Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(79)

“You can’t leave,” Gus tells me as I call it to my side. “I have to find Vane.”

“No, you have to stay here.” He grabs my arm when I don’t listen.

“Raiden’s here for you, too.”

He’s right.

I know he’s right.

But Vane is alone and unprotected and Raiden is so close and he’s not attacking from the east like we thought and—

“You think Vane can’t see that?” Gus asks, pointing to the wall of thunderheads cresting the mountains. “I’m sure he’s just as worried about you, and if he’s not on his way back by now, he will be any second.”

But Raiden could already be on his way. And if he catches Vane alone—

“Hey, deep breath,” Gus says, shaking my arm until I look at him. “If he’s not here in a few minutes I’ll go after him—but you have to stay here. I’m his guardian now, remember?”

The words feel like thunder—or maybe that’s my pounding heart.

I’m not Vane’s guardian anymore.

I can’t be.

But putting myself ahead of Vane makes me feel every bit the traitor Os accused me of being . . .

The wind I’d called sweeps into the grove, brushing against my cheeks and whispering a song about trust and hope. Tears prick my eyes when I realize it’s my loyal Westerly shield, and as it drapes itself around me—without my even giving the command—I feel my heartbeat steady.

The Westerlies have accepted me as their kin.

I have to start accepting myself.

“You have to keep him safe,” I beg Gus.

“I have to keep both of you safe. So come on, let’s get back to Os and find out how he’s changing his strategy. I can’t believe Raiden’s coming from the west.”

I can’t either, and I can’t decide if he’s doing it for some great poetic irony or if it’s part of some trick we have yet to uncover. Knowing Raiden, it’s probably both. The only thing we can rely on with him is cruelty.

I help Gus gather the wind spikes, and we race through the scraggly palm trees to find the rest of the Gales on the lawn. They stand in a wide circle around Os and Solana, and it’s hard not to panic when I take a quick head count and realize the much-toosmall group is all we’re going to get. Especially when I see how thin and pale they are. Gray streaks pepper their braided hair and creases weather their faces.

Raiden definitely stole our strongest fighters.

“Vane isn’t back?” Os asks when he sees us. His voice is eerily calm, though his lips are pressed into a hard line.

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Gus tells him. “In the meantime, we brought you these.”

He pushes through the circle and hands Os the first wind spike.

Os holds the sharp edge up to the fading sunlight and swipes it a few times before he turns to me. “Any special instructions?”

“Don’t lose it.”

He sighs. “Any helpful instructions?”

“That’s the only instruction that matters. These spikes won’t explode like the ones you’re used to. It’s what makes them so powerful—but it also means you can’t use them the same way. If you throw them or lose your grip, the weapon could fall into the enemy’s hands.”

The Gales start to grumble at the news.

I can make out only snatches of what they’re saying, but I hear the word “pointless” several times—and Os does nothing to quiet them.

“You dare to disrespect this gift?” Gus finally shouts, shaming them all into silence. “You hold the power of four in your hands—a power even Raiden doesn’t possess—and you grumble and complain because you have to protect it?”

“We don’t need more things to protect,” a short, frail-looking guardian shouts back, tossing his spike on the ground.

The others in the group back away as Gus stalks forward, leaning in the rebellious guardian’s face. “The weapon you’ve just cast aside was the only thing that allowed me to defeat the Living Storm I battled. Without it, you might as well surrender to the sky now.”

The rebellious Gale glares at Gus, and for a second I wonder if he’s going to turn and walk away. Instead he bends and recovers his spike from the ground, shoving it through the belt of his uniform, right next to his windslicer.

“That is a smart place to store it,” Gus tells him, turning back to the others. “In fact, the best way to use these spikes is to think of them like a windslicer.”

“You expect us to engage in hand-to-hand combat with these Storm beasts?” an old, tall Gale with a braided beard asks.

“Why not? I did. And I won.” Gus’s voice holds no arrogance. Only assurance. “I understand that things feel bleak—and I wish I could promise that no lives will be lost today—but that is no different from any other battle we’ve faced. And this is our chance. Raiden is coming to us, desperate to prove that he’s the invincible king he claims to be. But he is not invincible. I’ve seen him bleed. I’ve made him bleed. And the weapon that sliced him was one of these.”

He holds up his spike and this time there are cheers.

Halfhearted and fleeting, but still, cheers.

“Guardian Gusty is right,” Os says, like he’s just realized that Gus is doing his job. “The tide is turning, my friends. If we stand strong against it, we could mark this day in our histories as the day this war swung in our favor. Perhaps even the day we end Raiden’s reign forever!”