Page 78 of Fate Promised

“Pah.” Hoyt jammed his finger down on his lap, onto a book with rough-cut pages. “Tell them not to bother and put the spell back immediately. The fishermen from Ryba are always circling around, which means the vulk are nearby, trying to get to us.”

“You’re taking too long. We need someone who actually knows arcane. A sorcerer.”

Hoyt’s eyes glittered. “I know ancient arcane better than those trained at the academy.” He shook his head. “What I didn’t know was how Herskala encrypted this spell. He didn’t write backward like he did in other sections of his grimoire.” He clutched the book closer. “Don’t worry. I finished the translation earlier, and I’ve started the incantation.”

There was no response for a long moment. Then the hooded man shifted. “I’m still sitting in the rain on a damp cliff and my magic hasn’t increased, so forgive me if I have a hard time believing you. Show me the grimoire, and let me see what you’ve found.”

“Not a chance.” Hoyt bent farther over his lap as if protecting it.

The other man hissed. “You promised me an incantation and power. Instead, I’ve been rained on constantly, and I’m living in mud. What has started?”

“Oh, the poor lord, whatever will you do?” Hoyt shuffled closer to the fire. “Because of that damn vulk, my link to the shuwt of the underworld failed. Without that steady source, I’ve had to use only bits of shuwt from your followers to try to tease out where the source of the power of this island lies. I finally found it today, but it doesn’t recognize us, and it doesn’t respond to our kind of magic well. Herskala suspected it wouldn’t be easy to tame, and he was right. However, I’m making progress. Tomorrow, at dawn, I should be finished, and we can complete the incantation and embrace our new powers.”

The other man stood. “It better work. If you thought the wrath of the Dark Lady was bad, mine is much worse.”

Hoyt’s chin jerked up. “You think to threaten me?” His lips twisted into a snarled smile. “Try it, my lord.”

The other figure didn’t move.

Hoyt rose and waved his hand. He shot a ball of magic at the charred circle, and green smoke poured out. The ground shook. Hoyt and the hooded man both staggered but remained standing.

“I think we both know my magic far outstrips yours.”

But the hooded man didn’t appear to be focused on Hoyt any longer; his dark hood was turned toward the charred circle. “This doesn’t seem right.”

Hoyt shrugged. “I had to force the magic to my will. The island is awake now, but the magic isn’t responding well. I can contain it enough to complete our incantation, but afterwards …” Hoyt waved his hand toward the camp, with the fires blazing in the darkness. “Eventually, the magic will consume everything and destroy the island and anyone who remains on it. The blast may even destroy part of Ulterra. But on the plus side, I’ve broken the spell that lay over this island, dampening all the magic.”

The hooded man raised his hands. “We can use portals? I’ll portal out and call the rest of the Dark Cabal.”

“No. I’ve put the dampening spell back in place. If you can portal, so can others. We can’t take the chance that any magicwielders show up. Now, if you won’t suffuse me with praise, I’ll be finding some lunch.” Hoyt strode off, but the image didn’t follow him; it stayed at the fireplace and the hooded man.

The hooded man was silent a long moment, rain dripping off his hood in a steady stream. “He may be entirely mad. I need to set up my own preparations.” And he walked away.

The image wavered, then disappeared.

Juri stared at the bowl. “We have until dawn tomorrow,”

Koschei’s lips thinned. “He’s right about the island. The magic will consume it, most likely in a great explosion.” His gaze met Juri’s. “One that will most likely reach the nearby towns as well.”

Ryba. There was a lurch in his stomach. His mother. His half-brothers. The best town in all of Ulterra. They had to stop whatever Hoyt had started.

Fergal gestured at the bowl. “Ask to see what Hoyt activated.”

Juri nodded and focused on the bowl.

The flames flickered, and the image before them showed the coast of the vanishing isle as if they were a bird flying above it. Then they plunged directly down, bursting through the waves into the ocean.

Next to him, Triska gasped. He drew her closer to his side. The flames turned navy blue as the image continued down into the ocean. A dim light appeared in the distance and grew more powerful as the bowl streamed forward.

Fish flitted by in quick snatches of colorful scales as an orb appeared in the water. Its color was like captured lightning, the palest shade of white. It rotated slowly, flinging hazy waves of magic that looked like scarves wrapping around a head. A fish swam by and got stuck in the current, flailing desperately as it was caught in the surge around the orb.

“It’s down deep in the sea,” Triska said, her voice tight.

Juri tugged her closer. “Can you figure out how to call it? Or destroy it?” he asked Fergal. “How can we make sure it doesn’t explode?”

Fergal stared at the image. “I’ll need to think on it. This is old, old magic.”

Juri removed his hand, and the flames winked out. He sucked in a breath. “Time to get back to Ulterra.”

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