Let the Wind Rise Read online

  He calls for a guard, and the Stormer with the scars pounds up the stairs.

  “She just had the fourth breakthrough,” Raiden tells him, “and it looks like he’s about to.”

  All eyes focus on Gus as he exhales a shuddering breath and rolls to his side, coughing and thrashing.

  I hug him as tight as I can, too relieved to have him back to care that Raiden’s shouting orders to the Stormer.

  But as my Westerly shield blankets itself around me, I hear Raiden snap, “Take them back to the dungeon! Get them away from the wind.”

  Before the Stormer can act, a thunderous explosion shakes the tower.

  Smoky red-orange light pours through the window—the unmistakable glow of a raging fire.

  CHAPTER 17

  VANE

  Okay, so firewhirls are freaking awesome.

  I can’t believe they aren’t the Gales’ go-to weapon.

  Mind you, they look pretty wimpy as I make them—just a tiny dust devil that I toss a few scattered sparks in.

  But once I shout, “Engulf!” and the heat mixes with all the rushing oxygen? It turns into a hundred-foot spinning death spiral shooting red-hot flames in every direction—which might actually be why I haven’t seen the Gales use them. I’m pretty sure I would’ve burned off all my appendages if I’d been in charge.

  But Aston’s a pro when it comes to violence.

  He takes out half the Stormers with his very first blow. The rest put up a better fight—but he still wipes them out with three drafts to spare and uses the leftover winds to carry us to the top of a tree several miles away, so we can regroup.

  “You’re holding up rather well,” he says, his eyes narrowing at me. “Especially considering we smell like roasted Stormer.”

  “Ugh—you didn’t need to put it like that,” Solana groans as she tangles a fresh Southerly around me to keep me warm.

  I switch to mouth breathing to dodge the smell—but honestly, I’m doing okay.

  “I wonder if it’s because the firewhirls were the Westerly’s idea,” I mumble. “Maybe it knows what my limits are. Or maybe it knew how desperate our situation was. Or . . . I don’t know, maybe I’m getting tougher.”

  “Definitely not the last one,” Aston tells me. “But this is progress. From now on, you ask your little winds what they want you to do and obey. Maybe you’ll actually get through this.”

  “Let’s hope,” I agree, calling down a fresh Westerly and tangling it into another shield. “So what now?”

  “Now we play good news, bad news,” Aston says. “The good news is, we survived Raiden’s trap. I’m sure we’ve also succeeded in royally pissing him off. And the smoke and glare from the fires will make it much harder to track you.”

  “And the bad news?” Solana asks.

  “Yeah, and what’s with this ‘you’ stuff?” I add. “Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

  Aston becomes very interested in his ruined hands. “The bad news is . . . my part in this little adventure has come to an end.”

  A million different reactions spin through my head—most of them involving another kick to the nuts.

  But losing my temper isn’t going to make him want to stick around.

  “You said you’d help us rescue Audra and Gus,” Solana reminds him.

  “Actually, I said I’d help you come up with a plan. And I’ll still do that.”

  “You’re weaseling out on a technicality?” I snap.

  His eyes flash, and I can tell he has one of his snide comebacks ready to go. But by the time he speaks, the words come out through a sigh.

  “The truth is . . . I was force-fed a rather large dish of reality while we were stuck in that tunnel,” he mumbles. “And I’ve had to admit that I can’t risk letting Raiden capture me. Not because I’m afraid of what he’ll do to me. Because I’m afraid of what I’ll do. Raiden is as addictive as the power of pain. The more you’re around him, the more you see the logic behind his decisions, until you can’t remember why you ever resisted. I almost let him turn me into his shiny new tool last time, and if he gets ahold of me again, I’m not sure what I’ll do. So you can hate me for abandoning you—but I promise, it’s better that I leave you now than end up fighting against you.”

  It’s the most humble, sincere thing Aston has said this whole journey—and I can’t really fault him for it.

