1-6-01 - Many thanks to Princess for setting me straight on the color of Marron's eyes... I decided to go with gold for now. Arigatou!
This story was written after I got to wondering how Marron Glaces might have turned out if he hadn't had Carrot around to protect him as a kid. Seems like a sensitive, self-controlled child like Marron could easily have developed enough resentment at the world to have turned to the Sorcerers. Don't worry, though, it's not a darkfic... kinda sappy actually. Sentiment alert. ^_^
Sorceror Hunters is copyright (c) Satoru Akahori & Ray Omishi.
The sun had set hours ago, and now twilight crept through the trees, turning the familiar oaks and maples to twisted creations from a mad wizard's nightmare. The fading light in the sky touched scarlet fingers to the bellies of burgeoning stormclouds above the hills. A wind rattled the branches.
No night was a good night to spend outside, with hostile magic walking the dark forest, and the little boy sensed the coming rain and knew that tonight was about to become less pleasant than most.
He didn't care. Wrapping his arms about his knees, he curled into the smallest possible ball, in a hollow at the base of a leafless oak tree, and waited for the rain. He did not cry; his golden eyes stared ahead, dry, unblinking.
"Marron!"
The boy twitched at the familiar voice echoing through the trees, then clenched his teeth, and pressed his face against his knees.
"Marron! I'm sorry, really. I -- Come on. Mom and Dad will be mad."
The voice was a bit louder, closer. Marron closed his eyes and balled his fists against his ears to shut out the sound.
"Marron! Are you out here? Come out! Please!"
He could withstand anger, he could withstand commands -- but the fear and pleading in the other boy's voice twisted his heart. Marron swallowed and forced himself back down into the icy calm in the center of his being, the place he thought of as his safe spot.
"Marron! I'm sorry, really! Please, if you can hear me, answer me!"
Cold, Marron told himself. Be cold. Not angry. Not afraid. Certainly not sorry. Just be cold.
He forced himself to remember the sound of the other children's voices -- shrill, raised in taunts. He concentrated on the sound of their voices until he could no longer hear his big brother calling his name.
"Sissy!"
"Hurt him!"
"Make him cry!"
Marron squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on the red patterns on the inside of his eyelids, on the pain of the cuts and bruises the other children had inflicted. Always before, he'd gone into his safe spot inside himself to escape from the hurt and loneliness, and not thought about it anymore. This time he wouldn't let himself run away from it. He would stare straight into the pain until it didn't hurt anymore.
He wouldn't forget. And he wouldn't forgive. He certainly wouldn't forgive his big brother.
A thunderclap startled him out of his contemplation. The little boy jumped and started to sit up, then remembered he was supposed to be hiding, and quickly curled back into a ball among the roots of the tree. He lay very still, listening for his brother's voice, and began to relax when he heard nothing.
Carrot had given up and gone home.
Proof, then, that he didn't care at all.
Marron blinked quickly until the babyish urge to cry went away. He reminded himself that he didn't care, either.
The wind ruffled his hair and the first drops of rain struck the ground around him. Marron withdrew under the shelter of the tree's big, gnarled roots. Why, he wouldn't get wet at all here. It was almost warm, with the heat of his body chasing the chill out of the small space. No one would find him. No one would miss him. Especially not Carrot.
Stupid Carrot, Marron thought. Never stands up for me. Isn't that what big brothers are supposed to do?
Well, he'd show them. He'd spend the night out here, and when he went back... he wouldn't be weak little Marron any more. He wouldn't need anybody.
The raindrops fell harder and faster now. The sunset's light had faded to a dull red streak across the western sky, like the glow of a dying forest fire. Marron stared at it, and realized, to his own surprise and gratification, that he was not afraid. He'd expected to be terrified. Contemplative as always, he reached inside himself to try to find out why, and discovered the cold, hard knot of anger against his brother and the other children. The anger was holding the fear at bay.
No, no, no, Marron thought. This wasn't how to do it. Keeping the anger inside was as bad as being afraid, for anger is only another thing to bind you to the world. He must feel nothing. Nothing at all. Only by doing that could he keep people from hurting him.
People like the kids at school. People like Carrot, who had failed to protect him, once again.
So he lay while the rain pounded all around him, while the last light faded from the sky, and worked on that cold little ball of resentment. Slowly he nibbled away at it, and as it began to break up and fade, just as he'd worried, the fear began to climb up over the cracks.
