Page 86 of Wizards & Weavers
“I don’t know what to say,” Braiden breathed.
“So don’t say anything. Sign it, please.”
He didn’t know if he belonged in these pages, this hallowed tome of heroes. But if one person believed in him — if one friend thought highly enough of his brand of heroism — that was enough.
“I’ll sign it,” Braiden said, taking the quill at last. “But only if I get to call you Elyssandra, Rogue Princess of the Summerlands.”
She quirked an eyebrow and smiled. “I actually like the sound of that.”
Braiden ran the nib of the quill across the page, managing to leave a perfectly lovely signature. Elyssandra blew on the ink gently, the puffing of her cheeks barely disguising her smile.
“You should’ve checked the fine print,” Bones said. “You might have signed away your shop. Or your soul! Oh, gods, to beconsigned to one of the several bloody hells, all for scratching a quill on a bit of paper!”
Braiden chuckled. “Stop it, Bones. You’re thinking of infernal contracts. Elyssandra is an elf, not a demon. As far as I know.”
She shrugged, bringing a glass of blueberry elixir to her lips. “Who knows? Go ask my father.”
The bell above the shop door tinkled. Braiden blinked. Didn’t he leave up a sign saying they were closed for the day?
Heavy steps fell over the floorboards as a familiar sight strode into the shop, imposing in stature, casting a striking silhouette in the midday light.
The horned warrior. Braiden held his breath.Thiswas how his adventure had truly started. And now, how would it end?
Craghammer rose to his full height, pulling his war hammer out from behind the counter. Braiden had only negotiated his salary as a shopkeeper. He never realized he’d gotten a bodyguard in the bargain.
“There’s no need for that, Craghammer,” Braiden said.
The orc raised his weapon anyway, pointing it at the horned warrior. “I trekked out of the dungeon with the Gwerenese twins, but this one vanished before we knew what happened. We never saw you leave the dungeon. For that matter, we’ve never even seen your face.”
A laugh echoed inside the horned warrior’s helmet. He raised his gauntleted hands, showing that he was unarmed. “I mean no harm. Very well. Perhaps it’s best if I start by showing you my face.”
The warrior gripped either side of his helmet, lifting it gently off his head. Braiden gulped when he saw that the horns didn’t come off. They weren’t attached to the helmet. They were attached to the man’s scalp, curving menacingly above his handsome, smiling face, his teeth as sharp as fangs, his skin blood red.
“A demon,” Elyssandra breathed, retreating one step.
“Oh, gods,” Bones cried out, diving behind the counter. “This is it. They’ve come to get me.”
The demon’s laughter was silken, almost musical. “I assure you once again, my undead friend. I have not come to threaten you. I am merely here to offer a warning. Perhaps it’s better to think of it as an invitation. There is more to the dungeon than you think.”
“Well, that’s a given,” Braiden said, careful to keep a polite tone. He’d never met a demon, but before all this started, he’d never met the burrowfolk or the undead, either. “I’m sure there are many more pathways to discover, all those twists and turns down there. But I think we’ve delved deep enough to last us a while, thank you.”
The others nodded in agreement. Warren and Bones, for one, were only just exploring life above ground, and Craghammer was looking forward to his new career of watching the shop and knitting battle sweaters. Augustin, however, didn’t look as convinced. He actually looked intrigued.
“Now that you’ve dispelled the cube,” the demon continued, “the grasp of winter has receded from the dungeon depths. The ice melts, the frost fades. New passages opened, old doorways unsealed. What was once unreachable may now be reached. And remember, of course, that the dungeon goes both ways. Adventurers go down.”
“And the monsters come up,” Augustin muttered.
“I can see that you’ve already found ways to keep yourselves busy up here on the surface,” the demon said, grinning as he gestured at the shop, at all the colorful bottles. “But you might consider a visit to the dungeon sooner rather than later. Who knows what other wonders and dangers await within its fiery depths?”
Fire, Braiden thought.Why did it have to be fire?
“Wait,” Augustin said, holding up his hand. “Before you go. What is your name, stranger?”
The horned warrior turned over his shoulder, his helmet grasped in both hands. A wicked smile curved the corner of his mouth.
“Come deeper down the dungeon, and perhaps you’ll find out.”
The red man vanished in a puff of cinders and smoke.
