“Six!”
“God, Gus—I don’t even . . . ,” I say as Gus’s eyes get cloudy and he starts to sway. “I’m so sorry—and I feel like a jerk for saying this, but . . . you have to hold it together right now. We’re in a serious mess here.”
I pick up his wind spike and he jumps back like it has the plague.
“Please, Gus. If we don’t do something, Raiden’s going to get exactly what he wants.”
“I’ll give him what he wants,” Gus screams, snatching Audra’s spike from her hands.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when he turns around and launches it straight for Raiden’s heart—but I am.
And so is Raiden.
He shouts a garbled command and some of his ruined winds slam against the spike. But it slices through them like butter, and the Stormer next to Raiden has to yank him out of the way—and the spike still tears a thick gash in Raiden’s arm before it embeds in the mountain’s face.
Everyone freezes.
Raiden glares at the red seeping onto his pristine sleeve, and I’m guessing it’s been a while since someone actually got one up on him. The Stormers seem shocked too, watching their leader with wide eyes and open mouths, like they can’t believe he actually bleeds.
“Okay, time to go!” I yell as Raiden orders his Stormers to attack.
The broken winds rage to life, making the air feel thick as they claw and tear at our skin. We shove our way through, trying to zig and zag to make ourselves harder targets as dozens of wind spikes explode around us.
Now would be a really awesome time to form a pipeline and blast ourselves out of here—but there are no usable drafts to call.
“Over there,” Audra shouts, pointing to a huge boulder that will give us at least some cover.
She barely makes it another step before a wind spike slams into her shoulder, knocking her to the ground.
I hear myself scream, and tears blur my eyes, but Audra stumbles to her feet and runs to the shadow of the boulder. Gus and I follow and I drop to my knees, pulling her close and checking her for injuries.
She doesn’t have a mark on her.
“How is that possible?” I ask, running my hands over her perfect skin. Warm sparks make my hands tingle, but I can also feel a soft breeze.
“It’s a Westerly,” Audra explains. “It’s wrapped around me like a—”
The rest of her words are smothered by an explosion.
A batch of wind spikes hammers our shelter and the boulder cracks down the center as rocks and dust shower around us.
“We need a shield,” Audra shouts before she whispers the same plea in Westerly.
I watch in wonder as the draft around her stretches into the air above us, spreading thinner and blanketing us in a silky dome of cool wind. I’ve never seen anything like it.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Audra already knows more about my language than I do—she’s sort of the queen of I Am Better than Everyone Else at Everything. But it’s strange to see how naturally the Westerly responds, not caring at all that it’s being ordered around by an Easterly.
I push against the thin wall of air and my hand slips right through. “Uh, is this going to be strong enough?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” she says, as a wind spike crashes into a nearby boulder, pulverizing it into itty-bitty pieces. “But it’s kept me safe so far.”
“Thank God,” I whisper, brushing my hand over her perfect shoulder again.
She reaches up and wipes my forehead.
“I’m fine,” I tell her as we both stare at the blood on her fingers.
She nods. Then she pulls me closer and kisses me—so quickly it’s over before I can even process it. But I can still feel her heat in my lips.
“What was that for?”
“I’ve lost you twice in the last few days. I don’t want any more regrets.”
Well, I’m definitely a fan of that kind of thinking. But . . . “Wait—twice? When was the other time?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Right now we have bigger things to worry about.”
We both glance at Gus.
He looks sweaty and pale and is clearly in the middle of some sort of meltdown—not that I blame him.
I grab his arm and shake him as another spike pummels our hiding place. “Stay with us, okay?”
He nods, but it’s a weak nod, and I can tell by the way he closes his eyes that we’ll be lucky if he can manage to run on his own.
“There has to be a way out of this,” I tell Audra. “I mean, we have the power of four. Aren’t we supposed to be unstoppable?”
“Raiden plays by different rules.”
The rock we’re hiding behind explodes, but the shards and pebbles bounce off our shield. I try to tell myself that means it’ll protect us, but when I spot two wind spikes headed straight for us, I can’t help pulling Audra behind me to shield her myself.
We both duck and cover as the spikes hit their mark, and the ground vibrates from a shock wave that makes my ears ring. But when I lift my head, the Westerly is still covering us, creating a pocket of clear air in the thick wall of dust.
“A most impressive trick,” Raiden shouts from somewhere across the basin. It’s impossible to see through the chaos, but it sounds like he’s getting closer. “You’ll have to teach it to me when you’re ready to surrender.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to be doing that,” I shout back—though I’m very aware that our safe little bubble leaves us very much trapped and outnumbered. “Any chance this thing is portable?” I ask Audra.
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 to 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 to get us 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?”