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.
"I've only come for trade," the Captain finally said. "Even I'm not stupid enough to step on Jarl's toes in his own home."
Regis smiled and tossed the man his coin. "Honest pay for honest words. Come along then." They rowed together silently in the still, blackened waters, tiny waves lapping playfully at the meager hull of the row boat. Bleached white sand greeted them as they finally reached shore, skidding easily to a stop on a loaming crest..
"There should be a path not far from here. Old shepherd's passage I used to take." Regis trudged over the unsteady beach till the land began to grow solid, sand shifting into packed earth. Loose patches of grass sprang up along the edges, guiding him towards the proper way home.
The Captain and his crew were forced to dog at his heels when he finally found the path, the shore soon becoming a distant memory as they hiked up the hillside. Regis could feel old, happy memories returning as he passed by familiar landmarks. The weeping willows and their secretive, draping limbs where he'd confessed his love to Milly. Fallen logs with cavernous underbellies where he'd hidden countless times in secret as a child, much to the bewilderment of his playmates. He felt his pace quicken.
"Copperhaven was a mighty bastion of its time," he found himself saying to the Captain. "It may have stood on the fringes of the kingdom, but it was built in the olden days when Galm the Ancient was High King to drive off the eastern sea hordes. An unflinching wall against barbarism itself, he'd called it."
"Truly, it must have been a sight," the Captain puffed, his breath laboring as he tried to keep up. "Hopefully the sun'll come out soon enough so that I can enjoy its significance. It's as if winter's come early in this dreadful place."
Regis peered up at the sky, his good humor bruised as the topic turned towards the weather. The man was right though, he had to give him that. Clouds like these were meant for different seasons and he was damn sure it was still spring when they'd embarked a month ago.
"Once we get a fire going and some ale in our bellies we'll have better topics to discuss. For now keep close and don't linger too far behind." Regis trudged on, heels digging into the ground as he settled into a march. Damn the Captain and his words, but the ache in his chest was only growing stronger.
"Just past here," he said after they'd walked a good hour, pointing at a crest in the hill. "The land opens up into a valley and you'll be able to see the city in all its splendor." The Captain and his men took some time to answer him back, their legs wobbling with the effort to stay upright. Seemed they were more accustomed to the rocking sea than the hills of Danic, but they'd get used to it eventually if they stayed.
"I pray to whatever gods watching over us that what you're saying is true," the Captain wheezed. A sheet of clammy sweat clung to his weather beaten face, the other men looking just as sickly pale. "Fark me, but I should have stayed with the bloody ship."
Regis paused for the familiar moment when Civis would cut in with a jab, or Libro with some witty retort or high historical fact that bored everyone to death. He waited for Nox to flash that toothy grin of his, for Culter to sigh and roll his eyes. But they were not there, he realized. They were gone, a fading memory. Shame gripped at his heart now as he turned away from them. "Maybe you should have," he muttered.
They hiked on, a familiar, silent thrill returning to Regis as the crest of the hill folded away and he took his first look over the land he'd once called home. He envisioned Copperhaven's bustling walls stretched out over the byways, slicing the town in two. He could see his long house sitting at the center, its Heyn Tree grown tall and bursting with vivid green leaves as countless folk milled through the bustling city. He could hear their countless babble, market men hawking their wares, people conversing in the streets, the giggling laughter of children all churning with the buzz of civilization.
None of that lay before him. Regis stumbled to a halt as his eyes caught sight of the ugly scar that was now his home. The longhouse had been reduced to a few standing walls, its roof collapsed and long since rotted away, tiny mounds of detritus collecting in its corners. Skeletons of former houses littered the land around it like tiny corpses, a dead mother surrounded by her equally necrotic offspring. Walls were either burnt black and toppled over, stone cobbled byways overgrown with weeds. Even the hewn tree was gone, cut down from who knows when, leaving behind a rotten stump.
"There's nothing here," the Captain said, much to the dismay of his crew.
"No," Regis said. "There isn't." There never was to begin with, but he kept that part to himself. He remembered years ago the night he'd returned to Copperhaven after his brother had burned it to the ground. It had been a charred ruin then as it had now. A twisted memorial to the slight he'd drawn against Erik that day.
And worst of all was that he could imagine his brother doing it, vengeful or not. Even in life he was a grudge maker, taking and settling scores day in and day out. It was the type of life that had distanced the two of them in the first place, but he'd needed the man only one time in his life. To slay the Wyrm of Hoscop. Or so he'd had thought.
The Captain sighed and turned away. "Fark all this nonsense. I'm going back. Seems this place has nothing to offer, nothing but bones anyways." He paused to look at Regis. "Are you coming?"
"No," Regis said. "I think I'll stay."
The man shrugged. "Suit yourself., he said before shuffling off, followed closely by his men.
Regis watched them go till they were little more than a smudge. The walk into town was a solemn one. He kept imaging ghosts in the old ruins, specters of places he'd known, of people who'd lived here. An old bakery that smelled of fresh bread no matter the day. A tannery that reeked of piss no matter the night. And the endless homes that followed after. All gone now. Taken by time. Taken by High King Erik.
The ache in his chest flared into anger then and it took Regis a moment to fan it back down. Time had transformed his hate into a pearl, an irritant constantly coated over with patience, and yet it was to no avail now. The fire in his heart set his teeth grinding together. Been gone for too long, taken too much time. His land, his home, was like this because of him.
Old aches creeped back into his body as the long march he'd taken finally took its toll. He sank against the Heyn' tree's stump, surprised at its sturdiness after all these years. At the very least, his lower back was grateful for it, and yet his head continued to throb.
Twenty five years. That was how long it had been. Twenty five years serving the Empire and its Empress and all it had gotten him was a sore back and skull full of nightmares. And in the end she held no desire to help him in his cause. It had taken desertion for him to finally realize it.
Regis looked up past the shell of his former city where the horizon lay. Captain Libro was probably out there looking for him now. He'd stalled the Empress for over a year as he'd promised, but the woman was an evil, vengeful being, much like his brother. She would stop at nothing until he was dragged back to the throne room in chains. No one deserted the Vangen and lived to tell the tale.
He sighed as the reality of his situation finally settled in. Here he sat, cold and alone in the abandoned ruins of his old home, surrounded on all sides by enemies, hunted down by those he once called his brothers. Things were looking very grim indeed.
A small jingle tolled close by then. Regis lifted his gaze as a tiny creature darted past his vision. Sleek black fur caught in the half-light, like shadows in an inkwell, yellow eyes glowing bright. A tiny brass bell chittered softly from the collar around its neck.
"Well, well," he said, fascinated as the tiny cat drew closer. "What are you doing here, little one?"
***