Page 16 of Wizards & Weavers (Cozy Questing #1)

Chapter

Twelve

The ball of spiny brambles was bigger than Braiden’s head. No, even bigger than that. He’d never seen an ogre’s head before, but that might have been a closer comparison. It was as big as four human heads put together, as big as a boulder.

Elyssandra stroked her chin as she paced the grass, watching from a safe distance now that the ball of jagged death had stopped swinging. She hummed to herself and nodded, announcing her findings.

“It’s a trap, all right.”

“Really?” Braiden’s eyes followed the trip wire all the way up to the dangling sphere. “What gave you that idea?”

“But who would do such a thing?” Elyssandra asked, either too polite or too oblivious to acknowledge Braiden’s sass. “Surely not another adventurer.”

“There would be nothing to gain from maiming a fellow adventurer,” Augustin said. “That is, unless this trap was meant to protect something from prying eyes. Something precious hidden nearby, perhaps?”

Braiden studied their surroundings, taking in the luminescent fungi. Why would another adventurer even bother setting a trap like this?

“This wasn’t done by someone from above ground,” Braiden said. “Wouldn’t you expect deadlier components in that sort of trap? Actual blades and iron spikes. Forged metal. Whoever set this had to work with what was available to them. Whoever set this knows this place well.”

“An excellent point,” declared Elyssandra, her hand still stroking her imaginary beard, examining the trap with the intensity of a scholar.

“I spotted some of the brambles they used in the undergrowth. And look closely. They used woven vine netting to reinforce the thorns, all wrapped around a large wicker ball to lend the trap some weight.”

Braiden couldn’t help admiring the handiwork. Whoever had done this was not only proficient with basketry, but knew a few things about knots and ropes as well. It was an odd time to suddenly think of macrame.

“Then perhaps this isn’t about protecting valuables at all,” Augustin said. “Elementals do not have the ingenuity to create traps, even those as simple as this. They have no concept of property or treasure. This contraption was crafted by someone who lives within the dungeon.”

The three of them fell silent. A growing sensation of unease crawled across the back of Braiden’s neck as he strained to find the cavern’s farthest reaches.

What sort of crafty creature could be native to this dungeon? He’d been so busy watching for gemstones and jewels when he should have been watching for danger. The elementals were powerful adversaries, but now they had to deal with an intelligent threat, too.

“We should stop here for the night,” Elyssandra said. “We can take some time to rest and regroup.”

Braiden reached for his rucksack, squeezing it to make sure that his bedroll was still there. “This hardly seems like the safest place to make camp, especially if there’s someone out there who doesn’t like uninvited guests trampling their grass.”

“There’s nothing to fear, Braiden,” Augustin said in an annoyingly heroic timbre. “I’ll be here to protect you.”

The way the wizard had protected himself from flying icicles and a near miss with a bramble trap? Braiden gritted his teeth, but said nothing, feeling a rare and generous impulse to spare the hurt to Augustin’s ego.

But Augustin just kept going.

“And besides, we’ll be perfectly safe inside this.”

He whipped out a rolled cylinder of something blue and garish. Braiden’s stomach clenched. It was the tent from the Noose, the one that would signal to monsters all and sundry that it contained between one and three sleeping, defenseless morsels.

Braiden already felt as vulnerable as an unshelled peanut in these underground wilds. Why did Augustin need to advertise their presence with such convenient packaging?

“I refuse to become a midnight snack.” Braiden grabbed the rolled-up tent, waving it in the air like a wand. “Why did you buy this thing in the first place? We may as well feed ourselves to whatever’s setting these traps and trying to kill us.”

“But I like blue.” Augustin gestured around the cavern, his lip turned up in an injured pout. “And don’t you think the color blends nicely with the mushrooms? We’ll be camouflaged. I think.”

The tent felt more like a rolling pin with each passing moment. Braiden resisted the urge to swat Augustin with it. Why did he have to make that face when he complained? Why did he have to look so handsome when his feelings were hurt?

“Gentlemen, please,” Elyssandra said, pulling her cowl back. “I’ve thought this through. Not to worry. We have safe passage for the night.”

“I am not sleeping in the treetops, Elyssandra.” Braiden thrust the tent back into Augustin’s hands. “I fidget in my sleep. I don’t want to wake up on the ground with a dozen broken bones.”

Augustin sniffled. “What’s wrong with blue, anyway?”

“Don’t be silly, Braid.” Elyssandra pointed at the side of her head. “I have an accessory for every occasion. Well, most occasions.”

This hairpin was quite different from the others, a comb with no tiny gemstones, far larger than the sprigs.

It was nearly as long as a finger, its prongs made of the same gold as Elyssandra’s other accessories.

Atop the prongs was a curious decorative panorama: a little house of elven design, an exquisite work of handcraft.

The corners of the house’s angular roof ended in points that resembled thorns. Leaf-shaped gemstones served as its windows and door. Polished jade, perhaps. Surrounding its base was a spray of delicate golden wires curved elegantly into bushes, leaves, and branches.

“It’s extremely pretty, I’ll grant you,” Augustin said. “But I don’t see how we’re supposed to spend the night in that.”

Elyssandra laughed as she pulled the comb from her hair. “And he calls himself a wizard. Couldn’t you detect the tingle of magic?”

Augustin frowned. “I’m not exactly a magical bloodhound, you know. I can tell it’s enchanted, but how could I possibly guess its purpose? I’m an elementalist, Elyssandra. Only a seasoned enchanter could do that.”

“So many excuses.” Braiden shook his head and tutted, only too happy to participate. “I didn’t think the Wizard of Weathervale would be so whiny.”

