The cave breathed in short, sobbing huffs that sent chills down Aiden’s spine. In, out, in, out. The smell was dry and stale, the temperature lukewarm. He approached it slowly, afraid of what might happen if he was noticed, but the cave ignored him. In, out, in, out. The opening was large, big enough for a bear or mountain lion to call it a rich home, but Aiden knew it would be empty. It’s how he knew he was going in the right direction: Not even bugs would approach.
Left hand on the hilt of his sword, Aiden stepped into darkness. A breath blew against his face, and despite his fear, he smiled. It was the first gust of wind he had felt in over ten long years.
*
Scholars and magicians called the day the wind stopped, “Normal,” and for some, it was normal. People moved about, tending fields and selling wares. Students studied, the king ruled, and the wind blew—until it didn’t. For Aiden, however, it had been storming. The clouds were jet black, the rain like pelting stones. He stared out the window with his mother and father and watched their crops crumble.
“Can’t keep this up for long,” his father said. “Give it a few more minutes, and we’ll go check the damages.”
“Dear, what do we do if it floods?” his mother asked.
His father grunted. Aiden did too. It seemed like an appropriate response. Lighting splintered across the sky.
After a long pause, his dad said, “Up to the Gods, I guess.”
“Let’s go pray,” his mother said, tugging on Aiden’s arm to follow. They went into their small living room, avoided the buckets collecting water from their leaky roof, and knelt to ask for guidance. Sometimes the Gods listened.
They didn’t this time though, because this wasn’t about the Gods or magic or men. This was about the wind and how it had simply stopped blowing.
*
Aiden set foot into the cave and despite himself, drew his sword. It was a short, rusty thing, not even sharp enough to shave with, but someone once told him all great adventurers had magic weapons, and this was all he could afford. It couldn’t cast spells or burst into flames, but the blade did attract metal, could even pick up nails with a simple touch! It was a neat parlor trick and not much else.
The wind continued to suck and blow, and Aiden felt himself walking to match the pace. His torch danced with the breathing. In, out, in, out. There was a kinship in it, or maybe he had been alone for too long. At least it wasn’t mosquitoes.
When Aiden reached his first fork, his torch went out. He held his breath and tried to relight it, but the wind breathed for him. Terror eased along the rocky ground, slimy and black and ready to bite. Aiden fumbled. The sparks weren’t even bright enough to cast shadows.
“Go away!” he begged, and the breathing ceased. Aiden felt the blood drain from his face. His voice echoed down both passages, bouncing through time and distance. How long had he been here? How much further did he have to go? Could he escape?
It took Aiden a few more tries to light his torch, and he cursed himself for being a fool and a bad adventurer. He was not cut out for this, but everyone else had moved on.
The flames billowed bright, throwing lights and shadows around the cave, which had narrowed into two passages the size and shape of doors. Aiden checked for hinges, though there weren’t any. The left doorway was smoother than the other though, its edges almost like river stones. Its ground too was smooth, as were the ceiling and walls. Without the wind to call its direction, Aiden chose the stranger of the two paths.
Hours came and went. Silence stalked Aiden’s heels. He tried to keep his footfalls quiet, though he had never quite mastered the adventurer’s walk. His feet were more suited to heavy boots and grassy farmland, of being caked with dirt and things a bit dirtier than dirt. But when the wind stopped, so too did the farms. Without the wind there could be no rain, and without rain, no crops. Fresh-grown food was now so expensive most couldn’t afford it.
The great mages of the land spent all their time conjuring grain and fake apples instead of battling dragons or doing whatever it is mages do. Even now, Aiden still didn’t know, and he had talked to hundreds of them, many unhappy to be forced into the profession.
They were, on the whole, an unhelpful bunch of people. Well, except one.
*
“As to that,” a woman with blue hair was saying as she picked at a scab on her elbow. “I can tell you what doesn’t work, but not what works.”
“Why not?” Aiden asked. They were standing in her shop, which was filled with wooden shelves stocked high with bland, bread-based products. There were even conjured butters and cheeses, neither of which would get moldy no matter how long they were left out. They would, however, vanish after a week if not eaten.
“Because nothing works!” The woman succeeded in tearing her scab off, which she put in her apron pocket. “For later,” she said.
“Right.”
“Listen, if the best mages couldn’t figure it out, I don’t know what makes you think you can.”
Aiden scowled. Every mage had said something similar, though he had yet to find one of these fabled “Best.” People were starving to death, and half the planet was becoming a burnt desert, and Aiden couldn’t understand why no one else was trying to fix it.
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“Depends. You going to buy something?”
Aiden turned to leave. He had been through this song-and-dance before, and was tired of it. There were other people to talk to, ones that couldn’t cast spells. He’d just have to find them. But the woman grabbed him by the arm and held him fast. Her grip was oddly strong, like a blacksmith’s vice.
“The birds stopped migrating this way in the summer.”
“What does—”
“Probably nothing! But it’s strange, isn’t it? The wind stopped blowing, but north and south are still north and south. But the birds migrate differently, the robins. I never see them anymore. Noticed it last year. Even wrote the Guild a message, but no one seemed to care. Robins aren’t magical, just stupid.”
Aiden nodded. “I don’t think it’s a magical problem.”
“I think … I think you might be right.”
