In the ensuing weeks, Cor shocked Rael time and again. He had become adept at tapping the power in his blood, imbuing his own attacks with force that was amazing considering his circumstances. As Rael understood the past, a Dahken’s training would have started as a small child, and it took years before they were ready to even try accessing their strength. As Cor grew, Rael was certain that the boy’s combat abilities would far outstrip his own.
The season grew late, the days shorter and the air colder. Rael changed the schedule of Cor’s training, moving academic endeavors into the morning while it was still cold, and having combat training after lunch. The training itself had taken a more mundane turn, and with Cor learning to access his powers with increasing ease, Rael focused more on the technical elements of fighting. It was important Cor learned when and how to strike opponents, especially those who may wear armor, and at the same time Rael taught him how to use his own armor to his advantage. While the Dahken gained strength by being wounded, there were times when one need not risk it. Of course, this was more theory than anything; Rael did not have any armor that fit Cor.
Additionally, the shield turned out to be a problem for Cor; he simply showed no inclination towards using it at all. Rael explained to him on many occasions that it was important to know when to deflect a blow. Often in single combat, it was unnecessary to allow your opponent to wound you, such as when Rael killed the Loszian several months ago. One afternoon, he decided to address the shield problem a different way. They had just lunched and, after waiting a suitable time for digestion, went outside. Cor readied his sword and buckler, waiting patiently for Rael, who was clearly organizing his thoughts.
“Cor, why will you not use your shield?” Rael asked.
Cor was surprised by the question, which stung of criticism, something he wasn’t used to. He had learned to always answer Rael’s questions honestly and with consideration.
“It just doesn’t feel right,” he answered.
“Follow me,” Rael said, immediately turning and striding to one of the castle’s outbuildings. Upon entering, Cor saw it was an armory, weapons and shields of every conceivable size and type on large racks filled the room. The weapons were in various states of disrepair, and he recognized many of them from his first lesson with the sword nearly two months ago.
“Unstrap your shield and put it over there,” Rael said, motioning at a rack of bucklers and small wooden shields. “Cor, do you know what a fetish is?”
“I’ve seen the word several times in the things you have me read, but I don’t really understand it,” he answered.
“A fetish,” Rael explained, “is a magical object, a talisman imbued with power.”
Questions began to flood Cor’s mind, as well as a strange sense of familiarity. “What does one look like? How is it made?”
“Virtually anything can be made into a fetish. Some of them are simple, mundane items, medallions, scrolls or even rocks, while others were crafted specifically for magical or spiritual rites.” Rael disappeared around a large rack into the back of the armory as he talked, clearly searching for something.
“But, what does a fetish do?” Cor felt curiosity tugging at him. He moved around the other side of the large rack, coming up behind Rael.
“Honestly, I can only tell you what I know Cor. I have never felt the strength of a fetish, but I understand that no two are alike. Some were created by the gods, some by sorcerers and perhaps not even by choice, but on accident. Others may date back to the ancients, to the days before our civilization took hold. I know that they grant power to their users, but I can tell you little beyond that, as I do not use one, nor have I ever known a Dahken who did.”
Rael pointed to a glass case that sat upon a wood stand against the back wall of the room. It was relatively large, nearly three feet in length, about six inches tall and twice that deep. The bottom of the case was lined with plush scarlet velvet, on which sat four objects that amplified Cor’s curiosity.
The first two were simple, as Rael had mentioned, one a gleaming eight pointed gold medallion with a silver chain and the other a weathered parchment scroll. The third was a small cube of mahogany, roughly three inches in each dimension, and each side of the cube had a small gem inlaid into the center, each a different color. The last was a bleached white bone about four inches in length, the ends of which were plated with gold, and it was then Cor realized that it wasn’t curiosity or interest that pulled him into the back of the armory.
“Can you feel any of these?” Rael asked, looking at him intently.
“Yes, I think the one on the end,” Cor spoke quickly; he felt energized. He put his left hand out, lightly touching the outside of the glass case.
Rael reached forward, carefully opening the case’s lid to lean it backwards against the armory’s stone wall. Cor stepped closer, slowly lowering his hand inside, and he closed his eyes as his fingertips lightly brushed each item. Cor stopped, in light contact with one of the fetishes. Where he touched it, his fingertips were warm, and his digits tingled as if they were asleep. He closed his fingers around it and pulled his hand from the case, and opening his eyes, he found the small, gold plated bone in his left hand.
“When you fight, that is the hand you will hold it in,” Rael said.
“Why did I choose this one?” Cor asked, turning it over in his palm.
“Why do any of the Dahken choose anything?” Rael answered. “It is simply meant for you. As you grow, you will find yourself drawn to other items, weapons, armor and even people. Do not question it.”
“What do you think it does?”
“I cannot say. You will find that out for yourself, but I do know you must not think of it in that way. The fetish does not grant you a power or magic; it lends its strength to you in some form or another,” he explained.
“This is a pestle,” Cor said lifting his gaze to Rael’s, closing his fingers around the bone. “It was used long ago by a bent over old man. He used it to grind roots, leaves and berries in a cow’s skull.”
Rael nodded, asking one simple question. “How do you know?”
“I don’t know,” Cor answered, and the fetish grew oddly warm in his hand.