Page 14 of Wizards & Weavers (Cozy Questing #1)

Chapter

Ten

Elementals. Of course. It seemed so obvious now. Rocky creatures that liked to throw stones — quite a few monsters could fit that description.

Golems, for one thing, humanoids of hulking stone, but those were normally created by powerful summoners. Gargoyles existed, too, but why would they wander underground? They much preferred to spend time up on rooftops and parapets.

The four elements formed the building blocks of many schools of magic. Not the school of magic that Braiden and Granny Bethilda shared, but for someone like Augustin, they were absolutely essential. An experienced wizard could merge the elements to create astounding magical effects.

But just as Augustin described, when conditions were correct — as they appeared to be in the crucible of the Weathervale dungeon — the elements themselves could merge to become sentient, independent creatures. If the Gwerenese were right, these elementals were dangerous, too.

“The dungeon is filled with elementals,” Braiden said. “Creatures rendered from the purest forms of earth, wind, fire, and water.”

Augustin gave him a slow, good-natured clap. “You see? I knew there was a reason to bring you down here. You do know one or two things about magic and adventuring, after all.”

A spark of irritation flickered in Braiden’s chest. “I might know one or two things because of my family,” he huffed. “We’re weavers. Our spells might not be as spectacular as yours, but they work well enough for our purposes.”

“I was only teasing,” Augustin said. “I meant no offense.”

“But that begs the question,” Elyssandra said.

“You’re the Wizard of Weathervale. An expedition like this is hardly a challenge for you.

I still don’t understand why you’re letting us tag along.

I am grateful, of course. An opportunity to adventure with a great hero of Aidun — as if I could resist! ”

Braiden shot her a chiding look. She had to stop feeding Augustin’s already inflated head with so many compliments. They simply couldn’t risk another explosion down in these tunnels.

Augustin grinned. “I meant what I said. I think Braiden knows even more about magic than he realizes. And I think you have one or two secrets about the true nature of your talents, too.”

Elyssandra tittered. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

The air grew mustier as the little party descended deeper into the bowels of the anthill.

Colder, too. Braiden’s breath misted as he studied the caverns by the light of Elyssandra’s blueberry pin.

This was a lot more trekking than he’d bargained for.

Did the great heroes of Aidun have to do so much walking?

Elyssandra slowed to match pace with him, elbowing him in the side as she leaned in to whisper. “Do you think we’ll run into a monster?”

Braiden hoped so, if only for the novelty of the experience.

He wasn’t sure how well he’d do in a fight.

He’d hate to admit it, but he was grateful they had a wizard in tow.

Or that a wizard was towing them along, rather.

Braiden preferred this marching order. That way, if a monster attacked, Augustin’s very large head would protect them.

“Well,” Braiden said, “we should keep a lookout for elementals, for one thing.”

“Mindless things,” Augustin called over his shoulder. “Neither good nor evil. No ethics, no morals. Simply the sort of creatures that arise from elemental convergence. A thunderstorm is terrifying and destructive, but it doesn’t know right from wrong. You could say the same of an earthquake.”

Braiden took it all in, nodding solemnly.

Good. He wouldn’t have to feel bad about fighting a rock elemental and harvesting its remains for precious gemstones, or rare minerals, or anything else that might help him pay the rent.

But that brought him to a more pressing question.

How was he supposed to defend himself in the first place?

Augustin’s boots scraped on dirt as he came to a halt. He held up his hand and tightened it into a fist. The sudden stop sent a spike of panic through Braiden’s chest.

“Hold,” Augustin whispered, so softly that Braiden was sure only the three of them could hear.

In a shaking voice, Elyssandra asked, “Should I turn off the light?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Augustin murmured back. “It doesn’t matter now. It knows we’re here.”

It ?

Then came the rumble of rock and shifting stone from around the corner. A shiver ran down Braiden’s spine. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so eager about elementals and battles.

A spherical hunk of rock came into view, a pale sliver of blue in its center like a cyclopean eye. Even through the thick weave of his sweater, Braiden felt a sudden chill. Then the rest of the creature rumbled into the corridor, and a warm wave of relief washed over him.

