And Vane’s still not back. . . .
“I’ve simplified our strategy for a reason,” Os says, “Let’s not forget that no one here knows Raiden better than me. And I know that his greatest weakness is vanity. He’s coming here to prove to his worthless minions that he is no lesser of a leader because of yesterday’s incident. His focus will be on creating a spectacle, and therein lies his folly. The more showy and complicated the attack, the more it disregards basic battle principles. We can already see his vanity run amok by the fact that he’s coming from the west— wasting the energy of his forces on unnecessary journeying just for his theatrics. So the best way to take advantage of that kind of thinking is to respond with the very principles he’ll be disregarding. If we come at him straight on and tackle each enemy systematically, we’ll wipe out half his force before he even notices what we’re doing.”
I hate to admit that his reasoning makes sense. Though Os is forgetting something key.
“Don’t forget that Raiden might be watching. He held back in Death Valley, waiting to see what we’d do, and changed his commands accordingly.”
“And it worked so well for him, didn’t it?” Os counters. “All three of you got away, and humiliated him in the process. If I know Raiden, and believe me, I do”—he points to his scar—“he’ll come at us full force this time, hitting us with everything he has, as many ways as he can, right from the start. He’ll be hoping for a quick, decisive victory. Which is why I designed our strategy this way. We need to save our energy, stick with something simple that we know will keep most of us alive so we can hold out long enough to institute the second part of our plan. The part where we use our secret weapon.”
He pulls Solana closer, and I can’t tell who’s more surprised, her or me. Her skin turns paler than her dress.
“Raiden will be here,” Os explains. “And his primary strategy is always to deprive us of the one thing we need to fight back. He ruins the wind to leave us defenseless, and we’re going to let him believe that he’s succeeded. We’ll use our spikes to take out as much of his force as we can, but at the opportune moment, I’m going to surrender. Let him taste his victory so he’ll swoop in to gloat. And that’s when Solana will release the winds she’s been storing—giving us an entire arsenal we can use to hit Raiden with everything we have.”
The rest of the Gales murmur their agreement—and I’m forced to admit that it’s a much more clever plan than I’d originally thought. But it worries me that it completely neglects the Westerlies. Unless he has orders for Vane and me that he hasn’t explained. Or maybe he just expects us to—
A loud, mournful howl radiates through the valley, followed by another, and another.
Each cry grows louder and more desperate, until my eyes are watering and my jaw is clenched so tightly my teeth start to ache.
“What is that?” Gus shouts, covering his ears.
I do the same, but it barely muffles the next howl, and I feel a tremble ripple through my Westerly shield as it tightens its grip around me.
“It’s the sound the wind makes when it’s ruined,” I tell Gus. “The final cry before the best parts of the draft crumble away.”
“Is it always this loud?” he asks, and I shake my head.
These must be bigger winds somehow, or maybe a combination of drafts, like a cyclone or . . .
I suck in a breath as I grab Gus’s arm. “I think he’s breaking the Living Storms.”
Gus’s eyes widen. “Can he do that?”
“I have no idea.”
But another unearthly howl rages through the valley and I know I’m right. What I don’t know is why.
Why ruin his own creation?
What power is he drawing from their pain?
I turn toward Os, watching him as he struggles to keep the other guardians calm.
His agonized expression tells me he recognizes the sound too—though there’s something besides pain in his eyes. Something that makes me far colder than the icy air whipping around us.
Hunger.
Os is fighting it—his whole body shaking with the effort. But the craving is still there. Boiling below the surface.
I pull Gus close enough to whisper in his ear—though it’s more of a shout with all the noise and chaos. “Keep an eye on Os. This sound is like a drug for him.”
Gus follows my gaze and nods. He presses his lips against my ear to shout back, “We need to find Vane.”
“No you don’t,” Vane says behind me, and when I spin around he’s appeared almost magically.
For about half a second I’m relieved. Then I notice how pale he is.
“What’s wrong?” Gus and I both ask at the same time.
He’s shaking so hard I have to hold him steady.
Vane pulls away, wobbling toward the circle of nervous Gales until he finds Os in the center.