The Magician Games
cH.3
tHE kEY
“Aiden” … “Aiden” lost in the whisper of wind he could hear the breathy and faint taunts of his mother’s voice. He kept walking into the fog, so much smoke and screen he couldn’t see past his nose. “Mom! Mom!” His voice was getting lost in the roar of the air…. “Mom!”
His hands swiped furiously at the fog as if that could cut through to her. With the heat of his exertion, sweat slipped down his forehead, melding with a track of tears. He went to scream one more time, “Mom!” Aiden jerked awake and slammed his head against the top of the air duct. Echos of his screams reverberated in the tunnel. “Shit!” aggressively he scrubbed at the wet stains on his cheeks. He’d been screaming? For how long? His heart was beating so hard his body felt like an earthquake. Letting out a slow breath, he tried not to panic. Maybe nobody heard?
As if the gods were smiting him, the swift, heavy, metallic whir of the vending machine filled the empty tunnel as it moved. It’s a coincidence, he thought. The sound of boots slopping against the wet stone filled the subway. “Someone’s here, men; fan out. Find them.” Going cold, he thought I’m doomed. He could hear the feet scuffing closer. “Louis take that end by the old fences, Stephen follow the commander. Iris come with me, they can’t have gone far.”
Aiden waited as the footfalls became fainter. He strained his ears, listening for any sign of human life. This was his only chance. He wiggled out of the vent, gently lifting the grate off the wall with his feet. He gripped the tiny pinholes with his sweaty fingertips and just barely managed to prop it on the floor soundlessly as he made his escape.
Crouching low, he glanced at the vending machine and felt the blood rush to his head. They’d left the wall open. Without a second thought, he threw himself towards the open wall. This was it, everything he’d worked for. Slipping through the open wall was almost anticlimactic, there was so much silence. The path was poorly lit, and candles decorated either side of the walkway. Aiden tightened his hold on his backpack. Nerves rife with fire and ice. Excitement and fear. He began his descent towards the underground.
Nose twitching at the scent of sticky charred meat. Aiden’s stomach groaned with want. He tried to edge closer to the wall, shoes silent as he prayed he could make it to the food undetected.
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Aiden started to reach the end of the path and could hear the voices growing louder. A woman’s voice was cracking as she rushed unintelligible words with broken syllables out. He could just make out the fractured sentence, “He’s coming for us,” she wheezed a gasp, “He’s counting them off.” Aiden slowed and knelt just at the entrance to what looked like a large room with rows and rows of chairs circling a platform. Her hand presented a crystal sphere; it winked in the bright light.
Her posture looked ill, like the Nothing. All jagged elbows and protruding bone. The crystal was showing a beam of light that flashed images on the wall. Aiden couldn’t understand what he was seeing. Spectators lined the space, occupying the stacked rows of chairs. Some wore what looked like armor, others long, glorious robes. Aiden felt a tight band in his stomach, fear that maybe he and his mother had gotten it wrong. Maybe these people were not to be coveted, maybe they were to be avoided.
Taking a step backward to quickly make his exit Aiden turned just as a wall hit his nose. Eyes stinging, he lifted his hand to check his nose, sure it was busted. Blinking away tears, he looked up and gasped. It was the white soldier. He began his retreat, feat tumbling over each other as he tried to get away. The soldier grabbed Aiden’s shoulders, his fingers biting into Aiden’s skin. “You!” His hiss sounded accusatory, and Aiden couldn’t remember ever offending this particular soldier. “How did you get in here?” The soldier growled. Aiden decided to stick with the truth as he saw no way of talking himself out of his current predicament.
“The wall was left open.” Aiden tried to sound nonchalant. The soldier’s brows knit together as he frowned at that. “Louis..” he breathed, “Aiden,” he helpfully corrected. The soldier glared at him. “Well, Aiden, let me escort you out.” His angular features were beautiful, even with the jagged scar swimming down the right side of his face, and Aiden lost himself exploring the edges of that scar. The soldier’s glower grew more pronounced.
Aiden tried to creep backward slowly to create space between them before things became even more embarrassing. At the back of his neck, the fine hairs began to stand as if he’d walked into a wall of static. The next moment flashed in a blur. Eager hands clung to his shoulders, the soldier stood in the opening of the room looking dumbfounded as a frail hand was pulling Aiden almost pleading with his body to stay sewn to her. They made their way to the platform, and he looked around from his new vantage point. Throat suddenly salty and thick. He stared at what now was clearly a crowd of thousands.
The woman he could now see had a bald head with patches of hair here and there, her eyes tiny pale almonds in bruised hollows. Aiden felt sick.. She was not much older than him, but she was dying; he could feel it. The woman gazed at the crowd.. “This boy is the key!” she screamed, her voice rough as sand. He will be the strongest of us all!”
The crowd became ghostly still. Aiden trembled where he stood.
