by Paul Heisel
Paq wrapped his arms around his grandfather, stifling the flailing weak limbs. Quin stood tall. With great affection, Paq kneeled and hugged his grandfather tight. He felt his grandfather’s sadness. His grandfather had been tormented by those events for the past seventeen years. Although he didn’t understand what his grandfather was going through, he did understand that Furies were their livelihood. What happened that day had not been repeated since. Furies got out of hand or became angry at times; hence the drugs and medicines, but generally they didn’t hurt anyone on the island. They were here to be marked so all would know of their greatness and power, so they could serve the families faithfully and loyally.
“What do you want to do?” Quin asked. “You’re the family elder, thus you’re still in charge.”
There was a long pause. Grandfather sniffed and snorted, finding his voice. “Finish the job.”
#
The initial apprehension lifted as Paq understood what his grandfather meant. He was going to continue marking Owori, not kill her. It horrified him to think he could be asked to murder one of their Furies. Presented with that situation, he knew he couldn’t go through with it. He wasn’t a heartless killer. All he wanted to do was paint, create his tattoos, and make drawings. This was his craft, not murder. The servants returned Min to his quarters and they had peace again. With his father at his side, Paq began the next step of the procedure. They removed the sheet covering her body and applied a white dust to her with a brush.
The white dust consisted of ground bones of magical creatures. It was rather plentiful, this dust, as the other ingredients required were blood of animals and the blood of magical beasts to make ink. When they hunted, killed, and stripped a creature of its components, everything was used. They had enough hides to make an unimaginable amount of armor, clothing, shoes, and jackets. Paq thought if they didn’t mark Furies, they could be clothiers. He was happy, though, that the tanner was miles away. That place stank. With the bone dust covering her, Paq retrieved the only unexplained part of marking a Fury. They had an amulet, passed down through the generations, that when worn would give the wearer the ability to ‘see’ the tattoo meant for the Fury. He put the amulet over his head and there was a tingle in his chest. Magic spread forth. His eyes hurt briefly, then the room became dark to him. All the light filtered away. He could see remnants of the bone dust glowing, amazed how much had spilled to floors over time and had gone unnoticed in the cracks.
Before him was Owori and the bone dust began to disappear. It had been explained to him that the amulet sucked in the dust from the body, leaving behind an outline of the tattoo for the Fury. Paq gazed at Owori’s marks, following the glowing lines. Never had he seen anything like it. She was supposed to have two tattoos, just as his grandfather had started years ago. Normally the tattoos always appeared on the right shoulder, arm, chest, and back. This was the first one he had seen with two tattoos, one on each side.
“Father,” Paq said. “There are two tattoos on her.”
“I remember…”
“Twin dragons. And they cover most of her body.”
“Yes, dragons!”
Paq had never seen the amulet reveal a dragon before. He knew it was rare and it meant the Fury was dominant. His gaze wandered over Owori as he inspected her, and what he saw was exciting – this was his chance to mark a unique Fury.
“How many dragons have you created?”
“Only two,” Quin said. “They are the most talented and influential Furies in existence. They are brothers and as I remember, they can do phenomenal things with their magic.”
“I think they were the most talented is more appropriate,” Paq said. “If this tattoo truly measures Owori’s ability, every Fury will walk in her shadow. She has two dragons!”
Quin hitched his pants again, pulling them higher until his stomach pushed out hard enough to hold them into place. “Damn these tailors. We need better tailors. My pants never fit.”
“I’m wondering,” Paq said, “how are we going to finish her tattoos? It’ll take all day and night to mark her properly. To perfect all of the details of this design will take patience.”
“You know what else this means?”
“What?”
“She’ll fetch an emperor’s ransom,” Quin said. “She will cost us a literal fortune to mark. Dragon ink is so rare, so costly to attain. What color is she? Please don’t say red.”
“Red.”