  But I’d gotten very used to the idea of having him there to fight all the Stormers if we needed him. . . .

  I take a deep breath. “Fine. We can do this without you.”

  “You can,” Aston agrees. “And you can also do it without her.”

  He grabs Arella’s arms, binding her in broken winds with the same motion.

  “If you think—”

  “Let me stop you from saying anything especially foolish,” Aston interrupts me, “and remind you that she can’t be trusted around Raiden either.”

  “Raiden holds no power over me,” Arella argues.

  “Oh really?” Aston asks. “So then you wanted to betray your daughter?”

  When she doesn’t respond, he adds, “If you truly want to save your girl, leave her rescue to people who might actually be able to help her.”

  “Don’t pretend like you’re doing this for Audra,” Arella snaps. “You just want my pain.”

  Aston doesn’t deny it. “But if that were all this was about, there are other much more exciting ways to force it out of you. So stop pouting and try doing what’s best for your daughter for once in her life.”

  “You think she cares whether my daughter lives or dies?” Arella shouts, turning the full weight of her glare on Solana. “Do you think she’s safe from Raiden’s corruption? She’s already succumbed to the power of pain!”

  “To save your life,” Solana snaps.

  She turns to me to back her up, but I’m not sure I can.

  I also notice she’s twirling her link so fast it’s probably rubbing the skin off her wrist.

  “Maybe . . . you should go with them . . . ,” I mumble. “It’s getting pretty dangerous.”

  “You need me,” Solana says. “You can’t do this without me.”

  “She’s right,” Aston assures me.

  I bite my lip.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Solana asks.

  Okay, I know I’m about to trigger the rage storm to end all rage storms. But she’s still twisting her stupid link and I can’t ignore it anymore.

  “Why are you taking such a huge risk, Solana? Is this about us?” I whisper the last part, pointing to her gold cuff.

  The silence is crushing.

  Solana breaks it with laughter—cold, angry laughter. “Get over yourself, Vane. This fortress was my home. The man who killed my family is in there. And Gus needs my help. His mother died protecting me—I owe it to her to save her son. That’s what I care about. So can we stop wasting time? We need to get back to the section of train tracks where I found the false tunnel. The real one has to be over there somewhere—and I already know which side of the tracks it isn’t on. It shouldn’t take me long to figure out where it is.”

  “You don’t think Raiden’s destroyed it?” Aston asks.

  She shakes her head. “My winds keep telling me to have hope. And the entrance is protected by a password, so even if Raiden found it, he wouldn’t be able to get in.”

  “But won’t that area be crawling with Stormers?” I ask.

  “Most likely,” Aston says. “You’ll need a distraction. A few well-placed firewhirls should buy you a few minutes—though there will likely be one Stormer who stays behind to keep watch.”

  “I’ll take care of him,” Solana and I say at the same time.

  “Come on, Vane—be real,” Solana tells me. “We both know the killing is going to fall on my shoulders. And that’s fine. I’ve outlived three guardians. I know how to fight.”

  “Not as well as I do,” Arella argues.

  “But we’ve already established that you’re coming with me,”
Aston tells her. “We both know what I’ll do if you disobey me.”

  Arella pales at the words, and I can’t help wondering what exactly Aston’s holding over her. Before I can ask him, he adds another warning.”

  “If you face Raiden, remember that he’s protected by his backlash.”

  “I still don’t believe he’s invincible,” I argue. “Gus made him bleed in Death Valley.”

  “Did he now?” Aston asks. “I’m guessing it was just a scratch?”

  He nods when I agree. “Then that’s either a fluke, or another part of the trick. Raiden’s a master of manipulation. Do not underestimate him. And if you decide to risk a shot, don’t go for the heart or the head.”

  “Noted,” Solana says. “Anything else we need to know?”

  “Yes. The Royal Passage will only get you inside the fortress. From there, you’ll have to navigate the labyrinth to find the dungeon.”

  “My father’s memories included details on the different paths,” she promises.

