by Dante King
She stopped and turned to look at me, and her eyes were very wide. “William, I think you’re an Ink Mage.”
Chapter Three
We took our bearings and set off, back in the direction we had come. It was not that difficult—the slavers had made a mess as they had moved through the woods in pursuit of us. We had a fair walk before us. With the slavers gone, all we needed to do was work out how this magic power I’d discovered in myself worked. Maybe in the process I could find out a bit more about Amelia and her mission, too.
“So, what’s an Ink Mage?” I asked her as we walked through the shady forest in the direction of the road.
Amelia tucked her book under her left arm and pushed her curly blonde hair behind her ears with her right hand, then straightened her shoulders, as if she were getting ready to give a lecture.
I didn’t mind listening to a lecture from her. After all, I had a lot of questions. She took a deep breath, then began to speak.
“Ink Mages are legendary magic users. When I worked as an apprentice scholar in the library of Astros, I had some spare time when the Librarians didn’t have specific jobs for me. In that spare time, I read legends about the Ink Mages who used to fight in the Kingdom’s armies. They had great power. They were able to manipulate their Mana and cast spells using only the runes drawn on their skin.”
“That sounds like what I was able to do today.”
“Correct. Unlike ordinary Mages, they didn’t require special weapons or spellbooks to be able to cast spells. Instead, they used drawings on their skin as vectors. Descriptions in the old legends are not very detailed, but what I saw today, well, I think that what the legend describes as ’drawings on the skin’ may actually be tattoos of runes.”
“So, what happened to the Ink Mages?” I asked. “You said they are only legends now. Where did they go? Were they all killed?”
“I don’t know. The history books aren’t exactly clear about that.” Amelia furrowed her brow. “There was always tension between the ordinary Mages and the Ink Mages. Some of the regular Mages felt that the way Ink Mages manipulated their Mana went against their moral code.”
“I know. I’ve often heard that the Arcanists preach about how wicked tattoos are,” I said. “They say we are spoiling our bodies by adding markings that the gods didn’t put there.”
“Yes, well,” Amelia cleared her throat. “I may have read some books during my time in the library that I wasn’t really supposed to read.”
She paused, looking at me as if to see if I would disapprove. I did not.
“That sounds pretty brave,” I said. “I can’t imagine they would treat you kindly if they caught you doing that.”
Amelia reddened slightly, the flush making her pretty face even more attractive. “Yes, I suppose it was brave. I didn’t like the thought of the Librarians keeping books secret just to serve a corrupt group of Arcanists.”
“Neither do I. But what did you learn in these forbidden books you read?”
“I learned that tattoos were not always condemned. There was a time when tattoos were considered a mark of beauty and good taste. Royalty would wear them, even if they weren’t Ink Mages themselves.”
“When did that change?”
“Who knows? I couldn’t find out any more about their history. But there haven’t been any Ink Mages for a few centuries at least. The books I managed to read were very old.”
“So, what can an Ink Mage do that’s special? If I’m an Ink Mage, what does that mean I can do?”
“Well, this is where it gets interesting. Ink Mages can cast spells that they can draw on their skin, but I have to assume that they need an affinity for a particular element, like regular Mages do. Of course, I couldn’t learn much about this. No one describes the process in any detail.”
“I guess I have a fire affinity, then?”
“So it would seem. You have a Fire tattoo, and your instinct seems to be for Fire spells. But there’s more to it than just using tattoos. There was something else in the manuscripts—it seems that to be a true Ink Mage was more than just using tattoos. True Ink Mages could give the tattoos to others.”
She smiled and hugged her book closer, nearly skipping with excitement as she spoke.
“It’s all very exciting for me as a scholar,” she continued. “I always wanted to learn more about Ink Mages, and the suppression of the knowledge about them always seemed suspicious to me. To find myself actually traveling with an Ink Mage, well, it’s almost too good to be true!”
She said the last words with almost a squeal, and I had to laugh.
“So, how do we learn more about what I might be able to do?” I asked.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Amelia said, her voice a bit lower this time. Her shoulders drooped slightly, upset that she couldn’t tell me more.
“Does your book contain information about this subject?” I asked.
“This?” Amelia held the book in front of her as we kept walking. “No. This is just a basic encyclopedia of spells, monsters, items and potions, that kind of thing. It’s basically a handbook for beginner Mages, nothing special. I brought it with me for my research.”
We had grown pretty relaxed in each other’s company, and we had been through some challenging moments together now. Time for a direct question.
“Amelia, what is this research you keep mentioning? I think it’s time you ought to tell me what you were doing out here in the first place.”
She looked at me for a moment, considering, then gave a small smile.
“Ok, you’re right. Well, I was on my way to the mines. There were reports of trouble in the lands around, of villages attacked and people killed with strange elemental blasts. The Librarians thought it may just be some rogue magic users, some bandits or something. When word came to Astros, there was debate over what to do. The Arcanists thought it wasn’t worth looking into. The Arcanists like to keep a hands-off approach to what goes on in the north—so long as the supply of Beast Cores keeps flowing south to Astros from the mines, the Arcanists want to have as little to do with things as possible. On the surface, the Librarians were forced to agree with the Arcanists, since the latter hold all the power in Astros. But my mentor, a remarkable Librarian of good heart, thought the Arcanists were hiding something. So he tasked me with finding out what was happening in the north.”
