Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 1: The Dark Waters of Danic

Dark, hungry waves crashed against the ship's hull as it weathered the murderous storm. Howling winds cut across the bow like raking knives, stabbing into Regis as he held on for dear life. He held against the railing with one hand, the other clutched to a spyglass as he surveyed ahead.

"Further!" He roared, his voice barely audible over the wail and gale around him.

"There's no farking way!" The Captain of the ship snarled back, hands trembling as he kept the wheel from spinning wildly off direction. "Turn us around you bloody madman before I turn it for us!"

"You want your gold?" Regis slapped the inner pocket of his sopping wet coat. "Then keep us farking steady!"

"Damn you!" The Captain swore, but he kept his grip fixed upon the wheel and the ship held firm. Seconds passed like hours, oozing along as the storm continued to rage around them. Lighting arced over inky black clouds in the stillborn sky. It had been like this for some time now, ever since they'd drawn close to Danic's borders. First a light drizzle, then a torrent, and now this.

For a moment, Regis felt the familiar ache of doubt in his chest. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps the knowledge he'd so painstakingly hunted for would turn out to be nothing more than false rumor. He gripped the spyglass tighter, shoving away the thought. Now was not the time for doubts. Now was the time for its stubborn refusal.

And then it happened. As if a bubble had burst in his ears. The storm died in an instant. The air ceased to howl. Lightning ebbed away from sight as the ship evened out into smoother waters.

"By Aurora herself," Regis heard the Captain murmur. He turned, giving the salty, old fool a sly wink.

"Seems my sources were correct. The storms do have an eye."

"Seems your sources got lucky, I reckon." The Captain gave him a begrudging look.

"Well, lucky or not, doesn't change the fact that if you don't steer me towards the shoreline soon, you'll find your payment at the bottom of the sea." Regis peered back into his spyglass, ignoring the man's grumblings as he hobbled back to the wheel.

"Over there," Regis said as the ship glided past a rocky shoreline. He pointed towards a patch of beach space, clean white sand calling out for them. The vessel came to a slow halt as its sails were dragged out of the wind, cruising into safe, shallow waters before weighing anchor.

Regis took the oars as he and the Captain, along with several of his crew, gathered into a row boat. "Coming along?" he asked, eyeing the man and his entourage. Why the man held any interest to walk on dry land was beyond his reasoning. He'd only paid the man for travel, not sightseeing.

"I want to find out what this land has to offer," the Captain said as he and three others swaggered in. "Danic has been somewhat of an oddity for traders like me. The storms around its borders have been raging for decades now, isolated by sea. And with its borders closed it has remained this way for some time. To put it bluntly, I'm curious to see if anyone still lives on this miserable rock."

"Suit yourself then," Regis shrugged. "Just don't go making trouble when we get there." He leveled his gaze, letting his tone do the talking for him. "Copperhaven is my city."

The Captain paused along with his men, eyeing him up and down. A competent navigator Regis had proven to be, and a competent warrior as well. No doubt the man was remembering the pirates he'd killed with the black hammer now strapped across his back. Wyrmkiller, he'd told them afterwards. Named for the thing he'd killed in the misty valley of the Medial. They were just as silent then as they were now.