*
The cave continued, its noises reduced to Aiden’s footsteps and dripping water from stalactites. Thus far there was only the one direction, and his torch lit it well enough. Quartz crystals glittered bright pink, and a strange metal Aiden had never seen before glittered an entire rainbow. For a brief moment he wondered if he was traveling into another dimension, and for a brief moment he wondered if something would jump out and devour him.
Mostly though, he wondered if he’d always be alone.
Aiden had been alone for a long, long time.
After disease had killed his parents, he was drafted into the mage program along with every other person between the ages of 12 and 19. He didn’t want to be a mage, but food was short and conjuring bread was a spell so simple most anyone could perform it. Aiden was not most anyone. A gnarled man in a black robe had asked him to leave, and before Aiden could open his mouth, he was teleported outside the large tower, its door barred shut. His pack appeared at his feet a few seconds later.
After that he had simply … wandered. He was a farmer in a land devoid of farm country, unable to read or write. He could dig irrigation ditches, and he could dig for wells, but both were backbreaking work that wouldn’t bring the wind back. No one seemed to care that the wells would dry up and the rivers would shrink. It was a problem for next year, or the year after. At one point he had tried to sign up with a fishing vessel, but that too was a failing industry. All the big ships were gone, most still stranded out at sea as floating graves, and those that made it back to shore needed at least two mages to man. Conjuring waves was a lot harder than conjuring bread. The rest were rickety rowboats incapable of leaving sight of the shore, and there were more people begging for work than actual boats. Aiden was overlooked.
He couldn’t be overlooked here though, because he was the only thing in this cave. Him and the wind.
*
Two more torches later, and Aiden stopped to have supper. The ground had turned into polished stone, so smooth it was slippery, and the walls glowed with quicksilver. Or maybe it was regular silver. A real adventurer would know the difference. Whatever it was, his sword didn’t seem to like it. It shook in his hands. Some magical swords did that to alert their owner of danger, but Aiden was pretty sure his wasn’t that smart.
He fumbled with his flint, ready to light a proper fire to cook his food, and dropped it. The sound bounced around the narrow walls.
Aiden dropped to his hands and knees and searched as quietly as he could, hoping that if he didn’t make a sound, the sliming darkness edging closer would stay in his imagination. He ran his hand along the stone, surprised at the lack of cracks or seams. It was like one polished piece of marble. He blinked, and the cave seemed all the darker.
An adventurer better than Aiden had once told him to pack multiples of everything important. Aiden took this to mean food, knives, and boot strings. It only now occurred to him that two flints were better than one.
“Please,” he said, happy to hear a voice, even if it was just his own. There was a ring of anxiety in it. “Please where are you.”
The breathing returned.
Aiden almost screamed. His hand jerked to his useless sword. The breaths were stronger now, closer, and there was a mildew smell in them. The wind was close. Aiden moved his sword and felt it vibrate. He then heard a loud clink.
“Oh,” he said to himself, his startle replaced with relief. His flint had metal in it, and his sword attracted metal. He plucked the useful tool from the useless one and lit another torch. The room glowed silver.
The breathing grew harder, more labored. The wetness was thick and heavy, almost like a gargle. It reminded Aiden of his dead parents and his drowned village. It reminded him of mosquitoes.
Supper forgotten, Aiden trudged on.
*
The cave narrowed until Aiden was forced on his hands and knees. His stout shoulders, normally perfect for hauling bales of hay or nudging horses in the right direction, scraped against rainbow metal. He inched forward, his torch blinding the path with both bright yellow and grey smoke. He coughed. Fear stalked in, so close it bit at his feet. He was afraid something would grab him from behind, and he was afraid the heavy breathing would grab him from out front. He was afraid the cave would bury him.
When the passage opened, it wasn’t to another giant, glittering cavern but a small stubby one lined with sharp edges. Aiden had to stoop to enter, and his torch felt too bright. The breathing stopped. Aiden did too. He had found the wind.
The figure was small, childlike, and huddled in one corner of the room. It curled into a ball and clutched at its legs with its arms, its face buried into its knees. It had no skin but was instead made up of what looked like grainy lines that shifted in a thousand different directions at once. It had no eyes or face. It had no toes or fingers.
Aiden didn’t know what to do. Part of him was afraid, but more of him wanted to cry. He approached the wind and sat down, cross legged and with his back bowed.
“I found you,” he said.
The wind responded by inching further away, pressing itself against the back of its little cave. A stubby stalagmite poked through its body.
“Are you okay?” Aiden asked.
The wind shook its head, but its breathing resumed, short and huffy.
“Me neither.”
They sat in silence until Aiden’s torch burned low and the room filled with smoke. His thoughts were a windless storm, his lips tasting words right before they spilled onto the floor unsaid. Tears welled in his eyes, and imaginary mosquitoes buzzed in his ears, and the wind sat, and so did he.
“At least we’re not alone anymore,” he said.
The wind didn’t respond. The smoke thickened. The cave continued to breathe—in, out, in, out—but Aiden had to cough. His eyes burned from the smoke, and his throat felt like it was getting smaller. Or maybe he was getting smaller. That made the most sense.
“I miss you,” he whispered.
The wind gasped, and Aiden felt a gentle breeze surround him.
And then the wind was gone, taking the smoke with it. Aiden waited in silence, not sure what to do, not sure what to think. Eventually he lit another torch and started his way back to the surface. He kept his sword out front, because he could hear creatures lurking in the dark.
He was no longer alone.
Nonsense 