“What about the King himself? His Court is in Astros. Does he not have a say in matters?”
She gave me a look. “The King does what the Arcanists advise. Like I said, they hold the real power in Astros. Anyway, my mentor sent me out from the library on a fact-finding mission. I had to go alone, for fear of what would happen should the Arcanists discover that the Librarians were looking a little too closely into their machinations in the north. The further north I got, the more I started to suspect that there had been a breakout from the Beast Mines. People said monsters had got free and were interbreeding with the local wildlife, creating dangerous Beasts in the forests.”
“Well, we’ve seen evidence of that for ourselves now.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Amelia continued, her tone thoughtful. “I have to look into this further to see how it might have happened and what we can do about it.”
What could we do about anything? We were two escaped slaves, many days’ journey from our homes. I didn’t know anyone this far north except for a few Elemental Sensitive folks from Aranor who’d been taken to the mines before me, and I doubted they could help us at all.
I lifted a branch in our path so Amelia could walk past it. I couldn’t help noticing the way she walked, her hips swaying with each step. It wasn’t the walk of a promiscuous tavern wench but the steady sway of someone who was obviously of noble lineage. What in all the gods’ names was she doing out here? She’d given me an answer, but I felt like it wasn’t the whole story.
“Next time, may I suggest that you don’t ask a caravan of slavers for directions?” I chuckled as I let down the branch and came alo
ngside her again.
Amelia rolled her eyes. “Yes, perhaps that wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve had lately.”
“I’m glad you did it,” I said. “Well, glad that we both got away from them. If you hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have tried so hard to escape. I never would have discovered that I’m an Ink Mage.”
Amelia smiled at me. “I’m glad this happened too. I didn’t see much hope for the future, but now, I find myself walking through the forest with a genuine Ink Mage! It’s wonderful, and it was worth a bit of danger.”
“I really want to know more about my abilities. Are you sure you don’t remember anything else about how the power of an Ink Mage works?”
“I’ve read more books than I can remember. Maybe there’s something in all those pages that I’ve forgotten about. If you tell me some things about your experience, it might jog my memory.”
“I’ll answer any questions you have if it means learning more about this.” I held up my tattoo, which had ceased glowing.
“Let’s start with that. What can you tell me about that tattoo? Where did you get it?”
“I drew it myself,” I said.
“Really?” Amelia looked incredulous.
“Yeah, why? Is it not well drawn?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. It looks amazing, not like a homemade tattoo at all. Look at the shading, the subtlety of the coloring, and how sharp the edges are.” She took my arm and ran her fingers over the tattoo. “It’s so perfectly drawn. Where did you get the design?”
“I just got it from an ordinary looking wand. A friend from Aranor had it.” That friend had been Jacques, a worldly man who’d taught me much. He liked to call himself the ‘Rogue of Aranor’, and the title certainly fit. He was a bit of a rabble-rouser, a gambler, and sometime confidence trickster, but for all that he’d been a friend to me. I hadn’t seen him for a while now; he had left Aranor a few years before my father died.
“How did these people have access to magical items?” Amelia raised an eyebrow.
“Well, a lot of them were thieves, and they weren’t on the best of terms with the town guards. I can’t say exactly how they got hold of those items.”
“You copied this design beautifully,” she remarked. “That must be why you were able to cast spells as easily as you had. Still, making the tattoo into a vector for a spell is unique. Anyone could have runes like this on their skin, but they wouldn’t be able to do what you did with the fireballs. You’re just lucky the design was so accurate. I don’t know what might have happened to you if the tattoo had been poorly drawn.” Amelia’s voice had an ominous tone.
“What might have gone wrong?” I asked.
“I can’t say for sure. But items that have badly carved spell runes on them have been known to explode.”
“I see,” I said. “Well, I will have to be careful in future. I had no idea that drawing these designs on my skin could be so dangerous.”
Amelia nodded. “You will certainly have to be careful. Can you tell me anything else about what you did to draw this tattoo?”
“It was pretty simple really,” I said as I lifted the slaver’s knife. “I used a knife similar to this one to draw the design into my skin. Then I poured the ink into the marks on the skin and allowed it to dry.”
“What sort of ink was it?” Amelia asked.
“I’m not sure exactly,” I said. “A... friend brought it to me.”
“The same one with the wand?”
“No,” I answered. “A different friend. Her name was Katlyn.”
I thought about talking more about my girlfriend, Katlyn, and decided against it. I wasn’t sure what my feelings were toward Amelia right now, but she was pretty cute, in a serious, scholarly sort of way. We seemed to be forming a connection, and I had no idea if I would ever see Katlyn again. Even if, by some longshot, I did see Katlyn again, she had always suggested I find more women so she could share me. I hadn’t been opposed to the idea; I’d just been busy.
I thought back to the night when I’d drawn the tattoo. Now I remembered, it was the sight of the tattoo which had prompted my foster-father Gregory to give me the needle-like dagger. He had seemed impressed by the tattoo and had told me that if I ever felt the need to do any more, I should use the fine point of the dagger for it instead of a regular knife.
