Part 4...
The Captain sat with Dambe, the oldest crewman, a one eyed, white bearded man with skin so dark it was almost black and muscles like bundles of old rope. He called Xeno over.
“Attention ye dogs! The boy here just made full crewman! Seems Cutter tried to take his pleasure with something he weren’t welcome to and now he be dead. What be more important be how he died. The boy be a sorcerer! From now on, he be entitled to a full share of all profits. In exchange, he learns the Art to keep us sailing and stop those who would do us ill!”
The men cheered. It was considered lucky by many to have a spellcaster on board. Xeno had never realised. Suddenly his mothers suggestion of sending him for teaching with the Oracle was making more sense… The Captain appeared at his ear.
“Can ye take a little pain boy?” He whispered
Xeno nodded.
“Good lad. We’re going to give you your first tattoo. Then we’ll give you a name and you’ll be a part of the crew…”
He pushed Xeno to the deck by Dambe, who’d opened a small box and taken out a set of needles and inks and a small hammer. Dropping some ink onto Xenos shoulder, he selected a needle, held it over the droplet and hit it with the hammer. Then again. Then again. Over and over it struck. From time to time he was washed down with brine to clear off the mixture of blood and ink. The pain set in after about half an hour. An hour later and he was laughing and delirious with the pain. Hour after hour it continued. When it stopped, it was dark. He’d been inside himself for the last part of it, insensible to anything but the pounding of the blood in his veins, like the beating of mighty wings.
Dambe held up a polished silver plate to him. A stranger looked back. His golden blonde hair had grown back spiked with brine, his skin had tanned darkly in the sun. Muscles had started to appear on his body and his skin looked and felt tougher. Across his right shoulder, up into his nick and down to the nipple on the right side was a swirling pattern of lines and shapes etched in blues and greens.
Once again, the crew assembled.
“Well then lads! He’s got the Mark of our sorcerer, he’s got his first treasure and he’s a part of the crew! What should we call him?” Called the Captain.
“How ‘bout Golden Boy?” sneered one of the crew.
The men laughed.
“Aye, Golden!” said another, with a more cheerful note.
“Golden, Golden, Golden!” the chant grew.
“Well then!” shouted the Captain “By the Lady of the Sea, I name you Golden!”
Someone threw a bucket of sea water in his face, stinging his eyes and sending lances of pain into the fresh raw markings of the tattoo. A cup was thrust into his hands and the chant began again.
“Golden, Golden, Golden!”
“Drink it then Golden” whispered the Captain “Or you’ll stay ‘boy’ forever…”
Xeno took a sip. The drink coursed like fire into his belly. Brandy! He took another swig and felt it start to warm him. As the crew howled and cheered, he drank. Drank until Cutters piggy eyes were forgotten, drank until the pain in his shoulder was a distant ache, drank until the voice in his ear was silent, drank until his tears were still, drank until blessed sleep claimed him again…