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

Chapter 41: Promises in the Dark

"You must be quite desperate," Regis said. "To visit me again after all this time."

He was adrift in darkness again, war raging around him, the same dream he'd had for nigh on end.

The mask, however, was new.

It floated above him just out of reach. An ivory carved thing of the purest white, devoid of emotion, yet radiating in all forms of malice.

Regis knew what it was, knew who it was. "Thought I'd gotten rid of you once and for all. Thought you'd be too bothered with your empire to try and reach out to a traitor like me."

The mask continued to hover, saying nothing.

"I'm not coming back. You hear me?" Regis reached out, imagining himself cracking the ivory carving in two in his grasp. "I've made up my mind. I'm going to settle things once and for all. Put things right. Like I should have done from the very beginning."

Nothing, save for the growing tension of men fighting and dying in the cold, empty battlefield of his dreams.

"You lied to me," Regis said. "From the very beginning. You were never going to honor our deal. You were going to bide your time till something killed me, but I showed you, I showed everyone that no one lies to me and gets away with it. I survived your bloody wars, and I'll live to see my brother dead, without an empire at my back."

There was a shift then, a subtle change in pressure around his temples. Pain squirmed in the back of his head as the mask drew closer, tiny pinpricks of golden light flickering into existence behind the eyeholes.

"I'm not afraid of you anymore," Regis said. "And soon neither will the boy. And when that happens, I hope he tears your farking heart out."

Flames erupted from the corners of the mask, devouring the fog around them as it coalesced into a shape of pure, unmistakable hatred. It reached out to him, hungry sparks licking at his body, but he wasn't going to apologize this time. Fear no longer ate away at him like before. He'd seen the hungry fire and found its flames wanting.

The mask pressed against him, flesh hissing and bubbling as two golden eyes bore into his very soul. It was like staring into the sun itself, like staring into the eye of a needle, a tiny pinprick of light driving itself neatly into him.

"Wake up, asshole!"

Regis gasped as a wet, heavy hand slapped him hard across the face. He shot up, reached for a weapon that wasn't there, fingers digging into cold sand instead. He looked up and winced at a sharp pain in his head, fingers touching where Fenris had butted him earlier, and coming back bloody.

"Took you long enough," the man growled.

Regis frowned and blinked away the last of the fog. He looked around, saw he was sitting along the edges of a shoreline, dirty shingles crunching underneath him. The sharp lip of a cliff leered up at him from across the water. No, not a cliff. A ravine.

It took a moment to put two and two together, but the answer came to him like another hard slap to the face. He'd fallen, it seemed, after his little tussle with Fenris, and they'd fallen down together into who knew where. A little irresponsible on his part, he considered.

"You all right?" Regis asked, words slurring through a heavy mouth. He rubbed his jaw, wincing at a sore spot.

"Am I all right?" Fenris stepped up next to him, tiny mirages chasing after his boot heels. "You nearly snap me in two with that bear hug of yours, brain me with your farking forehead right after, toss me down a ravine for good measure, and you're asking me if I'm all right?"

"Fine, forget I asked then." Regis looked around, hands aching to grab hold of something. "Is my hammer nearby?"

The great lump of Star Steel thudded into the sand beside him.