“I guess,” I say, wondering what it feels like for her to have the wind constantly swirling inside her. “But couldn’t you—”
Frantic pounding on the door interrupts my question, and I run to answer it, with my mom hot on my heels.
Gus stands there, wide-eyed and out of breath. His hair is halfway unraveled from his braid and his uniform is soaked with sweat.
“You have to come with me,” he says, dragging Solana and me outside. “We’re under attack.”
CHAPTER 20
AUDRA
I have to get inside that mountain.
I don’t care how dangerous it is, or how much the vanished winds and the screeching air warn of something indescribably evil.
Raiden is here.
I doubt Aston knew that Raiden would be making a rare excursion from his fortress, but this must be why the Easterlies dragged me here. And even if it’s just a lucky twist of chance, I have to take advantage of it.
This is not a time for caution.
This is a time to lay it all on the line.
I watch as Raiden leads his Stormers into the mountain, surprised that none of them remain outside to stand guard. It seems like a mistake—though I’m grateful they’ve made it. But then I remember that this is Raiden.
He’s not some prince who inherited the crown at birth. He fought for it, killed for it, clawed his way up from the bottom to become the most powerful sylph alive.
He doesn’t need his Stormers to protect him. Only to do his dirty work.
Which makes me more determined than ever to take him down.
I can feel the worry in my Westerly shield, but I whisper for it to stay calm as I count the seconds, waiting until five hundred have passed before I dart out of my hiding place. I scan the basin as I run, half expecting a Stormer to jump out of the shadows. But when I reach the entrance it truly is empty. No signs of life except the fresh footprints on the ground.
All I have to do is follow them.
My head screams at me to abort—call for backup—or at least give myself more time to prepare. But I can’t risk losing this chance.
I reach up and unravel my braid, knowing it will be safer not to look like a Gale. Then I take a deep breath and step into the darkness.
The path turns narrow as it slopes into the earth, and the sound of muffled scraping fills the dark void. There’s no light to guide me, so I walk with one hand on the sandy wall, surprised when I feel the coarse grains shifting under my fingertips. The entire tunnel is somehow rotating around me, like I’m walking through a cyclone that’s been sucked into the ground.
A Maelstrom.
I’ve heard rumors of Raiden’s evil prisons, but I’d always hoped they weren’t true.
Now I understand why the winds are so skittish.
Maelstroms devour the wind.
My Westerly shield trembles, but I promise to keep it safe. If the Maelstrom could detect its presence, the draft would’ve already been consumed. Still, the breeze on my skin keeps resisting, trying to drag me back to higher ground with every step I take.
The air turns cool and damp, and I’m starting to think the pathway has no end when a dim yellow light fades into view. I press myself as tightly against the wall as I can and listen for signs of life. It’s hard to tell over the scraping sand, but I don’t hear any voices or footsteps, and I see no flickering shadows.
I creep forward, making my way into a small, round room where I have to cover my mouth to block my scream.
Dark chains dangle from the ceiling, each one shackled around a body—though they really aren’t bodies anymore. They’re gray-blue withered shells that hang shrunken and shriveled in their dingy Gale Force uniforms, their faces so wrinkled and twisted that I can barely tell they’re sylphs. I’ve never seen this kind of decay. It’s like they’re raisins in the sun, like they’ve been sucked dry or . . .
I gag when I notice flecks of dust breaking off their contorted limbs and sinking into the slowly spinning walls.
The Maelstrom is eating the prisoners alive.
I have no words for that level of evil—and this has to be what Aston wanted me to see.
I’ve never felt so hopeless.
Especially when I realize I know one of the victims.
It’s impossible to recognize his rotted face—but Teman always pinned a golden sun above the Gale Force symbol on his sleeve.
He was my Southerly trainer.
We . . . didn’t get along.
Teman was all about joy and rest and ease—every longing I didn’t want to have. He even tried to convince me that I should wait to become a guardian. Take a few years for myself before I swore an oath to serve.
And yet, four years later he was the first Gale to vote in my favor at my guardian hearing and my staunchest advocate when my mother voted against.
He believed in me, trusted me, and as I stare at his gnarled, crumbling corpse, I feel like I failed him.
If I’d pushed Vane harder—taken more risks to get him to have the breakthroughs earlier—would it have mattered?
Would Teman still be alive?
I smear my tears away as I shove the dark thought out of my mind.
I can’t focus on what-ifs.
All I can do is learn from my mistakes and keep trying harder.
Still, I whisper an apology to Teman as I bow my head in mourning. And that’s when I notice the other bodies.
Strewn along the edges of the room in careless piles like fallen leaves. Ordinary Windwalkers in regular clothes. We’ve always been an isolated race, scattered through the high places of the world, where the winds flow free and the groundlings rarely go. But Raiden must be hunting down every sylph one by one, forcing them to swear fealty or die.
A few even look like children.
I have no idea how long I stand there, staring at the indescribable cruelty. But voices coming from another hallway yank me back to reality.
Close voices.
