Page 70 of Wizards & Weavers
The skeleton wrung its hands and stared at its feet, saying nothing.
Augustin stepped forward, shielding his face with his cloak as he approached the cube. “This is what all the talk of sealing comes down to. It would take an elementalist of immense power to deactivate this object safely. The best we can do for now is put up a barrier.”
“We?” Braiden asked. “Who is ‘we,’ exactly?”
“No time for petulance, Braiden. My sealing magic works by accelerating air to the point that it hardens, forming a wall of force. I don’t know if any of my spells will be strong enough to stop the cube’s magic, should it decide to explosively expel itself again. But if you were to craft a network of threads to hold it all together? That might do the trick.”
It was deeply flattering that the Wizard of Weathervale thought that Braiden’s humble magic would help seal the cube. He couldn’t quite fathom weaving would help the wizard, but if Augustin believed in him, then Braiden would just have to believe in himself, too.
“This should work, in theory,” Augustin said, guiding Braiden into position with one hand on his hip. “There. This is the safest distance we can work from, right on its periphery. Now, start by weaving a lattice around the object. Shaped like a cylinder, if you will. Yes. Just like that.”
Braiden stepped around the cube warily, aware of what its ambient ice magic could do to him. Bones didn’t have to worry about frostbite, but Braiden could lose his fingers. And what use would he be as a weaver then?
A trail of weaving magic lingered in the air as he worked, creating the loose horizontal framework for his project. Hecombed down with his other hand to interlace the threads, crafting a sheet of ephemeral fabric around the cube.
“Excellent,” Augustin said. “Don’t materialize the magic just yet. If I do this just right — imbue the ethereal fabric with a burst of my own elemental essence — it might strengthen the binding.”
Like pouring plaster over gauze, or using varnish to cover cracks in woodwork, filling all the gaps. Of course, all of that involved the application of liquid, but Braiden didn’t busy himself with the details. The Wizard of Weathervale knew what he was doing. Probably.
Augustin incanted old words learned from his elders, passed down from one wind wizard to the next. He pursed his lips and blew a single breath, a sudden breeze rushing into the chamber. Braiden gasped as wisps of iridescent light tangled with the matrix he’d woven, catching at the gaps, like a school of ghostly fish swimming into a shimmering net.
Then with a gleam and a subtle flash, their magics fused, forming a sheet of luminous material. It shrank until the cylinder’s ends joined and twisted shut, sealing to form an impenetrable barrier around the deadly cube.
“It’s working,” Warren whispered. “Nibura spare us. It’s actually working.”
Braiden held his breath, too cautious to celebrate. When frost formed all along the outside of the twisted cylinder, his heart sank. When the barrier shattered into dozens of brittle pieces, his stomach dropped.
The burrowfolk’s ears drooped. Elyssandra reached for Warren’s hand, squeezing it.
“We can do something about this, can’t we?” she asked, giving Warren reassuring glances, staring hopefully at Augustin.
“The object is more powerful than anything I’ve ever encountered. I know how to seal doors and gaps and dungeons— but a cube of elemental essence? We’re going to need help from someone with more experience. Perhaps — oh, gods. Perhaps another wind wizard.”
Braiden winced. “You seriously mean it? You’re going to ask her?”
“If it means keeping both the Underborough and Weathervale safe, I have no choice. Orora Arcosa is a shrewd woman, but she will not tolerate a threat to her hometown.”
“Is this the grandmother I’ve heard so much about?” Elyssandra asked. “The one who’s secretly in charge of Weathervale?”
Warren blinked hard, his curiosity subduing his sadness. “Your grandmother leads your community, too? How interesting. And she’s also a wind wizard?”
Augustin scoffed. “She’s a bit of a windbag, if that’s what you’re asking. Hang on. Let me send her a message. It’ll get to her faster than we can reach the surface, but we’ll have to escort her down here in any case.”
He whispered a spell into his cupped hand, then parted his fingers, blowing hard. A bolt of wind howled out of the chamber, flying with such speed that it rippled through the air like an arrow.
“Airmail,” Augustin explained. “Faster and more private than a carried letter. It should take less than an hour to reach her.”
“Is it really as simple as that?” Braiden asked. “She said you never called.”
Augustin cleared his throat. “You’ve seen for yourself. She’s the only blood I have left in the world, but Grandmother and I have a challenging relationship.”
“And what if she refuses to accompany us?”
“Then we’ll stuff her in a sack and drag her down here. You can conjure it for us, too. This is a matter of great import, and — wait. Do you hear that? Out in the main cavern.”
Elyssandra’s ears visibly prickled. Warren’s ears waggled this way and that.
“Voices,” Bones said, his body creaking as he turned toward the crack in the wall.
