Aston licks his finger and waves it back and forth, then curses under his breath. “Raiden’s definitely gunning for you, Loverboy. He brought in the northern squalls. We’ll have to limit flying to emergencies only, and Brezengarde will be at maximum power.”
“The fortress draws strength from the wind,” Solana explains when she sees my confusion. “There are windmills on every wall, and a system of tunnels to channel the wind to the heart of the fortress, where a central turbine powers all of Raiden’s defenses.”
“And his offenses,” Aston adds. “Raiden isn’t the type to sit back and wait for his fortress to be stormed. He likes to blast you to pieces long before you ever get there. And the squalls triple the range of his blasters—and quadruple the force of the Shredder.”
“The ground isn’t safe either,” Arella warns, waving her hands to fan away the cloud of her breath. “I can feel patrols all over the mountain.”
“Okay, so . . . how do we get around all of that?” I’m done hearing about problems. Let’s get cracking on the answers.
Aston turns to Solana. “It might help if we knew where we’re going. Care to tell us where we can find this mythical tunnel?”
“It’s not mythical,” Solana argues. “But . . .”
I feel a nightmare coming on.
Solana fiddles with her link. “I don’t know exactly where it is—but I remember seeing train tracks near the exit my dad used in his memories. And some sort of structure.”
“Train tracks?” I repeat. “On a mountain?”
“There’s a train that takes people to the summit observatory.”
She says it like that’s good news, but uh . . . “There are people on this mountain?”
“Normally, yeah—especially at this time of year,” Solana says. “But the squalls should be keeping them away.”
I hope she’s right.
There was enough collateral damage during my last battle with Raiden’s army.
“Why would your family build their fortress so close to humans?” I ask. “And why hasn’t someone noticed it and been like, dude—what’s that?”
“It’s tucked away quite brilliantly,” Solana tells me. “And the winds help disguise it.”
“You know, for a sylph raised by groundlings, you don’t seem to know much about either race,” Aston points out.
“Oh, please, like anyone normal knows about . . . um . . . what mountain is this?”
Okay, so maybe I’m an idiot. . . .
“Mount Washington,” Solana tells me. “One of the windiest places in the world. Also the highest peak in the northeast part of this continent.”
“Well, look who’s a walking geography book,” I grumble.
“No—I just took the time to learn about my home,” Solana snaps back. “Though I guess it’ll be your home when all of this is over. You and your wife.”
Oh good, so we’re going there.
It gets even better when Arella says, “Audra will make a better queen.”
“Okay, no one is getting crowned right now,” I jump in. “Can we get through this alive and then worry about who gets to keep the castle?”
The sad truth is—assuming we find a way to defeat Raiden—if I don’t marry Solana, I’ll basically be usurping her family’s throne. It doesn’t matter who I love—or who loves me—or that I don’t even want to be King Windwalker. It’s all about the Gales’ plans for rebuilding their world.
“Entertaining as it is to watch this little drama,” Aston interrupts, “we’re standing in the middle of enemy territory and clinging to the ever-unraveling hope of somehow eluding them. So perhaps we should stay a moving target?”
“Right,” Solana mumbles. “Sorry.”
“Me too,” I tell her. “So . . . anyone know where the train tracks are?”
“I know how to find them.” Aston pats the icy trunk of the nearest tree. “Get climbing, Loverboy.”
“Great idea! Except, y’know, one of my arms isn’t working right now,” I remind him. “So how about you shimmy on up there?”
“I’ll do it,” Solana says, jumping to grab the lowest branch.
She misses by at least six inches.
“Honestly, if I’d realized I’d be working with idiots,” Arella snaps, “I would’ve made this a solo rescue.”
“Uh, we wouldn’t need a rescue if—”
“Yes, I know,” Arella says, cutting me off.
She cups her hands around her mouth and makes a warbling screech, and a small gray owl dives from a hole in one of the trees and lands on her wrist.
It’s too cute to scare me—though it’s super freaky the way it can spin its head around. Arella scratches its speckled feathers and makes a few more warbles until the owl blinks its huge yellow eyes and flaps toward the sky.
“The best way to get a bird’s-eye view,” Arella tells us, “is to ask a bird.”
Sure enough, when the owl returns, it tells her we need to head northeast.
“Most of the tracks are under the snow,” Arella says, “but it said there are several structures halfway to the summit.”
“Oh good—time for some mountain climbing,” Aston says, heavy on the sarcasm.