Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin)
Page 48
Toreg blinked his eyes and groaned. His pupils ached, his head pounded, and he felt a strong bout of nausea coming on. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and almost immediately regretted doing so. Bright points of light seemed to swim before him, and he swayed before the onslaught of a rushing wave of dizziness.
The water mage blinked again, then stumbled to the window. In his present state, he was forced to support himself by leaning heavily against the wall. Managing a furtive glance to the sky, Toreg took a passing note of the position of the sun. It stood well past zenith, nearly three-fourths of the way to the horizon.
Again, Toreg groaned. He had slept through nearly the entire day and still felt tired. Further sleep, however, was not an appealing option. He’d had dreadful dreams last night, all about rats with big sharp teeth—about rats that laughed and spoke in languages, bit him in the face and arm, then ran away.
“Foul creatures,” he said to himself. He looked once more to the sun, squinting at its brightness. If the three men that Regecon had hired were back from their journey, the council would be having another meeting soon. That meant he’d have to fully rouse himself and make some preparations.
He sighed to himself as he shuffled toward the bed. I’m too old to be staying up all night, and then not get a proper sleep besides, he thought. Maybe I should just skip the meeting and see if I can get some real sleep, dreams or no dreams.
That would not do, he knew. Regecon and the rest of the council would have his hide if he missed the meeting. But he was so sorely tired.
He brought his left hand up to rub his throbbing temple, and let another tight sigh escape through gritted teeth. The gods only knew why he felt so drained and worn out. He remembered hearing two guardsmen discussing the day after a night of heavy drinking and something called a hangover. He doubted it could be any worse than this.
Toreg drew his hand from his temple and raised it before his eyes. The wound had stopped bleeding shortly after the rat had disappeared last night, and he hadn’t even bothered to wrap it up after he cleaned it. Two reddish circular holes were all that marked its presence; small holes, surrounded by ragged whitening edges which reminded him in an odd way of tiny eyes. There was no itch, but he rubbed at them anyway. Nothing, not a tingle. The flesh felt dead to pain. He was sure the wounds would heal quickly.
Toreg lay down on the bed, resting the back of his hand against his forehead while weariness drew itself in around him. He yawned, once. But I have a meeting to prepare for…
The water mage closed his eyes and sighed. If only he could rest just a little while longer. He was far too old to have a night like that. Rest. Sleep. Those were luxuries ... he could not ... afford.
Several moments later, Toreg was snoring.