  “Yes, but they don’t include Raiden’s new additions,” Aston insists. “He’s been a busy boy since he took over. The only way to know where you’re heading is to watch for the pattern. Walls with smaller, rougher stones mean you’re in the old, original pathways. Those take you to the main courtyards and all the living quarters. Paths with precise, square-cut stones mean you’re in Raiden’s newer additions, heading to all the dungeons and towers. And any paths with metal slats are for the wind—be extra wary of those. I’m sure they were nice and safe when your family lived there. But the kind of tempests that fuel Raiden’s fortress are not to be trifled with. And if I had to guess, I’d say your friends will be in the northern dungeon, so try there first.”

  “Actually, I was thinking we should swing by the turbine before we attempt the rescue,” Solana corrects. “Might as well cripple his power source while we have a chance.”

  “Well, aren’t you the clever girl,” Aston says. “But surely you know a blow like that will dash all of Loverboy’s hopes of sneaking in and out undetected.”

  “I think we’re already past that,” Solana says, and I hate her for being right.

  Aston nods. “I’ll do what I can from the outside. But I’ll only be able to keep their attention for so long. And if they block you in, know that you can always escape through the Shredder. I carved a guide on one of the walls in the northern dungeon. The trick is to trust my instructions, not your eyes. Your eyes will only see the blades.”

  “Blades?” I repeat.

  “Seventeen fans,” Aston explains. “I nearly lost a leg at a couple of points—among other things. So only use it as a last resort. But it’s good to have the option.”

  “How could you possibly find a path through seventeen fans?” I have to ask.

  “Oh, believe me, Raiden made sure I was familiar with the slice of each of the Shredder’s blades. I endured his sessions by isolating the different pains, imagining the angles and edges. And I’m here, aren’t I? What better proof do you need that the guide works?”

  I suppose he has a point.

  “Anything else we need to know?” I ask.

  “Yes, and you’re not going to like it,” Aston says. “Many of the paths can only be accessed by using a verbal command.”

  Solana guesses the problem before I do. “The power of pain.”

  “Can you handle that?” Aston asks.

  She swallows twice before she nods. “A few commands won’t destroy me.”

  She says it with confidence, but I notice she glances at Aston for confirmation.

  Aston, meanwhile, is now focused on me. “If it does become a problem, there are ways you could help.”

  “What does he mean?” Solana asks.

  I look anywhere except at her—which is a bad idea because I end up locking eyes with Arella.

  The way she’s glaring at me makes it clear she’s guessed what Aston’s referring to.

  “Remember why you’re doing this,” she tells me. “And who you’re doing this for.”

  I love how she can be worried about Audra’s happiness one second, and selling her out to Raiden the next.

  Besides, for all I know, Audra’s thrilled to be free of her bond to me—but I’m trying really hard not to think about that.

  Aston clears his throat. “Time to memorize some commands.”

  My stomach squirms every time he makes one of the scratchy, snarly sounds—and when Solana repeats them, it’s a billion times worse.

  “The passwords might have changed since I left Brezengarde,” Aston warns her. “And if they don’t work—don’t panic. There is a way through the maze without the shortcuts. It’s just infinitely harder.”

  “Great. Thanks for the pep talk!” I say.

  “It’s always better to be realistic,” Aston argues. “Besides, you’re resourceful, and not without your talents.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “I wasn’t talking to you. You need to let her lead. And if you get in a bind, ask your Westerlies for guidance.”

  “So are we ready then?” Solana asks.

  “Yes, I suppose it’s time,” Aston agrees. “The section of the tracks you need is that way.”

  All I see is darkness and trees.

  “We’ll leave first,” Aston says. “Watch for the first signs of fire. I’ll put on a good show, but they’ll lose interest quickly, so I would work hard at finding that tunnel.”

  Arella grabs my hand. “Bring her home.”

  I get a crazy urge to hug her goodbye, which proves I can’t trust my judgment at the moment.

