Let the Storm Break

by Shannon Messenger

  It takes at least a minute of solid banging before he slides the curtains apart.

  “Gah—put some clothes on!” I shout as he throws open the window wearing only supertight briefs.

  “Dude, Vane, I don’t know what you’re on—”

  “Come on, you know me better than that—”

  “No, I used to know you,” he snaps, running his hand through his hair—or what little of it he has left. He buzzed it since I last saw him. And finally got rid of his scraggly mustache.

  Now if only he’d put on some pants.

  “Look,” I tell him. “I know things have been weird lately—trust me, they have been for me, too. It’s just . . . the world’s not the way you think it is, okay? There’s all kinds of other crap going on in the background that you don’t know about—and some of it is pretty huge. Life-or-death huge. I don’t know how else to explain it, but please, you have to trust me when I say you need to get your family out of here.”

  Isaac snorts and starts to close the window. I reach out and block him.

  He pushes harder, but it makes no difference. After weeks of late-night workouts I’m way stronger than him now.

  “I’m serious, Isaac. Look.” I use one hand to lift my shirt, showing him the wicked bruise on my side. “Does this look like a joke? Am I imagining this?”

  He winces and stops trying to shut me out. “What happened—did someone jump you?”

  “It’s way bigger than that. That’s why you have to get out of here.”

  “No, that’s what cops are for.”

  I almost want to laugh at the idea of a few out-of-shape policemen pointing guns at Raiden and telling him to freeze.

  “This is so far beyond cops, man.” I sigh, trying to figure out how to make him understand. “I’m talking about the kind of thing you only see in movies and stuff. Like Thor or—”

  “Really? You’re giving me thunder gods?”

  Crap, there’s no way to explain this without telling him everything.

  And there’s no way to tell him and have him actually believe me.

  Unless . . .

  “You want the truth? Fine.”

  I’m already winning the prize for Biggest Rule Breaker at this point, so why not shatter the Gales’ code of secrecy again?

  I call the nearest wind to my side, tangling the cold Northerly around Isaac’s waist. Before he can blink, I tell the draft to surge and it yanks Isaac into the air, floating him a few feet above his bedroom floor.

  When he’s done flailing and shouting words in Spanish that I can’t understand—but I’m pretty sure I know what they mean—I set him down and twist the wind into a small dust devil. I tell it to suck up a pair of pants off his floor and launch them at him. “Seriously, dude, cover your junk.”

  Isaac barely manages to catch his jeans. He’s too busy looking back and forth between the tornado and me. “What the—how the—you just—”

  “I’m a sylph,” I say, cutting him off. “Don’t worry, I’d never heard of it either. I guess it means I can control the wind.”

  Isaac laughs. The hysterical kind where if he were out in public, parents would be pulling their kids to safety.

  “How do you control the freaking wind  ?”

  “It’s really hard to explain, but it has to do with words.” I whisper the command to release the Northerly and it sweeps around Isaac’s room, fluttering all the papers on his desk before it streaks out the window and races back into the sky.

  Isaac stares at me for a second. Then backs away.

  “Dude, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m still the same guy you know.”

  “Uh, the Vane I know could barely control his farts, much less the wind. And he didn’t bang on my window at the crack of dawn covered in mysterious bruises, telling me to get out of town.”

  “Okay, so maybe a few things have changed.”

  I glance around his bedroom, which has stayed pretty much the same since I met Isaac when I was eight. Some of the football and video game junk has been shoved aside to make room for pictures of his girlfriend, Shelby, and all the papers on his desk look like college applications. But he’s still the same guy who went out of his way to talk to the weird new kid at school.

  If he knew what I was way back then, I doubt he would’ve bothered. And maybe that would’ve been better, because now he’s in a crapload of danger.

  “So, like, how did you find all this out?” Isaac asks quietly. “Did you just wake up one day and start talking to the wind?”

  “No. Audra had to show me.”

  “Is that the hot chick who ruined your date with Hannah?”

  “Yeah.” I grin, remembering the way she stormed into the Cheesecake Factory and told Hannah she was my girlfriend. One of the most awkward—and awesome—moments ever.

  “And you and her are . . . together?”

  I nod, deciding not to get into the whole bonding thing. I’m sure Isaac’s had all the weird he can take.

  “Niiiiiice,” he tells me, though he frowns. “Is she a sylph too?”

  “Yep. There are a lot of us, actually. Well, not a lot compared to, like, humans but—”

  “Wait. You’re not human?”

  I shake my head and he takes another step away.

  “Come on, don’t act surprised. I told you, I’m a sylph.”

  “I know, but I thought that was like a title or something. Like Hawkeye or Batman or—”

  “I’m not a superhero.”

  “I guess not. Which is good. If you start wearing spandex, I’m ditching you.”

  “This from the guy in tighty-whities.”

  He glances down and blushes before finally slipping on his pants.

  “Thank God.”

  “Shut up—you’re just jealous of my sexy.”

  I’m tempted to shove him across the room with another draft. But I’ve already wasted too much time.

  “You have to listen to me, Isaac. You need to get out of town.”

  “Why? What does any of this have to do with me? I haven’t even talked to you in weeks.”

