Gus has to go and prove it on the tenth fan by clipping his left arm on the blades.
He doesn’t chop it off—though it sure sounds like it as it happens. And he loses enough skin that when I try to help him I almost throw up.
“I’m slowing you down,” Gus says as Audra rips off part of her pant leg to bind the wound. “Just leave me and I’ll catch up later—”
“No way,” we all interrupt.
But Gus is super wobbly. No way he can jump high enough to make it through.
“What if we throw him?” Solana asks, and I assume she’s kidding.
Scarily enough, Audra’s game, which is how I end up holding Gus’s feet as Solana and Audra each hold his shoulders and we shove him through the blades of the next fan.
“That worked,” Gus calls—though he didn’t land well. But a bruised shoulder is way better than anymore missing Gus-bits.
We do the next fan the same way, and I’m starting to feel pretty good about it, until a Stormer screams, “THEY’RE IN THE SHREDDER!”
The walls around us slide to the left, nearly knocking us into the blades.
“Oh goody—this thing can move!” I grumble as we struggle to get into our Gus-tossing positions. “Because this wasn’t impossible enough already.”
“All Raiden wants is a shot at learning Westerly,” Gus says. “So let him have me. I’ll keep them distracted long enough for the rest of you to get away.”
So he has had the breakthrough.
I’m digesting that revelation when I realize Gus is still talking.
“I’ll protect your language,” he tells me. “Raiden will never learn anything.”
I have no doubt about that.
But I’m not ready to give up yet.
“Come on,” I say, hoisting him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. “We’ll make this quick.”
Audra shows me the position, and I rally all of my strength and jump through the fan.
The blades clip my shoulder, leaving a pretty gnarly gash—but I keep going.
Three down.
Then two.
Only one.
I’m running on pure adrenaline at this point, and feeling pretty delirious.
But I can do this.
One. More. Leap.
Audra jumps through to make sure the outside is clear and Solana goes next, promising she’ll have a wind ready to catch us.
“Hey,” Gus says as I catch my breath before the final jump. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”
“Never,” I promise. “We’re getting you out of here. And then we’ll figure out how to get you better.”
“Maybe,” he says.
But he sounds like he finally believes he has a chance of surviving this.
And he does.
We all do.
Raiden doesn’t get to win this time.
I take one more second to gather my strength and leap through the final set of blades.
I clip the side of my right leg—but it feels like just a scratch. And there’s a steep drop on the other side, so thank goodness for Solana’s quick-catching Southerly.
Audra takes Gus from me, and I try to believe she’s giving me a chance to rest. I’ll stress about how tight she holds him later.
Right now I just want to celebrate that we all survived the freaking Shredder.
But of course nothing is ever that easy.
We’re only free a few seconds before a Stormer shouts, “THERE THEY ARE!” and the fortress gates open to unleash the army.
CHAPTER 32
AUDRA
We’ll never outrun them.
Not in our condition.
Not with healthy winds too few and far between as the Stormers close in.
But I refuse to accept only this brief glimpse of freedom.
If we can’t flee, I’ll fight as hard as I have to.
I beg my Westerly shield for wisdom, and search the air for other brave drafts. Amazingly, I find a Westerly, an Easterly, a Northerly, and a Southerly.
I’m about to weave them into a wind spike when all four drafts change their songs, singing of teamwork and embracing our heritage—and each draft is stretching in a different direction.
The Southerly pulls toward Solana. The Northerly toward Gus. The Westerly toward Vane. And the Easterly wants to stay with me.
I hadn’t considered that combined, our heritages represent all four languages. But the winds seem to have decided to put that into action.
“My wind is giving me a command,” Vane says.
“So is mine,” Solana agrees.
“I think we’re all supposed to say the word at the same time,” Gus adds, his voice already stronger now that he’s surrounded by fresher air.
“But we should wait for the best opportunity,” I whisper, even if my instincts are already twitchy.
The Stormers move closer.
Closer.
“Now!” I shout.
Together, the four of us switch to our native tongues and give our winds the same command.
Swelter!
The winds weave into a cyclone, but spin the opposite direction, and the rushing downdraft feels like a foehn. The heated, snow-melting winds usually form on the leeward side of a mountain. But the power of four seems to be able to harness the same force and amplify it.
The foehn creates a wave of melted ice as Raiden’s unnatural winter seeps away in the rush of dry heat. The water crashes into the Stormers, washing them down the mountain and causing enough chaos for us to flee.
A pipeline would be a huge help, but I can’t feel enough untainted drafts to build one. And honestly, I’m not sure if Gus could handle the blast. As it is, I’m dragging him through the sky, begging my Westerly shield to carry us faster.
Vane and Solana catch up, and we head for the forest. I’m hoping the trees will hide us until we have a chance to form an actual plan.
“There’s too many of them,” Vane shouts, pointing to the trail of reinforcements chasing us down.
I shudder when I see two Living Storms among the ranks, and I can’t help worrying it’s proof that Aston and my mother never got away.
