Page 77 of Fate Promised
Hans growled. “No, nothing to the west but rock. A few bauk, but I took care of them.” He shook his arms out. “Anything down here try to get through?”
“Just this pesky bird.” Al dove through the rift, returning to Ulterra.
“I’m going to search another hour, maybe two, then we can return.” The image wavered into a red blur, then changed into a flickering flame, fading entirely.
Juri rubbed his mouth. “Hans is here.”
“How is that possible?” Triska asked.
“Ever since he became krol, we discussed the possibility he’d be able to walk between the two realms just like Wulf did, but … he hadn’t tried.”
Triska nudged him. “He came for you.”
He swallowed. Triska was right. Hans had ripped a connection between the two realms to find Juri. Triska was going to be fine. She’d get back up to Ulterra and the pull of the ocean would cease.
He put his arm around Triska, and the movement felt slower, not the smooth action of a vulk any longer. Her blackthorn blossom scent still washed over him, but it was duller. His senses no longer attuned at a higher level.
He straightened. He’d get used to it.
Juri turned to Rordan and pointed at the bowl. “Do you know where they were? How far away is it?”
“Yes, it isn’t far from the beginning of fenix territory. It’s about a half mile south of here.”
If Hans was in Peklo, could they speak mentally now? As Alpha, Hans was the one who opened the connection, but …
He placed his hand back in the bowl and pictured Hans. A slight buzz formed in the back of his mind.
He let out a long breath, and his shoulders relaxed. Juri said.
Juri glanced at the bowl. It must be the reason why they could speak to each other, and once he stopped touching it, he’d lose the connection.
He swallowed.
There was a long pause.
Juri nestled Triska closer under his arm. “Are you all right for a little longer? I’d like to scry for what Hoyt’s doing.”
“Yes, of course.”
Fergal frowned. “Why wouldn’t she be?”
Juri ignored him and studied her face. She wasn’t pale, and while the dark smudges under her eyes remained, she didn’t have the haunted, vacant look she’d had on the beach. The one that stopped his heart.
He nodded and waved his hand over the bowl again. “Show me Hoyt.”
The image this time was dark. Rain pelted, and mist hung over the ground like a shroud, dark and gloomy even though it was morning. Hoyt sat hunched before the smooth cliffs, a few cut branches with long leaves set up in a lean-to above him. A small fire smoked and spat, and farther down, green smoke billowed from the circle of charred earth.
A taller man walked over and sat across from him, his hood pulled up over his head, and his cloak wrapped tightly so only the tip of his nose appeared. “I’ve asked one of my brethren with skill at reading the older arcane tongue to come. I released the storm spell so they can take a boat over here.”