Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3) (11 page)

“And the Stormers will ambush us in minutes,” Aston warns. “Our only chance right now is in the air.”

“Not if we split up,” Arella says. “I’ll go with Solana. She can search for the passage, and I can keep watch for any nearby Stormers. I doubt they’ll be searching the ground if you two are buzzing around the sky, distracting them.”

It’s not a horrible plan, but . . . “What if you guys get caught?”

“Same thing you’ll do if you’re caught—fight,” Arella says, patting her windslicer. “And if we find the tunnel, I’ll send a bird to signal you.”

I don’t see any better options, so I ask the Westerlies to hold steady long enough for Solana and Arella to jump.

“Be careful,” I call as Solana uses a Southerly to slow their fall.

“You do realize you just left your fiancée with your girlfriend’s rather violent mother?” Aston asks as we get moving again, just in time to dodge another explosion.

“Solana can handle herself—and she’s my
ex-
fiancée.”

“It’s adorable that you believe that. Though honestly, we should probably be more worried about your future mother-in-law. Our princess is quite a natural with the power of pain.”

The words make my stomach squirm worse than the Westerlies’ next evasive maneuver.

It’s not a good time for this conversation, but I have to ask, “Is there seriously no way to heal after using that power?”

“So you
do
care,” he says, and I
really
regret asking. “Hm . . . the look on your face tells me you won’t like this answer. She’s in early stages still, so it’s possible she could reverse the effect. But it would take something . . .
dramatic
.”

“Like what?”

“You can’t guess?”

“Little busy here controlling a dozen Westerlies!”

“You’d think that would help you figure it out. Think about it, Vane. What do you replace violence with?”

The word pops into my head and my heart drops, even though our wind bubble is holding steady.

You replace violence with
peace.

“So you’re saying . . .”

“Bonding with a Westerly should give her the balance she needs,” Aston finishes. “If only she knew someone who was up to the task . . .”

His laughter makes me want to shove him out of the bubble.

“You don’t even know if that’s true,” I argue. “You said
should
, not
would
.”

“Ah, so you
can
use that brain of yours. Very good. This is all just a theory. A very well reasoned theory though, don’t you think?”

It is, but . . .

No.

Uh-uh.

So
not happening.

Solana was the one who decided to try Os’s command—not me.

But she did it to help Audra,
my conscience reminds me.

Aston smirks. “Suddenly being noble isn’t quite so easy is it?”

No, it definitely isn’t.

But I don’t want to think about it anymore.

“This is taking forever,” I say. “How much longer do you think we can hold out?”

“Not much. I’d wager they’re readying the Shredder. It’s basically like Raiden having a mile-long windslicer to slash at us from the safety of his fortress.”

“Awesome.”

I get my first glimpse of the Shredder in action when a dozen trees get sawed in half.

The next slice clips the top of our wind bubble, and we almost go
splat!
But I manage to regroup after a few seconds.

I ask the Westerlies to take us higher, but the winds resist my command and keep ducking back down toward the forest.

“More proof of the folly in trusting the wind,” Aston says as an entire row of trees gets sliced and diced right beside us.

“We’re still alive,” I argue.

But it’s not looking good.

We crash into something a few seconds later, and I’m sure it’s all over.

“Would you stop screaming?” Aston shouts, and I realize my mouth is wide open and something that sounds like a dying hyena is blaring out of it.

“You hit a bird—see?” Aston points to the owl soaring beside us. “I guess that means the mythical tunnel is actually real.”

We follow the owl into the forest—the swervy little bugger is
not
easy to keep up with—and touch down in front of an old water tower. There’s no sign of Arella or Solana. Just a two-foot wide hole in the ground that drops down so deep, I can’t see the bottom.

“Jump,” Solana calls from the abyss below—which does
not
sound like something I want to do.

But . . . she’s alive—and we definitely won’t be if the Stormers find us—so one at a time, Aston and I drop into the darkness.

R
aiden doesn’t believe me.