“Katlyn said the ink was very special,” I continued as Amelia stared at me with rapt attention. “I remember feeling a strange sensation in my mind when she brought the ink into the room, but I assumed that that sensation came from what we’d been drinking. We’d had more than our fair share of grog that night, and to be honest, it was all a bit fuzzy. I went into a kind of trance while I was drawing the tattoo. I guess I just got really into it.”
Amelia chuckled. “Do you remember what the ink looked like?”
“I remember it was thick and sticky, and had a bright orange color, much like my tattoo has now. My friend insisted that it was very expensive and very special. She said it had magical properties, but I didn’t take her seriously at the time. I guess she was right.”
“Interesting,” Amelia said. “It sounds like you may have used the fluid from a Beast Core. A fire Core, to be exact.”
“Beast Cores have fluid inside them?” I asked.
“According to what I’ve read they do,” Amelia said. “If you can break them open, there is a fluid inside with magical properties. That is why they are so valuable.”
I looked at the Cores Amelia now had in her hand. “Any idea how we can crack them open?”
“Yeah, I’m not a hundred percent sure that’s a good idea,” Amelia said hastily as she held the Cores out in front of her.
“Give me one of the fire Cores. I’ll be careful, but we ought to try. I’m an Ink Mage—if that means that I can give tattoos, then we will need to work out how to do this.”
Her eyes gleamed as she dropped one of the Cores into my hand.
“What do you suggest?” she asked.
I drew Gregory’s dagger from my belt.
“How about this? It has a very fine tip which could be used to puncture the Core gently.”
Amelia looked again at the dagger. “Actually, this does remind me of something I read once. The Ink Mages had special tools for giving tattoos. There was a drawing of one of them… You know, William, something tells me your dagger might actually be made for this very purpose. Look at the hollow tip. It might actually draw ink up from the Core inside to the tip to create a sort of tattoo pen. Yes, I think this could work. If you’re careful, the Core shouldn’t explode. This is very exciting! If it works, we might be able to try out some more spells on your skin.”
“How would I know what to draw?” I asked.
Amelia held her book out in front of her triumphantly. “This book contains dozens of basic spell designs. I’m sure there’s something in here we can use.”
“Great! Now, all we need to do is work out where best to pierce the Core to get the fluid out.”
I stooped to the ground with my dagger in my right hand and the Core in my left. There was a large flat rock protruding from the path, and I moved over to the rock and placed the Core on it, with the dagger beside it. The Core had a rough, uneven surface. It was vaguely translucent, and the late afternoon sunlight illuminated the well of fluid inside, held between the membranous walls of its outer shell.
I picked the precious thing up again and turned it in my hands. It was roughly the shape of an egg, though smaller. A hard outer shell seemed to meld into something softer inside, then into the liquid. I ran my finger over the smooth surface, then I stopped, looking closer.
“What is it?” asked Amelia.
“I think it’s a soft spot,” I replied. “Yes, here, right on the base, see?” I held it out to her, pointing with the tip of the dagger.
“Oh, yes!” she said. “You’re right! There’s a little dimple in the Core’s surface, where the outer shell is thinner. I think that’s our best bet, don’t you?”
“I certainly do,” I said. “All right, let’s try this.”
“Be careful not to spill any when you crack the Core,” Amelia warned as I set the beautiful little orange Core down on the stone. She was sitting on the ground beside me now, watching.
“I’ll be careful,” I replied. “I don’t want to waste a drop of this fluid.”
I held the Core with my left hand, resting it against the rock face, and carefully found the soft spot with my dagger. Then I pressed down, feeling the surface give slightly under the pressure. I wiggled the point of the blade a couple of times, and it slipped through.
Amelia drew a sharp breath. “The blade’s going in. It worked!”
I pushed the rounded shaft of the dagger down a bit further into the shell, then withdrew it gently. The fluid, a rich, dark orange, adhered to the tip. When I looked closer, I saw that the fluid had filled up the hollow tip of the dagger, just as Amelia had said it would.
I’d felt a slight tug from the Cores the whole time that Amelia had carried them, but I’d grown used to the sensation. Now, the feeling was even stronger. It felt as if something was physically trying to pull my mind toward the Core.
Filled with interest, I held the Core up with both hands and looked inside at the well of sticky, sluggish orange liquid inside the shell.
“Well, we did it,” I said. “It feels like it’s really drawing me. Let’s find a spell in your book to try making a tattoo from.”
“Let’s.” Amelia grinned as she opened the book on her lap.
With the dagger in one hand and the open Core in the other, I looked over her shoulder at the pages as she flicked through them. I’d rarely had the chance to see books before. The only ones I usually saw were accounting books used around my foster-father’s farm to keep records. They always had fresh, thin looking paper inside, obviously meant for temporary use.
The pages of this book looked to be made out of parchment. I’d only seen parchment a couple of times before, but I knew these pages had to be made out of animal skin, not plant pulp. These pages were far smoother and thicker, and they still had a faint smell of animal hide. The curing process could never quite get rid of that.