No, no, Marron thought; this isn't right, either. I can't fill myself with nothing, so I must find ... something to replace it.
He looked around him, at the rain and the dark.
The darkness was cold. Peaceful. Calm. It did not care about anything, and it never allowed itself to be hurt. Just like Marron wanted.
Well, why not, he thought, and visualized himself reaching out into that darkness, gathering up handfuls and stuffing it inside himself. He drew deep breaths of the cool night air and pictured the darkness flowing down his throat into his belly.
It was working. He felt the anger crumble gently away, and the fear drift after it. He felt calm, at peace with the world. Looking into his safe spot inside himself, he saw only the darkness and cold, just like he saw when he looked out of his little haven under the tree root.
Carefully Marron felt around inside his heart, touching his memories of the other kids, of Carrot. He was relieved to discover that he felt nothing at all anymore. The warm, safe feeling that used to envelop him when he'd think of his older brother, at first submerged by resentment, seemed to have been washed away completely now.
Good, Marron thought. He looked out at the rain, and thought, Dark, you have no power over me. I've found out how to defeat you. I've made you part of me.
Feeling safe and relieved, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
A light touch on his forehead awakened him. Marron jumped and almost banged his head on the tree root. He crouched and stared out nervously. Though the rain still fell, and the darkness had not lightened a bit, he could easily see a woman -- a strange grown-up woman, sitting back on her heels in front of his hiding place, smiling at him.
"Who are you?" Marron demanded.
The woman continued to smile. All grown-ups were varying degrees of big, but she was quite easily the biggest person Marron had ever seen. A warmth seemed to radiate from her, like the glow of a banked fire.
"Well, you can call me Momma, if you'd like," she said.
Marron started to glare at her, then remembered himself. Cool, he reminded himself. Calm. "I would prefer not to," he said, very cool, very calm.
The woman laughed. Oddly, Marron didn't feel the surge of bitter resentment that he normally felt against people who laughed at him. Her laugh was so warm, so infectious, that he wanted to laugh too.
He didn't, of course. That would be childish.
"You are so calm and collected, even at this age," the woman called Momma said. "Why don't you want to call me Momma? Other people do, people much older than you."
"Because you're not my Momma."
She laughed again. "Fair enough. You may call me Ma'am, if you'd prefer."
"Okay," Marron said. "Ma'am." He sat up a little straighter, and stared curiously at the big strange lady, trying to figure out how he could see her so clearly in the darkness. She seemed to have her own glow; it didn't come from any source he could see, nor did it cast shadows, but it seemed to shine from within her like that maternal warmth he still felt radiating from her.
"How you stare!" the woman cried happily. "Do you like what you see, child?"
"You're very pretty," Marron said, which was true. He couldn't help noticing, however, that despite the downpour her hair was still curly and her flowing garments blew gently in the breeze. "How come you're not getting wet?" he asked her.
"Rain and sun do not touch me unless I want them to, little one. Would you like me to get wet?"
Marron nodded. "It would be less weird."
"I understand that," Momma said, and inclined her head a trifle. Suddenly the raindrops were pattering on her head and streaking her smooth cheeks. Her hair began to wilt. "Like this?" she said.
Marron almost giggled, but caught himself in time, and retreated a bit into the soothing darkness. "Yes," he said.
The woman shivered. "My, it's cold out here! Why aren't you cold, little Marron?"
"I'm not cold because I'm not afraid of the dark," he told her.
"Really? Why aren't you afraid of the dark?"
"Because I swallowed it," he said, staring calmly up at the huge adult.
He expected -- almost hoped for -- another of those warming smiles, but instead her eyes turned downwards, and the lines of her body seemed to droop. "Oh, little one," she said. "You don't know what you're saying."
"But I do," Marron pressed, shy but bolstered by the strength of his convictions. "I won't be afraid or sad any more. I don't feel anything inside. It's very nice."
To his amazement, she caught up one of his small hands in her huge one. Her fingers were warm, but slick with rainwater, and cooler at the tips. "And is that the ideal you aspire to?" she asked. "To feel nothing? To never laugh at a joke, or cry at another's sorrow?"
"That's right," Marron said staunchly, pulling his hand free. "It's not worth it, to be sad all the time."
The woman took his hand back again. "Poor Marron; has someone hurt you?"
"Everyone has hurt me," Marron said grimly. He showed her the black eye and bruises the other children had left on his face.
