The scorching summer sun beat down mercilessly on the parched creek bed. Normally a narrow stream of sweet smelling water surrounded by tufts of sturdy grass, flowed through its center. This summer however, was proving to be exceptionally hot, meaning the stream had long since dried. Without water, what little had managed to sprout, had withered leaving the dust to rule. Hidden beneath the cool canopy of the trees that had sprung up along the banks over the years, was a tall, wiry man who found this particular stretch to be a tranquil haven following a trying day, and today had been one of the worst.
For reasons known only to the students at the academy, they had decided to make a valiant effort to set a new record for injuries acquired during weapons training. Today, as Rasmun wove his way around the debris that had collected in the bed, each step he took was punctuated by small puffs of dust that rose up and clung to the hem of his drab gray robe. A mumbled, steady stream of curses also punctuated his steps as long unresolved frustrations again boiled over into anger.
The fuel for these tirades came as always from the humiliation and idiocy he was forced to endure as Healer to the Academy for the Knights of Deceris, a profession, though highly coveted, he despised. The vocation had not been his choice, but that of his mother’s family, specifically, his grandfather. All of this had begun when his father, a noble chosen by his grandfather, threw him and his mother out swearing he wasn’t his father. Immediately, his grandfather had resolved to eradicate the label of bastard this action had thrust upon him.
The old man’s solution had been to purchase his admission into the Academy for the Healing Arts, a choice based on the fact he had demonstrated a remarkable talent in this area. This had convinced the old man he would reach such greatness, all traces of the shame would be removed. As with many things, he’d been wrong about that also. “I would give anything for the chance to put those arrogant delinquents in their place,” he swore through clenched teeth. “Better yet, give me command of an army of the true faith, and I will tear down every archaic institution those pampered, aristocratic whelps
The Crystal Key Description:
For Mirah, the provincial capital of Bryston and her father’s general supply shop was the world. But one cold, late winter night, a knock on the door changed it. Two knights with a summons from the Archprelate, the most powerful man in the world, appeared at her door. Before she knew it, she was riding headlong to meet a destiny she was not prepared for, a destiny that would not only change her life forever, but the world as well.