The doubt and fury practically drip off him as he paces back and forth in front of the door to our tower cell.

But he can’t ignore me either—not when there’s a chance I’m telling the truth about Gus.

So he lets us remain where we are.

He even calls down unbroken Northerlies to strengthen Gus.

They swirl around the cell, making me shiver—but I don’t mind the cold.

Gus is almost breathing normally again, and his cheeks have more color. He’s still far from recovered, but it gives me enough hope he might actually pull through this.

I just need him strong enough to follow me through the Shredder.

And enough time alone for us to slip away.

And wind.

I can feel the whisper of breezes in the cracks, but they haven’t crept in yet.

They’re biding their time.

Waiting on me.

I’ve always known the wind has a will of its own—but I never realized it could be so deliberate. It’s as if all of Raiden’s years of ruining drafts have taught them how to survive.

“I must say, this could be a record for the fastest change of heart I’ve ever seen,” Raiden says slowly. “After such blatant defiance, you’re suddenly eager to spill all your secrets.”

“One secret,” I remind him. “And it’s technically not mine.”

“We both know it’s the only secret that matters.” He steps closer to the bars and squats down to my eye level. “So what exactly brought on this
remarkable
change?”

I focus on Gus, wiping away the dried blood glued to his lips.

“I thought Gus would be strong enough to survive this,” I whisper. “But I was wrong. And I can’t imagine waking up every day knowing I could’ve saved him.”

“You realize you’ll be betraying your beloved by telling me any of this. In more ways than one.”

He points to my hand, which is still cleaning Gus’s lips.

I resist the urge to pull my fingers away.

Raiden stands to pace again, scratching the stubble on his chin. “So—assuming I believe you—what makes you think your friend will be willing to teach me his secret command? He and I have had several heart-to-hearts already, and this little fact never came up.”

“I think I can convince him.”

“I’m sure you do—it’s another thing you and your mother have in common. You cling to your lies and keep right on pushing. But sooner or later they always come back to haunt you.”

He moves toward the window, staring out at the night sky.

“Your mother never told you why she helped me capture you, did she?” he whispers.

“You were there,” I remind him. “You heard her excuses.”

“Yes, I suppose I did.” He turns back to face me. “You didn’t believe she had no choice?”

“My mother will sacrifice anyone or anything to benefit herself.”

“She’s a survivor,” he agrees. “But that wasn’t why she betrayed you.”

He pauses, waiting for me to ask more questions—but I don’t care about her reasons. No threat or trick or scheme of hers could ever justify the horrors she brought upon Gus.

I reach for his hand, glad to feel he has some grip.

“I know you’re hoping to escape,” Raiden says, stepping closer to the bars. “So let me give you a piece of advice. I have defenses you can’t see—consequences you can’t imagine. If you try to leave my fortress, your friend
will
die.”

An earth-shaking boom saves me from having to respond.

Raiden rushes to the window. “Looks like your boyfriend is right on schedule,” he says as another boom echoes.

Panic reaches inside me, grabbing hold of my heart and squeezing squeezing squeezing.

More explosions follow, some closer, some farther away.

“He’s a better fighter than I anticipated,” Raiden says.

“I trained him well.”

Raiden laughs. “Yes, well no amount of training prepares anyone to face the Shredder.”

My mouth is too dry to speak, my heart crumbling with every minute that passes. Every explosion.

But maybe this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.

“Sounds like your Stormers are struggling,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be rushing down there to lead?”

“I can lead them just fine from up here.” He reaches through the barred window and catches a dull, yellow draft, closing his eyes and inhaling the wind with a slow, deep breath.

The wind sinks in, and he spits it back out, grumbling several commands before sending the sickly wind back out into the night.

I only understand one word.

Arella.

So my mother survived the Maelstrom.

That explains how Vane could be fighting so well, and how he found his way here.

I can’t believe he was willing to trust her—though perhaps its wise he did.

Raiden looks . . . rattled by her presence.