“We may not have enough ink. All of what we have will not be enough for two marks. I’ll have to ask Yan for more dragon blood, and he just brought us some not long ago. We may have to delay…”
“We can improvise with the colors,” Paq said as he removed the amulet. His eyesight returned to normal. The bone dust lines remained on Owori, a pattern for him to follow. “We have colors from other dragons, do we not? Hill man ink is red, we can use that as well.”
“You can’t mix inks like that. I don’t want to stray from what we’re supposed to do, it’s too risky.”
“What we’re supposed to do! We mark Furies – who is going to tell us our craft?” Magical ink is magical ink, he wanted to say.
“And if the mark doesn’t take because of using other inks? Then what? You know how much that will cost if we have a rogue fury?”
“I’ll take. I know it will. Trust me.”
Quinn crossed his arms and patted his fat stomach with his hands, making soft whacking noises. “This is no time to experiment,” Quin said. “Not with this one.”
“I’ve already done it.” Paq looked at his father and measured his facial response. He could tell his father wasn’t amused, and he knew it was because of the financial implications. If a mark didn’t take, the Fury would be more independent and less likely to be loyal to their given family. That caused problems, usually death for the Fury.
“Paq…”
“How many marks have you made in the past year?”
“That doesn’t matter…”
“How many?” Paq asked.
Quin looked away from his son as if ashamed.
“You’ve been off enjoying your life while I’ve been here and marked more Furies than ever before. Do you know how many Furies I’ve marked? Hundreds! Do you know the wealth that will bring once Pearl starts returning with those Furies from Malurrion? When we start selling them to the families, we’ll have more gold than the Emperor! Isn't that what you want?”
“Just because I haven’t done much in the last year and just because you’ve been doing all the work doesn’t give you the right to experiment with time tested and age old procedures.”
Paq crossed his arms and faced his father, his head cocked to one side. His hair dangled close to one eye. He brushed it and beads of sweat away. “If I recall correctly, a few hundred years ago one of our ancestors decided not to use needles, instead, he decided to use magical inks and fine brushes. Where would we be if he hadn’t tried a new procedure? We’d still be spending weeks and weeks on a single Fury with those damn needles!”
“You make a good point. I hadn’t looked at it like that.”
“What’s done is done, anyway, and I’m certain all the marks have taken, there have been no issues with loyalty or anything. I’ve made no mistakes. Trust me. It’ll work with her, and her tattoos will look beyond amazing.”
“Your tattoos do have flair, I’ll give you that.” Quin hitched up his pants and tied the sash, crushing his fat which spilled over and turned the top of his pants inside out.
“Father, what about Owori? What is your decision?”
“I’ll allow this, but under conditions.”
“No conditions father. You can’t make demands of me. You haven’t marked a Fury in over a year.”
“I’m only asking for one condition, and one condition only. I want you to teach me how to do this, and we document how it’s done so future generations of our family will know. I can see how mixing things up can bring more profits as well. There are magical inks we have b
arrels of – we should use them. Do we have a deal?”
“I’ve been thorough. All my journals detail the amounts, type of ink, and color combinations I’ve used. It’s already documented. Don’t worry, I’m not lazy. I know the best inks and the best colors to use.”
“Do we have a deal?” his father asked again.
“Yes.”
“I’ll retrieve all of the dragon inks, if we don’t have red we’ll use what inks have for the red color. You get your grandfather.”
Paq panicked. “Grandfather wants to kill her! No! I’ll not have him kill the most powerful Fury to ever exist!”
“Calm down my son. We need him to witness this procedure and he can help us. If all three of us work together, we can finish her marks. Together.”
“What about the celebration?” Paq asked.
Quin sighed. “Unfortunately this comes first. I’ll fetch the inks. Any particular ones you want me to get besides dragon?”
“All of them. Every single one we have, no matter how common or rare.”
After calling the servants and assistants for help, Quin departed to their ink stores to retrieve what they needed. The tattoos for Owori would use all the red dragon ink they had. It would be difficult to replace, as each bottle of processed ink represented the blood of a slain dragon. As he recalled, their family hadn’t had to hunt a dragon in hundreds of years – the Emperor had always provided them with dragon blood. What they would use on Owori was worth a hefty price indeed and the life of a dragon. That was the price she would fetch, an Emperor’s ransom that would take up, he guessed, a quarter of their vault.
