Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy)

by Jefferson Cram

  “Oh no,” Franz moaned. Dillon put a hand on his shoulder.

  The air howled as Ms. Willow struggled for consciousness. Even with the protective measures they’d taken, the blast had been too much for her. Clawing her way up from darkness took everything she had. Trembling fingers reached for the helm, fumbling as the ship plummeted.

  Finally she made contact with the orb and began to pour her magic into it.

  At first, nothing happened. Then, with heartbreaking slowness, the ship eased its descent. The wind dulled, and every muscle in Ms. Willow’s body tensed in anticipation of the impact.

  Finally, the ship stopped. It didn’t crash, it halted.

  She pulled the blindfold from her face, squinting to see buildings closed around her. A woman was looking out of an apartment window directly at her, an expression of shock upon her face.

  Ms. Willow rose to unsteady feet. Blinking away spots and hearing only ringing in her ears, and looked over the side.

  The cobblestones waited merely ten feet below.

  Chapter 37

  Most remembered the return to Freehold as a blur.

  They had first stopped at the baron’s palace, where his physicians had examined the comatose Reynolt.

  His wounds were terrible. Both hands and arms to the elbows were blackened wreckage. His clothing smoldered, and his face was cracked and red. Time and again he moaned, in agony despite being unconscious.

  The doctors stabilized him as best they could, but informed the group that the king had the best healers in the Realm, and they should make all haste to the capital.

  Hade gave a hurried report to the baron, before the large man shooed them off to save their friend.

  Time oozed by in agitating slowness.

  Finally, they made the royal palace as dawn sent its first fingers of light across the clouds. This time, the guards made no protest at a flying ship soaring over the walls.

  There was a crush of people that swarmed the craft in the courtyard. The king and queen, aides, guards, alchemists, and healers rushed to learn what had happened, help the party get to the kings’ solar, and offer succor to the wounded.

  “I can imagine you’ve got quite a tale to tell,” Remiel said when everyone (save the comatose Reynolt) was comfortably seated in the solar.

  “You can say that again,” Hade said, wincing as he reached for an offered glass of wine, only to switch to his good hand. He took a few gulps, eager to feel the warmth soothe his aching body.

  “The important thing is, the baroness is dead and her plot died with her,” Ethelrynne said seriously.

  The king nodded gravely.

  “None of our efforts would have mattered if not for the bravery of young Master Hiltsman, here,” Jericho laid a hand on the nervous monk’s shoulder.

  Remiel regarded Dramus with upraised eyebrows.

  “Is that so?”

  The king moved to shake hands with the anxious young man.

  “You’ve won the gratitude of your king, and the entire Realm.”

  “Th-thank you, Your Highness,” Dramus stammered. He was at a loss.

  The queen cleared her throat, “I think these folks have neen through a lot, Remiel. Perhaps we should allow them time to rest and recuperate before we go into those specifics.”

  Many in the group were visibly relieved at Mirabelle’s words. The king took the hint.

  “Indeed. We will speak later, when you’ve had time to heal.

  “Please know that you all have my deepest thanks. Stout citizens like you make me proud to be your king.”

  He nodded to Ethelrynn, “Or your ally.”

  She smiled honestly in return.

  Two days passed, and the king and his advisors were sufficiently satisfied with the report of the Galloway incident provided by the group. There was much to discuss, and plans were put in motion to head off the widening threat.

  Drejth had been thwarted, but it was only a matter of time before he resurfaced. The king planned to be ready

  The queen organized a small celebration, disguised as one of her frequent socials. An official victory party would invite all the wrong kinds of questions.

  Just the same, it was a chance for the heroes of Galloway to enjoy their success and they each relished it in their own ways.

  Evening found the courtyard bedecked with lanterns of many colors, ribbons, and balloons. The stables had been converted into a stage for a lively band of minstrels. Long trestles had been moved outdoors and filled from end to end with culinary delights.

  Hade danced with Ethelrynne, his wounds on the mend thanks to some healing magic provided by the Royal Alchemist.

  They both knew that they’d be heading to Vizerburg in the morning, to begin the hard work of stopping the goblin advance. But for now, they’d saved the Realm for a few days, and that was good enough.

  Dramus had been debriefed and bathed and swaddled in fine new clothing. The king had again personally congratulated him on his role in the success of the mission. The young man had swelled with pride.

  Currently he sat at a desk in the stateroom he’d been provided with, penning a letter to Gwyneth. He felt out of place amongst the nobles and the merrymaking. Dramus longed for home.

  He’d been assured he would be returning to the Temple of the Sacred Scroll in short order, but he wanted to let her know that he was okay, and that he’d explain everything.

  It helped to get his thoughts on paper. He just hoped that his friend would believe him, let alone understand what he’d had to do.

  Even so, he smiled as he wrote, thankful to be alive; thankful that he hadn’t destroyed a city to remain so.

  Reynolt slept in a massive bed in the palace. Attended by a gaggle of nurses, his wounds were cleaned and dressed. His hands were mangled, charred, and would likely need amputation.

  He hadn’t regained consciousness since his ordeal with the bomb, but he’d been given healing unguents, and the Royal Alchemist assured the others that their friend would recover.

  On the balcony above the courtyard, Jericho Darkcloak stood just behind the king, silent as a shadow.

  Remiel Van Uther looked down at the heroes assembled below, and thought of the young man in his stateroom upstairs. They’d saved the Realm, and, perhaps more importantly, saved his secret.

  People of such caliber were incredibly valuable. They would help him secure his rule and beat back the goblin tide.

  Still, they had learned too much.

  So it was with a heavy heart that he and Jericho returned to his solar, to begin planning ways to eventually eliminate them.

  Epilogue

  Space.

  Past the moon and the stymied coven of Drejth, past the small, rocky planets that shared the star system with Valia, a shattered hulk drifted.

  It was a massive craft, one that Dramus would recognize from his vision as a seed ship from Earth.

  Its hull had been badly torn, with vast sections completely peeled away. Hanging in a cloud around the main bulk was a sparkling field of debris. The whole thing was gray, dark, and dead.

  Huddled within this shell of the ship slept a behemoth. It was larger than a castle, bristling with weaponry and cyber-tech. Where its blotchy skin was exposed it was covered in hoarfrost.

  Drejth came upon the beast as it slept, still feeling the sting of his defeat. His goblin contingency was still underway, but his pride had gotten the better of him, and he’d lost the quickest avenue of conquest.

  Rage guided his actions as he slipped inside the proto-mind of the behemoth…

  In the darkness, multiple molten eyes flared to life. Ice cracked and flaked off as limbs stretched and weapons swiveled. Slowly the thing turned its massive head, adorned with plasma cannons and flame projectors, toward the bright blue orb that hung in space not so far away.

  With a final image - that of millions of humans living in relative peace on Valia - Drejth left its consciousness. He shot back to the moon to begin the second phase of his plan am
ongst his disciples.

  In the black behind him, ion drives flared to life as Renge lurched toward Valia.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jeff Cram lives in Old Town, Maine with his wife and two children. A freelance illustrator, in 2004 he graduated from the Joe Kubert School of Cartoon and Graphic Art, Inc.

  Ever an avid fantasy and sci-fi fan, he still gets together once a week to play D&D with his old friends.

  This is his first novel.