Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(73)

“What are the Gales going to do if they can’t call the wind?” Vane asks.

“The same thing we are,” Aston says. “Fight with anything we have and try not to die.”

I search the air for any brave drafts, and catch the weak pull of a distant Westerly.

It takes a bit of convincing to call it to my side, and I notice Vane watching me the whole time. His smile looks almost proud, but it fades when he catches the wind’s song.

“It’s singing about traitors,” he mumbles. “Lets hope it’s not talking about the Gales.”

I listen to each lyric carefully, trying to piece the full meaning together.

We’re trying to protect you, I tell the wind. We’re on your side. But we need your help.

I beg the wind to whisk away and gather its friends.

Not just Westerlies, I add. We need the full strength of the sky.

It’s time for the wind to rise up and prove that it’s far stronger than any of us have ever been.

I can’t tell if the Westerly understands me, but the draft vanishes toward the horizon.

“Maybe I should send my shield, too,” I mumble. “It gathered the drafts we needed in Death Valley.”

“Uh-uh,” Vane says. “I want that wind as close to you as it’s willing to stay. I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

I’m certain of it—and that’s the truth I’m hoping Raiden’s missing.

If a single wind can save a life—or take it—what will happen when the winds unite?

“Time to go,” Aston says, dragging Vane toward the Storm.

The uneven ground fights to topple my legs as I sprint after them, with Solana right behind me.

We aim for the narrow gap Os has carved into the wall of Storms, but halfway there Solana jerks me to the side.

A wind spike explodes where I’d been standing, showering us in dirt and grass and petals.

“Where are they coming from?” I ask as another volley swallows Aston and Vane in a cloud of debris.

“We’re fine,” Vane shouts, coughing and hacking. “But getting the hell out of here would be a really good idea.”

We try to run in a crouch, the position every bit as fumbling as it is painful.

The wounds on my back stretch, and I feel the W tear open as I twist to avoid a wind spike aimed at my head.

The next blast sends us tumbling across the field, and Solana cries out.

“I’m fine,” she promises, but I notice she’s limping hard.

“They’re out of range over here,” Aston calls, waving his arms as we barely dodge another round of explosions.

I draw a burst of strength from my Westerly shield and let it fuel my arms as I lift Solana and half carry her over to safety.

“You guys okay?” Vane asks, taking her from me.

“You can put me down,” she tells him. “My ankle’s sprained, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

She winces as he sets her in the long, scratchy grass, but when she tests her ankle, it holds.

“They’re closing ranks,” Aston says, pointing to the gap Os made, which is narrowing as the other Storms move to cover it. “We’re going to have to move fast.”

“I can handle it,” Solana tells me when I go to carry her again.

She leads the way, and we charge forward, pushing our tired, aching limbs as hard as they can go.

But it’s not fast enough.

The pull of the Storms is too strong, and they drag us toward their merciless funnels.

“Lock arms,” Vane shouts. “The heavier we are, the harder we are to pull.”

Solana grabs him first, and I cling to her, my feet lifting off the ground as the Storm tears closer.

“Pull harder,” Solana shouts, and our group surges forward, step by agonizing step until my feet drop back to the ground and I regain traction.

“Toss me your wind spike,” Aston shouts, and Vane untangles his arm to throw it.

Aston lets go to catch it, and without his weight, we’re sucked back toward the Storm.

“Hang on,” Aston says, clinging to a tree with one hand and aiming the wind spike with the other.

The weapon is sickly with pain now, and he hurls it straight through the Storm’s chest.

Sallow steam leaks from the unraveling funnel, and the Storm unleashes a bellowing howl.

“That’s our cue,” Aston shouts, grabbing Vane’s arm.

“Not without this,” Vane says, commanding the wind spike to “come.”

I wasn’t sure if it would obey, but it snaps to his hand as Aston drags him away.

The air tries to pull Solana and me back, but we synchronize our steps and push through, collapsing as we cross the boundary of the circle.

“Over here,” Aston orders, and we crawl to where they’ve taken shelter behind a cluster of boulders.

None of the Storms break rank to follow us.

“Just like I thought,” Aston says. “Raiden ordered them to focus on the battle. We can rest here for a second before we move on.”

Vane crawls closer to me, taking my arms and searching for blood.

“I’m okay,” I promise. “Nothing major.”

He looks safe as well. A few cuts and scrapes on his face, but nothing deep enough to scar.