Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(48)

She runs her hands along the draft. “I can’t think of a command that would do that, can you?”

I close my eyes and whisper my request, trying let my instincts take over. But the wind’s song turns quiet. Almost sad. Singing of burdens that are too heavy to carry alone.

“I think we’d need one for each of us,” I tell her.

“We’d have two more Westerlies if we unraveled our wind spikes.”

True . . .

“But then we’d have no weapons, no plan, nothing but a shield— and we have no idea how strong that shield is. Can it really hold up against a windslicer?”

“I don’t know,” Audra admits. “I don’t even know if a Westerly would be willing to shield Gus, since he doesn’t speak their language—and none of the other winds have a command that works like that. I think it’s a Westerly thing. They’re defensive winds, not offensive.”

Three freaky-looking balls of dark, cloudy winds stick to our shield, and I pull Audra to the ground as they explode like grenades.

The poor Westerly screams as it suffers through the blow, but it still manages to keep its hold around us. It’s the most stubborn, loyal wind I’ve ever seen. Probably why it likes Audra so much.

“Maybe we should fly then,” I say as Audra whispers soft words to encourage our faithful shield. “We could unravel the spikes and use the winds get us out the hell out of here.”

“Do you really think we’ll be able to outrun Raiden’s entire army with a handful of tired drafts?”

“If we used the power of four.”

She shakes her head. “There’s a trick they can use that would hold us suspended in the sky—even with all four winds. I’m not sure how it works, but I’ve been trapped by it, and it left me spinning helplessly for hours. We need something too fast for them to interfere with, like a pipeline. But those require a very specific set of winds.”

And they suck.

It’s like voluntarily stepping into a tornado and letting it blast you somewhere at warp speed. But it’s probably our best bet.

“We’ll need a distraction,” I decide. “Something that’ll keep Raiden busy so we can get far enough away to find the winds to make a pipeline. Any ideas?”

Another round of freaky wind grenades attach to our shield, and Audra shouts at the poor Westerly to stay strong as they explode.

I’ve never heard a draft screech the way our shield does, like it’s actually in physical pain. But still, it holds on.

“How many winds are in these wind spikes?” Audra asks, pointing to the two I made.

“Only one of each.”

A giant boulder slams into our shield, but somehow the amazing Westerly rebounds it away. It crashes harmlessly next to us in a giant cloud of dust.

Audra sits up straighter. “What about a haboob?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“A haboob. It’s a massive dust storm that swallows everything in its path.”

“Okay, I’m trying to think how that would work, but all I’m hearing is ‘boob.’”

She glares at me as another wave of wind spikes smashes against us so hard I see our poor shield ripple. They must be almost on top of us, and I have a horrible feeling that when they get here they’ll be able to reach right through our little dome of air, just like I can. Assuming the Westerly can even hold out until then.

“A haboob would work,” Audra insists.

“Okay, you’re going to have to stop calling it that.”

She ignores me. “My father used to make them all the time. They’re one of the best ways to cause mass confusion—which is what we need right now. My father always used Easterlies, but I bet we could do it with Westerlies.”

“Okay, putting aside the haboob jokes—which I will be saving for later, by the way—how many drafts did your dad use for something like that?”

“Hundreds,” she admits.

Another explosion of wind spikes rocks us, and we both whisper soothing words to calm the terrified shield.

“The three Westerlies we have might be enough, though,”Audra says quietly. “Two in the spikes, plus the one wrapped over us. We need only a few minutes so we can get to higher ground and find the winds to blast out of here.”

“Right, but in the meantime we’d have no weapons, no shield, no nothing.”

“I don’t see another option—do you?”

No.

But . . . “I’ve been training with the Westerlies, and it’s very tricky to make them do anything violent. They’re about peace and calm and shelter.”

“I know, I’ve found the same thing. But haboobs are just a frenzy of force and dust. We’re not hurting anyone. We’re simply creating enough chaos to distract Raiden so he lets his guard down and a few healthy winds can seep in.”

Another whammy of wind spikes attacks, and this time dust and rocks sprinkle through small gaps forming in our shield. The Westerly’s not going to hold on much longer.

“So what do you want to do?” Audra asks me.

I can’t make this decision.

If something goes wrong and Gus or Audra gets taken . . .

I take her hands, clearing my throat so I can force my next words out. “Listen. Raiden’s not going to kill me. I could make a deal with him—”