#
The three generations of the Kolun family worked into the evening. They could hear the celebration distant on the grounds, the noise filtering through the walls of the converted temple. Their absence had been explained by other family members as a temporary sickness, and the guests were assured all three would be healthy and attending when they had another gathering. Paq was happy to have missed the celebration. Nothing irritated him more than sycophants from the other side of the island who wanted their money.
The application of the dragon tattoos progressed steadily. Paq recalled an argument between his father and grandfather about whether they should refer to their craft as tattoos or marks. Although they were indistinguishable from tattoos made with needles, their craft was more of a magical painting now. The inks they used were distilled from animals, beasts, and magical creatures. They used brushes and airbrushes to apply the magical inks, and used finer ground bone dust to cause the inks to set and permanently mark the Fury. There was little pain or discomfort, different from tattoos created with needles so long ago. That difference, the needles, was what caused the heated debate. Paq didn’t care for the needles, but he knew how to use them, as it was a part of his early training in the family business. It was hard work compared to using his brushes and took longer with the amount of surface area they had to cover on a Fury’s body.
The first dragon was on the right hand. The tail began at her hand and snaked up along her forearm and bicep, then it turned. The body and head of the dragon, as determined by the amulet, went over her right breast and down to her stomach. The claws and wings extended over part of her left breast, up her neck, and almost to her cheek. The second dragon, on the left hand, was similar, but went over her shoulder and was on her back, the snout of the beast ending just below the waistline across the top of her buttocks. Much of the color was red with black outlines, those colors coming from red dragon ink and black dragon ink mixed with panther ink. There were accents of green in places created with snake ink, yellow and orange with lion and tiger ink. For brighter yellows, he used golden dragon ink, a small amount to accent, as these were the rarest creatures in all Pyndira, even rarer than the red dragons.
Paq demonstrated his technique of blending, shading, and layering the inks to create living tattoos. They looked so real, so sharp, so crisp that when they finished Owori, they stood there and marveled at the creation. The artwork was beautiful, intense, and everlasting. This wasn’t just plain red dragons; they were detailed with individual scales, colored accents, and golden eyes.
When Owori was finished, they had her clothed in a silk robe and moved to secure quarters within the temple. They awaited Pearl’s return, hoping it wouldn’t be long, because using the drugs for an extended period wouldn’t be healthy. It was nighttime again, twenty-four hours of work, and the three Kolun men retired for needed sleep. The celebration continued without them far into the night. It was well known on the island that no one ever liked to leave a Kolun party.
#
Owori woke from her extended nightmare. She hadn’t been able to wake up except for the briefest moments, and during the long periods of drug-induced sleep she had dreamed of Jerr over and over. She could see him splattered against the wall, broken and bloody. The Furies would be coming after her for sure. The room felt different as she reclined there with her eyes closed, imagining a guard watching over her or worse, the room being a prison cell. Her fingers rubbed along her body, feeling a silky robe. That brought relief, and with that, she opened her eyes and rubbed away the drug-induced sleep.
It was a small room, cramped, with a pallet for sleeping, a wooden table and one chair. A window, covered with brown fabric, blocked out the sun. A half-asleep Pearl was sitting in the chair. Owori sat up with her head still a bit cloudy. Was she still dreaming? She stretched and yawned. Pearl smiled at her.
“It’s late in the morning if you are wondering,” Pearl said. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”
“What happened?”
Pearl motioned towards her arms.
The robe’s sleeves slid down from Owori’s upraised arms. Red caught her eye. Tattoos. She stood up and jammed the sleeve of her robe up to her shoulder, following the red tail of the dragon with her fingertip. She did the same with the other arm, and saw it had the same tail snaking around her arm. Her mind raced. If there were tails, there had to be bodies, heads, claws, wings, and legs. Where were those?