I don’t have enough time to run to safety—and when I hear Raiden’s deep, booming voice, I don’t want to. I can’t understand what he’s saying, but I manage to catch one word.
“Vane.”
I want to cry when I realize there’s only one place to hide, but I force my legs to carry me to the tallest pile of bodies and wriggle my way inside. Sickly gray dust crumbles around me, and I hold my breath, hoping it doesn’t make me cough.
Or vomit.
Please let this be quick.
Please let them not see me.
And if I live through this, please erase this moment from my memories.
The footsteps draw closer, and I pick up more snatches of their conversation—words like “prepare” and “demonstration”—but it’s all too vague and choppy for me to make any sense of. And by the time they reach the room, all I can hear is deep, throaty laughter. It echoes off the cavernous walls, so cold and cruel in this place of death and despair that it twists everything inside me with rage.
I hold still as the chains clatter and someone with a low, nasal voice asks, “Can I help you, my liege?”
“Yes, I want this one’s pendant for my collection.”
I don’t know which makes me sicker: knowing that Raiden’s collecting the blackened pendants of the guardians he’s murdered—or the fact that he’s only a few feet away and there’s nothing I can do to end him. I can’t make a move in a place where he holds all the power.
The footsteps draw closer, making the ground tremble beneath me.
“Something feels off,” Raiden murmurs.
“Off?” a new voice asks.
“Yes.” Raiden takes several steps away. Then moves closer again. “There’s something over here. A hint of life.”
He knows I’m here.
I curse my stupidity as the footsteps thunder closer.
It’s over.
He’ll find me and feel the Westerly wrapped around me and that will be the end. I’ll fight until my dying breath but I’ll still be the next w
ithered body dangling from the ceiling.
“This one, over here,” Raiden says, his voice agonizingly close. “That one’s still alive.”
“You’re right,” the Stormer says, moving closer as well.
The load on top of me gets lighter, like someone is grabbing bodies and tossing them to the side. I wait for the burly arms to reach out and snatch me—but they drag a different body away.
“I’ll string her back up,” one of the Stormers offers.
“No need to bother,” Raiden tells him. “We’re almost done with this place. Just set her on the ground and I’ll take care of it.”
I hear a thud as the Stormer obeys, and then I hear a couple more footsteps.
Then a sickening crunch.
I bite down on my cheek, hoping it will distract me enough to stop me from throwing up.
Somewhere in the panic and pain I hear Raiden say something about a gathering and a long-awaited prisoner. Then I hear their footsteps walk away.
I should count to five hundred to make sure they’re truly gone, but I barely last another minute in the dust and decay. I claw my way out of the pile, smothering my coughs with my fists as I crawl across the floor, hating how close I am to Raiden’s newest victim.
Her hands are stretched out like she was reaching for freedom. But her skull’s been crushed in the center. Stomped in by one of Raiden’s boots.
My chest tightens and my eyes burn, but I manage to fight back my sobs as I pull myself to my feet.
I want to run, attack, tear Raiden apart piece by piece for every horrible crime he’s committed.
But now is not the time.
Soon, I promise myself as I start the long climb back to the surface.
The path gets brighter as I walk, and when the sunlight starts to blind me, I press myself against the wall and check for guards. I see no sign of any Stormers, but I still slide slowly toward the exit, keeping to the shadows as I slip into the empty crevice.
The air is hot and still, but I gulp it down, grateful to be free of the tainted Maelstrom. The screeching wail has quieted, replaced by the low hum of a crowd, and when I creep to the edge of the crevice, I can see Raiden standing in the center of the basin. His back is to me, and he’s balanced on one of the tallest stones, facing a group of Stormers. A quick head count tells me there are at least fifty, and from the white bands on their arms, I’d guess they’re his top soldiers. Maybe even his leaders.
It’s strange to see them gathered so openly. Standing in the middle of a groundling valley, with no concern for anyone spotting them.
I can’t see Raiden’s face, but I can see the faces of his Stormers. Their eyes are wide with awe—and maybe a little fear.
My Westerly shield tugs at me, begging me to flee to safety. I offer the draft release instead. I’m not going to force it to suffer along with me. But it stays by my side, tangling tighter.
“I know you’re growing restless in the heat,” Raiden says, his sharp voice echoing off the valley walls. “The winds tell me there’s been a delay. Apparently, he tried putting up a fight. When will they ever learn?”
The crowd’s muffled laughter makes me want to throw something, but one glance at Raiden’s pant leg freezes me in place.
The white fabric is splattered with red.
“I can assure you, this will be well worth the wait,” Raiden promises. “And in the meantime, let me ease your discomfort.”
He hisses a strange curl of words, part growl, part wheeze, and a fleet of grayish Northerlies fills the air, making the temperature drop at least twenty degrees. I duck back into the Maelstrom to avoid the winds as they dip and dive and race around the basin. If they touch me they’ll give away my location.
“Is that better?” Raiden shouts as the winds vanish as quickly as they appeared.
