Chapter 3
There was a knock at the door and Coel's shoulders and head slumped, irritated by the disturbance. He could not decide if he should wear his fur lined cloak- which made him look regal or his black leather one- which made him look sinister. Coel roughly heaved the latter at his servant Mack, who stood close by holding his head down in fear.
When Mack was twelve, Othion Tacur gave him to his Master as a present for his Heir Apparent Celebration. Mack hardly remembered anything before that, only flashes of his mother and father- and perhaps a sister, living beside a creek. Although it seemed to Mack that Coel had always been his master. The horrific things he had seen and felt his master do- all those nice girls that went into his Master's room and never came out. Like KatieÁnn last night. Mack was going to miss her; she was always nice to him. He was glad there was no blood. Sometimes when it was bad, he had to clean it up. Sometimes, he would even see the bodies. Those were the nights he could not sleep from hearing the muffled screams that would emanate through his Master's door. Mack hoped his Master did not let KatieÁnn suffer too long.
Mack cringed and let out a muted grunt feeling his missing tongue, as he caught the heavy cloak. He backed up a step, hoping he would not see his Master's temper. He had learned his lesson a long time ago when- without thinking- he stood up to his Master. The resulting punishment left him without the ability to speak. Mack's eyes never left the floor.
“What,” Coel yelled in anger as he flung the door open.
Othion Tacur stood on the other side. Dressed in his travelling clothes, brown leather pants with a padded jacket and a grey cloak. With the dim grey light from the hall, he seemed like a spectre from the grave. It always made Coel feel apprehensive when encountering him like this. Othion's long black hair was tied back into a pony tail which reached his lower back and his beard was braided and both were streaked with grey. His eyes were a penetrating blue, with crowfeet in the corners. Coel hesitated a moment before the imposing figure. He held a thick walking stick, made from dense pine. The palm of his hand rested comfortably on the head of a tiger. The kind that roamed the jungles of Quelin, far to the south; with its enormous head and striped coat. Its mouth held a small chrysoberyl stone, slightly larger than a marble but irregularly shaped, the opalescence made it seem like a spool of silk. Coel was always fascinated by the staff.
Looking at his teacher, Coel invited him into the room. Upon entering Othion looked at Mack and told him to leave. A moan from a missing tongue was his only reply as Mack rushed out the door eager for any chance to escape.
“We leave before the sun is down my Prince, are you ready?” Othion asked Coel.
“I can't decide which cloak to wear for the journey,” was all Coel said.
“The fur lined one,” Othion commented. “We'll be travelling all night so it'll be cold.”
“Your Uncle is moving the army out just like expected. So everything is going as planned,” Othion said in confidence. “The Radah guard are waiting out side the citadel and the reserve force will remain hidden.”
“So, I'll have no worries than?” Coel said looking at Othion.
“And I have my magic,” Othion said with a smile on his face.
“Magic?” Coel responded. “You put too much trust in magic, Othion. It's the concrete, I want. Magic is too... abstract.”
“You should feel lucky to have magic,” Othion debated. “There are worlds out there that don't have magic and people on those worlds that wish they did. Let me show you how abstract magic can be. Before we leave I have a present for, my Prince.”
Coel loved receiving presents, especially from Othion. "What is it?" Coel asked not being able to contain his enthusiasm.
“Follow me and find out.” Othion said turning towards the door.
Othion led the way down through the carpeted halls of the citadel, past ornate pictures and statues of stone that represented the glories of Citadel Ahern. Down, through the crypts and dungeons, into the very bowels of the mountain.
“Where are we going Othion?” Coel said getting impatient.
“We're there, my Prince.” Othion stopped in front of a stone wall and raised his walking stick. Using the heel like a key, he inserted it into a niche on the bare stone and twisted. A great stone slab opened, grinding inward to a chamber.
Othion stood to the side and passed Coel the torch allowing him to enter first. The light of the flame pushed the darkness aside instantly and Coel could see that it was a small natural cavern. The rough walls and ceiling formed over time by water. There were few stalagmites and stalactites reaching for each other. A small stone table, off to the left, sat a small chest. In the centre of the room was a pit carved out of the stone, like a grave. The whole place felt like a sepulchre. Othion closed the door behind them as he entered.
Holding the torch above the hollow cavity, Coel saw a jumble of wood, small rocks, bronze and iron arranged into a form that vaguely resembled a humanoid shape. The sticks were in the shape of a torso. The stones formed the hands and feet, and the bronze made the head. It was all covered with small sheets of iron. Coel couldn't understand it and he looked at Othion with a frown of confusion.
Suddenly, a groan came from behind Coel. He shifted the light toward the sound and a small boy, about the age of eight slept on a dirty cot. Coel turned back to face his teacher as the light caught him full on the face. Othion stood straight, with a sinister smile on his face.
“Magic, My Prince,” Othion said as he walked over to the boy. Coel could see he was in a drug induced state, semiconscious but unable to control his body. Othion roughly picked the child up by the scruff of the neck.
“Stand on the side of pit,” he instructed Coel.
Going over to the small chest on the table, Othion opened it brought out a medallion. It was the size of Coel's hand with an irregular blue stone in the centre, with softer white crystal running through it. It was the same rock that was laying in the pit. The stone was cast within dark pine wood, with runes carved into it. The stone and wood were surrounded by a thicker layer of bronze and iron swirling together. The pendant hung on a gold chain. It was beautiful and Coel loved it instantly. Othion moved to the side of the pit and put the medallion around the boy's head.
The boy whimpered and tried to struggle as Othion bound his hands behind his back and grabbed him by his blonde hair. Othion hung him over the pit and took a curved dagger from its sheath on his belt. He began to chant a magical incantation. The runes on the pendant began to glow. Bringing the knife to the boy's throat, Othion took a long deep cut almost severing the head. Directing the flow of blood, he covered the jumble of material completely. As the blood flowed over the medallion, he continued to repeat the chant. Othion did not spill a drop. Once the flow of blood stopped, he took the pendant off the boys neck and gently positioned him on his knees with his head still hanging over the pit.
As the last few drops of blood dripped from the pendant, it began to soak the wood and a silver light began to shimmer around the materials. Coel noticed the medallion begin to glow with the same light. Astonishingly, the materials began to rise as if being filled by some unseen thing. It all became molten beginning to take shape and grow together. It was being surrounded by the iron, as if it were armour. The ugly thing stood to its legs and turned to face the medallion.
“It's a Shield Guardian,” Othion said passing the pendant to Coel. “As long you have this medallion, it will protect you and obey your command. Do you like it my Prince?”
“Like it, its amazing.”Coel responded enthusiasically.
“Good. I'm glad it pleases you, My Prince,” Othion said while bowing. “But come now we still have things to do before we leave.”
The Shield Guardian followed Coel out of the room, while Othion roughly kicked the body of the boy into the crypt. Closing the heavy stone door behind him, Othion sealed the chamber forever.
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