  “Brave faces on,” Aston says. “And every time you start to panic, cling to that pendant.” He points to Audra’s blue cord around my neck. “She’s waiting for you.”

  CHAPTER 18

  AUDRA

  All I smell is smoke.

  We’ve been moved back to our lonely cells in the dungeon, so it’s impossible to tell where it’s coming from. But I can’t imagine Raiden leaving us in an inferno—not now that we have his coveted prize.

  I still can’t believe we’ve had the fourth breakthrough.

  Even thinking the words feels impossible.

  But the lyrics of my Westerly shield fill my mind, and I can understand them perfectly.

  It sings of change.

  Of momentum.

  Of new allies banding together.

  If only Gus and I weren’t locked away underground and could put our new power to use.

  But Raiden cut us off from the sky.

  I couldn’t understand the commands he snarled before he left—they were all voiced in the language of pain. But the air is so still, even the dust motes don’t stir. And my breath vanishes as soon as it leaves my mouth.

  The stones rumble beneath me, echoes from the battle waging outside.

  I press my palms against the floor, glad the explosions feel distant.

  Hopefully that means that Vane and my mother are fighting their way to freedom.

  “We need to get out of here,” Gus whispers. “I think—”

  “SILENCE!” the scarred Stormer shouts, clanging his wind spike against the bars of our cages.

  The sharp ring of metal pierces my eardrums, and I send him my coldest glare. He’s been assigned as our guard while Raiden leads his Stormers in the battle, and he’s taking his role quite seriously.

  “You should be helping us,” I tell him. “The wind is on our side.”

  “And since when does the wind know what’s right for our people?” he counters. “Since when does the wind think? It’s a force.”

  “I used to believe the same thing,” I tell him. “But the wind is changing. Maybe it’s fighting against your cruel methods. Or maybe it was always this thoughtful and we were too arrogant to listen. Either way, it’s showing us where our loyalties should be. We belong with the wind and the sky.”

  “Don’t waste your breath on him,” Gus tells me. “He took plenty of turns with Raiden’s whip during my in
terrogation.”

  “I spare no sympathy for those who face the consequences of their actions,” the Stormer snaps. “You should’ve known what to expect the moment you dared to defy him.”

  “And you should know the risks of joining him,” Gus shouts back. “Raiden’s rule will fall, and when it does, he’ll drag his armies down with him—and that’s assuming he doesn’t decide that you’d be much more useful as one of his Living Storms.”

  “Ah, but he’s saving that privilege for his captives,” the scarred Stormer says. “I’m sure that’s what he’s planning for you. Like father, like son.”

  Gus lunges for the bars, but the sudden motion is too much for his weakened body. He collapses to his knees, coughing and gasping.

  My Westerly shield flits to his side, coiling around him.

  “Do you see?” I ask the Stormer. “That Westerly is acting on its own.”

  “Rushing from one person to another hardly counts as a mighty uprising.”

  “It does in this case,” Gus snarls.

  He stands and shouts “Meld” in Westerly, and my jaw falls as he pries open his cell’s bars. The metal bends as though it were made of feathers, and when the scarred Stormer lunges with his windslicer, Gus dodges easily, kicking out the Stormer’s legs.

  He dives on top of him, pinning the Stormer’s shoulders with one hand, using the other to deliver blow after blow after blow.

  Bones crack.

  Blood splatters.

  The Stormer’s cries fade to delirious moans.

  “That’s enough!” I shout—but I have to repeat the call twice more before I’m able to pull Gus out of the frenzy.

  “He’s still conscious,” Gus says, reaching for the fallen windslicer and pressing it against the Stormer’s neck. “We can’t risk that he’ll raise the alarm.”

  “You can’t kill him!”

  Gus points to the hole in his shoulder. “He laughed as this happened.”

  I swallow, trying to understand how the same soldier who saved me from assault could be so cruel.

  But it doesn’t matter.

  “You’re under Westerly influence now,” I whisper. “There’s no telling how the violence will affect you.”