Page 55 of Wizards & Weavers
It took a little extra magic to make the threads retain natural warmth, but this was worth it. Braiden’s new friends deserved it. He smiled as his creation detached itself from the air, falling lazily into his outstretched hands, the thick cords of yarn as soft and plush as anything he’d ever made with his magic.
And then he stumbled, catching his foot on a rock — or was it weakness from expending too much magic? — but a pair of strong hands caught him. Augustin’s face wrinkled with concern as he stared hard into Braiden’s eyes.
“Are you all right? I know you want to hone your magic for whatever may come, but it’s unwise to go burning yourself out willy-nilly.”
“I’m fine,” Braiden said, straightening himself, embarrassed and a little flattered that the wizard cared. “And I’m not just flinging my magic around. Warren, here. Put this on.”
The burrowfolk eyed the thing in Braiden’s hand warily. Warren had his fur to help keep him warm, but Braiden could tell that it wasn’t enough.
“It goes around your neck,” Braiden said. “Try it on.”
There were no winters here, Warren had said. He had never known the need for a scarf. But Warren accepted it, his eyes momentarily brightening at the warmth of the conjured fabric.
“I can’t imagine this would help very much with my mobility in battle.”
Braiden shrugged. “Take it off when you have to, then. Or don’t. It’s only a temporary solution. I’m not good enough with my magic to make it last forever, but it should help keep you warm for an hour or two.”
Within moments of wrapping the conjured scarf around his neck, Warren’s ears had drooped in relaxation, a disarmed smile spreading across his mouth.
“Well, this is just lovely. Thank you.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Braid,” Elyssandra said, rubbing her hands briskly. “What a kind gesture.”
Braiden could sense a touch of envy in her tone. As if he would leave her — or Augustin, for that matter — out in the cold. “Give me a minute,” he said, taking some time to weave each of them an ensorcelled scarf.
It took him mere seconds to crisscross warp and weft, to make a pair of scarves long enough to wind around the neck and shoulders, but Braiden knew that even these smallest acts of magic were sapping his reserves of energy. Elyssandra thrilled and tittered as she threw on her scarf, delighted by the warmth.
Augustin was a little less enthusiastic, giving Braiden a suspicious, appraising look. “And you’re quite sure you’re strong enough to continue, even after being so generous with your magic?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Braiden said, hoping it was too dark for Augustin to spy the sheen of sweat that had formed along his forehead. He thrust the third scarf out, his arm slightly shaking. They would find time to rest later. For now, while the weaving magic held, they needed to press on and take advantage of the warmth.
Augustin made a thoroughly inappropriate sound when his scarf met his skin, the kind of ululating moan that Braiden thought belonged behind closed doors, in the privacy of a bedroom. He took it as Augustin’s wordless approval of his skill in weaving.
The wizard clasped Braiden’s hand tightly in thanks, at once tugging him forward gently as a signal to continue the journey. Augustin’s fingers hooking through his, the square of his palm — all of it was warmer than anything Braiden could have hoped to conjure. Augustin unclasped their fingers to rearrange his scarf, then rearrange it again. Braiden tried not to feel so sore about it.
He would have liked for Augustin to hold his hand all the way through the tunnel, for the warmth if not for the physical support, and certainly not for any other reason, real or imagined. He could feel his strength flagging, disappointed that the wizard had been right about using too much magic too quickly. Now the passage had narrowed, almost so that the four of them had to move single file.
It was a pattern in this dungeon, Braiden was sure of it: tight long passages that opened into great cavernous spaces. They’d seen it with the luminous cavern with its glowing mushrooms and its bubbling pool, and then again with the underground village of the Underborough. It was only a matter of time until this long, freezing tunnel led them somewhere massive, surprising, and miraculous.
A man could dream, couldn’t he?
It took about another half hour, by which time Braiden’s legs were half turned to jelly, but his prediction proved fruitful. There it was, just up ahead, the opening to what most assuredly would be an icy cavern. Would it be massive? Perhaps. Was it surprising? Not in the least. And miraculous? Eh.
Elyssandra ushered her blueberry lantern forward, the bluish glow revealing a wicked set of spikes lingering above the cavern threshold. They were natural formations, glimmering icicles that made the cave mouth resemble an actual mouth, the gaping maw of an immense frost-born creature.
Braiden thought back to the entrance of the entire dungeon, how he’d wished for it to be a little more menacing, just a tad more thematic. He regretted wishing for anything sinister or exciting at all.
The icicles made an oddly pleasant tinkling noise when Warren tapped them with the end of his staff. Good thinking, testing them to see if they might threaten the party in their passage, falling out of the cave roof like loose teeth.
Warren turned over his shoulder to show off a cheeky grin as he improvised a clinking, ringing tune on the various lengths of sharpened ice. Everyone laughed. Braiden was glad for the chance to chuckle and exhale, a tiny moment of relief.
The spikes of ice held fast as they followed the floating blueberries through the passage. From this far behind, the pin looked like a lonely ghost, a wisp of light pulsating in a frozen forest.
Larger icicles were scattered throughout the cavern, these growing upward from the ground. As Elyssandra’s berries illuminated more of the space, Braiden saw that the largest pillars weren’t only made of ice.
Some of them contained skeletons, frozen in frost and time. He might have thought of it as a graveyard except for the gnawing feeling that these bodies hadn’t been entombed this way on purpose.
In most any other circumstance, being surrounded by frozen skeletons would have frightened the living daylights out of Braiden. But he only felt a twinge of sadness, an odd sensation to hold in his heart for this icy necropolis of forgotten strangers.