  “I know—I was trying to keep you out of this. But I can’t anymore. It’s a really long story, but there’s this superscary guy who’s coming here to get me, and he’d be happy to get his hands on my best friend, too.”

  “You’re telling me you have an archnemesis?”

  “I guess you could put it that way—except I’m being serious, Isaac. I hope you get that. Raiden’s tortured and killed hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. And he’s extra pissed at me right now.” I lift my shirt again and point to my bruise. “He did this right before I got away. No one gets away from him. So he doesn’t just want to catch me, he wants to destroy this whole freaking valley.”

  Isaac rubs his temples as he processes that. “Wait—the whole valley? How are you going to warn everyone?”

  “I can’t—there’s not enough time. And do you really think they’d believe me?”

  “But . . . there’re a lot of people here.”

  “I know.”

  He starts mumbling in Spanish again as he turns and paces his room.

  “So what are you going to do?” he asks after a few seconds.

  “Fight.”

  “Uh, no offense, man, but my kid brother is tougher than you.”

  “Hey—I’ve been training for weeks. And I won’t be fighting alone. My army—”

  “You have an army?”

  “I told you, it’s a really really really really long story. And someday I promise to tell you anything you want to know. But I don’t have time right now. I’m not even supposed to be here, but I couldn’t let things start without warning you. So please. Grab your family, get Shelby, and head south, before it’s too late, okay?”

  “I don’t know, man,” he mumbles. “I don’t know what do with any of this.”

  “I get that. But will you be able to live with yourself if something happens to anyone you love?”

  That seems to sna
p him out of it, at least enough to ask, “What the hell am I supposed to tell them? They’re not going to believe this sylph crap.”

  “I don’t know—but I know you’re awesome at getting people to do things they don’t want to do. How else did you drag me on so many blind dates?”

  He grins at the memory, and I feel myself smile too.

  “So just . . . work that same magic. And don’t waste any time. As it is . . .” I glance at the sky and feel my heart freeze.

  A few minutes ago it was a clear, vivid blue. But the western horizon is now dark and gray. And now that I’m paying attention, I notice the air has a chill. Way too cold for the desert in August.

  “Is that a storm?” Isaac asks, pointing to the clouds gathering above the mountains.

  “Yeah.” I’m barely able to make my mouth form the word. My head is too busy trying to figure out if Isaac has enough time to get out of town and if I have enough time to get back to Audra and if the Gales have enough time to put whatever plan they’ve scrambled together into effect.

  I sure hope so, because it’s too late to do anything else.

  Raiden is already here.

  CHAPTER 36

  AUDRA

  A horrible hiss echoes through the valley, coming from the mountains to the west, where an enormous storm is gathering.

  Thick gray clouds swirl together like a hurricane, and when another hiss shatters the silence, the air turns achingly cold. I shiver in my thin dress and reach for any nearby Westerlies. All I feel is one, sweeping through the dunes a few miles away.

  “You can’t leave,” Gus tells me as I call it to my side.

  “I have to find Vane.”

  “No, you have to stay here.” He grabs my arm when I don’t listen. “Raiden’s here for you, too.”

  He’s right.

  I know he’s right.

  But Vane is alone and unprotected and Raiden is so close and he’s not attacking from the east like we thought and—

  “You think Vane can’t see that?” Gus asks, pointing to the wall of thunderheads cresting the mountains. “I’m sure he’s just as worried about you, and if he’s not on his way back by now, he will be any second.”

  But Raiden could already be in the valley. And if he catches Vane alone—

  “Hey, deep breath,” Gus says, shaking my arm until I look at him. “If he’s not here in a few minutes I’ll go after him—but you have to stay here. I’m his guardian now, remember?”

  The words feel like thunder—or maybe that’s my pounding heart.

  I’m not Vane’s guardian anymore.

  I can’t be.

  But putting myself ahead of Vane makes me feel every bit the traitor Os accused me of being . . .

  The wind I’d called sweeps into the grove, brushing against my cheeks and whispering a song about trust and hope. Tears prick my eyes when I realize it’s my loyal Westerly shield, and as it drapes itself around me—without my even giving the command—I feel my heartbeat steady.

  The Westerlies have accepted me as their kin.

  I have to start accepting myself.

  “You have to keep him safe,” I beg Gus.

  “I have to keep both of you safe. So come on, let’s get back to Os and find out how he’s changing his strategy. I can’t believe Raiden’s coming from the west.”

  I can’t either, and I can’t decide if he’s doing it for some great poetic irony or if it’s part of some trick we have yet to uncover. Knowing Raiden, it’s probably both. The only thing we can rely on with him is cruelty.

  I help Gus gather the wind spikes, and we race through the scraggly palm trees to find the rest of the Gales on the lawn. They stand in a wide circle around Os and Solana, and it’s hard not to panic when I take a quick head count and realize the much-too-small group is all we’re going to get. Especially when I see how thin and pale they are. Gray streaks pepper their braided hair and creases weather their faces.

  Raiden definitely stole our strongest fighters.

  “Vane isn’t back?” Os asks when he sees us. His voice is eerily calm, though his lips are pressed into a hard line.

