Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (34 page)

“Whoa! Hey!”

I feel like I’ve been shoved, and my body flies back. Instead of falling, though, I’m held at an impossible angle. Panicked, I wave my arms for momentum, trying to propel myself upright. Jamie steps forward to help; his arms slip away from me, like two positive sides of a magnet. I figure, if I can’t fight it, there’s only one other way to handle it. I go limp, boneless, completely relaxed. My hair blasts straight up again, and my whole body swoops in a big arc, returning upright. My heart is slow in catching up, but I shrug, laughing, and pat down my hair. I don’t know what it is, but something’s out there. “That was a pretty cool trick! Got anything else?”

As a small misty cyclone materializes around me, spinning like it’s dancing with me at its core, I can’t help laughing again. Throwing my head back, I shout, “You wanna play?” Never mind that we’re on the edge of a mountain. Storm cowers and Jamie’s jaw drops. Whooping, I’m swept into the air and spun and dipped. The world is blurred; all I can do is close my eyes and enjoy the ride. Which ends abruptly, as a roar of wind hits me from the opposite direction. I get blasted back towards Jamie, skidding across the ground along with a bunch of sand and grit, landing near his feet. The air stills and the mini tornado explodes outward in a great puff, like it’s upset to be interrupted.

As he looks down at me, Jamie’s skin is as pasty as a bowl of Cream of Wheat. “Sam, what was that about? You weren’t even over the ledge anymore; you were free-floating over the gorge. Mr. Nicholas said be open to possibility, not jump to your death!”

Oops. “Sorry. I was just playing with … with the wind? I didn’t think it through.” I sit up, rubbing at my elbow and running my fingertips over my scraped cheek. The big gust builds up again, forming into a pressurized jet stream, which blows away all remaining signs of the little spiraling air current. Standing in front of us is a sturdy hawk-like guy with hooded amber eyes, a beaked nose, the torso and legs of a fit human man, but with huge wings instead of arms. His face, though youngish in appearance, is lined with an intense emotion, like a mixture of anger and relief.

When he speaks, his voice is sharp and cold. “I am your escort; you are to come with me. I apologize for the young one. It has been awhile since anyone has been willing to try, and she is childish enough to still hope.”

That’s cryptic. He speaks like we should understand what he’s talking about. Try what? And what’s childish about hope?

Storm and Jamie swing their gaze to me. I stand as straight as possible and nod my head at the birdman. “Lead the way, sir.” I try to sound like I know what I’m doing because, really, I have no clue.

With that, the warm air pockets surrounding us begin to move and we are pulled along at a speed that makes my vision blur. When we stop and my head clears, we are in some type of crystal cave. The walls are the color of amethyst and sparkle like diamonds. The floor is level and smooth, cut like a slab of polished granite, but in the same lilac hue as the walls. Soft breezes, smelling of spring, swirl around the room, reminding me of fresh air, water, and flowers. In the center of the floor is a crystal table cushioned with wispy vapors, which appear to be a condensed cloud bank. On top of this unusual cushioning lies a small child; a girl who looks like death itself had chewed her up and then decided he didn’t want to swallow after all. Her skin is sallow and she has stringy dull brown hair. One of her wings shows from beneath her, molted and patchy. Obviously, not a healthy kid. Why did he bring us here? I look at Jamie. This is more his thing.

Birdman materializes in front of us and dips his head towards the girl. “This is Zephyra. We will await your course of action. You already know the guidelines, I’m sure, but to reiterate: Like the others, you have three days to prove yourselves. For any attempts, King Seferino and Queen Rabiah must be present; otherwise, you will communicate any needs through me.” He sounds worn out. “My name is Makani.”

Evidently, he has assumed we’re here to help with this girl. I can deal with that, but one thing gets me wondering. “Others? What others?” Besides the wind, the place is silent and shows no sign of any other living being. Obviously, more Wind People must be around somewhere. I wonder why they don’t show themselves.