“Solana, can’t you do anything?” Vane asks.
“The need isn’t giving me any commands!” she shouts back.
I’m not sure what that means, but a funnel of fire erupts behind us, turning the world to flashes of blinding color and deafening howls and squeals.
“Was that you?” Vane asks Solana.
“No, it was me.”
The familiar voice doesn’t seem real until two figures dart out of the shadows.
One wears a ripped hooded cloak. The other has long dark hair.
My emotions turn to thunder as I gape at Aston and my mother.
“I thought you left,” Vane shouts.
“So did I,” Aston says as he snaps his fingers and sends another firewhirl spinning to life.
The burning spiral cuts a wall of flame through the tress, and when a Living Storm tries to push through, its funnels ignite.
“That should hold them off for a bit.” His smile fades when he notices Gus. “I see Raiden’s tricks haven’t changed. I can carry him. You both look . . . weakened.”
“How do we know you’re really on our side?” Gus asks.
“The fact that I launched the fire at them seems like a pretty big clue,” Aston tells him. “And because I could be safely back in my cave, but I was convinced to linger in case you got yourselves into this kind of mess. And . . . because I know your pain.”
He holds up his punctured hand.
“If you want to stick with the pretty girl, I don’t blame you,” Aston adds. “But only do it if you’re both strong enough.”
“I can handle it,” I promise, readjusting Gus for a better hold.
“We should control our speed,” my mother says, keeping her eyes anywhere but on me. “Too much force might tear apart his injuries.”
“That’s what happens when you send someone off
to be tortured,” I snap.
She still doesn’t look my way, but her whole body goes rigid as she mumbles something I can’t hear over the squealing.
“What’s that noise?” Vane asks, making me realize the sound is more than the pressure in my head. “Is that the Stormer’s gadget?”
My mother nods and holds up a silver spinning anemometer. “It sprang to life when you led the army this way. That’s how we knew to be ready.”
“The Stormers use them to keep track of each other,” Vane explains to me. “So when it goes off, we know they’re close.”
“How many Westerlies can you gather?” Aston asks Vane.
“I feel three,” he says.
“There’s a fourth one if you stretch your consciousness closer toward the mountain,” I tell him.
That earns me far more attention than we have time for, so I head off their questions with a quick “Yes, Gus and I had the fourth breakthrough. Once we get somewhere safe I’ll explain how it happened.”
There’s something sad about Vane’s posture as he nods, and I wonder if he’s bothered we share his language.
But I don’t have time to consider such trivialities. I’m helping Vane gather the Westerlies when the sky goes still and the winds holding us waver and fade.
We barely manage to stay airborne as Raiden shouts, “You’ll never leave this mountain!”
His voice is everywhere and nowhere. A ghost of shadow and flame.
“Surrender now,” he snarls, “or experience a new realm of pain.”
“I think we’ll go with option C!” Vane shouts back.
Only two Westerlies manage to break through whatever wall Raiden has created, and it doesn’t feel like enough. But Vane weaves them around us anyway.
“You’ll regret leaving,” Raiden warns us. “You have no grasp of the price you’ll pay.”
“Grasp this!” Vane shouts, ordering the Westerlies to rise.
Aston launches another firewhirl as the winds blast us away—the forest blurring with sparks and smoke as we streak through the sky.
I’d feel more triumphant if Gus weren’t coughing and sputtering.
“We need to slow down!” I shout. “The speed is tearing him apart.”
“If we do, they’ll be on us in seconds,” Vane argues, pointing to the anemometer, which is still squeaking, warning us there are Stormers on our tail.
“Maybe not,” Aston says, testing the air with his fingers. “I don’t feel any Stormers nearby.”
“But I still feel the chill,” my mother whispers.
Gus coughs again and Aston’s eyes widen and he shouts a dozen curses as he grabs my mother’s needled blade and swipes it toward Gus’s throat.
“What are you doing?” I scream.
“Trying to save him.”
He slashes Gus’s neck before I can pull away.
The blow barely grazes Gus’s skin, and there’s so much shouting and squealing and flailing, I can’t figure out what anyone is saying, until my brain catches two words:
Suicide draft.
“NO!” I scream. “GET RID OF IT!”
Aston slashes again.
But the windslicer does nothing.
Neither do any of the commands Aston and Solana shout.
And Gus keeps choking harder and harder, right up until the moment his neck snaps and his body goes limp and cold.
CHAPTER 33
VANE
Gus is . . .
I can’t.
CHAPTER 34
AUDRA
I failed.
CHAPTER 35
VANE
I don’t understand.
How can Gus be—
A sharp sting across my cheek knocks me back to reality.
“Finally,” Aston says, and I realize he slapped me—and that I’ve lost control of the winds.
“I need you to set us down,” he tells me. “Can you handle that?”
I try.
It’s a bumpy landing, but the snow softens it—mostly.