The sash came off quickly and Owori pulled open her robe. Red ink with black, green, yellow, and orange covered her front to form a dragon over most of her skin. It covered her torso, and completely integrated with her right breast. The other dragon seemed to go the other direction, over her shoulder and on her back, which she couldn’t see without a mirror. The silk robe dropped to the floor without a sound.
“What the hell have you done to me?”
“You’ve been marked, as all Furies must be marked, to show the world who they are.”
“Furies?” She was bald as well, the hair cut and shaved from her head. Were there tattoos on her face? Her head? The horror of it hit Owori hard, and it caused her to stumble backwards. She fell on the pallet, the thin mattress not saving her from the wooden supports underneath. She gritted her teeth from the jolt. “I didn’t want this!”
“It’s not your choice. It’s the law.”
“Not my law! What the hell is a Fury? Not one of Jerr’s students?”
Owori rubbed the colorful red paint with her hand, wiping away the last remnants of the magical bone dust. The dragon tattoo was vivid and alive, it looked so real. But it didn’t smear. Her skin felt normal, not like it was covered with paint.
“It won’t come off. Ever. It will never fade, it will never change.”
Her face in her hands, Owori leaned forward. She felt ill. This wasn’t what she wanted! As far as she could tell, the dragons covered her entire body, except for her legs. That was the only part of her that was spared decoration. The sick feeling went to her stomach and she wretched, nothing came up.
“You need to eat,” Pearl said. Still, she hadn’t moved from her chair. “You’ve been unconscious for two days. There’s much I need to tell you and ask you. I will help you understand what is going on.”
Anger flared through Owori and she rolled off the pallet. She snatched the robe from the ground and donned it, cinching the
sash too tight. “I didn’t want this, I don’t want this, and I won’t do as you say. I trusted you Pearl! How could you do this to me?”
“I had no choice,” she said. “You had no choice from the moment I met you and learned of your great talents. Please eat and take a hot bath to relax. We need to talk about many things. Perhaps after that, you’ll have a better understanding of what’s happening, and why it’s happening.”
Owori stormed toward the door. Pearl did nothing to hinder her. She blinked, disappearing, and a second later she used her magic shield to blow the door off the hinges. The wood plank door slammed into the opposite wall with a bang, split in half, and dropped to the floor. She stormed down the hallway, found another door, threw it open, and stepped outside where warm morning air greeted her. She walked into a garden that was surrounded by hedges and had a stout black gate in the distance. Two gardeners looked up from their prostrate positions, staring at the open door. One walked over and closed it, while the other went back to work. Colorful flowers were all around. Roses, sunflowers, and daisies made the air fragrant. Spaced around the garden as well were luscious fruit trees and stout benches adorned with gold. The grass and dirt felt cool against her feet and the soft breeze plastered the thin robe against her invisible body. She started walking toward the gate.
It wasn’t locked, and after the garden she walked until she was far enough away to see the structure. It was the temple she had seen in the painting in Pearl’s secret quarters, and it was the place she remembered from her distant childhood. Yes, this was it. Green grass, marble rocks, gardens, and mature maple trees surrounded the back of the building. The front of the temple was open and looked as if a herd of cattle had trampled through there. The ground was torn up from activity. The only areas spared were those that had flat rock pavers. A huge fire pit for roasting large animals was cold but showed signs of recent use. She figured it would take her a long time to walk around the whole place to get her bearings, so Owori jogged along the perimeter until she found a distant forest, a place to escape to. She walked down a twisting path and encountered quaint cottages reminiscent of single story country homes. The path meandered through these homes, they looked vacant, and through the forest. Farther away to her left was what looked to be a small village that was busy with activity. She slowed to a walk now that she had found where she intended to go. How could Pearl do this to her? Why would she drug her and take her away just to be tattooed? It didn’t make any sense. What could a tattoo do other than mark a person, like branding a piece of cattle? And her hair, all of it, gone! Why was it all gone? And what the hell was a Fury? Jerr’s monks?
