“I called the Westerlies from the mountains,” he says, his voice hollow. Weak. “I wanted to hear their songs, see if they could tell me what we were up against.”
“And?” Os prompts when he doesn’t finish.
Vane turns away, staring at the ever-darkening sky. “They said the Storms are too strong this time. There’s nothing we can do to stop them.”
CHAPTER 37
VANE
I
nnocent people are going to die because of me.
If I’d moved to some base in the middle of nowhere, maybe I could’ve kept everyone safe. But I wanted to stay with my family. I wanted to act like my life hadn’t changed just because I found out I was a sylph.
And now everyone in this valley is going to pay the price.
The desert grows dim as the clouds finally block the sun, making everything as dark and cold and bleak as I feel.
Raiden’s going to win.
“Did the Westerlies say anything else?” Audra asks, shaking my arm and forcing me to stay focused.
“They sang about monsters and a rage that tainted the sky. I begged them to tell me what to do, and that’s when their song turned hopeless. It was like that moment in Death Valley when I asked the shield to cover us as we ran. I could feel that the drafts wanted to help. But they just kept repeating ‘too strong’ and whispering about giants that can’t be defeated. There’s nothing they can do.”
“But it isn’t just up to the Westerlies,” Gus says after a few seconds of silence. “I thought ultimate power came from the power of four.”
He holds out his wind spike like it somehow proves everything. But he doesn’t understand how it works.
“Every time I’ve used the power of four, it was always because the Westerlies told me what to do, how to weave them with the other drafts to create the effect I need. And this time they’re telling me they can’t help.”
“So where does that leave us?” Gus asks, turning to Os.
“I could turn myself in,” I offer, but even as I say it I know it wouldn’t matter. Raiden doesn’t want a quiet surrender. He wants to make us an example.
Os rolls his eyes. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to remember your training and get ready to fight for your life. We’ll take care of the Storms.”
“But—”
“Did you honestly think we were counting on you to save us? Perhaps that had been our hope a few weeks ago. But then we saw how seriously inadequate your fighting is—not to mention your crippling aversion to violence. Why do you think we’ve all pushed so hard to have you share your knowledge? We knew it was useless in your unskilled hands. So I built today’s strategy without any consideration at all for your gifts.”
“Is that true?” I ask, glancing between Gus and Audra.
Audra thinks before she nods. “His battle plan doesn’t rely on Westerlies. That surprised me, actually. But it seems like that was the right call.”
“Of course it was the right call! You forget that I’ve been fighting Raiden longer than you’ve been alive. We all have.” Os points to the group of Gales, most of whom have gray in their hair.
And they’re not looking at me with that desperate you are our only hope look I got so used to seeing. If anything they look . . . unimpressed.
I know I should probably be insulted, but it actually feels like: giant, suffocating weight on my shoulders—gone!
“Don’t misunderstand, I still have high hopes for the power of four,” Os adds when the next horrible howl fades. “And I still hope that you will grow to be a great king, despite everything.” He glances at Audra and shakes his head. “But for now I won’t put the fate of our world in the hands of a stubborn teenager.”
I’m so relieved I could kiss him.
Well . . . maybe I would fist bump him instead.
“So what’s the plan then?” I ask, picking up a wind spike and feeling ready for anything.
Os grumbles about my missing his first run-through before he repeats their strategy. It sounds like a smart plan—though the only stuff I know about battles comes from the few times Isaac made me play one of his gory war games. The only question I have is “How do we keep the Storms out of the valley?”
Os doesn’t answer. And none of the Gales will look at me. The taste in my mouth turns sour.
“You’re not going to keep them out of the valley, are you?”
“Sometimes we can’t protect everyone,” Os says quietly. “And I fear today will be one of those days.”
“That’s not good enough!”
“Excuse me?” Os asks, stepping into my personal space. “You dare to criticize me for something you’ve already admitted you can’t accomplish?”
“I never said I wasn’t still going to try.”
“And I never said that either.”
“You didn’t have to. Your plan is for us to move to our base and wait for the Storms to come to us. I get that you want the home court advantage, but we all know they’re going to destroy the whole valley before they get there.”
“And what would you have us do, charge blindly toward the mountains?”