Page 27 of Wizards & Weavers
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 Iwas 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.”