I sink into the cold, letting the numbness take over. It helps me face the question I don’t want to ask.
Was there something we could’ve done?
I try to search for warnings we might’ve missed, but nothing stands out—except Raiden’s last threat about the price we’d pay if we escaped.
“Where’s Audra?” I ask, flailing to sit up.
“She’s fine,” Aston promises. “You all are. The anemometer’s been silent, ever since . . .”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. But his eyes dart to where Audra sits half buried in the snow, clinging to Gus’s body.
Gus’s body.
My stomach heaves, and I have to crawl away and puke into some bushes.
I keep gagging long after I run out of bile. And even when that stops, I can’t seem to get up.
“Come on,” Solana says, her voice thick with tears as she grabs my good arm and tries to pull me to my feet. “The storm’s getting worse.”
I hadn’t noticed the wind, but she’s right. It’s tearing branches off the trees. And the thunder sounds like a war zone.
“You need to get inside,” Arella tells us.
“Inside?”
I thought we were in the middle of a forest. But I turn to where she’s pointing and see we’re actually in the middle of . . . I’m not sure.
There’s a huge red-and-white building with pointed roofs and narrow windows. It almost looks like a castle, but I’m guessing it’s probably a hotel.
“You have to get away from the wind,” Arella says. “I’m sending Raiden a false trail, but he won’t believe it if he picks up the real one.”
She must be using the same trick she used after she killed my parents to make him believe we were all dead. Sylphs lose a piece of ourselves when someone we love dies, and Arella knows how to change the loss and make it carry a message. The concept makes zero sense, but if it buys us some time, I’m not going to stop her.
We need to clean our wounds and rest for a second. But we’ve only gone a few steps before I hear Audra let out a sharp cry.
I’m picturing snapped necks and suicide drafts as I tear through the snow to her side.
It’s almost as heartbreaking to find the real problem is Aston trying to pull her away from Gus.
“I’ll take care of him,” he promises.
She tightens her hold, kicking and sobbing and flailing.
Until she notices me.
The pain in her eyes nearly knocks me over, and I try to think of something to say.
All I can do is stretch out my arms and offer her a place to hide.
Slowly—very slowly—she lets go of Gus and stumbles over to me, burying her face in my shoulder.
I hold her as tight as I can, just like I did after the storm that shattered our families.
A different kind of bond formed between us that day.
But right now . . . I can’t feel it.
I can’t feel anything except a rage so thick it fills me with the darkest, coldest kind of hate.
A crunch of branches makes us jump, and we both turn to watch Aston carrying Gus into the trees.
I don’t know what he’s going to do with him, but I’m glad I won’t have to see it.
“He’s gone,” Audra whispers. “How can he be gone?”
“I don’t know.”
But I know everything’s changed.
My instincts have fallen silent.
I’m finally ready to do what has to be done.
I’m going to end this the only way it will ever really be over.
I’m going to find a way to kill Raiden.
CHAPTER 36
AUDRA
I should’ve paid closer attention.
Should’ve seen something that could’ve saved Gus.
Instead, I hovered helplessly by and let Raiden snuff the life out of him.
After all the sacrifices Gus made.
All the suffering he endured.
I fai
led him.
And then . . . I breathed in his gift.
I didn’t want to.
But Gus chose me.
His final message said, To make sure you keep fighting.
So I inhaled the power and let it settle into my essence, just like the day I breathed in my father’s gift.
A tiny piece of him to cling to.
But it will never be enough.
And I will never be worthy.
Aston returns from the forest with empty arms and an empty stare, and I can’t bring myself to ask what he did with the body.
“I know you’re not going to believe this,” he says, turning his face to the stormy sky. “But there was nothing you could’ve done to change this. Your friend was lost the second Raiden tied that draft around his neck. I would know. That’s how Raiden broke me.”
He pulls back his cloak and points to the holes lining his shoulder.
“I made it through twenty-nine days of torture. But on the thirtieth, Raiden threatened to bind me with a suicide draft. I knew that meant I’d never be able to leave. So I gave in to the power of pain to save my neck—literally.”
Vane pulls me closer when I shiver.
“Why didn’t Gus tell us?” Vane asks.
“He probably didn’t know. Raiden bound Gus to break you.” Aston’s eyes focus on me. “I’m sure he expected there would be some sort of escape or rescue, and he wanted to ensure you’d regret it.”
“I do,” I whisper.
But there are questions that go with that—questions I can’t seem to hide from.
Would I have stayed if I’d known?
Would I have remained in that dungeon?
Sent Vane and Solana away and stayed at Raiden’s mercy?
I know what the answers should be, but . . . I don’t know.
“It’s okay,” Vane says, brushing tears off my cheeks. “I’m here.”
He is.
And I don’t deserve him.
I don’t deserve anything.
“I see the war you’re fighting,” Aston tells me. “Don’t let Raiden win. Take your freedom and use it to resist him.”
“I’m going to do more than resist him,” Vane says.
Let the Wind Rise Page 17