Flawed Shard

Book 1 of The Crystalmancer Series, by Matt S. Law

(just a WIP fantasy novel I'm working on)

Chapter One

“Hurry up, Drystam!” barked an irritated voice, struggling to be heard over the constant torrent of the waterfall. The young boy—nearly a man—did not respond, certain his voice would be swallowed by the din. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder towards Elder Alaric. His brown tunic was plastered to his skin from the spray of the water. He ran a palm across his bald pate and flicked the water away from himself absently.

Drystam nodded once then turned his attention back to the crystalline tree. It was nearly his height. A trunk of clear, multifaceted crystal as stout as his own wrist grew out of the damp soil in the cave. Dozens of branches grew out of it reaching skyward, although there was no sun to reach for here in this cave. The tree generated its own light of pale aquamarine. Perhaps the branches were reaching for the waters of the High River, seeking out its healing properties.

He slammed back his wandering thoughts and focused on his task. Drystam was old enough that he would be permitted to harvest his own crystal shard for the upcoming test. He spread his fingers before him, inhaled deeply and expelled slowly. As he did, he hummed an inaudible note and pictured a rune of healing in his mind. His fingers swayed slightly before him. He focused his hum along one of the branches and into the small nodules growing in clusters at the base of a leaf. He was trying to create a resonance of life energy. Find the crystal berry that was most ready to be harvested.

There was a warmth coming off of one of the clear marbles. Or at least, he thought it was warmth. Was it just his imagination? His fingers were beginning to tremble from the cold.

“Are you deaf? Hurry up!” Drystam flinched at the interruption and lost his focus. He was not certain that this would make the best shard but it would have to do. He expelled the last of his breath, then inhaled once more. With three fingers he made several tight, sweeping motions tracing the life rune and uttered a mantra of healing. He exhaled, then projected his palm towards his chosen crystal and felt warmth flow out from his abdomen, up through his torso and right shoulder then leave his body through the center of his palm. The tiny crystal ball glowed blue from deep within.

Drystam smiled slightly. He then traced the inverse of the same rune with his left hand and begin inhaling trying to draw the life energy back into himself. He felt warmth touch the center of his palm, but it was so faint. He tried to pull the warmth back to his center but it faded to nothing. Drystam’s teeth began to chatter, fear beginning to close on him as much as the cold of the river. He traced another rune with his right hand and sent life energy to the same globe. It increased in brightness, storing the healing energy. But again, as he tried to create a resonance and draw the power back into himself it was nothing but a feeble trickle.

“Come on, you greedy, little thing!” he uttered under his breath. The loss of life energy made him more susceptible to the cold. The pale blue light made the slick surfaces of the cave walls resemble ice. Drystan’s hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists close to his chest as he sucked in a long breath, willing warmth into them. He paused, then retraced the rune, and pushed hard with his will sending a narrow stream of life energy at his chosen crystal. The blue light shone brightly and Drystam thought he could hear a high-pitched tone keening a the base of skull. This was risky. Pushing too much energy, too quickly into a crystal node would cause a lot of the energy to be wasted. Or the crystal might be harvested with some kind of flaw. A fracture or an inclusion would make it dangerous to use. Many things could go wrong, especially when trying to rush. Healing magic required a lot of life energy, but that energy needed to be moved with slow and strong intention. Also, if this didn’t work, Drystam surely would not have strength enough to try again.

He abated his outward breath, withdrew his right hand then extended his left toward it. He attempted to clear his thoughts and invite the life energy into his palm. The blue orb pulsed several times, then a spot on Drystam’s palm felt the life energy pouring back towards him. The healing rune that he held in his thoughts became more focused and the warmth spread into his lungs and descended into his lower abdomen. Rather than allow the life energy to collect in his center and begin to warm his body, Drystam squared his shoulders and pushed more energy towards the bead. A current of life energy began to pass through them. The crystal had accepted him. Resonance.

Drystam’s fingers narrowed around the tiny sphere. Not touching it, but caressing the air between them. The crystal’s glow began to fluctuate between the pale blue and the aquamarine of the rest of the tree. Then it’s shape began to shift in response to the movement of fingers. The crystal began to grow slightly, to develop facets, and each new facet cascaded a beam of focused light. He slowly pinched the fingers of his right hand into a tight circle and drew away from the gemstone. It elongated, following after the fingers, forming into a tiny six-sided prism. The end tapered to a point, and the scintillating colors settled back down to a subdued blue. Drystam made a twisting motion with his right hand and the one inch crystal shard fell into his open left hand. He had done it! A healing crystal.

“Sloppy work, apprentice,” Alaric looked down his nose at the youth. “You have no right to feel proud of yourself so wipe that smile off of your face.” Drystam didn’t realize that he was grinning fiercely. When he realized it, he also realized that he needed to keep his teeth clenched so they would not chatter. He suddenly felt the loss of the life energy that was imbued into the crystal and he felt a hollow cold in his core. He clenched his arms around himself and began to shudder violently. “Your test has yet to begin. Gather your things.”

The elder spun towards the cave entrance pulling his hood over him, walking out into the mist. Alaric’s cloak was made out of some kind of slick animal pelt. Probably otter. Drystam on the other hand was wearing a woven cotton tunic that was soaked completely through. He grabbed at his satchel which was lying near him and fumbled it several times trying to make his fingers work. He kept his left fist clasped shut and pinned to his chest lest he lose the precious shard, although he was so numb he could not even feel it against his palm. He shouldered his satchel and lumbered towards the cave entrance.

Elder Alaric was already trudging his way towards the river bank. The sun was bright in the sky with only a handful of clouds graying the vista. But somehow Drystam did not feel the warmth of the sun. He knew that he was short of vital life energies and even the heat from a fire would have a difficult time warming him. Drystam was blinded by the spray of water all around him and the throaty grumble of water falling all around him. He leapt into the waist deep water and began to kick his way to the shore of the river.