Chapter 4: The Festival of the God Kazae

Two days had passed. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and Rayman was still asleep in his bedroom, taking advantage of this time off work to catch up on the sleep he had been missing for weeks. From time to time a light breeze threaded its way through the room, rocking the straw bird, and turning a few pages of the books dropped about the floor as if it were leafing through them. It took a moment too to play with Rayman's hair, that moved with each breath he took. Everything was calm, until a panic- stricken voice rang out in the hall.

"Ray! Hurry! You have to get ready!"

Rayman half-opened one eye, trying to understand what was going on, and with some difficulty raised his head. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and walked to the door.

"Yeah... I'm coming," he said in a faint voice.

This was it, it was the start of the festival, and Rayman was surely about to endure the most horrible hours of his life. He went down the stairs and into the bathroom to wash his face, then slipped on his beige shirt and went into the kitchen to wait for his mother. When she arrived, she had changed her clothes, she was wearing a long, dark blue dress, and her hair had been done into a tight bun with several spiral locks trailing down either side of her neck. Gazing at her intently, Rayman thought that she really did look like a fairy. She gave him an anguished look.

"Ray! You're not going to go like that?"

Rayman thought for a moment and decided it would be better not to answer.

"I know you don't like this festival," she went on, "but it's just for this evening. You'll at least try, won't you? Come on now, turn around."

She was holding a blue and violet shirt which she did her best to fit onto him in a presentable fashion. Feeling that he was being rigged out in a ridiculous disguise, Rayman kept trying to readjust the garment more to suit himself.

"Will you stop fidgeting?" she said, yanking the clothes tighter around him.

"Why couldn't that blasted god have gotten lost somewhere along the way?" Rayman responded gloomily.

"Oh, don't be so difficult, it's not that terrible. It's just a festival like any other."

"For you maybe. And what if a gang of those creatures came barreling onto the scene and devoured everybody? Would that be enough to cancel the festival?"

"Ray!"

When she had finished, Rayman gazed at himself in the bathroom mirror.

"Well, how do you like it?" his mother asked him.

"I look like a clown," Rayman said.

She came into the room. She pulled the shirt off him and gave him back the other.

"Fine, fine, go ahead with that one then."

Rayman smiled at her, slipped into his jacket, and went out.

Outside, everything seemed so different. The weather had gone completely still, there wasn't a breath of wind, not a cloud in the sky as it faded gently to a rosier and rosier hue, and not a sound to be heard. All nature seemed mute that evening. As for the sun, it was settling down behind the hill on which Kito stood. So the festival would be held behind the village, which remained deserted during all this time. Rayman headed in the direction of the hill.

It took him a good quarter of an hour to get there, but when he arrived at the top of the hill, he could see the decorations that the villagers had put up. At the bottom of the slope, the scene was dominated by a platform surrounded by large tables, on which a number of place settings had already been laid out. A sort of bar had been put up for the occasion, covered over with festive cloth in all colours. No doubt there wouldn't be all that much to drink, but that didn't seem to stop people from coming; half the village was already there. They all seemed to be having a good time, enjoying the occasion.

When he spotted the gang of kids that he had had a brush with the day before, he preferred not to get any closer, and he headed for his favourite perch. He climbed up a heap of rocks, out of which sprouted a tree which had grown into an undulating form. Rayman climbed up branch by branch, arriving at last at a hidden nook from which he could see everything, but where he couldn't be seen. He settled himself there, and took a long look at the sky. The sun was taking on bit by bit a rosy colour. Several stars were beginning to shine faintly. Certainly, his mother wasn't going to appreciate that he was spending the evening in this tree, and the organizers of the show were surely going to be hunting for him. But he had made up his mind, he was staying here.

Night was slowly falling. Rayman, beginning to get rather bored, noticed his mother, who had caught sight of him. Apparently she wasn't surprised to find him perched in his tree. She made him a sign with her hand and disappeared into the crowd, which had now become numerous. It was getting darker and darker, and torches were lit to illuminate the stage, the show was about to begin. Rayman heard some children's voices right below him.

"Heh, if Rayman doesn't show up, he's going to be in trouble!"

"Yeah, that's for sure! All the kids are looking for him!"

Rayman thought for a moment. No one knew where he was except his mother, and she surely wouldn't give away that he'd been perched in a tree since the beginning of the festival. Everything was fine; he could stay where he was.

The hours went by, the show was finished, and the much-anticipated moment arrived. The sky became a dark blue, the stars took on a multitude of brilliant colours, and the sun turned violet. Rayman, fascinated by the scene, moved forward on his branch. Then he heard someone climbing up through the boughs. It was his mother, who was joining him with considerable difficulty. He helped her up the last few centimeters, and she settled down next to him. They stayed there for a long time without saying a word, watching the spectacle laid out before them. Minutes passed; and his mother finally spoke up.

"It's true, it's very nice here."

Pulled out of his own thoughts, Rayman turned to look at his mother. He offered her an affectionate smile, and she returned it; but it was erased very quickly, for she changed the subject.

"Ray... you know, about your father..."

