Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3) (26 page)

“You did,” Os says after several seconds of silence. “Though I’m not sure any of us can claim the same wouldn’t happen to us. And yet here you are. Reappearing after so many years—so many battles where your knowledge and experience could’ve aided us—and you’ve chosen to stand with
him
.”

“You mean our
king
?” Aston asks when Os points at me. “Isn’t that the side we’re all on? Or did I miss something during my time in the dungeon? Don’t tell me that just because he turned out to have a mind of his own—and occasionally decides to use it—”

“Hey!” I say.

“—that you’ve decided to undo a decade of planning,” Aston continues, ignoring me.

“That plan was a relic,” Os says. “From a time when we put far too much faith in the power of four.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so quick to write off the power of four,” Aston tells him. “It may work differently than how we were expecting—and at first I thought he was being lazy—”

“Again—hey!” I interrupt.

“—but I’ve realized that’s how the power functions,” Aston finishes. “It’s about trusting the wind, relinquishing your control and handing it over to the sky. That’s the Westerlies’ influence, I suspect. They like to make up their own mind, not be told what to do. So should we really be surprised their people are just as stubborn? You’re only mad because he won’t go along with your little betrothal plan. But surely you’ve realized by now they never would’ve worked out anyway.”

“Dude!” I say at the same time Solana says, “Hey!”—though I’m not sure why I’m arguing.

“Oh, you know it’s true,” Aston tells us. “You’ve been traveling together less than a week, and you’ve been at each other’s throats most of the time.”

Yeah, but half of our fights were because of the betrothal hanging over us.

Then again, why am I defending this?

“The matter of his marriage is only one of many points that we do not see eye-to-eye on,” Os reminds us.

“Yes. I can see that.” Aston steps closer, leaning in to stare into Os’s eyes. “That is quite a craving you’re bearing. It’s like looking at my own reflection—though with a bit less blue on the lips.”

“I have it under control,” Os says, backing away and blinking. “
We
have it under control.”

“That’s the lie we tell ourselves,” Aston says. He studies the nearest guardian and shakes his head. “You’ve all been training hard, I see.”

“We have,” Os agrees. “We’re trying to
protect our people
.”

“And who will protect them from you,” Aston asks, “when the need offers you anything you desire, so long as you surrender to the craving? What happens when you’re so empty and ruined that you’ll do anything for the rush of pain to pull you back together?”

“If that’s the price we have to pay to finish this, so be it!” Os snaps back. “Even you know we don’t stand a chance on our own—and they know it too, otherwise they wouldn’t have sent that.”

He points to the emergency signal in the center of the field—a thin, white funnel of speeding winds stretching to the highest point of the sky.

“I’d even wager that’s why they involved you in the first place,” Os adds, glaring at me. “Someone to do their dirty work.”

Aston shrugs. “That doesn’t mean it was wise to corrupt the entire force with a power you don’t understand. And every time you use it, you’re dragged further under.”

“Maybe not,” Solana mumbles, then shrinks slightly when all eyes focus on her. “I think . . . I found a safer way to channel the power.”

“Have you now?” Os asks. “Does that mean you’ve used the commands I taught you?”

“She did,” I answer for her. “And it really messed her up.”

“I’m fine,” Solana starts, then stops herself. “It’s been hard. And part of me wishes I’d never used it. But it’s a little better now that I figured out the trick. If I focus on the needs of
others
, instead of what I’m craving, the power doesn’t take over the same way. The hard part is letting go of the selfish thoughts and making sure I truly mean the sacrifice.”

“But you still have to ruin the wind, don’t you?” Arella asks.

“Not if I use winds that are already broken,” Solana tells her. “Raiden has shattered thousands of drafts—and I’m sure he’ll destroy hundreds more today. We can use those to fight against him. Give them back their meaning. Otherwise what will their fate be? To drift aimlessly with no value or purpose ever again? They may be damaged—but they’re not useless. So long as we make sure we’re working in harmony with their needs, I don’t see why it would be cruel to let them help us, whatever way they can.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that before.

I kept thinking of it like shielding ourselves behind dead bodies. Taking advantage of the violence of others in order to survive.

