Let the Sky Fall (11 page)

She turns to hold my stare. “Any who oppose his rule are annihilated. The remaining Gales fled underground, organizing their resistance away from Raiden’s ever-watching winds, trying to build a force strong enough to defeat him. But they need the same thing he does. Raiden’s still determined to master the Westerly tongue, to complete his power and dominance. To ensure that no one will ever rise against him. Can you see where this is going?”

I can—but it all sounds so absurd. Since when does one person have the ability to rip apart an entire society like that?

“Why not screw the whole secrecy thing and turn to humans for help?” I ask. “Have the president call in an air strike and blast the crap out of Raiden and his Stormers? Problem solved.”

“Do you honestly think human weapons are stronger than the full force of the wind? Have you seen a hurricane in action?”

I suppose she might be right—but it’s still hard to believe. “That doesn’t explain why my family mattered so much. I mean, so what if we’re Westerlies? What makes us more important than the others . . . ?”

My voice trails off as Audra shakes her head.

“Raiden’s spent the last few decades tracking the Westerlies down one by one. If they refused to teach their language, he ended them, hoping to scare the others into submission. But it turns out your kind are surprisingly brave. None were willing to compromise, and none would share their language—even with the Gales. They didn’t want the knowledge to fall into the wrong hands, and didn’t trust anyone to protect it besides themselves. They’d rather let the language die than have it be used for destruction. On it went, until, as far as everyone knew, your parents were the last living Westerly family.”

I can’t think of anything to say to that. Audra keeps going anyway.

“Protecting your family became the Gale Force’s highest priority, so they assigned my parents—their top guardians—to watch them full-time. But a Stormer found them, and somewhere in the struggle to capture them they were accidentally killed. Leaving only you. The last Westerly. And up until four years ago Raiden didn’t even know
you were alive. Now that he knows, he’s been tearing the world apart to find you, and you can bet if he gets his hands on you, he’ll show no mercy. Sure, he’ll be careful to keep you alive. But you’re the only thing standing between him and ultimate power. The only chance he has at satisfying his obsession. Do you think he’ll take no for an answer when he demands that you teach him?”

“But . . . I don’t know any secret language of the west wind. I didn’t even know there was a west wind until a few minutes ago—I thought there was just
wind
.”

Seriously, there’s no way I belong to any part of that crazy story. It has to be ripped out of some cheesy fantasy movie with a bunch of scrawny actors running around in tights, shooting arrows at each other because of some evil man trying to rule the world. That stuff doesn’t happen in real life—and it certainly doesn’t happen to me.

I’m just an average guy.

Well, okay, fine—apparently I’m a sylph, so I’m not exactly average—but still. I’m not some ultra-powerful answer to all their problems either. I’m not Superman. I don’t even like that comic.

“You’re right,” Audra says as my mind fills with horrifying images of me in tights and a stupid cape being asked to save the world like it’s no big deal. “You don’t know the Westerly tongue. Your parents chose not to teach you, thinking it would keep you safe from Raiden. But you are a Westerly. So we’re hoping the language is instinctive.”

“Hoping?”
I need to move, to think this through on my feet. I stand and pace. “You’re
hoping
I’ll speak the language that gets everyone killed?”

“We’re hoping you’ll be the first to master the four languages. Then you’ll be powerful enough to defeat Raiden.”

I laugh, too loud and too hard, feeling the threads of my sanity stretching dangerously thin. “Oh, good, because I was afraid you were going to put pressure on me.”

It’s all too much. I can’t breathe. The choking heat beating down is nothing compared to this heavy, crushing weight Audra just dumped on me.

“Vane,” Audra says, standing and blocking me as I try to walk away.

I’m not sure where I’m going—I just have to get out of here, and I’m not above shoving her out of my way if I have to. “I can’t do this, Audra. I’m not a warrior and I can’t . . .”

I freeze when she grabs my shoulders. “I know what it’s like to have huge responsibility dropped on your back and to feel like you can’t bear it. But you have to remember, Raiden murdered your family.”

There’s that word again.
Murdered
. It shakes everything inside me, making it twist and thrash with hate.

“
You
have the power to stop him,” she says. “That’s why my father gave his life to save you. You had to live.”

