Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(80)

“Mine too.”

Another second passes before he grabs my arms and pulls me east. “I feel like if killing’s the right choice, we’ll know.”

I squeeze his hand harder, taking a second to marvel at how steady he’s become. Despite the horrors raging around us, he makes me feel safe, even when two more Storms angle their paths to head us off.

We screech to a halt, and I feel the draw of two other Storms behind us.

“They’re boxing us in,” Vane shouts as we try to pivot east, only to spot another Storm blocking our way.

“DON’T MOVE!” Aston calls from somewhere to the west.

“EASIER SAID THAN DONE!” Vane shouts back.

We both grapple for a hold to keep us tethered to the ground.

I’m about to lose my grip when yellow flashes through the nearest Storm, and the mangled funnels explode into bellowing mist.

“GRAB THE SPIKE AND TAKE OUT THE OTHER!” Aston orders.

I pull a muscle in my shoulder as I stretch to reach for the spike, but it’s worth the pain when I close my hand around it.

I only have time to check my aim once before I let the weapon fly.

The explosion buries us in rock and rubble, and Vane drags me out of the debris and gets us moving again.

“Where are the other Storms?” he asks, trying to see through the fog of sand.

I tighten my grip on his hand. “I can’t tell, but they sound close.”

“GET DOWN!” Aston shouts. “INCOMING ON YOUR LEFT!”

I dive to the dirt, covering my head.

Five seconds pass.

Then ten.

“ANY TIME NOW!” Vane calls, lifting his head to scan the field.

The wind spike blows past him, striking the rocky ground in a shower of dust.

“DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST MISS?” Vane asks.

“I TOLD YOU TO GET DOWN!” Aston shouts. “YOU’RE LUCKY I DIDN’T HIT YOUR GIANT SQUARE HEAD!”

“I have a square head?” Vane asks.

I have to laugh, even surrounded by so much misery.

I’m still smiling as I fight my way to the wind spike and let it fly toward the Storm’s main funnel.

It hits dead on the mark, and Aston launches it back through the final Storm near us, dissolving it into a puff of sickly smoke.

“How many have we taken out?” Vane asks as we grab the spike and run.

“My best count says we’re down to twenty-four,” Aston says as he falls into step beside us. “But it might be twenty-five—which is better than I’d expected, honestly. I don’t see how we’re going to hold out. This wind spike is getting weaker with every toss. I’m betting it has about three good hits left before it unravels. Also, I’m getting rather tired. This body isn’t exactly built for running.”

“Can’t you draw strength from all this pain?” Vane asks.

“Not without wind. And even then . . . this is a far darker kind of suffering.”

My stomach turns as I survey the battlefield, and the rot and ruin heaped everywhere.

This is the great legacy Raiden has brought to our world.

But I can’t worry about the dead.

Our guardians are still outnumbered three to one, and without weapons, their fights have been relegated to running and dodging. And Solana’s veering erratically through the sky with at least a dozen Storms chasing after her.

“If only we had some wind,” I whisper when I note three more Storms bearing down on our position.

I swear the sky hears me, because in the same breath Vane murmurs, “I don’t believe it.”

I turn to follow his gaze and see he’s stretched out his hands to the west. When I open my senses I can feel the pull of my Westerly—and it didn’t return alone.

My shield streaks toward me, swirling around my face as hundreds of drafts flood in from every direction.

“You’re hearing this, right?” Vane asks as he listens to the winds’ chanting song.

I can only nod, my eyes welling with tears at the beauty of so much unbridled power.

I doubt the winds need us to give the command. The song seems more of a warning for us to be prepared.

Still, as the drafts coil themselves around us—Easterlies, Westerlies, Southerlies, Northerlies—and Vane and I lock eyes, we both raise our voices and shout, “Rise!”





CHAPTER 45


VANE


I have no idea how to describe anything that just happened.

I’m not even sure if it did happen.

Maybe a Living Storm ate me, and my mind made the whole thing up while my body was being digested.

All I know is, one second the battle was falling apart and I was thinking that Audra and I should spend our last few minutes making out. And the next second the winds were swarming in out of nowhere, telling us to “Rise!”

And then . . .

I don’t even know.

The wind became a beast with a million invisible heads and arms and teeth, like some sort of hydra-kraken woven straight from the air. And it used all of that weirdness to devour everything it touched—including us. But we weren’t destroyed. We were just sort of . . . sucked up.

Audra. And me. And Aston. And Solana. And Os. And any other Gales that were still breathing—even Arella.

We were all pulled into . . . was it a cocoon?