  “I’m sure he’s on his way,” Gus tells him. “In the meantime, we brought you these.”

  He pushes through the circle and hands Os the first wind spike.

  Os holds the sharp edge up to the fading sunlight and swipes it a few times before he turns to me. “Any special instructions?”

  “Don’t lose it.”

  He sighs. “Any helpful instructions?”

  “That’s the only instruction that matters. These spikes won’t explode like the ones you’re used to. It’s what makes them so powerful—but it also means you can’t use them the same way. If you throw them or lose your grip, the weapon could fall into the enemy’s hands.”

  The Gales start to grumble at the news.

  I can make out only snatches of what they’re saying, but I hear the word “pointless” several times—and Os does nothing to quiet them.

  “You dare to disrespect this gift?” Gus shouts, shaming them all into silence. “You hold the power of four in your hands—a power even Raiden doesn’t possess—and you grumble and complain because you have to protect it?”

  “We don’t need more things to protect,” a short, frail-looking guardian shouts back, tossing his spike on the ground.

  The others in the group back away as Gus stalks forward, leaning in the rebellious guardian’s face. “The weapon you’ve just cast aside was the only thing that allowed me to defeat the Living Storm I battled. Without it, you might as well surrender to the sky now.”

  The rebellious Gale glares at Gus, and for a second I wonder if he’s going to turn and walk away. Instead he bends and recovers his spike from the ground, shoving it through the belt of his uniform, right next to his windslicer.

  “That is a smart place to store it,” Gus tells him, turning back to the others. “In fact, the best way to use these spikes is to think of them like a windslicer.”

  “You expect us to engage in hand-to-hand combat with these Storm beasts?” an old, tall Gale with a braided beard asks.

  “Why not? I did. And I won.” Gus’s voice holds no arrogance. Only assurance. “I understand that things feel bleak—and I wish I could promise that no lives will be lost today—but that is no different from any other battle we’ve faced. And this is our chance. Raiden is coming to us, desperate to prove that he’s the invincible king he claims to be. But he is not invincible. I’ve seen him bleed. I’ve made him bleed. And the weapon that sliced him was one of these.”

  He holds up his spike and this time there are cheers.

  Halfhearted and fleeting, but still, cheers.

  “Guardian Gusty is right,” Os says, like he’s just realized that Gus is doing his job. “The tide is turning, my friends. If we stand strong against it, we could mark this day in our histories as the day this war swung in our favor. Perhaps even the day we end Raiden’s reign forever!”

  Louder cheers this time, mixed with applause.

  Gus moves back to my side as Os continues to prep his soldiers.

  “Do you really think Raiden will come here?” I ask, keeping my voice low so that only Gus hears.

  Raiden may crave power and prestige, but he usually stays away from the action. And I saw the fear in his eyes when Gus’s wind spike sliced his arm. I can’t see him risking further injury in a battle with this many variables.

  “I don’t think he’ll be able to stay away,” Gus whispers back. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if he hides in the mountains. And you can bet I’m going up there to find him.”

  His grip tightens on his wind spike, and I have a feeling if Gus gets another shot, he won’t miss again.

  If only it could be that easy.

  Os switches to discussing their strategy and I try not to cringe. It sounds like he’s reciting straight from the basic-training guide. Divide and conquer. Clean, direct attacks. No one works alone.

  “This isn’t
a time for basics.”

  I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until everyone turns to look at me.

  “What was that, Ms. Eastend?” Os asks.

  I notice that he doesn’t call me Guardian Audra. Though at least he doesn’t call me Your Highness.

  I clear my throat, hoping my cheeks aren’t as red as my ridiculous dress as I say, “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to interrupt. But I’ve seen Raiden fight, and nothing about his method is basic.”

  “Ah, I see,” Os says, and the circle parts as he stalks closer to me. “So perhaps you think you should be captain?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “And yet, you thought it was perfectly acceptable to second-guess me in front of my guardians.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I agree with Audra,” Gus interrupts, earning himself a death glare from Os—and a grateful smile from me. “The plan you explained to me earlier was a stronger plan. Just because Raiden’s coming from a different direction doesn’t mean we should abandon it.”

  “Another person thinking they’re an expert on battle strategy. Tell me, Guardian Gusty—how many battles have you actually fought?”

  “Three,” Gus replies without a hint of apprehension. “And one of those was against a Living Storm.”

  “Yes. One Living Storm, Gus. Which is entirely different from facing down an army of them—something you would know if you understood anything about battle tactics. But Feng was the brilliant strategist in your family, and from everything I’ve seen, you take more after your mother. A strong fighter and a loyal Gale, but far too impulsive and reckless—and we all know how that turned out.”

  “Ravenna didn’t die because she was reckless,” Solana shouts, surprising everyone with her fury. She wraps her arms around herself, staring at Gus as she whispers, “She died because I failed her.”

  “What do you mean?” Gus asks, but Solana shakes her head and looks away.

  Os puts his hand on her shoulder. “Ravenna was your guardian, Solana. Her job was to protect you—and the fact that she left any part of her strategy up to her charge only proves my point about her recklessness.”