She looks at me then, like she thinks I’m some sort of savior—or miracle.

The Miracle Child.

Apparently, that stupid newspaper article wasn’t that far off. Didn’t see that one coming.

“Wait—Raiden didn’t know I was alive until a few years ago, right?” Hope calms the shaky, dizzy feeling. “They ran an article
about me surviving the tornado. It was just in the local paper in a Podunk town, but Raiden would’ve seen that, wouldn’t he? So he must’ve investigated me already and realized I’m not anyone special.”

That sounds
much
more likely than me being some sort of hero.

“Raiden had no reason to investigate. Not once the echoes reached him.” She looks at the sky. “When we pass on, the winds carry an echo of who we used to be—for a time, at least. My mother knew we’d need to hide from Raiden, so she made echoes for you, me, and her, and sent them along with the ones for your parents, my father, and the Stormer. Raiden had no reason to doubt the wind’s report. The wind doesn’t lie.”

“If the wind doesn’t lie, how did your mom pull that one off?”

“She used our losses. When someone you love dies, part of you dies with them. It’s why you’re never the same after losing someone. And the winds that touch you carry the loss with them. It’s not exactly like an echo, but she tweaked them somehow, bent them and changed them with her gift until they were close enough to convince Raiden of our demise.”

Just when I think my weirdness meter is maxed out, she finds a way to push me further.

“My mother commanded the shifted losses to flow to Raiden’s city, and not long after, the Gales heard reports that Raiden had declared us dead. A mistake on his part, sure—but we’re fortunate he made it. We might not have been able to hide you this long, otherwise.”

“Lucky me,” I grumble, hating her for convincing me again that I’m Vane Weston: Most Wanted Boy Alive.

“You
are
lucky.”

“Ugh—I’m so sick of people telling me that.”

“You have the potential to stop Raiden, Vane. Make him pay for what he’s done. I would kill for that kind of opportunity. You have no idea.”

I know I should be hungry for revenge—and I am. But the thought of
me
attacking Raiden makes the world spin and my spit taste sour. “How? How am I supposed to be strong enough to take him down? I don’t even know the slightest thing about any of this crap—”

“That’s what you have me for.” Her grip tightens on my shoulders. “I’m here to teach you everything you need to know. That’s my job.”

“Oh, good. I’m a
job
.”

I try to twist away, but she locks her arms and pulls me back. “It’s not just a job. It’s—I . . .” She stops, like she can’t find the words she needs.

I meet her gaze then, and the look I find makes me suck in a breath.

She cares
.

About this job-mission-whatever-it’s-called—yes.

But beyond that—and beneath the uniform and the tight braid and the cold, hard exterior that makes her slam me into walls and wave swords in my face and seem ready to strangle me half the time—I can see the deeper truth.

She cares about me.

And that’s enough to make me put aside my fears, my worries about what they expect from me, my anger at my memories being
stolen. Enough to make whatever sacrifices it takes to train for the battle that lies ahead worth it.

I probably don’t have a choice anyway, but that doesn’t matter.

She cares.

I’ll do this for her. And for the family we’ve both lost.

“I guess we need to train, then,” I say, stepping back into the charred room and peeling off my shirt—already soaked in sweat from the morning sun. I toss it in the corner and turn to face her. “Let’s get started.”

CHAPTER 14

AUDRA

I
have no idea what convinced Vane to put his anger and fear and bratty, sarcastic attitude behind him, but I’m not complaining. When he stepped back into my shelter and stripped off his shirt, he became a completely different guy. Like the Vane I know was kidnapped and replaced with a serious, hardworking fighter—with incredible abs.

Not that I notice.

I try not to, at least.

It isn’t easy. Westerlies were known for being the most physically beautiful of our kind. Maybe it’s the warm, peaceful winds that nurtured them. Or something in their genes. Whatever it is, Vane’s
definitely
a Westerly. Nothing but sculpted, tanned muscle and long, graceful limbs. Not to mention a face with chiseled,
symmetrical features and the most stunning blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

Solana’s a lucky girl.

He’s remarkable. In more than just looks.

