“There’s something off about this place,” Gus mumbles, his hand gripping his wind spike as he searches the air.
“It feels just like the other Maelstrom,” I tell him.
Sounds the same too.The horrible screeching that bores into my brain like twisted needles.
Though this one was built by the captain of the Gales.
Gus’s eyes scan the valley, but the only signs of life are the vultures. Dozens and dozens of them, lining the rocks, the scrubby plants, even the sand. They watch us with their silent stares as we make our way to the Maelstrom’s entrance.
I’m tempted to shoo them away—they won’t be getting the meal they’ve been waiting for. But I know they won’t leave.They’ll be loyal to her.
“So . . . we have to go down there?” Gus asks as I start down the sloped, dark path surrounded by the spinning funnel of sand
“Unless you want to stay here and cover the entrance,” I offer.
For the briefest second he looks tempted. Then he draws his wind spike, holding it in front of him as he pushes past me to take the lead. “Let’s get this over with.”
I try not to touch the walls—try even harder not to imagine bits of my mother being absorbed by them.
But she’s also in the air.
I cover my mouth, breathing as shallowly as I can. Still, every breath makes me want to gag.
I keep my hand to my heart as we walk, wishing I could feel some small trace of my bond. There’s nothing but a cold emptiness.
It makes me want to turn around and run until I find the sky. But I press forward. One foot in front of the other. Each step dragging me away from the light. Into the wasted darkness.
“Okay, I officially hate it down here,” Gus says after several more minutes of walking. “I mean . . . it’s just wrong. There’s no other way to describe it.”
There isn’t.
Maelstroms feel as awful as they are.
And once again I can’t help thinking that a Gale made this.
I almost speak the thought aloud, but stop myself just in time. So I’m surprised when Gus asks me, “What do you think about Os?”
I choose my answer carefully. Now is not the time to cast doubt on our leader. Battles call for trust and loyalty. “I think he’s desperate to protect our people.”
“Desperate,” Gus repeats. He’s quiet for several steps, before he asks, “Do you believe the Gales can win?”
My fingers rub the skin on my wrist, finding the remnants of Aston’s burn. His haunting warnings still ring in my mind, and I can see now why he was so sure we had no chance. But I have to believe there’s still hope.
“No matter how powerful Raiden gets,” I tell Gus, “the wind will always be stronger. And I can’t believe that the wind will let him keep on destroying it for much longer.”
“You talk about the wind like it’s alive.”
“In some ways it is.”
I think of my loyal Westerly shield, journeying with me into this dark place that no other winds dare to go. It stays because it wants to. The same reason it rallied the other Westerlies and came to our rescue in Death Valley.
Yes, some of the winds may be willing to let Raiden dominate and ruin them. But others will fight. And if we can enlist their help, get them to join our side, nothing can stop us.
Perhaps that’s the secret we’ve all been missing. It’s not about finding the right commands. It’s about finding the right winds.
Which might actually mean my mother can help us—much as I hate to admit it. She understands the wind in ways none of us ever have. If anyone can find the winds we need, it’s her.
A dim light appears ahead and I brace myself for the sight of my mother dangling from a chain, like the victims in Raiden’s prison. But when we finally reach the tunnel’s end, it’s an empty, round cavern with mesh curtains of metal partitioning off two small cells.
Apparently Os’s cruelty has a much finer line.
“Audra?” my mother asks, her voice so weak it’s almost unrecognizable.
“Yes,” I force myself to say, the single word carrying seventeen years of my pain and regrets.
A pale form approaches the mesh of metal, and when I step closer I can see her face—though I barely recognize her.
I should rejoice at her greasy hair and sweaty skin covering her thin features. But it feels like too much of a waste.
All of it, this whole thing.
My beautiful, powerful mother.
Our small, happy family.
Our quiet, dedicated lives.
It’s all been sucked up and torn away. Like my entire existence has been trapped in a Maelstrom of my mother’s making.
Tears sting my eyes as she studies me, but I blink them back. I’ve shed my last tear for this woman.
“You came,” she whispers, pressing her hand against the metal.
I take a step back, even though she can’t reach me.
“Still my same stubborn girl.” She gives me a sad smile and turns to Gus, doing a double take. “You’re not Vane.”
“Are you sure?” Gus feels his face like he can’t believe it.
My mother doesn’t smile. “Where’s Vane?”