Makani’s face darkens at my question, and he speaks plainly. “They failed. We took care of them.” He throws back his huge wings, and the pit of my stomach instantly feels like it’s plummeted over a ledge. And, frankly, I think that’s what he was going for.

I work it out in my head. Other people must have had three days to do something for this Zephyra girl. There’d be no reason for him to bring us to her otherwise. Thinking of the falling sensation: Were the others dropped over the edge? Because they’d failed to help her? Slightly brutal. But it reminds me of various stories with a similar theme. There’s a fairytale where a princess is so sad she cries non-stop; her parents promise her in marriage to any man who can make her laugh—all who fail are killed. And there’s another about a king who orders a miller’s daughter to weave straw into gold. She’s told, if she fails, her head will be cut off. She receives help from a little old man with magical powers, who threatens to take her firstborn child as payment. Life, we’re learning, can be just as violent as make-believe. My gaze lands on the trembling form of Zephyra.

Jamie scoots closer, not showing any fear towards the bird dude. I’m impressed. “How long has she been like this? What happened?”

Makani stares down at him, like he’s prey, and bites out, “You did come here to help her, did you not? You must know the story. The only outsiders who travel here, the only ones we accept, are here to try their hand at healing Zephyra. Thus far, the ones who have come have done so for the reward, not for the child. If you are not here for the purpose of saving my niece, you will be sentenced to immediate death. Humans do not belong here.”

Enlightenment. “Oh, yeah, of course we’re here to heal her.” He tries to back-track and fix whatever he’d said that was wrong. “We’ve heard, uh, rumors about her condition. Verifying the facts will help with our plans to mend her.” He sends a pleading glance in my direction. The ball’s in my court now.

 Thinking fast, I say, “Yes. Since all the information we have is hearsay, we’d like to get the details from you. To make sure there are no holes or errors in what we’ve heard. It wouldn’t be wise for us, or safe for Zephyra, otherwise.

“We don’t want to leave anything undone in her healing process, but we’ve been traveling awhile and are tired. Would you be able to give us the full details and allow us some rest? Please? We would not be willing to touch your niece without either.”

Ultimatums are always risky, but it could work here. And I’m telling the truth. It
would
be dangerous for us to jump in and start messing with things we don’t understand. I hope he picks up on that bit of honesty because the whole part about us having a plan is a complete lie. If the guy’s not willing to give us some information, it would mean instant death on our part. Due to my ultimatum, we’d no longer be working on this guy’s niece.

I’ve noticed that if I’m open with people and don’t show any nerves, people can be convinced to agree with me. Making eye contact and just being myself helps, since then I don’t get fidgety. People don’t seem to trust twitchy kids. I watch now as Makani thinks it through, with some of the tension leaving his face. His wings curve around his back, making him appear the least threatening I’ve seen thus far.

Dipping his dark head, the man consents. “What you say has reason. Let us move to an appropriate location for such a discourse.” He opens his wings and, once again, we are lifted into a warm air current and the world smudges. When we are placed back down, we are in a bowl-shaped room, I guess you could say. There’s no roof and above us the clouds glide by. The wind rushing over the opening sounds hungry and threatening but doesn’t enter the room itself. The walls here are a deep, shiny black, maybe obsidian; the floor is covered with the same wispy cloud stuff that padded Zephyra’s bed. It’s solid, soft and springy—not a mist like I’d thought. We sit down and it molds to our bodies, like memory foam. Makani hesitates before sitting down, across from the three of us. We hold his gaze and wait for him to take the lead, which he does after a thoughtful pause.

“So. What have you heard of her condition?”

Shoist. I wasn’t ready for that one. I don’t dare turn my head to Jamie, though he’s burning a hole in the side of my head. We hadn’t heard anything at all about it. We’d wanted some background information in order to get ahold of the situation and gain some time to come up with a solution. But I don’t hesitate with my answer.

