Page 81 of Wizards & Weavers
“He’s not here,” Braiden replied. “And if you’re thinking of hurting him — ”
Fedro raised his hands, showing his palms. “There is no cause for concern, friend. It is wondrous enough that you have recruited the undead to your cause. More wondrous still that this skeletal companion of yours bears forbidden bardic knowledge.”
Augustin cocked an eyebrow. “Forbidden?”
“The song he sang to deafen us all,” Falina said. “A dirge most heinous that some among our people consider it a war crime. We wish to speak to your friend and learn more of his horrific expertise.”
Before Braiden could speak, Elyssandra pushed past him to answer. “He is down in the dungeon, and we know where to find him. But first, a favor.”
Six pairs of hands now, still not quite enough to carry all the scarves and sweaters. But Braiden’s excitement was mounting, his exhaustion forgotten. If they could convince more adventurers to help them — perhaps a visit to the adventurer encampment outside town?
A third time, the doorbell tinkled. Dudley the bartender strode in, his knuckles white as he gripped his battle-axe. Braiden gasped. He’d never seen Old Betsy come off the wall.
“Now, Dudley,” Braiden began. “I know Augustin should have thought twice before getting his boots on your nice table, but — ”
“Hush, Braid. That’s not what I’m here for.”
He tilted his head over his shoulder. Braiden’s eyes lit up brighter than all the paper lanterns in the night market. How didhe miss the mass of adventurers crowded outside the shop? A dozen of them, at least, that he could see by the moonlight. He recognized some of their faces from the tavern.
“But how?” Braiden breathed. “I thought they didn’t believe Augustin.”
Dudley shrugged. “Didn’t need believing. Told them I’d stop serving them if they didn’t come help. Bar’s closed until further notice. There was a brawl.” Dudley chuckled. “Was.”
On closer inspection, Braiden noticed the bruises — and the sulky expressions — on some of the tavern’s mouthier patrons. He also noticed how Old Betsy was spotless, its bladed edges free of blood. Good old Dudley taking it down to good old fisticuffs. The axe was only a threat. Carry a big stick and all that.
Braiden gripped Dudley by the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver. Literally. You don’t realize how many lives you might be saving tonight.”
Dudley chuckled. “You owe me so many beer cozies, Braid.”
With the moongrass filament, Braiden could make his enchanted cooling cozies permanent, in any color Dudley desired. But first: Cube. Sweaters. Hurry. All these hands to help — how quickly the tide had shifted!
It took less than an hour to clear out the storage room. Braiden tried not to linger too long to goggle at its emptiness. He hadn’t seen the floor in years. The room would need a good sweeping when he came back.
And he would be back, and soon, with all of his friends. They could actually do this now. A happier ending was finally in sight.
The caravan of adventurers marched through the streets of Weathervale and out to the dungeon, scarves and sweaters stuffed in every available backpack, satchel, and pocket. When they reached the dungeon’s entrance, Braiden took a long, deep breath of the fresh surface air, preparing for another dive.
A lean black figure stood at the mouth of the cave, leaning on the crudeDUNJONsign, a familiar spiky helmet covering his face. The procession of adventurers came to a stop.
There was nothing unusual about a man hanging about the dungeon mouth, but they’d surely noticed the unusual angle of his elongated feet.
Warren removed his helmet, his ears springing up high above his frowning face. Dudley’s conscripted adventurers — and Dudley himself — looked on in disbelief. Braiden smiled, taking note of Augustin’s smugness.
The adventurers murmured and argued among themselves. Braiden tried not to interrupt, suspecting that they were going through their own epiphanies about the forgotten races. What about the cat people of legend? Were they real, too? Or the fox folk, or even the fabled frog men?
“Enough yammering,” Warren said irritably. “What took you all so long?”
Chapter
Thirty
Reuniting with Warrenlifted Braiden’s spirits in a way that bacon and pancakes never could. Elyssandra and Augustin were equally energized, the four of them blazing through the dungeon’s haven and into the underground honeycomb of passages without breaking their stride.
And now with Craghammer, the Gwerenese twins, and all the rest of the adventurers Dudley had press-ganged into service, they finally had a fighting chance of reaching the Underborough before imminent cube collapse.
Falina pulled out a tambourine, beating it in time, setting a brisk pace for the caravan. Fedro produced a flute from a secret pocket in his vest, the sweet, lilting notes bringing color to their journey, making this trip down the dungeon less of an exhausting expedition, more like something approaching a hopeful adventure.
Downward they delved through the dungeon, crushing lesser elementals in their wake. The more heavily armed and armored adventurers led from the front, unfazed by elemental rocks and icicles, all while the magic users and archers took them down from the back.