Before the sky is bright blue with daylight, Vane masters our prime call and bends his first draft around the room. And by the time the day’s heat weighs on our shoulders like a thick, suffocating blanket, he’s learned to feel drafts over fifty miles away. Still a long way to go—when he tried to wrap the draft around his body, he didn’t hear the wind rebel and knocked himself flat on his back—but considering he had his first breakthrough yesterday, he’s amazing.

Well, until Gavin returns from his morning hunt. Then Vane’s a blur of flailing arms, shouted curses, and high-pitched screams as Gavin swoops and flaps around his head.

“What are you doing?” I shout over the commotion.

“That crazy bird is trying to kill me.” Vane grabs one of the palm fronds from my makeshift bed and runs through the room, scattering dust and broken bits of leaf as he waves the branch in wild, erratic patterns.

I race to his side and grab his wrist, freezing his arm midswipe. “Stop it, both of you. Gavin, quit dive-bombing Vane. And you!” I yank the branch from his hand.

Only then do I realize I’m practically pressed against his chest.

His
bare
chest.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe.

I drop his wrist and step back, letting the space between us calm
my racing pulse. I toss the branch back into the pile and clear my throat. “Can you please refrain from injuring my pet?”

Gavin screeches. He doesn’t like when I call him that.

“And put your shirt back on before he scratches you,” I add, grateful for an excuse to get Vane clothed again.

He covers his head as Gavin dives. “That creepy bird is your
pet
?”

“Yes. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill him.” I lock eyes with Gavin and hold my left arm straight out from my side. “Land.”

Gavin releases an earsplitting shriek and changes course to land on my arm, digging in his talons hard enough to prick through the thick fabric of my uniform. His silent protest.

Great. Now I have two difficult boys in my life.

I stroke Gavin’s cheeks, trying to calm him.

“Ugh—how can you touch that thing?”

“Please tell me you’re not afraid of birds. You do realize how absurd that would be, considering we share the sky with them?”

He grabs his T-shirt from where he flung it earlier, shakes off the sand and bugs, and throws it over his head, rushing to shove his arms through the sleeves like he doesn’t want to take his eyes off Gavin for a second. “Hey, I used to get attacked by a crazy hawk when I played in this grove as a kid . . .” His voice trails off. “Oh, God, it was that—that thing attacking me, wasn’t it?”

I try not to smile, but the corners of my mouth tilt up anyway. “It’s possible. Gavin knows to keep anyone from discovering my hiding place when I take a short nap. Maybe you wandered too close for his liking.”

“Or maybe he’s demented and likes to tear hair off kids’ heads
for his own sadistic pleasure.” Vane wipes the sweat off his brow and dries it on his shorts. “So you’ve attacked me with wind, convinced me this place is haunted, and sent your killer bird after me. Any other ways you’ve made my life difficult? Is it your fault medicine gives me hives?”

“What?”

“The few times I’ve tried to take any pills I broke out in hives and threw up like crazy. That got anything to do with you?”

“No. Your body must’ve rejected the medicine because it’s designed for humans.”

“Right. And I’m not human. Still getting used to that, by the way. Kind of a big, life-changing thing, just so you know.”

There’s nothing I can say to that.

He shakes his head. “So does that happen very often?”

“The hives? No. None of us have had any reason to try groundling medicine. In case you haven’t noticed, we aren’t affected by the same viruses or ills as they are. It’s amazing they’re so much more prolific than we are. By all counts, we’re the superior creatures—that’s why it’s our responsibility to protect them. But what they lack in durability, they make up for in volume. It’s shocking how many children they produce. And the way they choose to crowd together in giant cities.”

I shiver at the thought of being packed in like that. People around all the time. Breathing my air. Stealing my wind. Makes my skin scream for a cool breeze.

But the morning drafts have stilled. And judging by the way the sun’s hammering us even at this early hour, it’ll be a stifling day.

Honestly, I don’t know how Vane’s borne it all this time. He’s fortunate to live in a fairly sparse area, as far as human cities go—the heat keeps the huge crowds away most of the year. Still—
the heat
. I steal away to the mountains for fresh air and space whenever I can. I don’t know how he doesn’t wither, trapped in this valley all these years, with no real release. Maybe he’s tougher than I think.