Ink Portals

Legendary

6

"As I understand it," Pierre began. "The man we know as Kazunori, the one Kurtis is looking for, was working for the Yakuza as a bike messenger many years ago. On one of his bike routes, somewhere along a mountain road, he stopped to take a rest beneath an old tree at the roadside. As he sat down to open his lunch something poked him in the backside. It was the corner of a box sticking out of the ground. It had been exposed by years of wind and rain, after being buried for who-knows-how-long. Kazunori dug it up and discovered it contained a collection of old glass vials and a piece of parchment, written in Mandarin. The scroll was basically a users' manual on how to resurrect the souls of legendary beasts."

"That's insane," Arthur mused, absently staring into the fireplace, then back at Pierre. "But who put the box together in the first place?"

"That is where it really gets interesting," Pierre continued. "The scroll tells the tale of a ruthless warrior who traveled with Ghenghis Khan's hoards. He was an odd fellow who apparently collected bloods samples as trophies, like some sort of medieval Dexter."

"So there were a whole bunch of different species?" Arthur said.

"So it seems," Pierre said. "As the hoards traveled across Asia, the warrior heard stories of strange creatures lurking in the hillsides and surrounding mountain ranges. Then for the first time, while out in a field on horseback, he caught a fleeting glimpse of an animal that was supposed to only exist in lore. From then on he was hooked on the mystery of their origins. This led to an obsession that spanned several decades, like a child, hell-bent on collecting all the Pokémon cards. The warrior would visit far-flung villages, asking around about sightings of strange animals."

"But he didn't know he could bring them back from the dead?" Arthur said.

"It seems he discovered it completely by chance. The warrior had been given a lead from a farmer in a small village at the foothills of the Himalayas, who told him of an animal that plagued their village, killing goats and dragging them off into the mountains. The warrior set off, tracking the illusive creature for months with nothing to show for it, until one day his luck turned. Guided by the stench of decay, he found himself at the mouth of a cave, littered with an assortment of dead animal carcasses. The cave was home to a Griffin: sporting the oversized head and wings of an eagle atop its muscled shoulders, and the body of a lion. The creature was old and likely among the last of its kind.

The warrior slashed off one of the beast's wings and brought the battle to the ground were he could wear the animal down. The confrontation nearly cost the warrior his life, but in the end he emerged victorious, although heavily wounded. The warrior was left with great admiration for the tenacity the fallen beast had shown in battle.

After recovering from his wounds he visited a shaman, requesting that the image of the Griffin be etched into his skin using the creature's own blood. It would serve as a wearable trophy that would go with him to his grave. The warrior, being an inquisitive soul, asked the shaman about the herbs he was adding to the ink. The shaman told him that the concoction was a mixture that, when combined, attracted the souls of the dead and brought protection to the wearer."

"Alright, I see where this is going," Arthur said.

Pierre nodded and said: "And so as the warrior rode into his next battle on horseback, the Griffin appeared by his side as a resurrected spirit, fighting alongside a mortal man. This unnamed man who lived so long ago took it upon himself to write about his exploits. He catalogued his findings so that later generations of warriors could wield the power he had discovered."

Arthur sat on the floor, mulling the story over in his imagination while thoughtfully listening to the soft humming of the jet engines. Pierre glanced over Arthur's shoulder. Jack was eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

"Well, I didn't mean to disturb you," Arthur said.

"Not at all," Pierre assured him.

Arthur got up and sat down across from Jack then leaned forward in his seat.

"I want to be a soul-bearer," Arthur said.

"That's out of the question, Arthur," Jack said. "Don't let Pierre put crazy ideas in your head."

"He's not. We were talking about Kazunori. I've been thinking about this for a while, about how I can't defend myself like you can, dad. What if something happens to you and someone like Kurtis comes after me and Abby? Or we get into trouble with the cartels?"

"Look, kid, I hear you, but you can get away from people like the cartels. You are talking about putting something as dangerous as Yoshi into your skin; and once it's in there you can't get away from it. Once it's in your skin there's nowhere to hide. These souls are as dangerous to the person wearing them as they are to anyone else, and you know that. I'll take care of Kurtis, don't you worry about him."

Jack waved his hand at the flight attendant and ordered another Scotch.

There was a little jolt of turbulence that rocked through the cabin, making their seats squeak faintly, the sensation took Arthur's mind back to a memory from his childhood; the last time he felt the floor shake like that was when Yoshi burst into his room one night. He was about eight or nine.

Yoshi crashed into Arthur's bedroom, smashing the door with his horns. Arthur fell out of bed from the crash and was crying on the floor with his hands over his face. The dragon pinned him down on the carpet between two of his scaly toes while its gruesome breath rolled out over his face. Arthur screamed and squirmed beneath the heavy paw. Then Jack came running into the room behind the crazed lizard.

Jack had been sleepwalking and was in the muddled confusion of a nightmare that had set Yoshi loose in the house. He managed to get the lizard under control at the last second, just in time to save Arthur's life. Jack dispelled the dragon back to the recesses of his mind and the beast melted away. Afterward Jack sat cradling Arthur in his arms, his son was crying uncontrollably with his little face buried in his chest. Jack sat in the middle of the room that had been scarred by the dragon's angry claws. The wide gashes that struck the bedroom door in half gave him the shivers; that could've been Arthur, he thought, torn in half.

Arthur had nightmares for weeks afterward, but yet he was still drawn to that kind of power. In some strange, suicidal way, he wanted to be close to it.

"Arthur," Jack said, snapping his fingers in front of Arthur's face. Arthur was pulled out of his memory back into the humming cabin of the plane.

"You hear me, kid? There's no way I'm letting you put yourself in that kind of danger."

"But you were taught how to control it," Arthur said. "I can be taught how to do it too."

"It's not that easy, Arthur. Each spirit is different. Some have unexpected quirks that will catch you off-guard if you don't know what you're doing."

Jack knocked back the rest of his whiskey and slammed the tumbler down on the tray in front of him.

"Look, kid, we're officially bankrupt, and it's been one hell of a day. I have too much on my mind to deal with this right now. Get some rest. We'll talk about it later."

The air stewardess came by and collected Jack's glass, he turned down another refill then pushed the button that made his seat recline all the way back into a sleeping position. The lights in the cabin dimmed as the crew settled in for the overnight flight.

Arthur, having to accept that the conversation was postponed, at least for now, went off to find two seats where he could stretch out comfortably for the night. He heard a click from the lavatory door in the back of the plane as Abby returned from the restroom.

"Sleep tight," she said, bending over to kiss Arthur's lips.

He squeezed her hand and pulled one of the airline blankets over himself.

Abby glanced over at Pierre who had also settled in for the night, with the back of his head pushing gentle creases into his pillow. She hovered next to Jack's seat for a while; the cabin was quiet, with the gentle sway of the aircraft beneath her feet.

She stood there for a moment, watching Jack drift off to sleep.

Then, with a tinge of shame, Abby remembered her move to LA just over two years ago. She had propositioned Jack with sex but wound up working for him instead; that day seemed like a lifetime ago.