Augustin went red in the face. “You didn’t even know I existed before I rode into town on a turnip cart. You — ”

“Hush now,” Elyssandra said. “The both of you.”

She lifted the comb to her lips, whispered a few words, then pushed the prongs into the earth. Braiden grimaced at the thought of her putting it back in her hair. Maybe she would give it a good wash first. His new elven friend had her quirks, but she did like to keep a lovely head of hair.

Something in the air tingled. Something in the earth shifted. One by one the tiny filigreed plants on the decorative comb grew and grew, stretching out until their leaves were as big as hands.

The house was growing larger, too. This was a fascinating display of elven magic, but Braiden wasn’t quite convinced. The only thing more attention-grabbing than a bright blue tent was a golden house.

And then with a flash and a glittery shimmer, the house vanished.

In its place was a large flower — or was it a rosette of leaves? It bloomed like a rose the color of deepest jade, or perhaps an especially rare and ornate head of cabbage.

Despite its bizarre appearance, it did blend well with its surroundings.

Staring at the plant seemed to tire the eyes, making it so that Braiden wanted to look anywhere else.

He’d read about the weird ways that plants could defend themselves — thorns, poison, horrific odors — but this was something else entirely.

The flower turned to face the party the way a sapling would turn toward the sun. Its leaves — or were they petals? — unfurled and peeled back one by one. At its core pulsed a warm honeyed glow, the same gold as Elyssandra’s hair comb.

“It’s a portal,” Augustin breathed, his tent still tucked under one arm as he admired the strange flower. “Remarkable.”

“A little bit of elven ingenuity,” Elyssandra said. “Not that I can take credit for any of it. Come, now. We can spend the night in here.”

As Elyssandra approached the flower, Braiden found himself staring at the array of pins in her golden mane. What other survivalist magic was she hiding in there? Her hair was full of secrets.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Elyssandra dashed straight toward the green blossom.

It shouldn’t have worked. There was no way for her to physically fit into the opening at the center of the flower, and yet she did. The petals rustled like leaves in a windy forest, parting around her in welcome.

Augustin shrugged and followed suit, disappearing into the flower’s head just as easily.

Braiden hesitated, and then remembered that they had a very specific reason to keep out of sight. He took a deep breath and plunged face-first into the flower.

It felt like pushing through undergrowth, but the leaves brushing against his cheek had a silken quality, soft and oddly reassuring. He exhaled once, and then the rustling was over.

Braiden blinked, then blinked again. They were inside a house — an actual house — the same one depicted on Elyssandra’s comb.

“This is incredible,” Augustin said, running his hands along the furniture. “Enchanted shelter, bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. I’ve heard of this kind of magic but have never seen it for myself. Absolutely incredible.”

And extremely expensive , Braiden thought. He didn’t want to pry, but exactly who was this woman with a talent for thievery and an arsenal of enchantments?

Despite being a magical dwelling, the elven house had all the amenities of a regular home, with a few minor decorative differences. There were extra angles where a chair might otherwise have a rounded back, terminating in twigs, leaves, or antlers. Perhaps the furniture had actually grown that way.

The house was small, more a cottage than anything.

The common area included a kitchen and a dining set big enough for four.

Braiden assumed the doors in the walls led to their bedrooms, which were likely to be smallish themselves.

It was still far more comfort and convenience than he could have dreamed of.

“I know it might be smaller than you’re used to,” Elyssandra said, “but I think it’s kind of cozy.”

Braiden shook his head. “You’ve seen where I live. This is a luxury getaway, as far as I’m concerned.”

Augustin arched an eyebrow. “You’ve been to his home?” He pointed his finger between them. “Didn’t you two just meet?”

“In fact,” Elyssandra said, lifting her nose proudly, “Braiden cooked me a very lovely breakfast yesterday morning, before we found you at the Noose.”

Augustin cocked his other eyebrow, this time fixing Braiden with a penetrating stare.

Braiden held his hands up, shaking them vigorously. “No, no. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“I wasn’t insinuating anything,” Augustin said, looking completely serious. “I’m just a little hurt that I wasn’t invited for breakfast.”

“We weren’t friends yet!” Braiden said.

Augustin was wearing that wounded look again. Why did he have to be so annoying, and why did he have to look so attractive when he did that pouty thing with his face?

Braiden turned away, pretending to busy himself with the rest of the cottage.

It was finished in the familiar greens and golds of Elyssandra’s hairpin, with a few odd splashes of color: ruby-red and sapphire-blue accents, like the crimson ribbons keeping the curtains tied open, or the vase of azure flowers by the window.

He stepped over to the leaf-shaped glass, pressing his hands against it. He could see outside, getting a greenish view of the luminous cavern.

“All the windows work the same way,” Elyssandra explained. “We’re safe here. We can look outside, but no one can look within. If we’re lucky, we might even catch a glimpse of whoever set the trap.”

Braiden oriented himself by the window on the back wall and the two flanking the leaf-shaped front door. He counted three other doors, wooden and ornately carved in elven style.

Before he could ask, Elyssandra piped up. “Oh, that one over there is the lavatory. Feel free to freshen up.”

This woman had all the amenities she needed hidden in the guise of a hair comb. No wonder she lived so comfortably outside the adventurer encampment. This was better than Braiden’s quarters in the attic.

Augustin gestured at the two remaining doors. “And those?”

“Oh, that’s my bedroom,” Elyssandra said, pointing at one door, and then the other. “And that’s the guest room. You don’t mind sharing, do you?”

The Wizard of Weathervale rubbed the back of his neck, throwing Braiden a sheepish — and oddly hopeful — glance.

Braiden turned toward the window, his ears burning like fire.