Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(84)

“What did she say?” I ask, wondering how Arella managed to reach the vulture from her cage.

Audra sighs, staring at the sky. “She wants us to come get her. She says she can help us win.”





CHAPTER 38


AUDRA

I t’s a trick.

It has to be.

Everything with my mother always is.

I shoo the vulture off Vane’s shoulder and it hisses at me as it flies away. But it stays circling above us, despite the ravaged winds trying to knock it out of the sky.

My mother probably commanded the poor creature not to leave until it brought me back to her. But I have innocent people to protect.

“What are you doing?” I ask as Vane changes our course.

“Heading to the Maelstrom.”

“Don’t tell me you believe her,” I say, changing our course again.

“Look, I know your mother is hard to trust—and I know this feels a bit shady. But we’re kinda outnumbered here and your mom is crazy talented. If she says she can help us, I think we should let her.”

“How can you—”

I’m so distracted that I don’t see the Storm’s whip until it’s too late.

The stinging cord of air hits us dead-on, cracking so loud my ears ring as the winds carrying us unravel.

I cling to Vane, searching for a draft to stop our fall. But the Living Storm snatches us first, yanking us apart with cold, monstrous hands as it holds us in front of its face like it wants to examine its new toys.

“Hang on,” Gus shouts, tossing his wind spike at the Storm’s head.

I brace for an explosion of fog and chaos—but the spike bounces off without leaving a scratch.

The Storm’s fist tightens around me, squeezing so hard I’m sure it cracks one of my ribs. But I’m better off than Vane. I can hear him coughing and gasping for air as one of the massive fingers wraps around his neck.

Gus’s spike slams into the Storm again, aimed for the chest this time.

Again, it rebounds.

“Stay with me,” I scream as Vane’s desperate choking makes red rim my vision. But his eyes roll back and his body stops struggling.

“Help!” I beg my Westerly shield, forcing myself to calm down and concentrate when the loyal draft’s song fills my mind.

It’s hard to hear over the cracking whips and the raging winds, but I manage to catch a single word that stands out from the rest. “Inflate!”

Both of our shields swell to three times their size, shoving open the Storm’s fists and sending us crashing to the ground.

I scream for a draft to catch us, but none of them respond—and I can see Gus racing toward me, but I know we’re falling too fast. All I can do is brace for impact and hope our shields keep us safe.

The ground comes up quick and hard and I wrench my neck as I tumble across the sand. But I’m bruised not broken as I jump to my feet.

Vane wasn’t as lucky.

The elbow on his left arm is bent at an angle that makes me wince just looking at it, and I stumble to his side, screaming for him to wake up.

“Come on,” Gus shouts, landing beside me and pointing to three Living Storms tearing toward us.

He tells me to wrap my arms around his waist as he throws Vane over his shoulder and blasts us back into the sky only seconds before the first whip cracks.

“What’s happening?” he shouts. “Why aren’t the spikes working?”

“It must be because Raiden broke the Living Storms.”

“That’s stronger than the power of four?”

“I don’t know. I think it might be.”

Aston did warn me about the power of pain.

I reach for Vane, hating that he’s still unconscious. But when my hand brushes his cheek, his eyes snap open and he coughs so hard Gus nearly drops him.

The coughs turn into a groan as Vane tries to move. “Careful,” Gus tells him. “You jacked up your arm pretty good.”

I take a closer look at Vane’s elbow, and bile rises in my throat. It’s swollen and twisted and obviously out of joint.

“We’re going to have to adjust it,” I tell Gus as he dips to avoid the crack of another whip. “He’ll be in too much pain to fight, otherwise.”

“Duck!” Vane shouts as a monstrous fist lunges for us and Gus barely slips us out of its clutches.

I shift my weight so I can let go of Gus with one hand, feeling the air for any usable winds. “We need to make a pipeline. It’ll launch us far enough away to treat him without wasting any time.”

“And we just abandon the Gales in the meantime?” Gus asks.

“What else can we do?”

“I’m fine,” Vane jumps in, but as soon as he tries to move his arm he can’t fight back his groan.

“We need to at least warn them about the broken Storms,” Gus decides as we dive so close to the ground I’m amazed we don’t crash. “Can you send them a message?”

“If I can find a draft.”

I stretch my concentration as far as I can and manage to reach a healthy Southerly. It takes three tries to get it to answer my call, and when it finally sweeps in, its song is so scattered I can tell it will only be able to hold a few words.

“Don’t trust the spikes,” I tell it, hoping the Gales have a backup plan. Then I send the wind away and search for drafts to build the pipeline.