Page 5 of Fate Unchained

“Yep. I’m gone.” It may be time for him to return home. Not that it really felt like home. He was more of a rogue vulk, always roaming. He glanced up at the sky again. “Storm’s about to hit. I might head up to the old pack den in the gorge.”

There was a short pause. “Finn and Zann are there. They can help you find Baba Yaga, then all of you can work on finding the grimoire.”

His hackles rose. “Why would I need help?”

Through the link, he could tell Hans was sighing. Once they’d been close—him, Hans, Juri, and Zann—but that was before. This was now. “They’re tracking the Dark Cabal. Find Baba Yaga, have her tell you what she knows about the grimoire, and work together.”

The last the vulk knew, the Dark Cabal had the grimoire. And it wasn’t just any grimoire; it was the sorcerer Herskala’s grimoire. Herskala was long dead, but he’d been the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. In the wrong hands, his grimoire, filled with all sorts of evil spells, could destroy Ulterra. In a battle last month, necromancers and Dark Cabal members had tried to use spells from it, almost wiping out a town.

Hans cursed. “I’ve got to go. One of the twins won’t sleep unless I’m holding him. Me. No one else. I just put him down, and now he’s wailing again.” More cursing.

Kyril rubbed his chest. The vulk weren’t supposed to take mates or start families. In fact, they were supposed to walk away from the clan and the people who raised them. However, ever since Hans brought the pack back together, things were changing. Hans and Juri both took mates, and Hans had twin boys.

While they may have turned their back on the old ways, Kyril wasn’t going to.

“I’ll check back in a couple of days. When you find Baba Yaga, try to be polite. I don’t want you turned into furniture.”

It had happened before. Kole, a human who’d moved in with their pack a year ago, had been turned into a chair by Baba Yaga and kept in Baba Yaga’s house as punishment for centuries. Baba Yaga had a temper. “Yeah, yeah.”

Hans severed their connection.

Kyril glanced back at the cave. “Stay here, and ride out the storm, or run and get wet?” He spoke aloud, but even if someone heard him, they wouldn’t understand. He spoke in Vulk, the proper tongue for his kind. The common tongue, which the rest of Ulterra used, wasn’t nearly as pretty, and he hated using it. When he spoke Vulk, he could make sure no one else but his brothers understood.

He turned and re-entered the cave. This wasn’t one of his favorites, and he wouldn’t have chosen it as one of their main hideaways. For one, it didn’t have a slab door he could move over the front. All vulk dens, and most of the other caves they used across Ulterra, did. The stone was so heavy, none but a vulk could budge it. Well, maybe a troll, but no troll could fit in a cave a vulk wanted, so they weren’t a concern.

But this particular cave had an entryway like a curving gooseneck. It blocked the wind and weather but otherwise did not offer much to keep intruders out. The last time he stayed here, he’d tried to create a door, but the rock was brittle slate, the kind humans made tiles out of and poor for building. It broke, and part of the entrance caved in.

He wasn’t too worried. The vulk were the most powerful immortals on Ulterra. Who would want to mess with one? But still … he didn’t like it.

On the other hand, water trickled into a small pool in the corner. Good, pure water, with a taste achieved only from a stream squeezed out of rock. Fresh, with a tang of minerals. He wouldn’t have to melt snow, which meant he wouldn’t have to go out in the storm. And a milky patch of dull light shone on the floor from a skylight in the ceiling—a built-in chimney. At least he could build a fire without choking on smoke.

And Zann and Finn were in the other den. All right … he’d stay.

Sighing deeply, he stalked to the back of the cave, where a large boulder stood near the water. He hauled it back a few feet and reached into the hollow behind it.

There were several sleeping skins, all from the shaggy pelt of northern sheep, and a large bundle of dried meat and fish. He sniffed. And jerky.

He shook his head. Juri must have stayed here recently. This jerky had the telltale scent of Juri’s unique spice mix. His packmate treated his recipe like it was the crown jewel of vulk-kind.

Kyril would never tell him, but it was damn good. He licked his lips. The evening was looking up.

Night wouldn’t fall for five or six hours. Plenty of time to gather firewood and do some hunting. The scent of snow was strong, which meant the storm might rage for days. He wanted to make sure he could eat nonstop if he wanted to. He’d be bored, but he could rest and munch. Not too bad.

He left the cave again and headed south. To the north was Eroica, the town where Baba Yaga supposedly lurked nearby. It was one of the few villages clinging to the banks of the Wide River. This area was rich in hemlocks, the trees used for tanning leather, and the town had one of the larger tanneries in Ulterra. Good leather. Supposedly the best saddles in Ulterra were made with it, but the stench floating downwind was unbearable. Like a mix of piss and rotting eggs. Sulfur-like.

It’s why he couldn’t find Baba Yaga’s trail. The stench of sulfur was also the odor of magic, so if she was using any, he couldn’t track her by it.

Why was she here in Erotica? Eroica? Whatever.

Immortals stayed on the other side of the Wide River, in the Kuls. Non-immortals, including humans, didn’t go there, and definitely not magicwielders. And the immortals of the Kuls didn’t cross the river east much either. They didn’t want to deal with humans.

Humans were a bother. Pains in the ass.

He growled low in his throat. Humans thought the vulk were monsters in the woods, when the vulk were the ones killing the monsters in the woods. Last month he’d lived in Ryba, the first time vulk mixed freely with magicwielders, peltwalkers, and humans, and every second was pure torture. Humans thinking they could talk to him. As if he wanted their company. The mayor had even tried to hire him to protect the town. No vulk took orders from a human.

His hands tightened into fists, his claws pricking his palms. Humans were the reason so few vulk were alive today. A century and a half ago, they started a battle to take back the Divorky Forest because they thought the vulk were a threat. Now the humans stayed out of the forests, and the vulk didn’t go into town. Which was fine with him, let them stay out of his way.

He prowled down from the cave to the river, his clawed feet soundless on the hard ground. After all this, Baba Yaga better have the information they needed.

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