Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3)(97)

Only a handful answer my call—which is both annoying and confusing—but with their help, I’m able to fly a lot higher this time. High enough to avoid the storm’s suction—but all we can do is circle above the battle, and the thunderheads around us keep flashing with more lightning.

Please, I beg. Tell me what I have to do. If we don’t kill him soon, he’s going to win.

The winds stir a little faster, and their songs shift to something new.

But their brilliant new lyric tells me: A shield is more dangerous than a sword.

“Are your winds giving you any ideas?” I ask Solana. “Because mine are giving me philosophies. Or is it a platitude? Whatever—it’s useless. I think this fight might be beyond them, but I’m hoping that still fits with the winds’ plan. I’m here to keep us safe while you figure out the killing.”

“Gee, no pressure or anything,” Solana mumbles. “And I’m not having much luck. I’ve tried thinking about avenging Gus and my family. I’ve tried thinking about saving the rest of the Gales. I’ve even tried thinking about all the groundlings who’ve died in all the crazy weather Raiden’s always causing. But every time I try to think about getting around his backlash, it gives me nothing.”

“Okay, this is going to sound awful—and I swear I’m only asking because it’s what you said worked for the oubliette—but . . . have you made it clear that you’re okay if you don’t make it out of this? Just to take any selfishness out of the equation?”

“Of course. I’ve made it very clear that I’m not concerned with my safety—only yours. But it still hasn’t given me anything.”

My idea trigger goes off, but I try to shut it up.

I really really really don’t want that to be the right answer.

But its way more exhausting for us to dodge storms than it is for Raiden to make them. We barely take out the three zapnadoes—only to have him form three more—and when one gets way too close to frying us, I take a deep breath and force myself to ask, “What if I’m throwing off the need? What if the way you keep trying to protect me is too selfish? I mean, I appreciate that you are, but . . . when you compare saving my life to saving our entire world from Raiden, I . . . kinda don’t stack up.”

“So . . . you want me to focus the need without trying to keep you alive?”

“Well, feel free to make it clear that’s not our first choice, but . . . yeah.”

I try to tell myself it’s not as devastating as it feels. After all, if we don’t come up with a plan, we’re both dead anyway.

But all I can think about is my promise to Audra that I would come home to her.

I can still feel the pull of our bond—even through all this chaos.

She’s drawing me toward her.

How can I abandon her?

“A new command is starting to form,” Solana whispers, which does not feel like good news. “I think . . . if you can fly us close enough to Raiden, I might know what I’m supposed to do to take him out. But I’m not feeling a way to avoid the backlash.”

“So basically, you know how to kill him—but it’ll kill us, too?”

“I think so . . . it’s hard to tell. I never know exactly how it’s going to work until I try it.”

I take another ten seconds to admit we’re officially out of options, and a few more after that to let go of a couple of tears.

“We don’t have to do it, Vane. If we keep fighting, we might find another way. I’ll try again, telling the need to keep you safe.”

I have to laugh at that, though it’s not funny at all. “That’s ridiculous. Why is it okay for you to die, and not me?”

“Because I’m using Raiden’s tainted power, and you’re using the language of peace.” The thickness in her voice tells me she’s crying too.

“Neither of us deserves this, Solana. Just like our families didn’t deserve what happened to them. It’s like Aston said. War is about hard choices. This is ours. If you don’t want to do it, teach me the command.”

“But what about Audra?”

I choke back a new wave of tears—and resist the urge to shout at the sky: THIS ISN’T FAIR—YOU OWE ME!

It’s not fair—but it doesn’t matter. All that really matters is one thing.

Please let Audra be okay, I beg the wind. Let her survive whatever she’s facing. And don’t let losing me make her unhappy. I mean, she can cry a few tears—but then I want her to move on. She’s grieved enough in her life. Please let her get over me.

I’m so focused on my plea that I don’t notice that we’re circling lower, like my Westerlies have gotten behind this brutal suicide mission.

At least the storms have calmed, and the last of the zapnadoes have unraveled.

“Are you ready for this?” Solana whispers, clutching a new wind boomerang thing.

“Let’s just get it over with quick this time,” I whisper. “As soon as the need tells you what to do—do it, okay?”

She reaches for my hand, and I squeeze hers back, glad I get to face this with a friend.

“Here goes nothing,” I tell her, ordering the winds to set us down in front of Raiden.

He chose his spot well—a ridge so narrow we can only keep a couple of feet between him and us. A guarantee that we’ll be within range of his backlash.