Sorcerer Hunters

"Starstone"

Chapter IV

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His pace was leisurely as he passed through town on his errands. Bags of parchment, inks and new pens balanced on one side with sacks of bread, vegetables, and a cold-packed roast on the other.

Looking for something, but usure of what, Marron examined each store window carefully. His mind wandered over hundreds of topics, most specifically their communications with the goddess who requested that he and his friends call her "Big Momma."

"Each of you has completed the studies I requested of you," she said. With a kindly eye to Marron, she added, "And some of you have gone far beyond what I asked. I thank you for your dedication. I'm glad to say that I believe the five of you are ready to begin your tasks as sorcerer hunters."

"Oh, wow!" Carrot jumped up, spreading his arms wide. "When do we start, Big Momma?"

She laughed musically. "You will begin your travels in one month's time. Over the next three weeks, your instructors will help you gather what supplies you will need, help pack your bags, and teach you what they know of travelling. You will be given the fourth week to yourself, to play and relax, and to consider."

"Consider what, Big Momma?" Gateau asked, his hands on his waist.

Big Momma smiled at him. "I will grant each of you a single boon–"

Carrot leaned over and whispered in Marron's ear, "Pst, what's a boon?"

"–A gift," the goddess continued, "Of your request. I ask you to consider carefully what I might be able to give to you that you will find most useful in your journeys ahead. I will ask you again in one month."

Marron sighed. Two and a half weeks of painful lessons in packing lightly later, and there was still nothing he could think of that would help him. He knew that he could not ask Mother to make him stronger or taller. His agility was beyond perfection, his skills with magic acutely accurate. The one thing he truly wished he could ask for was far beyond even Mother's immense powers.

A sudden, early spring shower prompted the young mage off the street and beneath an awning. Peering into the window, he realized that the shop was a jeweler's. Strands of silver and gold chains, rings and amulets lay displayed around precious stones of all colors and sizes, some nearly as large as Marron's fist. They were all well-shielded behind many panes of glass. A well-lit star-sapphire caught his eye, and he bent forward to take a closer look, an odd idea forming in his head.

"The stars in the heavens are reflected in the star of that sapphire," a deep voice lilted behind him, causing him to jump backwards. "...But neither precious stones nor the heavens themselves can beg to compare to the clear beauty of the star that stands before me, walking the earth like god, condescending his presense to awe us of the lesser mortalities."

Spinning around, Marron was confronted by the warm, blue eyes that haunted him so regularly. Unsure of what to say or do, he started to back away, thinking it would be best to just move along quickly.

"Oh, don't go, I beg you," the man said, grinning widely. Marron blushed and stared at him. "I never got to introduce myself before–I am Vareg," he bowed, "And I would be honored to make your acquaintance." He offered Marron his hand.

Marron stared at Vareg's hand. He wanted desperately to take it, and before he could allow himself to think things through, he set down his bags of parchment and inks, and shook Vareg's hand. "I... am Marron," he said. He stared intently at Vareg's shoes, too shy to look into those blue eyes.

Vareg's hand was warm, firm but gentle. Once he held Marron's hand in his, he did not let go. With another small bow to the young mage, Vareg picked up Marron's bags in his free hand, and led him slowly down the street. "I do believe the rain has gone," he said, his eyes focused on Marron's blushing face.

Using the opportunity to look anywhere but at the man who held his hand, Marron glanced up at the brightening sky. "I, er... yes, it is." He blushed more deeply at his own stumbling words.

"I wondered where you got off to, after last fall," Vareg said. He looked up at the sky, giving Marron a moment's opportunity to glance at the young man's face. His curly hair was long enough that it was pulled back into a thick ponytail, although a few curls had pulled free to frame his aristocratically-boned face.

Marron gulped and looked away. It was true, what he had told his brother. He was sure, now, what the feelings he had now meant, as he considered the man next to him. "...Why?"

He glanced back up at Vareg, who caught his eye and winked at him. "When an angel falls to earth, Marron–" Marron bit his lip at the way Vareg rolled his name off his tongue. "–The mortals must rush to worship him."

The young mage tried to conjure a vision of his friend Dota in his head. "Have you ever met an angel?" he asked quietly.

"Only since you graced me with your name," was the smooth reply.

As they walked, Marron let himself relax. Vareg circled them through downtown, his pace as slow as Marron's stuttered responses to his questions. When they passed by the jeweler's store for the second time, he suddenly came back to himself, pulling his hand free.

"I... really need to be getting home," he said. He looked around for the sun, finding it half-above the horizon. He glanced sheepishly at the sacks of food his carried, thankful for the cold-pack around the roast. "I... they'll be needing this food at home," he explained, looking up into Vareg's face intentionally for the first time.

Vareg smiled at him. Marron thought he was going to melt. "Perhaps you'll grant this lowly mortal a few, golden minutes of your day tomorrow?" he asked. He took Marron's hand again, bent down, and kissed it.

When the young mage's mind began working again, he found himself standing alone on the street, holding his sacks of food and his bags of parchment, staring at the darkening sky.

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The following day was as bright as Marron was giddy.

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Unsure of when Vareg had hoped to meet, Marron had brought a thick book with him when he left the house at noon. Unsure of where Vareg had hoped to meet, he wandered around downtown for a while, until he regretted bringing such a weighty tome with him. He sat on a bench near the downtown fountain where he had first met Vareg.

He did not wait long, once he sat down. Perhaps ten minutes of unproductive reading later, the young mage looked up apprehensively to see Vareg approaching him, a single pink rose in one hand. Guessing who the rose was for, Marron promptly blushed, then tried to compose himself.

Vareg presented the rose with a flourish. "If godly perfection could be transformed into flora," he said, blue eyes bright as they looked into Marron's, "The result would be a budding red rose. But since mankind has not yet discovered the rose that so perfectly reflects your beauty, I hope that you will accept this pale comparison, and allow me to continue searching for blossoms that more accurately represent your corporeal form."

Slightly more prepared to accept Vareg's poetic advances, Marron smiled shyly at him. "I am not sure the gods themselves could defend against your silver tongue," he said softly, attempting to hold the other man's eyes without looking away. "And despite your gilded metaphores, I am no less mortal than anyone else." He used every ounce of self-control he had to keep himself from blushing.

The tall young man seemed slightly surprised, although pleased, by Marron's response. "And no one, mortal or god, could pray to maintain themselves from the silken sound of your voice. Marron," he purred in his deep voice, holding out his hand, "Will you join me for a late luncheon?"

Eyes and smile bright, Marron accepted Vareg's hand and stood. "I would love to," he agreed.

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