Page 82 of Wizards & Weavers
Warren took point in the luminous cavern, guiding the adventurers down a very specific path to avoid his traps. The caravan resembled a long and winding snake as it rippled through the grass of the glowing cave. And in what felt like no time at all, they’d arrived safely in the Underborough.
Grandest Mother Magda came to the village entrance to greet them, the look of wrinkled worry on her face replaced by relief.
“You’ve returned to us, and it appears you’ve brought company,” Magda said with a wry smile. “The elders won’t like this very much.”
“We also brought scarves and sweaters.” Warren lifted his nose in the air, heading to the heart of the village with an armload of knitwear. “The elders can stuff it.”
Mother Magda laughed, welcoming the caravan. Every last adventurer stared around the underground village with bulging eyes and open mouths. Braiden couldn’t help smirking, remembering all the disbelief back at the Dragon’s Flagon.
Dudley was already chatting up a burrowfolk woman, curious as Braiden had been about her bubbling cauldron of rooty tooty stew. Craghammer slipped easily into a position of leadership, barking orders at the adventurers, directing them to bring their quota of sweaters to the village center.
A clacking, chattering sound drew Braiden’s attention. Bones had been standing nearby the whole time. He hadn’t recognized the skeleton in Elyssandra’s cloak, possibly conflating the images of the two in his mind. Braiden recoiled when the skeleton brushed icy finger bones against the back of his hand.
“Your fingers are frozen,” Braiden said.
“No blood or breath to keep me warm,” Bones said, his teeth chattering. “Listen. This was how it began in old Hyberidia. The air went colder and colder before that horrible icy box exploded. You have to hurry and do something.”
Augustin shook his head. “I don’t have enough of my will left to cast another fleetfoot spell for five of us, much less all the rest. I can muster the strength for two travelers, at best.”
Elyssandra nodded firmly. “I understand. With your guidance, you and Braiden might find a way to suppress the cube together.”
“I’ll go with you,” Braiden said. He ignored the shiver of fear in his heart, knowing he’d be standing mere feet away from the cube if it exploded. “I don’t know that I can do much to stop that thing, but I’ll help any way I can.”
“Thank you,” Augustin said. “I’d hate to go it alone. I’m glad to have you beside me. If only my old windbag of a grandmother could have bothered to come, or even answer my airmail.”
“I heard that, boy,” came the icy reply, colder than the wintry Underborough air.
Augustin flinched, then quickly composed himself at the sight of Orora Arcosa. Braiden blinked hard in disbelief. How? And when? Had she been following them the entire time? Augustin didn’t seem as surprised by her presence, more mortified, and perhaps a touch intimidated.
“What took you so long?” the wizard snapped, overcompensating for his insult.
“I took a day trip out to the islands,” she said crisply, extending her arms and turning in a slow circle. She was showing off her tan. “I came as soon as I could.”
Elder Orora’s expression changed when she caught sight of Grandest Mother Magda. Aha. A meeting of grandmothers, but more importantly, of village elders. Braiden held his breath.
“It is such a pleasure,” Orora said, offering both her hands to the chief. “Tales of your people are the stuff of legend. It is an honor to meet you. I am Orora Arcosa, from the council of Weathervale, up above. We must be the closest human settlement to your fine village.”
Mother Magda held a hand to her cheek, flattered and flustered. She accepted both of Orora’s hands, smothering them in her furry paws.
“And such a pleasure it is to meet you, too. I am called the Grandest Mother Magda, but such titles are far too fancy for new friends, don’t you think? You may call me Magda.”
Braiden narrowed his eyes. On the surface, he knew that this was only two older women making pleasantries, and there was definitely sincerity in their delight. But he couldn’t help noticing how parts of this exchange seemed like the beginnings of a business transaction.
“But we can talk and sip tea later,” Orora said, serious again. “My grandson has told me of a dangerous object that threatens both our communities.”
Mother Magda nodded. “And my grandson has experienced its oppressive cold for himself. I fear that burrowfolk magics do not extend into the realm of elemental control.”
“This is a job for wind wizards,” Augustin said, giving Braiden a cursory nod. “And weavers, too.”
“Then we should get going,” Orora said. “You’ll forgive my grandson for being so slow to act, Magda. I shall see you again soon. Augustin? Go on, then. Lead the way.”
Magda hobbled off to secure her own sweater. Augustin threw his hands up in frustration, but managed to stifle a snarky response.
“I have barely enough magic left for a fleetfoot spell. Grandmother, if you’d be kind enough to ensorcel your own feet — ”
Elder Orora rolled her eyes. “What have I taught you about the wind? Why waste your strength when you can take advantage of your surroundings instead?”
Her gaze fell upon the ground beyond the boundaries of the Underborough. Braiden should have noticed it before. The cube’s icy fingers had stretched so far and so long.
