The Necromancer

Chapter 10

Harry flew his broom as close to the wild waves as he could, loving the occasional spray of cold water in his face. He estimated that flying across the ocean to the Grim Gorges would take about four to five hours at its most narrow point, but he didn’t mind spending all that time on his broom.

As it turned out, Harry loved flying.

And once this nightmare was behind them and Rylan was dead for good, Harry vowed to himself to do a lot more flying, even if just for fun.

It had been a long time since Harry had been able to do something just for fun.

The southern continent was an unexplored part of Santika, since the area that could be reached from the northern continent was completely covered by the Grim Gorges, where the barok ruled. No one had ever managed to explore inland more than a few dozen miles without running into one of the vicious beasts. Most had never made it out again.

Harry was also determined to explore more of the southern continent on his broom in the future. In the air he’d be safe. He hoped.

V was flying alongside Harry, his large wings flapping steadily to keep up. Karakas floated behind them as Harry pulled him along. He’d become like part of the furniture at this point, after months of his constant presence, since Harry couldn’t send him back to the beyond for fear of Rylan getting his bloody hands on him again.

A rocky coastline came into view and Harry sat up on his broom in confusion. According to his calculations he had at least another hour before he’d reach the Grim Gorges.

Before they reached the shore, Harry stopped in the air, hovering above the waves as he stared at the land before him.

There were houses built along parts of the coastline, high above the rocky cliffs.

No one lived in the Grim Gorges. No one would survive even trying.

“What is this place?” Harry muttered, as V landed to perch on the handle of Harry’s broomstick.

“By the Sun Goddess, it’s real,” Karakas breathed as he floated beside Harry.

“What is?” Harry turned to look at his mentor in question, surprised by the almost worshipful expression on Karakas’ face.

“Sildar,” Karakas whispered.

Harry frowned. In Santireen Sildar meant as much as ‘safe home’.

“Look, look,” V said, flapping his wings while hopping impatiently.

As Harry slowly flew to the rocky cliffs, Karakas kept up with him. “There are stories of an island where sorcerers once lived freely,” Karakas said, raising his voice to be heard over the crashing of the waves. “I believe this is that island.”

“Huh.” Harry looked around him with wide eyes as he slowly made his way inland. The place was deserted, the stone houses empty and dilapidated, the gardens and roads overgrown. Harry saw wild olive groves, orange trees that were almost swallowed by the weeds around them, and darting between the houses were goats. They looked feral rather than wild, and they had probably been left behind when the original population had disappeared.

While Harry made his way further inland, he saw a large flock of feral chickens pecking around a flowery meadow, and what he believed were two feral pigs ducking into some brushland when they spotted him.