She didn't know where to begin, but Rayman already knew what she wanted to tell him. He gave her a sharp look, and she stopped speaking. He grasped that his mother wanted to make him understand that his father would never come back. But he knew that already. What he found strange was that she was giving up, that wasn't her way. But that was only a small detail. Perhaps it was time that they thought about something else, though not indeed to forget him; he could never forget his father.

His mother wanted to add something more, but she remained silent; for Rayman had immersed himself again in the spectacle of the night. So she climbed back down the tree and returned to her table. Then she noticed two of her friends on the other side of the stage. She went towards them, in the direction of the bar, which was occupied by Griffin and a few of his colleagues, mildly drunk. As she passed by, one of them took hold of her arm.

"Hey, gorgeous, you want a bit of fun, come this way!" he said to her, breathing his putrid breath in her face.

"Let me go!" she cried.

But the drunk only gripped her harder.

"Let me go! You're hurting me!"

Rayman, seeing the scene from his tree, leaped to the ground and ran towards his mother.

"Hey! Let her go!"

The man turned around, staring at him with his expressionless zombie eyes.

"Weeellllll.... if it isn't the limbless one, that's all that was missing!"

He got up clumsily and grabbed Rayman by the hair.

"Bugger off, you bup-puppet!" he stuttered, throwing Rayman to the ground.

Rayman got back up and once again charged at the drunk.

"Let go of her!" he cried, before being grabbed once again by another man who yanked him up by the collar.

"Get lost!" he yelled, and flung Rayman at a table, which overturned with a crash of broken plates.

Several villagers dining there jumped up angrily, turning on Rayman, who was struggling to get to his feet.

"This is too much! Can't have a moment's peace!"

"It's because of him! Again!"

"Get out of here! You're going to ruin the party!"

But Rayman paid no attention to the villagers, focusing all his effort on getting up.

"Hey, look, he's getting back up!" yelled a man in the crowd.

Rayman rose and walked with difficulty towards his mother.

"Go away, son, you'd best leave," said Griffin, finishing off his glass.

"No way!" Rayman answered. "If you leave my mother alone, then I'll go."

"Or else what?" retorted the drunk.

Rayman clenched his fists.

"Will you look at that, the puppet wants to fight!"

"Ray! Stop!" cried his mother.

But Rayman paid her no attention and continued to move forward. The drunk grabbed him again by the collar and stared him in the eye.

"You filthy monster..." Then threw him violently to the ground.

Lying stunned in the dust, Rayman heard that last word resonate in his head. Monster? Why? Does the simple fact of having a physique different from others make us a different kind of being, like a monster? But something was wrong, that insult roused in him such a fury... Rayman felt something strange inside him, like a mysterious force. And too there was that strange thought that lurked darkly in his head, like a mysterious creature that haunted him more and more by the moment.

"Everybody hates me, everybody, they look at me as though I were a monster, with their eyes filled with loathing and suspicion. They all ask themselves questions about me, what I am, where I came from, why I'm here! They have no idea that I ask more questions about myself than all of them put together!"

That was too much, the drunk had said aloud what all the villagers thought to themselves. As a monster, that's how they all looked at him.

"Well then. That's what I should act like."

"Look, he's standing again!"

"Don't speak too soon, he still hasn't gotten up yet..."

"My god, we have to put a stop to this!"

The crowd formed a gigantic circle around the scene. Rayman pushed with his hands and with a final effort got once again to his feet. He moved forward, staggering a little. His stare had a power that was terrifying; his eyes, black with hate, were riveted on his mother. Suddenly the drunk tried to grab him, but Rayman avoided him with incredible agility, ran behind him and shoved him into a table. The man turned around and seized Rayman by the abdomen, lifting him slowly into the air.

"You're dead meat," he said.

Rayman could feel his belly beginning to tear apart, the pain outlined a circle like his symbol – the drunk's hand was right over it. He grabbed hold of his tormentor's shoulders and struggled to push himself to the ground.

"Let me go!" cried Rayman.

"What? What's going on?" said the drunk.

But he had no time to react to what was happening. His hand was slowly beginning to smoke. Rayman's symbol was glowing through his shirt.

"Aaaaahhhh! My hand! My hand!" the man screamed.

But that hand, now looking like a heap of dried bones, remained obstinately stuck to the luminous symbol. Suddenly, a powerful ray of light burst out from Rayman's abdomen, disintegrating what remained of the drunken man.

Rayman's mother was trying to get to him, but she was being held back by others because it was too dangerous, objects were flying around, it was a frightening sight. Griffin was watching the scene with more curiosity than amazement. He had been sure that Rayman possessed some kind of power, and one could see in his expression a sense of joy, which certainly hid a smug satisfaction at having had such good judgement.

It would be hard to say who had suffered the most. Rayman was howling with pain, and through the roar of wind produced by the light beam, one could occasionally make out the fluttering of his agonized tears. As for the drunk, he was silenced scarcely a few seconds after that, and his body was held up only by the force of the beam. When that ended, the violent winds faded away into small breezes and then silence returned. No one spoke, no one stirred, everything was quiet, as after a storm. The whole attention of the crowd was fixed on the terrifying spectacle playing out before it. The drunk collapsed to the ground, his body burnt black, his blank eyes still fixed on Rayman, as if for the last time.

He was dead.