Page 6 of Fate Promised

“Which is?”

Hoyt waved his hand, and the scrying bowl flickered a different image, this time of a forest and a town. The image moved a little slower, and a lighthouse glimmered from amid an outcropping of rock. Ice dripped down Juri’s spine. He knew that lighthouse well.

The hooded man drew himself up to stand. “What is this? Why are you showing me this?”

Kyril nudged Juri with his shoulder. “These magicwielders are barmy. You take Hoyt, I’ll take the other one.”

Juri jerked his chin to the right. “There’s a small, second exit down to the water that way. Duck around and cut them off near their exit. Wait for my howl, and we’ll close in. I don’t want them getting away.”

Kyril nodded, then slunk away without a sound.

The hooded man peered into the bowl. “What is your plan?”

It felt like the sewer held its breath, the image in the water expanding and lifting into the air. A coast—a familiar coast—and a wide, sweeping bay. Out in the bay, a land mass emerged from beneath the waves. Hoyt pointed. “I need to raise the vanishing isle.”

Kyril was right; the necromancer was out of his wits. The vanishing isle hadn’t shown up in Ulterra for many long years. Not in Juri’s lifetime, anyway. It was a floating island said to travel between realms. Besides, it wouldn’t matter if he raised the isle. When it appeared in Ulterra, no one could ever reach it—it lay wreathed in mist, a land of legend.

There was a long pause. “The Dark Cabal has power, but not that kind of power,” the hooded man said. “Why bother? It belongs to a realm all its own. It has nothing to offer.”

“No? You know the stories about the sorcerers who lived there in the older age. Their power was limitless.” He tapped his book. “And Herskala did too. He believed he was related to them. Where do you think all that power came from?”

A sharp inhale. “They knew how to channel shuwt?”

“Yes. The vanishing isle can grant anyone the power to access it if they know the incantation.”

A long silence filled the sewer.

The image in the smoke twisted. It centered back on the village, viewing it as if from above. People walked along the street, including one figure he’d know anywhere, even through the lens of a scrying bowl. Juri’s claws lashed out to their full six inches. Ryba. Triska.

It was time to end this necromancer meeting, but Kyril hadn’t had enough time to get in place at the exit. He clenched his jaw and waited.

“And you know how to perform this incantation? How we all can do this?” the hooded man asked.

Hoyt’s lips twisted, and he shifted his weight. “The grimoire is revealing how. I need to get onto the island to finish deciphering it. That’s why we need to go here,” he pointed at the town in the bowl, “and call forth the island. With your help, I can magnify the spell I used on you. Using the entire town, we’ll have enough power to bring the island here.”

Ryba. Hoyt wanted to go to Ryba.

Juri remained frozen for a beat. Hoyt wanted to touch his town? His vision turned crimson. He roared and launched forward.

Hoyt whirled to face him. The necromancer chanted arcane words, and a ball of green magic appeared in his palm. But instead of hurling it at Juri, Hoyt blew into it.

It turned to smoke and drifted in a glittering cloud of green, hitting Juri full in the face with a sickly stench, like a flower gone to rot. His lip curled, and he gagged.

His limbs gave out. Head swimming, he tried to jump, to race the last few feet to sink his claws into Hoyt, but his legs wouldn’t hold him, and he remained slumped on the ground.

Hoyt cackled. “The grimoire discusses the vulk, too. Of course, Morana was also obsessed with them, but everything she tried was wrong. Herskala, it appears, was not wrong.”

Juri scrabbled to stand, but his claws skated across the brick uselessly.

Hoyt’s lips twisted into a smile. “I can’t beat a vulk in strength, and hurling magic at you just bounces off. But you vulk do have weaknesses. I discovered the first back in the cave last year. Since then, I’ve researched others.”

The hooded man stood frozen near the exit. An exit Kyril hadn’t reached yet. “But they’re impervious to magic.”

The overwhelming need to sleep, to close his eyes, flooded through Juri. He fought against it. Warning bells screamed in his head. He’d threatened Ryba. Triska. Vulk destroyed all threats.

“As you can see,” Hoyt pointed at Juri, “they aren’t. At least, sometimes they aren’t. I hexed one last year—the first time I’ve seen magic work on a vulk—and tonight, my magic worked again. But I haven’t quite figured out why the vulk are vulnerable at times. The part in the grimoire about the vulk is … difficult to decipher.”

Juri gritted his teeth. Anger surged hot and viscous, and his fingers twitched. He clawed against whatever magic had stolen his strength from him, fighting to regain control.

---