His knuckles turn white as he squeezes the bars, waiting for another wind to report on the showdown.

Another explosion erupts, loud enough to make my ears ring.

But the silence that follows is much more terrifying.

Come on, Vane—keep fighting.

Another yellowed draft arrives, and this time Raiden smiles as he breathes it in.

“Apparently they found our special tunnel,” he tells me. “I had it built in case some fool ever got it in their head to search for the Royal Passage.”

I’m not entirely sure what he means, but I get the basic gist.

Vane and my mother just flew right into Raiden’s trap.

I
t smells in this tunnel.

And it’s too dark to see anything.

And I’m pretty sure I just brushed my hand against some sort of mutant-size rat.

But we’re finally getting close to Audra.

At least, I think we are.

Right now we’re just walking and walking and walking.

“How long is the Royal Passage?” I ask Solana, who’s right behind me, followed by Arella, with Aston bringing up the rear.

We have to walk single file—don’t ask me how
I
ended up the leader.

Solana doesn’t reply. It doesn’t even seem like she hears me.

“Is there a problem?” Aston asks her.

“I’m . . . not sure. The tunnel was wider in my father’s memories. And the Southwell crest was carved into the wall.”

“How can you see anything?” I ask.

“I can’t—but that’s another problem. The tunnel my father used had a bluish glow. I think it was some type of bioluminescence—and maybe the frost is messing with it, but . . . the walls were also made of stone.”

I run my hand over the muddy sides, trying to feel if there’s something solid underneath.

All I find is squishy stuff and creepy-crawlies.

“Well . . . maybe we’re in a different part?” I say, shaking the yuck off my hand. “Or maybe your dad remembered it wrong?”

“Or,” Aston says slowly, “the mythical tunnel was
too
mythical.”

“That sounds like Raiden,” Arella whispers.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” I ask.

“Ask yourself this,” Aston says. “What would Raiden do if he heard a legend of a secret tunnel?”

“How would I know?” I tell him. “I’ve never read the evil murderer’s handbook.”

“And there’s no way he could’ve heard about the passage,” Solana adds. “My family are the only ones who know.”

“He’s interrogated members of your family,” Aston reminds her. “And Raiden would use that knowledge to his advantage. He’d make sure that anyone searching for the passage finds what they’re looking for—only it wouldn’t be what they’re looking for.”

I stop walking. “So . . . you’re saying this tunnel is fake?”

“I’m saying it’s a
trap
,” Aston corrects. “This path probably leads to a dungeon, or some perfectly coordinated ambush. And I’m sure Raiden also has Stormers waiting at the entrance we used, in case we backtrack.”

“But we found the entrance right where I remembered it being,” Solana argues.

“Exactly my point,” Aston tells her. “Raiden would stick to the legend as closely as possible.”

“There were two sets of train tracks,” Arella whispers. “They circled both sides of the tower. And the stone we moved was marked with the Southwell crest. The symbol was small, but it does seem too easy.”

“Okay, so . . . what do we do?” I ask, fighting to stay calm.

Aston scratches at the walls. “I don’t know about you—but I’ll claw my way out of here if I have to.”

“The ground is too frozen,” Arella tells him. “And the Stormers will hear you escape.”

“Then I’ll destroy as many of them as I can until they crush the life out of me,” Aston snarls. “There’s no way I’m letting them take me again.”

“Awesome as that plan sounds,” I jump in, “there has to be a better way.”

Aston snorts a laugh. “All right then—how do
you
propose we get out of this?”

He goes back to clawing at the wall, and I focus on my Westerly shield. It’s only one little draft—but that was all Audra needed to start that haboob in Death Valley.

I don’t have her way with the wind, but surely I can convince my own kin to help me.

“Please,” I whisper to the draft in the Westerly tongue. “We need a way out of here. Can you use your force somehow?”

Great wording, man—what is this,
Star Wars
?

“Can you blast us a new exit from the tunnel?” I try again. “Or—um, what other way is there to get out from underground?”