Free Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) by Jefferson Cram Page B

thought they were skeletal if he hadn’t noticed the desiccated flesh cracked and stretched thin across the bones.
    He tried to recoil, revulsion roiling up in his gut, but the grip was too strong.  His eyes flicked up to meet those of the darkness , and then those massive orbs blinked.
    “Errriiiiccckkkkk…”
    The fathomless depths contained in the voice sent his mind spinning and he woke up screaming.
    He sat up in bed and gulped down the cool air of his room.  His eyes rolled wildly as he tried to bring his reason to bear on his surroundings.  Finally , he began to realize where he was and that it had all been a dream.
    Still, he rubbed his wrists where the dream-hands had gripped them.  He thought they still throbbed, but chalked it up to his imagination.  The familiar details that he began to register in the moonlight brought him a little closer to calming down.
    Twisting, he reached out and found the ceramic mug he kept on his plain nightstand and brought it to his lips, drinking deep of the cool water.  He let out a gasp as the last of it was drained, an d set the cup down.  He lay on his back, and stared at the ceiling.
    This was the second time he’d had the dream, and the horror was becoming more intense.  He wasn’t sure what the dream meant, if anything, but he was afraid to shut his eyes, afraid he’d end up looking too deeply into those midnight orbs.
    Frustrated, he whipped the covers off and spun to put his feet on the floor.  The stones were like ice and he sucked in a breath through his teeth.  Still, it was strangely reassuring to him and he stood, rather than withdraw his soles.
    He moved across the small chamber to a desk beneath the window.  He struck a long, slender match and lit several candles there.  Cupping a hand around the tiny flame, he turned and moved to the modest hearth built into the corner of the outside wall.
    After sever points of light bloomed on the kindling, he dropped the matchstick in the flames and turned to the small woodbin that he kept stocked daily.  In moments a cheery fire was rippling in the hearth, and he warmed his hands over it.  He could feel the heat creeping through his robes and along the floor to his toes.
    He allowed himself several minutes of gazing into the flames, hoping to erase the last vestiges of the dream.  Finally , feeling more like himself, he moved to slip on his sandals and take his seat at the desk.
    He’d lain awake after the last time he’d had this dream and waited for dawn.  This time he wouldn’t waste the hours that he knew he wouldn’t use for sleeping.
    Erick was an assistant to the headmaster, and not a terribly proficient one at that.  His writing was often sloppy and took him too much time, but he was dogged in his work ethic and unquestioning of the headmaster’s authority.  Thus, he was a valued member of Colius’s retinue.
    Unfortunately for Erick, it meant he was also always behind in his work.  He supposed in a small way he could be thankful for the nightmare, in that when it was done he had some time to get caught up.
    He went to work on copying a letter that Colius wanted sent to several destinations.  The work, while taxing, helped the young man forget the dream and relax a bit.  Time slipped away in which the only sounds that could be heard were the merry crackling of the fire and the soft scratching of the quill on parchment.
    Erick woke with his head on the desk and immediately sat up.  He hadn’t been aware he’d fallen asleep.  The letter he’d been working on was stuck to his face with the drool that had leaked from his open mouth.  He peeled it away and as he moved to set it down on the desk he groaned in dismay.
    His inkpot had been spilled across the pile of blank pages and ink had dripped into his lap.  He stood, placing the letter off to the side of the desk and moved to his small wardrobe.
    He donned fresh attire and set the soiled robes next to the door.  He supposed he was lucky