“How could you possibly find a path through seventeen fans?” I have to ask.
“Oh, believe me, Raiden made sure I was familiar with the slice of each of the Shredder’s blades. I endured his sessions by isolating the different pains, imagining the angles and edges. And I’m here, aren’t I? What better proof do you need that the guide works?”
I suppose he has a point.
“Anything else we need to know?” I ask.
“Yes, and you’re not going to like it,” Aston says. “Many of the paths can only be accessed by using a verbal command.”
Solana guesses the problem before I do. “The power of pain.”
“Can you handle that?” Aston asks.
She swallows twice before she nods. “A few commands won’t destroy me.”
She says it with confidence, but I notice she glances at Aston for confirmation.
Aston, meanwhile, is now focused on me. “If it does become a problem, there are ways you could help.”
“What does he mean?” Solana asks.
I look anywhere except at her—which is a bad idea because I end up locking eyes with Arella.
The way she’s glaring at me makes it clear she’s guessed what Aston’s referring to.
“Remember why you’re doing this,” she tells me. “And who you’re doing this for.”
I love how she can be worried about Audra’s happiness one second, and selling her out to Raiden the next.
Besides, for all I know, Audra’s thrilled to be free of her bond to me—but I’m trying really hard not to think about that.
Aston clears his throat. “Time to memorize some commands.”
My stomach squirms every time he makes one of the scratchy, snarly sounds—and when Solana repeats them, it’s a billion times worse.
“The passwords might have changed since I left Brezengarde,” Aston warns her. “And if they don’t work—don’t panic. There is a way through the maze without the shortcuts. It’s just infinitely harder.”
“Great. Thanks for the pep talk!” I say.
“It’s always better to be realistic,” Aston argues. “Besides, you’re resourceful, and not without your talents.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“I wasn’t talking to you. You need to let her lead. And if you get in a bind, ask your Westerlies for guidance.”
“So are we ready then?” Solana asks.
“Yes, I suppose it’s time,” Aston agrees. “The section of the tracks you need is that way.”
All I see is darkness and trees.
“We’ll leave first,” Aston says. “Watch for the first signs of fire. I’ll put on a good show, but they’ll lose interest quickly, so I would work hard at finding that tunnel.”
Arella grabs my hand. “Bring her home.”
I get a crazy urge to hug her goodbye, which proves I can’t trust my judgment at the moment.
“Brave faces on,” Aston says. “And every time you start to panic, cling to that pendant.” He points to Audra’s blue cord around my neck. “She’s waiting for you.”
CHAPTER 18
AUDRA
All I smell is smoke.
We’ve been moved back to our lonely cells in the dungeon, so it’s impossible to tell where it’s coming from. But I can’t imagine Raiden leaving us in an inferno—not now that we have his coveted prize.
I still can’t believe we’ve had the fourth breakthrough.
Even thinking the words feels impossible.
But the lyrics of my Westerly shield fill my mind, and I can understand them perfectly.
It sings of change.
Of momentum.
Of new allies banding together.
If only Gus and I weren’t locked away underground and could put our new power to use.
But Raiden cut us off from the sky.
I couldn’t understand the commands he snarled before he left—they were all voiced in the language of pain. But the air is so still, even the dust motes don’t stir. And my breath vanishes as soon as it leaves my mouth.
The stones rumble beneath me, echoes from the battle waging outside.
I press my palms against the floor, glad the explosions feel distant.
Hopefully that means that Vane and my mother are fighting their way to freedom.
“We need to get out of here,” Gus whispers. “I think—”
“SILENCE!” the scarred Stormer shouts, clanging his wind spike against the bars of our cages.
The sharp ring of metal pierces my eardrums, and I send him my coldest glare. He’s been assigned as our guard while Raiden leads his Stormers in the battle, and he’s taking his role quite seriously.
“You should be helping us,” I tell him. “The wind is on our side.”
“And since when does the wind know what’s right for our people?” he counters. “Since when does the wind think? It’s a force.”
“I used to believe the same thing,” I tell him. “But the wind is changing. Maybe it’s fighting against your cruel methods. Or maybe it was always this thoughtful and we were too arrogant to listen. Either way, it’s showing us where our loyalties should be. We belong with the wind and the sky.”