from across the fire pit and smiled softly.

“What are you thinking about, Dominic?” she asked, keeping her voice low to not wake the boy and the cat.

“…I’m wondering how they built this place,” he replied.

Even now, he was sensing vague signals given off by magic circuits far below their feet. The monastery extended over an unbelievably vast amount of space underground, not to mention the entrance had been carved into a solid slab of stone. All of that in itself was a monumental undertaking, and they had somehow done it in the middle of the most inhospitable jungle in Hesia.

“It certainly begs the question,” she replied, nodding. “It’s hard to imagine such a place ever being under construction. It almost seems to have sprung into existence fully formed.”

She chuckled lightly.

“But perhaps that is part of the point?” she said. “Perhaps the builders intended it that way—for it to look as if the maker god themselves had fabricated it, and not merely human hands.”

“Is that also one name for Mars?” Dominic asked. “‘The maker god.’”

“Yes, dear,” Marion answered. “There are many, and the maker god is one. The god of all things, the god of creation, the god of the world. They are a representation of Denea itself, though, why they were dubbed ‘Mars’ and not ‘Denea’ to begin with, I’m not sure.”

Dominic studied the old woman, the excitement in her eyes accentuated by the reflection of the stars above.

“Are you a Marshal?” he asked.

She put a hand to her chin in thought.

“Now that’s hard to say,” she replied. “If by ‘Marshal’ you mean a devout follower and worshiper, then no, I am not. But I do certainly believe in their existence. That is undeniable to me. Are you a Marshal, Dominic?”

He pursed his lips, then slowly turned his gaze up to the patches of sky that showed between the treetops. It was completely dark in the forest now, their fire having been put out after roasting game for dinner, but the light of the moons and the stars from above was more than enough to see everything.

“No,” he said. “I don’t believe in a creator.”

He disliked the idea that everything was the work of some higher power. What was the point of living in somebody’s painting?

“Ah, I don’t believe in a creator either,” Marion replied.

“I thought you believed in Mars.”

“I do, but I prefer the older myths.”

She gestured broadly, her hand panning across the boy sleeping against the cat, the smoldering fire pit, the forest beyond.

“The world exists on its own,” she said. “Mars did not create Denea, but in fact was created with it. They are simply a representation of what is already here.”

She put a hand to her chin as if trying to recall something.

“Denea became fire and brimstone, thus fire and brimstone became her,” she recited. “Oceans rained down and filled valleys, thus oceans and shores became her. Ice crept over and conquered the poles, thus ice and glaciers became her. The passage goes on for paragraphs like that, in a really ancient version of the Halion. I read it back in my university days.”

“I thought Mars had no set form,” Dominic said. “Why are they female now?”

Marion chuckled.

“Oh, it’s just the old poets,” she replied. “I’m sure they just wrote what sounded best.”

Dominic, though listening, was starting to feel the fatigue finally kicking in. He hadn’t properly rested since entering the jungle, having to keep watch to make sure Aster wasn’t dragged away. And even before that, he’d forcefully healed himself for over a week straight so he wouldn’t waste time on sleep inside the archives. His eyelids were heavy, and slowly falling.

“That passage,” he said, gaze dropping to the fire pit. “How did the entire thing go?”

Marion, well aware of his fading consciousness, just smiled softly. She parted her lips and began to recite it once more.

Her voice, quiet and rhythmic, carried calmly through the night air. Her mana, whether it was because she had been here for some time or not, resembled the jungle—a forest full of trunks, light dappling the dead leaves underneath their feet, ferns growing in little patches where, for only a few hours each day, they can see the Sun. Ants crawl over fallen logs in orderly lines. The soil is fertile and full of worms. And the air is simultaneously the thickest and the clearest you’ve ever breathed. The poem that came out with her breath felt like a lullaby.

Dominic leaned his head back, the rickety chair beneath him groaning in complaint, and closed his eyes.

The night was warm and calm as he slept under it.