"They are very young and don't know any better. You will always meet ignorant people throughout your life."
"I know," Marron said. "That's why I don't want to feel anything for them. That way they can't hurt me."
The rain sluiced mud around the big woman's knees, soaking her once-lovely dress. She seemed not to notice. "Someone else has hurt you ... hasn't he, little Marron?"
"Yes," Marron said, and he felt a twinge somewhere in the darkness of his safe spot. He stifled it mercilessly, and felt it slip away with all the others. "My big brother. He's mean and he doesn't like me, so I don't care about him."
"Oh, Marron, why do you say that? Your brother loves you, and I'm sure you love him."
"No he doesn't, and I don't." Marron paused briefly to see if his betraying heart had any reaction to these words, and when it did not, he went on more bravely. "He doesn't care anything about me. He lets the others pick on me all the time, and he never stops them."
The big woman bent almost double, bringing her softly lit face near to Marron's. "And what if I tell you, little one... that your brother is in danger? Do you feel anything when I say that?"
Maybe there was another twinge, but Marron buried it quickly. "No."
"He is going to die."
"Carrot's going to die?" Marron said, startled. He forgot, for a moment, to be calm. "Why?"
"Because he is out searching for you in this rain. Look down there, little Marron." She pointed behind her, down the hill into the ravine below the oak tree, and for a moment a flash of lightning lit the forest and Marron could see floodwaters twisting and rushing down the gully. "It's dangerous out here. If you stay out all night, Marron, so will your brother, trying to find you. He will grow more and more tired, until at last he'll slip in the mud and fall into a wash like that one. He won't ever be found."
Marron swallowed hard, seeking something to bolster his courage and choke down the new fear. Calm, calm... "He's only looking for me because Mother and Father will be angry. He said so."
"Is that how he really feels, do you think?"
"I know he does," Marron said, lifting his small chin.
"Oh, you are so stubborn," Momma sighed. "Little Marron, there is nothing wrong with being calm and not wearing your heart on your sleeve. The other children who have hurt you are very young and don't know how to accept those different from them. But true strength, little one, is not gained at the expense of one's better emotions."
"There are no better emotions," Marron protested, secure in the rightness of his position. "Feelings just make you hurt inside, even if they feel good at first."
"How can you be happy in your life, do you suppose, if you feel nothing for anyone else?"
"I don't need to be happy. That's baby talk," Marron said scornfully. "I just don't want to feel bad any more. And I don't."
Momma raised one hand to her face, and Marron saw, to his surprise, that not all the water on her cheeks was from the rain. "Oh, Marron. Everyone feels bad sometimes. But it's balanced by good feelings, like the way you feel about your brother when you're not mad at him."
"I don't feel anything at all," Marron cried. "He's stupid and I don't care if he dies!" Then he managed to recover himself and retreat behind the wall of calmness.
Momma raised her hand over her head, palm up, fingers slightly cupped. "Marron, little Marron, I care for you very much and I'm sorry to do this to you when you're so young. But if anyone can handle it, I think you can; and I don't really feel that I have a choice. More is at stake than you know."
"What are you going to do?" Marron asked, cringing under the tree root. He wondered if she meant to spank him, as Father sometimes spanked Carrot when Carrot was bad. Marron had never had a spanking in his life, and even though Carrot said it wasn't so bad, he didn't want to find out.
"I'm going to show you a possible future," Momma said, and she lowered her hand, filled to the brim with rainwater, and held it in front of Marron.
He covered his eyes with his hands, afraid to look, but then he reminded himself that he wasn't a baby, and he really wanted to show Momma that he was a big boy. So he peeked.
At first he couldn't see anything, just her fingers shimmering softly through the water.
"Look deeper," Momma murmured, as if she'd read his thoughts. "You have a talent for things like this, Marron Glaces, though you don't know it yet."
Marron looked, and began to see movement in the murky water. Suddenly he blinked and gasped.
That's ... me! But it's not...
Surely this couldn't be him, that tall, beautiful young man ... Marron knew that he was clumsy, but this youth had a quiet grace to his movements, an air of self-possession that made even the simplest motion almost like a ballet move. He was reclining on a couch with a book in his hands, his long black hair falling like water over the side and spilling onto the floor. He wore a long white robe. When he raised a languid hand to turn a page, music seemed to trail after it through the air.
"Is that me, Ma'am?" Marron whispered in awe.