“Oh, look,” Elyssandra said. “It’s actually kind of cute.”

The little elemental was only as tall as a small child. Its stocky frame reminded Braiden of the smaller races of Aidun — taller than the gnomes, famed for their skills in tinkering and artifice, and broad than a dwarf, who spent their days mining and smithing deep in their mountain homes.

Braiden hesitated. Had they made a mistake? Perhaps these creatures were simply defending their home, like Elyssandra’s elven kin, who sought only seclusion, or the dwarves, who had their own reasons for staying underground.

“Don’t let its appearance deceive you,” Augustin warned. The air around his raised hand wavered as he readied a spell. “Calling it ‘cute’ doesn’t change the fact that it’s highly dangerous.”

Braiden wrung his hands. “But how dangerous could it be? Look. It’s just standing there.”

A jagged seam split open in the creature’s near-perfect sphere of a face. A grinding noise filled the corridor, like stone scraping against ice. With a rasping screech, a dozen shards of solid frost shot from its gaping maw, slicing through the air like a hail of daggers.

With a muttered phrase and a wave of his hand, Augustin conjured a gust of violent wind. Braiden marveled at the speed of his reaction, the fluidity of his casting. The spell howled from the wizard’s body, knocking the icicles out of the air, scattering them along the corridor.

All except one.

Augustin cried out and fell to his knees. Elyssandra screamed. A wave of fear ripped through Braiden’s body. Maybe Dudley was right to be so skeptical of his plan. Maybe this was a terrible idea, after all.

Shields, blast it. Hadn’t the Gwerenese twins at the tavern mentioned shields? Why didn’t he buy one? Was he even strong enough to lug one around to begin with?

The little creature hobbled forward, its jagged maw closed shut, leaving the faintest trace of a seam on what served as its face. The sound of stone and ice grinding together filled the passage. It was preparing another attack.

He thought of how quickly Augustin had conjured his spell.

He thought of Card No. 3, how Granny Bethilda had roped him into the weaving arts to begin with, the sorcery of spinners.

With the practiced crisscross of her hands, the simultaneous sweep of her arms, she’d crafted an entire sheet of cloth out of thin air. It had taken mere seconds.

And mere seconds was all the time Braiden had.

The impulse to protect the kneeling Augustin took hold of Braiden’s body, thawing the icy fear that gripped at his limbs. He dashed between the wizard and the diminutive elemental. Augustin shouted something in warning. Elyssandra, too.

But Braiden’s heart was thumping too hard. He could only hear his own heartbeat — that, and the grinding of the elemental’s mouth as it opened wide.

No shields here, but maybe Braiden could try the next best thing. Card No. 3, the power to manifest cloth from nothing, to pull a tapestry out of thin air.

Braiden raked his magicked fingers down through air that felt as thick as jelly.

Strands of arcane thread shimmered from his hands.

There was the warp. He slashed his other hand horizontally, his nails ripping at the ether, freeing just enough of the universe’s fabric for his personal use. And there was the weft.

The strands slithered and interlaced, weaving instantly over and under through the sheer force of Braiden’s will.

With his mind, he pulled tight, imploring the threads to stay sturdy and strong.

A glowing wall of magicked cloth hovered in the corridor, manifested in the barest moments before a fresh hail of icicles zinged through the air.

Braiden’s heart leapt up his throat as each frozen dagger plinked against his hastily improvised shield, woven thicker and heavier than any blanket. Plink, plink, and several more plinks as each icicle splintered and fell harmlessly to the ground.

He stared at the glowing cloth, mouth hanging open. Just as quickly as the woven shield had manifested, it began to fade. He’d saved his party from harm, but the elemental was still on the other side.

“Braid,” Elyssandra shouted. “Duck!”

He dropped and covered his head, the stone ground as icy as a tomb. The corridor turned colder still as a powerful gust of wind howled through the chamber.

Braiden could sense Augustin’s anger behind the spell, peering through his fingers as the wizard’s second wind blew the elemental off its stubby feet and smashed it against the far wall. The creature exploded on impact, a cloud of dust and jagged debris.