But the winds aren’t
dead.

If she’s found a way to give them purpose—why not?

I feel even better when I see Audra nodding, like she agrees with Solana’s reasoning.

“So is this your plan, then?” Os asks me. “Put us on the front lines of your battle while tying our hands and limiting our power?”

“Thinking of others doesn’t tie your hands,” Solana insists. “And it definitely doesn’t limit your power. It made us stronger than even Raiden claimed to be.”

“And you can organize yourselves however you want,” I add. “You’re the experts on battle strategy. All I need is for you guys to keep the Stormers busy, so I can find Raiden and end this.”

“
You’re
going to end this?” Os asks. “You realize what that means?”

“Yeah, I’m going to kill Raiden,” I tell him.

Hopefully slowly and painfully.

It’s kind of amazing how little the idea shakes me. All I have to do is keep my mind focused on Gus.

“I’ll be helping,” Solana jumps in.

“As will I,” Audra adds.

“
Only
if I need it,” I correct.

“Oh, you’ll need it,” Os says. “Or is selflessness supposed to be the magical cure for your aversion to violence?”

“No, the magical cure is rage,” I tell him. “Raiden murdered Gus right in front of me. He tortured the girl I love. So yeah, I have absolutely zero doubt that the first chance I get, I’ll be ready to end him.”

I’m pretty proud of how confident I sound in my little speech. Until I realize I slipped the
L
word in there too.

The coward in me wants to put my head down—look anywhere but Audra’s face.

But the needy, desperate boy has to know what she thinks.

I steal a glance, and . . . she’s not looking at me.

But she’s blinking a lot.

Are those tears?

If they are—are they good tears?

Something hits my side, and I realize Solana elbowed me.

“Os asked you a question,” she says under her breath.

Right. I’m supposed to be focusing on battles and things.

“One more time?” I ask, losing what little credibility I might’ve gained.

Os sighs. “I asked if you have a preference on how we organize the ranks.”

“I do,” Aston jumps in, and once again I want to hug him. He knows everything about Raiden’s battle tactics and gets to work bossing everyone around, sending the guardians to different positions, and telling them how to prep for battle.

Arella wanders off to “get a better reading on the air.” And Solana takes off her jacket to absorb as many winds as she can. Even Audra’s keeping busy, testing her strength and range of motion with her windslicer.

And I’m . . . standing here uselessly—which is pretty much par for the course, but it feels like I could do better.

I still have the pain pills I grabbed from my house, so I divide them up among the Gales, telling them to crush them and throw the powder in the Stormers’ faces if they lose their weapons during the battle.

I’m debating whether I should make them wind spikes, too, since I know Os will probably shatter the drafts in them. I decide to put it off when I remember a question I meant to ask.

“Do either of you guys know anything about this?” I ask Aston and Os, showing them the whistlepipe.

Their jaws fall open.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?”

“That belonged to Raiden’s sister,” Aston whispers.

“Raiden has a sister?”

“Had,”
Os corrects. “She returned to the sky when he was nine. He never told me the whole story. Something to do with groundlings. Add it to the list of reasons he despises them.”

Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.

Dead sister. Humans responsible. And Raiden probably felt super powerless when it happened.

I’m not a shrink or anything, but that sounds like a pretty good reason why someone might head down the I-want-to-kill-everyone-and-have-absolute-power path.

I’m trying to figure out if my hands are strong enough to crush the pipe right in front of him, or if I’ll have to drop it and stomp it with my boot when I hear Aston worrying about our number of guardians.

“You don’t think fifty will be enough?” I ask.

“Sixty-three,” Aston corrects. “And no, I don’t. Raiden will bring at least a hundred.”

“How many Stormers does he actually have?” I ask.

“Not as many as you’d think. He has trust issues, if you can’t tell by the suicide drafts. He usually keeps his force between one hundred twenty and one hundred fifty, recruiting and replacing as needed.”

Wow—that’s definitely not as many as I’d been imagining.

“I’m sure he’ll also bring Living Storms,” Os adds, squishing the tiny bit of hope I’d been building. “Depending on how many innocents he can find and transform.”

