“Now what?” Gus shouts.
“We need to make it notice us.”
“I think it already does!” Audra screams, right before the air fills with an earsplitting shriek.
“Dive!” I yell as Gus shouts, “What is that thing?” and a loud crack explodes in the air above us.
The force of the blast knocks me off balance, and Audra barely pulls us out of a free fall.
Another explosion sends a shock wave rippling behind us.
Gus races to our side. “Oh, good, Raiden gave them weapons.”
“Wind whips,” I grumble. Because evil, mutated Storms weren’t bad enough.
“Look out!” Gus shouts as the whip cracks again—and then again—each hit coming so close that we almost miss the more important development.
The Storms have started to chase us.
“Faster!” Audra tells Gus, calling more winds to fuel our weary drafts as we race toward the empty desert in the distance.
“Wait—is that Gavin?” I ask, pointing to a dark shape weaving through the sky.
Audra leans forward, squinting at the horizon. “No. The bird is too big—and its feathers are black.”
“But it’s coming straight for us.”
“Can you take over windwalking for a minute?” she asks, already changing positions.
“Uh, not if you’re calling over a giant bird.”
“Really? You’re still afraid of them?”
“You and Gavin scarred me for life.”
“Well, it’s time to conquer your fears.”
The bird swoops closer, circling above us before it dives.
I can hear Gus laugh as I yelp, but I’d like to see him hold steady while some huge bird lands on his shoulder midflight. And bonus: It’s a vulture, so not only is it huge and heavy with razor sharptalons; it smells like dead stuff.
Audra wraps her legs tighter around me and reaches up to check the feathers on its stinky black wings.
And then checks them again.
And again.
“It’s a message from your mother, isn’t it?” I ask, feeling a bit of déjà vu from the last time something like this happened—though that had at least been a small white dove.
Audra nods, her body shaking so hard I feel like I’m going to lose my grip on her.
“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.