The Stormers murmur their agreement, and I slip back outside as Raiden tells them, “All our hard work—all our years of patience and perseverance—have led us to this day. Some of you may have doubted that it would ever happen. I myself at times wondered the same. But this is the turning point I’ve been working for—searching for. We’ve tried and failed before—but today we finally have what we need. In just a few short minutes, you’ll see. I now have the key that will give me the power not only to snuff out the last of this pitiful rebellion but to control the entire world !”
There’s scattered applause as the Stormers process this information, and I wonder if some of them are as terrified as I am. But when Raiden stamps his bloody foot and shouts, “Who’s with me?” they all raise their right arms straight in front of them and then sweep them back toward their foreheads in a waving gesture.
“Tell me this,” Raiden calls. “Who’s tired of living in the shadows of the groundlings—weak, pitiful creatures who cannot even stand in a storm? Who’s tired of letting them hold the prime lands while we hide out of sight?”
More murmurs of agreement before everyone repeats their strange salute.
“The winds have turned wild against the groundlings, storming their lands and tearing apart everything they own. The sky has chosen to get rid of them—but it needs our help. They’ve been too resilient, relying on their technologies and their evacuations and their sheer power in numbers. But not for much longer. This is the day we join the winds’ fight to reclaim the earth, and we won’t stop until every last one of these useless creatures has been returned to the ground where they belong! Are you with me?”
This time the crowd erupts immediately and the sound makes me shiver under the scorching desert sun. But something else in Raiden’s speech was far more chilling—something I want to pretend I didn’t hear because then I won’t have to decide if it’s true.
The way Raiden keeps talking about having “the key” and “the power” he’s been “searching for.”
It almost sounds like he . . .
But he can’t.
I don’t believe it.
I press my hand against my chest, trying to feel the burning pull of my bond—but my heart is pounding too fast.
I can’t tell.
I can’t think.
“Any minute now my long-awaited prisoner will arrive, and then I will show you how we will win this war,” Raiden shouts. “Today we will change the future!”
He throws up his hands and the crowd goes wild. Cheering and clapping and chanting, “Bring out the prisoner. Bring out the prisoner!” Feeding off one another’s energy.
Each repetition crushes me more.
There’s only one prisoner who could grant Raiden that kind of power.
The key he’s been searching for.
The one he’s tried and failed to catch before.
Raiden must’ve finally captured Vane.
CHAPTER 21
VANE
This can’t be happening.
I know the Gales have been preparing me for this moment—but as Gus drags Solana and me across the grove, I can’t remember a single thing Fang taught me. I can barely remember my own name.
All I can do is stare at the splotch of blood on Gus’s hand, trying not to think about where it came from or who it came from or how much more of it I’m going to see today.
“Stop!” my mom screams as she chases after us. “Where are you taking him? What’s going on?”
“We don’t have time for this right now,” Gus tells her.
“You have time to explain where you’re taking my son,” my mom insists, grabbing my arm and starting a Vane-tug-of-war.
“Okay, ow!” I jerk away from both of them, wrenching my wrist in the process. “Come on, Gus. You can’t drop the ‘we’re under attack’ bomb and not tell us what’s going on or what we’re supposed to do or where my family’s supposed to go or—”
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Gus admits, staring at the cloudless sky—which seems way too clear and blue for an attack. “Feng sent me a piece of cactus covered in his blood. All the message said was ‘ambush.’ ”
His voice cracks and
he looks away.
My mom reaches for my hand, squeezing so hard it cuts off my circulation.
“Has there been an echo?” Solana whispers.
Gus shakes his head.
She places her hand on his shoulder. “Then there’s still hope. And we both know there’s no better fighter.”
Gus stares at her hand, a few tears running down his cheeks as he nods.
I never realized he and Fang were so close.
Feng, I correct.
“Anyway, that’s all I know,” Gus adds after a second. “Os took a fleet of Gales up to Joshua Tree, where Feng had been patrolling. The rest of our force is divided between the Borderland Base and the Clear River Base, which also sent us alerts this morning. So Os told me to get you both underground in case Raiden’s next move is here.”
“That’s your big plan—hide him underground?” my mom asks, pulling me back to her side. “Let me take him. I’ll drive him anywhere you want. The car has a full tank of gas and—”
“It doesn’t work that way, Mom.” I cover her hand with mine, hating that I can feel her shaking. “I know you want to help, but if they’re really coming for me, I won’t be able to outrun them. Especially not in our beat-up old Honda.”
I can tell she wants to argue, but all she asks is “Where will you go?”
“Os said you knew a place,” Gus tells me. “Somewhere near the desert’s center?”
My skin itches just thinking about going back to the Maelstrom—and the last thing I want is to spend a few more hours with Arella. “But what about my parents? Someone needs to stay with them.”
“I told you—everyone is gone.”
Solana sucks in a breath and my stomach gets all churney. Suddenly, hiding in the Maelstrom seems like a pretty good idea. Except I have no idea if it’s safe to expose my parents to those creepy winds—and I’m definitely not exposing them to Arella. . . .
“I’m not leaving my family unprotected, Gus. If there’s no one else, then I’ll stay with them.”
“That’ll only put them in more danger, Vane. You’re the one Raiden wants.”
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