Where the Wind Leads

The caves, well, the tunnels, they seemed like they would never end. But the stone wasn’t excavated. Not by man, at least. Didn’t look natural either. The rock was coarse, sure, but the shape… almost a perfect circle. They wound and twisted like some great creature’s veins. A maze. A gigantic maze hidden beneath Eldara.

There was just the three of us. We were only looking for somewhere to sleep. Streets get far too cold this time of year, and when you can’t defend yourself, your options are slim. We just stumbled across the place by accident. Chase knew of an old tavern, upper east of Old Town. Abandoned, he said. Weren’t half bad. Well, the basement weren’t half bad. The upper floors were full of root heads and ill’uns.

…

“Ill’uns?” the detective asks, face screwed up.

“Tis what us street rats call those afflicted with the arcane sickness, sir,” the deputy adds, puffing his chest a bit, waiting for praise. “People too poor for treatment. The ones who just…”

“Yes, thank you. Carry on, boy.”

…

But the basement, that part was warm. Oddly warm. Like stepping into a hearth. We didn’t understand it. None of the others ever went down there. Not that root heads have thoughts left, and most of the ill’uns weren’t much for moving.

Still, it was nice. Chase had bet us he’d find a good spot. Me and Harry both had to hand over half of what we scabbed yesterday. Not that it was much, mind.

The night went well, all things considered. We were so ’appy with the find, even the banging and crying upstairs didn’t bother us. Just to be warm for once… Eldara winters bite deep. We were already planning the next few months. Setting up proper.

…

“Back on topic,” the detective snaps, tapping his pen.

…

Right. So, the night was going well. And then it happened. The wall on the far side of the basement, looked normal enough. But suddenly, a gust of wind burst out from beneath it. Papers and scraps flying everywhere. ’Arry was half asleep and near jumped out of his skin. Me and Chase thought he was going caca. Until it happened again. Stronger.

Half the room blown clear. It weren’t like a draft. It were like a giant exhaling after a long run. Deep, heavy, powerful.

We checked the wall. Felt solid, but there was a narrow crack. Weren’t a wall at all. It was a door.

Took the three of us a while to prise it open, but when we did…

…

“It led to the tunnels?” the detective interrupts, scribbling fast.

…

At first was narrow. Definitely dug by hand. Found an old pick left rusting. But soon it opened into the wider tunnel, the maze.

We were too awed to think straight. The walls gave off heat, must’ve been warming the basement. And there was this strange light, not fire, not tech. Alive. Blue veins glowing through the stone like something breathing.

We walked for hours. Only when ’Arry’s stomach rumbled did we realise we were lost. Everything looked the same. Tunnels branching off constantly. Could’ve walked in circles for all we knew.

Then came that wind again.

It roared through the passage, sudden as anything. Strong, tornado-strong. Chase fell flat on his arse. Nearly took me too, but I caught the wall just in time. When it passed, we decided to follow it. Maybe it led somewhere. Maybe it led out.

…

“Follow the wind? In a tunnel?” the deputy sniggers.

“Where did it lead?” the detective presses.

…

We noticed the tunnels were branching inwards, like roots of a tree. The deeper we went, the larger they grew. All leading toward a single, massive passage.

Which led to…

…

“To what?”

…

A cave. Only calling it a cave seems wrong. It was enormous. Might’ve been as big as Old Town, maybe bigger. As deep as the Glowing Tower is tall. But that weren’t the strangest bit.

The walls were covered in crystals. Thousands. Millions. Every colour you could imagine, all glowing bright. Like standing inside one of those fancy geodes conners sell at the markets.

…

“A geode?” the detective asks. The deputy rolls his eyes.

…

Aye, a gigantic geode. Crystals the size of horses. Dazzling. A rainbow wrapped round a cavern.

And at the centre… a construction. Some kind of tower, but upside down, like something the Mages Guild would build on a whim. Surrounding it were floating platforms. Hundreds, circling like the moons do Sol. Some connected, some drifting free.

We were starving, lost, terrified… but we just stared. Couldn’t help it.

…

“Go on,” the detective murmurs. “What happened next?”

…

Chase figured the crystals might be worth something. Started trying to crack one loose. Leaned too far over the edge.

That’s when it came, the wind. Strongest yet. Took him right off his feet. He slipped. Fell into the pit. We didn’t see him land, but we heard it. The crack, the echo of it bouncing through the crystals.

Then it was just me and ’Arry. We tried to run. Something hit us. A blast of energy, maybe. Everything went black, and there was an explosion.

Next thing I know, I’m waking on Guild grounds. ’Arry beside me. His face… gone. Burned clean off.

And…

…

“Yes, yes, that will do,” the detective sighs, jotting something. Dismissing me.

“Sir, please, it’s the truth!” I cry.

“Harrison! Get this one processed.”

“Yes, sir!” the deputy chirps with a stupid salute. “Come now, lad. You can tell your wild tales to the prison guards.”

“Please! Why would I lie? Why…”

“Enough.”

A new voice. Rich clothes. Older. Important. Mages Guild, no doubt.

“We weren’t expecting any guild members,” the detective says, shaking his hand. “Charges are set. Trespassing, vandalism, attempted theft…”

“The charges have changed,” the mage says flatly. “I need to speak to the boy. Alone.” He hands the detective something. Whatever it is makes the man pale.

“Very well,” the detective mutters, ushering the deputy out.

The mage sits. “Please. Sit, boy.”

I swallow. “Who… who are you, sir?”

“Not important.” His eyes don’t blink. “What is important is what you saw last night.”

“The cave. You believe me?”

“That ‘cave,’” he says, almost smiling, “is far more important than you can imagine. Its existence is not meant to be known outside the High Mages’ inner circle.”

“...Huh?”

“I need to know where you entered the network. The name of the tavern.”

“Used to be called the White Hart. Sign’s gone outside, but we found the old one in the cloakroom.”

“Good. That ties up that end.” Something shifts in his eyes. Pity, maybe. Or something colder. “But there is still one loose thread.”

“My… me, sir?”

“You were flushed through the system. It is meant to… dispose of intruders. Two bodies were accounted for. You, however, survived. Somehow. The explosion should have eviscerated you. Perhaps the other boy shielded you.”

“Harry! His name was Harry!”

He sighs, almost bored. “Regardless. Your head contains memories it cannot be allowed to keep. And I am out of time.”

A light forms in his hand.

My arms, straps? Where did the straps come from? I can’t move. My mouth, I can’t…

“Do not struggle,” he says softly. “It will only make this more complicated.”

He puts his hand to my head.

The light…

…

…

“The boy is clearly unstable,” that voice, do I know that voice. “Delusions. Nonsense.” I, where am I. Who am I. “I recommend the asylum, rather than the cage.”