Page 54 of Wizards & Weavers
“Stop,” Braiden shouted. “Everyone. Don’t move.”
Up ahead, Elyssandra and Warren stopped walking, throwing confused glances over their shoulders. And farther up ahead, the figures in the near distance stopped walking at the exact same moment, similarly craning their necks over their shoulders in the opposite direction.
“Augustin, do you see what I’m seeing?”
The wizard nodded, the passage turning ominously chillier when Braiden noticed the gravity in his expression.
“Elyssandra,” Augustin said. “Would you please light the way with your berries? There seems to be something strange up ahead. We need to identify the danger before we proceed.”
Elyssandra sent her blueberry pin hovering toward the four ghostly figures. Gooseflesh rippled across Braiden’s skin when he saw the other Elyssandra copy her exact motions, sending its own spectral facsimile of the blueberry hairpin.
Closer and closer the blue lights floated, until they met in the middle with a glassy clink and a blinding glare. It took every ounce of bravery left in Braiden’s body not to turn and flee. If this was where two worlds met, Braiden thought that he would be safest already running at top speed in the opposite direction.
Augustin rushed forward. His copy rushed to meet him, too. Braiden’s heart leapt up his throat — and then he frowned at their four reflections. Maybe the wizard really did know better. Braiden felt very sheepish by the time he realized what they were actually looking at.
“Ice,” Augustin called over his shoulder. “It’s just our reflections in this great, gigantic thing of ice.”
Fair enough, but as little as Braiden knew about the world of winter, he also knew that normal ice didn’t reflect images as vividly as a mirror. This was magical stuff, naturally — or supernaturally, this deep in the dungeon.
“Then we’re drawing closer,” Braiden called out. “Closer to whatever it was that caused the explosion.”
Augustin tapped the end of his nose. “Exactly right, my weaver friend. I only dread to think what swirling tempest of the elements could have erected something quite like this.” He rapped his knuckles against the ice, making a hollow, glassy thunk. “Look at the size of this thing.”
“There are no winters here,” Warren said. “It’s never been this cold so close to the Underborough.”
Elyssandra leaned her body to the left, and then to the right. Her hovering blueberry pin followed suit, illuminating the great icy mirror, revealing its tremendous height.
“There’s a way around it,” she said. “At least it isn’t blocking the entire passage. It looks like we can keep going.”
Except it really didn’t sound like Elyssandra wanted to keep going. Braiden glanced at the others with uncertainty, his nerves in a tangled knot.
Rockwalkers infesting the underground, those dangerous, diminutive elementals. Great holes punctured through the earth by some indescribable explosion. And now these enormous pillars of shimmering ice that seemed to stretch up to the cavern ceiling.
Braiden decided that it could be far worse. Whatever elements they encountered down here, at least there wasn’t any fire.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Not an hour later,Braiden found himself wishing for a little bit of fire. More than the pitiful flicker in his lantern, at least, which barely warmed him up, his fingers already stiffening from the chill.
Gods, how could it be so cold down here? All these pillars of ice, the wet, slippery crunch of the ground underfoot? Braiden thought of ice wands and frosty beverages back at the night market. He’d never be able to enjoy one ever again.
Braiden knew for a fact that it couldn’t have been that long since they’d left the Underborough, and yet it felt like hours upon hours had passed. How he longed for another bowl of the burrowfolk stew, missing the warmth in his belly — the warmth on any part of his body, really.
And yet he felt worse for his friends, watching as the tips of Warren’s ears flicked and quivered, his body shuddering as the chill traveled down his back. Elyssandra gathered her robes more tightly around her body, her pale hands reaching up to rub each opposite shoulder. The glow of her blueberry pin pulsed each time she took it into her hands, the passage darkening as she cupped it for what little warmth it offered.
Even Augustin, the wind wizard himself, stamped his feet every few dozen steps, like he was willing his blood to course faster, to run hotter under his skin. If the man who braved high, chilling winds to fly unopposed through the clouds thought it was freezing down here, Braiden figured it was fine to be a little bit of a baby about the cold.
He stared hard at the back of Elyssandra’s head, trying to divine the location of the hairpin that held her magical little house. Something about this cold was so unnatural, sapping the strength from his bones and his body at an unsettling rate.
He sighed as he thought of a long soak in the spacious tub tucked away in the bedroom that he and Augustin had shared. Where would Warren fit into the picture in terms of sleeping arrangements? Would the three of them have to cram into the same bed? It would be far too tight a fit, but maybe Warren’s fur would lend some extra warmth under the blankets.
Warmth. Braiden bit on his lower lip, chiding himself for his silliness, his selfishness. Here he was wearing a sweater of the finest othergoat wool when his friends were suffering through this hostile underground chill. All three of his friends would need their strength about them in a fight, and they couldn’t be at full fitness if they were wasting all their energy shivering and chattering their teeth.
With a tingling at his fingertips, Braiden called on his weaving magic. His foot scraped against frosty stone as he turned his body, the fingers of one hand swiping at the air in a wide circle. The magicked threads glowed as they lingered in the air.
He raked his fingers again and again down the length of his conjuration, imbuing his design with a touch of warmth, a tinge of comfort. This wasn’t so different from the beverage cozies he sometimes crafted for drinks at Dudley’s tavern, a temporarycreation meant to help regulate something — or in this case, someone’s temperature.
