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

No stars.

No moon.

Just storm clouds blacking out the world and showering us with snow . . . in the middle of summer.

“I’m g-g-guessing this isn’t n-n-normal,” I stutter as Aston sets us down in an ice-crusted forest. It looks like Mr. Freeze came through and blasted everything with his freeze gun.

“It means Raiden knows we’re coming,” Aston tells me, pulling his hood up to block the snow. “I’d figured as much. But I’d been hoping he wouldn’t be this prepared.”

I know it shouldn’t surprise me that Raiden can change the weather. But somehow the idea feels huge.

And the mountain itself is huge—way bigger than I’d imagined. We should’ve brought climbing gear—and about a million extra layers of clothes.

“Here,” Solana says, blanketing me in a Southerly.

She does the same to herself before turning to Aston.

“I’ll just absorb it,” he tells her.

“And it would dull my senses too much,” Arella adds.

I shiver just looking at them. The Southerly can’t keep all the freezing air away, but at least I’ll leave here with all ten of my toes.

Aston licks his finger and waves it back and forth, then curses under his breath. “Raiden’s definitely gunning for you, Loverboy. He brought in the northern squalls. We’ll have to limit flying to emergencies only, and Brezengarde will be at maximum power.”

“The fortress draws strength from the wind,” Solana explains when she sees my confusion. “There are windmills on every wall, and a system of tunnels to channel the wind to the heart of the fortress, where a central turbine powers all of Raiden’s defenses.”

“And his offenses,” Aston adds. “Raiden isn’t the type to sit back and wait for his fortress to be stormed. He likes to blast you to pieces long before you ever get there. And the squalls triple the range of his blasters—and quadruple the force of the Shredder.”

“The ground isn’t safe either,” Arella warns, waving her hands to fan away the cloud of her breath. “I can feel patrols all over the mountain.”

“Okay, so . . . how do we get around all of that?” I’m done hearing about problems. Let’s get cracking on the answers.

Aston turns to Solana. “It might help if we knew where we’re going. Care to tell us where we can find this mythical tunnel?”

“It’s not mythical,” Solana argues. “But . . .”

I feel a nightmare coming on.

Solana fiddles with her link. “I don’t know exactly where it is—but I remember seeing train tracks near the exit my dad used in his memories. And some sort of structure.”

“Train tracks?” I repeat. “On a mountain?”

“There’s a train that takes people to the summit observatory.”

She says it like that’s good news, but uh . . . “There are people on this mountain?”

“Normally, yeah—especially at this time of year,” Solana says. “But the squalls should be keeping them away.”

I hope she’s right.

There was enough collateral damage during my last battle with Raiden’s army.

“Why would your family build their fortress so close to humans?” I ask. “And why hasn’t someone noticed it and been like, dude—what’s that?”

“It’s tucked away quite brilliantly,” Solana tells me. “And the winds help disguise it.”

“You know, for a sylph raised by groundlings, you don’t seem to know much about either race,” Aston points out.

“Oh, please, like anyone normal knows about . . . um . . . what mountain is this?”

Okay, so maybe I’m an idiot. . . .

“Mount Washington,” Solana tells me. “One of the windiest places in the world. Also the highest peak in the northeast part of this continent.”

“Well, look who’s a walking geography book,” I grumble.

“No—I just took the time to learn about my home,” Solana snaps back. “Though I guess it’ll be your home when all of this is over. You and your wife.”

Oh good, so we’re going there.

It gets even better when Arella says, “Audra will make a better queen.”

“Okay, no one is getting crowned right now,” I jump in. “Can we get through this alive and then worry about who gets to keep the castle?”

The sad truth is—assuming we find a way to defeat Raiden—if I don’t marry Solana, I’ll basically be usurping her family’s throne. It doesn’t matter who I love—or who loves me—or that I don’t even want to be King Windwalker. It’s all about the Gales’ plans for rebuilding their world.

“Entertaining as it is to watch this little drama,” Aston interrupts, “we’re standing in the middle of enemy territory and clinging to the ever-unraveling hope of somehow eluding them. So perhaps we should stay a moving target?”

“Right,” Solana mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Me too,” I tell her. “So . . . anyone know where the train tracks are?”

“I know how to find them.” Aston pats the icy trunk of the nearest tree. “Get climbing, Loverboy.”