“You guys okay?” Vane asks, taking her from me.
“You can put me down,” she tells him. “My ankle’s sprained, but I don’t think it’s broken.”
She winces as he sets her in the long, scratchy grass, but when she tests her ankle, it holds.
“They’re closing ranks,” Aston says, pointing to the gap Os made, which is narrowing as the other Storms move to cover it. “We’re going to have to move fast.”
“I can handle it,” Solana tells me when I go to carry her again.
She leads the way, and we charge forward, pushing our tired, aching limbs as hard as they can go.
But it’s not fast enough.
The pull of the Storms is too strong, and they drag us toward their merciless funnels.
“Lock arms,” Vane shouts. “The heavier we are, the harder we are to pull.”
Solana grabs him first, and I cling to her, my feet lifting off the ground as the Storm tears closer.
“Pull harder,” Solana shouts, and our group surges forward, step by agonizing step until my feet drop back to the ground and I regain traction.
“Toss me your wind spike,” Aston shouts, and Vane untangles his arm to throw it.
Aston lets go to catch it, and without his weight, we’re sucked back toward the Storm.
“Hang on,” Aston says, clinging to a tree with one hand and aiming the wind spike with the other.
The weapon is sickly with pain now, and he hurls it straight through the Storm’s chest.
Sallow steam leaks from the unraveling funnel, and the Storm unleashes a bellowing howl.
“That’s our cue,” Aston shouts, grabbing Vane’s arm.
“Not without this,” Vane says, commanding the wind spike to “come.”
I wasn’t sure if it would obey, but it snaps to his hand as Aston drags him away.
The air tries to pull Solana and me back, but we synchronize our steps and push through, collapsing as we cross the boundary of the circle.
“Over here,” Aston orders, and we crawl to where they’ve taken shelter behind a cluster of boulders.
None of the Storms break rank to follow us.
“Just like I thought,” Aston says. “Raiden ordered them to focus on the battle. We can rest here for a second before we move on.”
Vane crawls closer to me, taking my arms and searching for blood.
“I’m okay,” I promise. “Nothing major.”
He looks safe as well. A few cuts and scrapes on his face, but nothing deep enough to scar.
“How’s your ankle?” I ask Solana.
She circles her foot a few times. “I won’t slow you down.”
“I’m not worried,” I tell her. I’m fairly certain I owe her my life. “How did you hear that first wind spike? I never would’ve seen it if you hadn’t grabbed me.”
She curls her arms around herself. “My senses are stronger now that I’m carrying ruined drafts.”
I try not to shudder, but the thought of being filled with tainted winds . . .
“Yeah, I know it’s creepy,” she mumbles.
“I don’t think creepy’s the right word,” I tell her. “More like . . . uncomfortable.”
“So you aren’t disgusted by the power of pain anymore?” Aston asks.
I’m stunned to realize I’m not. “The way she’s using it doesn’t seem to bother the sky. Why should I feel any different?”
“Yes, but you realize she wouldn’t be able to use it her way if others weren’t abusing the power?” Aston reminds me.
“So she’s managed to make the most of a difficult situation,” Vane says, but his voice sounds distracted.
I follow his gaze and see him staring at a grayish building stationed near the base of the pointed rock.
“I count twelve cars in the parking lot,” he mumbles. “So I’m guessing that means there’s about fifty people in there.”
“I think you’re overestimating,” Aston tells him. “The structure feels mostly empty to me.”
“Mostly empty isn’t the same as empty,” Vane reminds him.
“It’s not,” Aston agrees. “Welcome to a moment when you’ll have to settle for ‘good enough.’ Shades of gray. Necessary evils. Much like what we’re letting happen over there.”
He points to the battle we’ve just escaped, and from our higher vantage point things look far bleaker. The Gales are fighting the Stormers with windslicers, so there must still not be any useable winds. And for every Stormer fighting, there are two more watching from the sidelines, ready to swoop in as reinforcements if the others fall or tire.
“Where’s my mother?” I ask, realizing I haven’t seen her.
“She said she’d find higher ground and send reports on what’s happening. I doubt she’ll be much help, since you already made her mostly useless with that dramatic shoulder injury.”
“Higher ground,” I repeat, checking the field again. “We’re at the highest point right now, aren’t we? Other than the rock face where Raiden’s waiting? And she’s not here, is she?”