"Yes, little Marron." Her voice was sad, but Marron was too fascinated to wonder why.
He watched the future-Marron raise his head at a sound. The door opened; and Marron saw that the room was all white -- floor, ceiling, walls. There were no windows, but a cool blue light flooded everything. Books were everywhere, in shelves and simply piled on the floor. Marron had never seen so many books and his heart swelled with joy. What a wonder, to be surrounded by all that knowledge...
A woman entered the room, paying no attention to the books, and sank to her knees in a deep bow. She wore a simple green robe clasped at the waist with a gold pin. "Sir, someone is here to see--"
The future-Marron raised his hand and the woman cut off in midsentence. "I told you I was studying, didn't I? You know better than to disturb me when I'm studying, Kiwi. I need quiet to concentrate." His voice never raised, never changed, but the woman cringed.
"But... but sir, she says she is a friend from your childhood, and she needs your help."
One of the pale hands moved, and the woman gasped, her look of horror freezing on her face. She collapsed in on herself. When she hit the floor, she was a small rag doll.
The future Marron rose from his couch, and as he did so, the black hair fell back from his face and the child Marron saw the colorful markings on his forehead and cheeks. Marron had only seen one other person with marks like that, a stranger who had visited their village the previous summer. The stranger had moved into the house of the richest man in town, and whenever he walked the streets, everyone bowed to him. Marron's parents had told him to stay away from the man and never speak to him.
They had called him a Sorcerer.
Marron didn't know what a Sorcerer was, only that it was something bad, something that other people feared.
That can't be me, he thought. I wouldn't do something mean like that!
He watched, frozen with horror, as his future self walked over to the doll and picked it up, placed it on one of the bookshelves.
"I know you can hear me, Kiwi," he said. "Contemplate your trespass. When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it."
"Marron!"
Marron, the child, jumped, thinking that someone had called his name -- but it was still in the future dream, the future nightmare. The woman who had spoken stood in the doorway. She was dripping muddy water and her clothes hung about her in tatters. Her hair was plastered to her gaunt face. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and she looked so different that Marron took a moment to recognize her. It was Tira Misu! His friend! Tira was the only child in his class who would play with him and didn't call him names. Someone had hurt Tira! His little fists clenched.
"Can I help you?" the future Marron asked quietly, arranging the rag doll's limbs on her shelf.
"Marron, oh, Marron. I can't believe I found you." She covered her face with her hands. "Marron ... my home has been destroyed. The Sorcerers came... they said that we hadn't paid taxes ... my husband, my family ... oh, Marron!"
"I heard of the incident," the future Marron said, glancing at her. His golden eyes, reflective as marbles, slid across her without a flicker. "Those people were foolish. They had only to obey the rules and no one would have been hurt."
"Marron, how can you say that! The taxes were squeezing the life out of everyone! We barely had enough money to buy food!"
"Taxes are levied after a careful calculation of the median village income. I should know; I helped design the algorithm that we use. It is very fair. A few people may suffer; but a few more retain more than their fair share, so on the scale of the world, it balances out."
Tira bit her lips and lowered her hands from her face. Her eyes flashed with some of the fiery spirit that her hard life had worn from her. "I see I should never have come here. I'd heard you were truly one of them -- but I never believed it. 'It's only for the knowledge' ... don't you remember telling me that, when you went to study with the Sorcerers? Don't you remember telling me that? You promised your family that you would never join them."
Marron's future self shrugged. "I said what I had to say, so that Mother wouldn't put up a fuss. That's what everyone does, Tira ... says what has to be said, then does what needs to be done. It's the only logical way to be."
"Damn you, Marron! Don't you feel a thing for anyone?"
"I need to get back to my studies, Tira. If you still wish to talk to me, there's an hour in the evening when I see visitors. Goodbye."
"Damn you!" Tira screamed, and the whip in her hand -- concealed under her ragged cloak -- was a blur as she brought it toward the future Marron's head. But he was faster still -- though he barely seemed to move, his subtle hand gesture trailing music in its wake --
"No!"
Marron's small fist struck the water in Momma's hand, scattering it, breaking the hated picture into a thousand fragments.
"I'd never hurt Tira! Never!"
Momma put her arm around him and held him against her body. Marron clung to her, unable to fight back the tears that burned his eyes. The rain soaked them both.