My mind flashes to the people in the hotel, and I really really really hope he needs sylphs in order to make his creepy warriors. But I can’t help imagining hundreds of Living Storms tearing toward us.

“And this is really everyone?” I ask Os. “There aren’t any other Gales we can call for aid?”

Os shakes his head. “Raiden has decimated our forces over the last few years. And we were always a small uprising. All we have are those you see, those too badly injured to fight, and a handful of reserves I left behind to cover things should the worst happen.”

“Is it still the same contingency plan?” Aston asks him.

“Essentially. We have a system of tunnels where anyone loyal can flee, and the guardians on reserve will make sure anyone who needs them can find them. Everyone will be safe underground, so long as they stay out of the wind until they’re strong enough to rise up again.”

“That . . . could be a very long time,” I mumble.

The reality of what we’re facing hits me then—like
really
hits me.

This isn’t just about risking our lives, or settling our score with Raiden.

It’s about our whole world crumbling.

“Fear is your greatest enemy in battle,” Aston says. “Don’t surrender to it. Take it one fight at a time, one enemy at a time, and hope you’re still standing when the storm settles.”

That’s definitely not as comforting as he seems to think it is.

“Besides,” Aston adds. “You’ll have the strongest defense during the fight.”

“You really think the power of four is that strong?”

“I was talking about
me
. I’ll be providing your cover so you can get to Raiden. And trust me, I am very motivated to make sure you get there.”

Something about his tone—or maybe it’s the intensity in his eyes—makes me feel a little choked up when I tell him, “Thanks.”

It also makes me hand over my wind spike.

“In case you need it,” I mumble.

“It’s worthless against Raiden unless you break the Northerly inside it,” Os warns.

“Perhaps,” Aston whispers, tracing his fingers along the blue edges. “But I hate to disturb such purity.”

I weave myself a new wind spike and scan the field. It doesn’t have much to it. Mostly rolling hills and a few scattered trees. “Where do you think I should look for Raiden?”

Aston points to a weird pointed rock in the distance—or maybe it’s a mountain. It’s hard to tell. It kinda looks like a hill that’s giving the sky the finger.

“Raiden always watches from a distance,” he tells me. “He’ll only swoop closer if the flanks are failing—or to celebrate his victory. So my guess is, he’ll be somewhere over there. It’s the highest point in the area, and it’s a difficult approach from the ground. I can also feel groundlings not far from there, and I’m sure he knows we’ll try to spare them.”

“Wait—there are humans nearby?” I ask, craning my neck and seeing nothing but empty plains. “Why?”

“I think that rock is famous,” Solana tells me. “I know I’ve seen pictures of it before.”

Great. So we’re back to putting people’s lives in danger—and it’s too late to change location.

“Shouldn’t we claim the high ground for ourselves, then?” Os asks. “Minimize the risk of casualties?”

“Not if we want to win. Raiden’s overconfidence will be our greatest asset. The more he thinks everything’s going his way, the more likely he is to make a mistake. Let him have what he wants. Let him think he has all the advantages. By the time he realizes there are other forces at play, it will hopefully be too late.”

I hate gambling with people’s lives that way. But . . . I know Aston’s right. “So what’s the smartest way to approach?” I ask, vowing to fight ten times harder to keep people safe.

“We’ll have to see how the battle plays out,” Aston says. “And you’ll have to keep an ear to your winds, asking them for help getting around his backlash—and
don’t
try for the kill until they give you an answer. Assuming there
is
an answer.”

“There has to be one,” I mumble. “Otherwise why have any Stormers at all? Why go after the power of four if he’s invincible?”

“I used to tell myself the same thing, when I was plotting my escape. Never did get the answer. But don’t look so glum, Loverboy. Your winds haven’t failed you yet.”

Yeah, I guess not. “But what if—”

The rest of my question is swallowed by the wave of heavy, gray clouds that pours in from the north, blacking out the sun.

In the same breath the sky goes eerily still.

Lightning flashes across the sky as hundreds of Stormers emerge from the thunderheads.