As soon as the coast was clear, Braiden rose to his feet. He dusted the grit from his clothes and went to check on the wizard. Augustin sat on the ground with his legs splayed, one hand clutching a wet patch just above his kneecap.

“He’s hurt,” Elyssandra said. “It looks bad.”

“No,” Augustin said. “I’m going to be all right.”

Braiden leaned closer, then winced. A dagger of gleaming ice jutted out of the wizard’s leg.

“Oh, gods,” Braiden said. “We need to get that thing out of you. And can you walk? Oh, gods.”

“One thing at a time,” Augustin said, grimacing against the pain. The icicle must have been freezing him from the inside.

“Your light,” Braiden said, pointing at the floating blueberry hairpin. “Does it radiate heat?” He reached toward the bluish glow, relieved to find that it did.

“Only a little, but good thinking,” Elyssandra said, guiding the hairpin closer to Augustin’s leg.

Braiden lit his lantern with shaking hands, adding its heat. Within moments, the icicle began to melt. Augustin sighed in relief, but Braiden knew they weren’t out of the woods yet. With the ice gone, the wizard’s leg was now free to bleed.

“I should have moved faster,” Augustin muttered, shaking his head. “See what I get for letting my guard down? A single relaxing night in Weathervale, and I go soft. Something about this town makes you too complacent, too comfortable.”

“Hush up,” Braiden said, secretly agreeing, yet slightly offended all at once. Card No. 28, the spell for making gauze. He’d already expended so much willpower, but what was a little more for a proper bandage?

Braiden twiddled his fingers and wove a length of gauze from thin air, warp against weft, the threads as delicate as gossamer.

“I don’t think there’s any debris in the wound,” Elyssandra said. “Still, we should look at applying ointment or medicinal herbs, but I don’t have any on me. Some elf I am. I couldn’t even help in the fight.”

With a faint metallic noise, she revealed a blade from the folds of her cloak. Both Augustin and Braiden flinched at the sight of the wicked weapon, more like a slender golden thorn than a dagger. Elyssandra shook it in the air.

“Now, how in the world was this supposed to help against something made of rock? I should have been more prepared. Silly, silly Elyssandra. This isn’t a game.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Augustin said. “This was a minor setback. We’ll be better prepared for the next one.

And more importantly,” he continued, winking at Braiden, “it looks like I was right. Our weaver friend here is far more skilled in magic than he was letting on. Either he’s a very talented liar, or a very talented wizard in the making. ”

Pulling the gauze tight, Braiden gave him an irritated look.

“I don’t have to lie about anything. Frankly, I didn’t even realize I could do all that. I panicked, and it just — happened. I’ve never made something that big or that thick before.”

Except he had seen the very thing happen once in his childhood.

It was the autumn festival, evening falling fast, and for whatever reason, he had refused to put on a sweater.

He found them too scratchy and stifling.

Instead of scolding him, Granny Bethilda had simply conjured a blanket with the same sweeping gestures.

That was how he even knew how to do it — Card No. 3 at a grander scale — because his grandmother had shown him so long ago. Braiden smiled at the remembrance even as he finished bandaging Augustin’s leg.

“It’s not much,” he admitted, “and the material won’t last forever, but it’ll help for now.”

Augustin groaned as he rose to his feet, testing his weight. “I’ll be fine. The wound looks nastier than it feels. The icicle didn’t pierce very deep. We can think about treating it later. For now, you have my thanks, friend weaver.”

Braiden shrugged. “I’m just helping where I can.”

But he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. A nervous part of him had worried he’d be useless in a dungeon, but he’d just saved them from death by icicle and tended to a wound. Maybe this wouldn’t be as disastrous as he’d thought.

“I see that grin,” Augustin said. “Proud of yourself? Or just delighted to have personally aided the great Wizard of Weathervale?”

Braiden rolled his eyes. “You need to get over yourself.”

“And we need to get moving,” Elyssandra said, smirking knowingly between them. “But only if you’re ready.”

“I’m fine,” Augustin said. “Your concern is touching.”

Then, flashing a radiant smile, he unfurled his cloak behind him in a grand flourish, looking every bit a hero of legend.

Braiden gritted his teeth.