"This is the road that study will lead to you to, little Marron, without a heart to temper your head. It is easy to lose yourself in your books. It is tempting to shut out the world, especially when the world hurts you. But deliberately turning your back on those who care about you is no less cruel than acting intentionally to harm them."
"I'm sorry," Marron whimpered.
"You haven't done anything to be sorry for. Not yet. And now I'll tell you a secret," Momma said. "But you must never tell anyone, especially not your brother. It may not make sense to you now, but you'll understand when you grow up."
Marron wiped at his eyes. "What secret?"
"The reason why your brother doesn't protect you at school. It's not that he doesn't love you, little Marron. He does it for you."
Marron eyed her suspiciously. "That's silly."
"No, not at all. It's as hard for him to stand by and let the other children bully you as it is for you to fight back. Sometimes he cries because of it; I've seen him."
"Carrot cries?" Marron said, disbelieving.
"Yes, he does. But he knows that if he protects you all your life, you'll never learn to protect yourself. You'll never truly become an adult and learn to stand on your own feet. And someday you would come to resent him for it. He truly never meant to drive you away."
"I don't understand really," Marron admitted.
"That's all right. You will when you're older. All you need to remember now is that your big brother loves you very much and wants you to be strong."
"I'll try to be strong, Ma'am."
"That's good. Why don't you go find your brother and make sure the two of you get safely home."
"I can do that!" Marron cried eagerly, and ran off into the storm.
"Wait! It's not..." Momma sighed, and finished, to herself, "...safe."
She straightened up and brushed her hand across her skirt. The mud and water flicked away from her fingers and the fabric fell in its customary folds again.
A soft chime at her shoulder let her know that she was no longer alone.
"Is it all right for me to become visible now, Big Momma?" the sprite asked hesitantly.
Momma sighed. "Were you listening, Dota?"
"Only a little bit," the sprite protested. "Well... a middle-sized bit, maybe."
"Do you think I did all right, Dota? So much is at stake. So much rides on the soul of this one boy."
"He seems like a nice little boy," Dota said.
"He is... right now. But very contained. Nature has not endowed him with an excess of emotions. It is very easy for a person like that to shut themselves off from the world."
"But he won't do that now, will he, Big Momma?"
"I hope not, Dota. Let's look and see how things are going. We should make sure he doesn't fall in any sinkholes himself."
Marron raced breathlessly through the rain, sliding down one muddy hill after another.
"Marron? ... Hey!"
Carrot was perched on a low tree branch, trying to get a look over the underbrush. At the sight of the little boy moving toward him through the gloom, he jumped joyously down into the mud.
"Marron? Hey -- you're crying. I-- I've never seen you cry before. Are you okay? Did somebody hurt you?"
"I'm okay, big brother. Oh, Carrot!" To Carrot's shock, his little brother threw his arms around his waist, sobbing.
"Hey. Hey, Marron, it's all right. Come on, you're a man. Men don't carry on like that."
"I'm sorry," Marron sniffled, pulling away and wiping his nose on his sleeve.
"Oh, don't worry about it," Carrot sighed. "Come on, let's go home. Mom is going to have my head."
"I'll tell her it was my fault!" Marron cried.
"Don't worry about it, kiddo. I'm the older one. It's always my fault, you know."
"Well, she'd better not get mad at you, Carrot, 'cause... cause nobody better mess with my big brother, yeah," Marron said, waving his arms enthusiastically.
"Yeah, right on, kid. Don't fall in the swamp. Watch it there."
"I'm serious," Marron protested, looking up at his big brother. "I'm not very strong now, but someday I'm going to be strong just like you, Carrot, and then nobody better ever hurt you or Tira 'cause I'll take care of them for you."
"Right, kid." Carrot ruffled his little brother's wet hair. "Come on, let's get outa here."
"I think it's gonna be okay, Momma," Dota said, perched on her shoulder.
"Softly, softly, little sprite. They'll hear you."
"Sorry, Momma."
"But you're right," Momma agreed, turning to go. "The future spins again... and who knows what it will hold? I think we've done all we can do here."
"Where are we going now, Momma?"
Big Momma sighed. "Off to St. Souffle's Academy for Girls, ten years hence. We have to somehow prevent Chocolat Misu from an unplanned, potentially disastrous pregnancy. She's fifteen."
"These people are going to save the world, Momma?"
"Someday, Dota. Trust me."
"Carrot! Carrot!"
Watching from the woods, Momma smiled.