Page 71 of Wizards & Weavers
“Other adventurers, at last,” Augustin said, striding out into the cavern.
Braiden hurried after him, sputtering words of warning. Running into other adventurers on the upper levels was different. With all the passages honeycombing throughout the dungeon, didn’t it seem too convenient that another party of adventurers would find themselves deep down this exact same path?
But his spirits lifted when he spotted familiar faces at the opposite end of the cavern. The man with the green skin was the very same orc he’d seen at the Dragon’s Flagon, an enormous war hammer strapped to his back.
Then the lovely woman with the equally lovely brother — the Gwerenese twins from the tavern. What were their names again? Falina? Fedro? And they’d brought their gambling friends with them, a party of four Gwerenese adventurers in all.
And standing at the back — it wasn’t his face that Braiden recognized, but he would have known the heavily armored man and his distinctive helmet anywhere. It was the horned warrior from the shop, the very same one who’d handed Braiden his bill and accidentally started this entire adventure.
“Oh, hey,” Braiden said, waving his arms in a wide arc. “I know those people. Hi, there. It’s me, from the tavern.”
Metal sang as weapons slid out of their sheaths. The wicked curves of Gwerenese daggers gleamed. The cavern trembled as the orc bashed his hammer onto the ground. The horned warrior slid a sword as black as night out of the ornate scabbard at his hip.
“What did you do to those people?” Bones asked, his bones already clattering from fear.
“Nothing! I met them once. We barely said anything to each other. Hey! You over there. Yes, all of you. Sorry for whatever I did, or whatever I didn’t. This is all just a misunderstanding.”
As the other adventurers drew closer, Braiden saw by their eyes that they weren’t actually looking at him, their gazes focused on Augustin instead. He frowned as he curled his fingers, readying his magic to contribute to the fight and help protect his wizard. The party’s wizard. Whatever.
“Greetings, Wizard of Weathervale,” boomed the horned warrior through his helmet. “We come to you under command of Orora Arcosa, Elder of the Lighthouse.”
“Friends of yours?” Augustin growled, shooting Braiden a glare.
“We had that talk,” Braiden snapped back. “I have nothing to do with this.”
The horned warrior brandished his midnight blade, pointing its tip across the cavern.
“Augustin Arcosa. You will not seal this dungeon.”
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
“Five against six,”Warren muttered, quarterstaff clenched in his hands. “I don’t like those odds at all.”
The golden thorn grasped in Elyssandra’s hand lengthened even as Braiden watched. Within moments it had grown into a spear.
“If they want a fight,” she said, “they’re going to get it.”
The air rushed between Augustin’s outstretched fingers, swirling and tumbling in a miniature vortex. “I should have known Grandmother would pull something like this. Anything to keep the gold flowing into Weathervale’s coffers.”
“Will your message reach her in time?” Braiden asked.
Augustin shook his head. “Even if it did, I doubt she would recall her forces.”
It wasn’t unheard of, adventurers hiring themselves out as mercenaries. The questing board had a few requests in a similar vein, like merchants looking for experienced fighters as bodyguards out on the road.
This seemed a bit like overkill. Braiden wasn’t sure what the rival adventurers were capable of, but their very sharp weapons and very determined gazes meant they weren’t to be underestimated.
“We’re doomed,” Bones cried. “Well and truly doomed. Oh, to be resurrected by dark magic, only to die a brutal second death at the hands of cruel warriors. A dozen of them, too.”
Braiden frowned. A dozen? Four Gwerenese adventurers, plus the orc, plus the horned warrior. That made only six. What was Bones even — oh. Oh, no.
“He’s right.” Elyssandra pointed clear across the cavern. “Look, coming down the passage. More people. It looks like — no. It can’t be.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a squeal, her body curling against Braiden’s for comfort. What could he possibly do to protect her? Did she suddenly forget about her giant spear?
A golden glow heralded the arrival of a squad of warriors, each clad in gleaming golden armor. Two of them led from the front, the other four bearing an ornate palanquin on their shoulders. Braiden had never seen one, these elaborate platforms used to transport important officials. He figured they’d be more common in bigger, fancier cities, like capitals, or anywhere that had a castle.