“The basics we’ve heard were that she’d been adventurous and strong willed and went closer to the ground than she should have. Something went wrong and she hasn’t recovered from it.”

Now I chance a look at Jamie. His eyes have widened.

I don’t breathe as Makani responds, “Yes. You have heard correctly. We don’t know more ourselves. Something attacked her. A Lower Dweller. Something worse. The violence of it broke her somehow, stripped her of her will to heal. She does not die but neither does she truly live. She does not move or talk.

“The king and queen are most anxious to have their daughter return to them, yet their hope seems almost futile. Two years have passed. No positive change has been detected, and many lives have been discarded in the attempts. Her parents cannot stand the strain much longer. But they will never turn away a hope.” He sounds bitter about people having hope. “Do not fail them on this.”

“You don’t know specifically what did this?” Jamie asks, features under control again.

“No, we do not.”

“Do you guys keep tabs on the stuff that happens below? I mean, have you heard about the rift and the Sliders and everything?” I question.

“Yes, the People of the Wind have knowledge of this. Usually, it doesn’t touch us, what happens down there. We prefer to keep our space and distance. I do know other Dwellers are greatly affected by our wings’ movements. Therefore, they must be weak beings. The Lower Dwellers aren’t much of our business. Their lives are so brief anyway, it really doesn’t matter.”

Man, this guy sure is cocky. “Their lives are brief?”

“The child you are here to help is twenty years old. This is less than a tenth of her lifespan.”

“Oh. Well, is there anything else we should know? About Zephyra or what you expect from us within our three-day limit?”

Makani eyes me with suspicion. “That’s all you want to know?”

“Yes; it’s what’s important.”

“You do not want to ask after the reward?”

“Of course not. If there’s any need, we’ll get to that after she is healed.”

Makani’s expression reflects skepticism. He makes no comment, other than to say we can stay here and rest, and he will be back when we need him.

 “How will you know when we need you?”

“Just say my name and I will come.”

“Thank you.”

“And you.” Makani lifts his wings and, with a burst of warm air, is gone from sight.

I turn to face Jamie and Storm. “Okay, guys, listen. We have to be careful what we say, so it’s not taken the wrong way. I think pretty much anyone can overhear us. Do you get me?”

They nod without a word. If we say the wrong thing, they may realize we weren’t here to help, and they could kill us. At least, by trying to do something, we have the chance of actually healing her and then I can ask for their help in return, as our reward.

Jamie asks with care, “Hey, Sam? The source of our information, where’d they get their data in the first place?” He’s wondering how I had guessed correctly about what had happened.

I smile wanly. “Years back a teacher told my class the story of Daedalus and Icarus, and there was some room for comparison—just kind of flipped around.”

I’m vague on purpose, but he understands what I’m saying. I’d inverted a key element of that particular myth and guessed she got too close to the ground. She wouldn’t have had Icarus’ problem of getting too close to the sun, since her wings aren’t attached with wax. For her, the danger wouldn’t have come from being too high. It would have come from going too low.

 “So,” he says, “if it’s been two years, that corresponds with the first recognizable influx of Sliders. That’s when I’m betting the rift was opened, from what Maddix and everyone has insinuated. One of the Sliders probably attacked  Zephyra when she skimmed the earth, and she’s traumatized on top of having physical injuries. I’m going to have to get a close look at her, start with the basics. If people have been coming and dying over this, it can’t be simple, but I’ve got lots of stuff in my bag. We, um, need to give me time to finalize our plans; let’s ‘rest’ and I’ll think things through.”

“Okay, Little Man. Just tell us what you need.”

Bending his arms behind his head, he lies back and closes his eyes.

There’s got to be a way to do this. About a half hour passes with Storm alternately playing in the springy cloud puffs or shaking his bell for our musical entertainment. The bell is not my friend.

Without speaking, I watch Jamie’s face. Since leaving Mr. Nicholas, I’ve been wondering about my role. Now I’m concerned about Jamie, in his. We’re facing a big task here, and Jamie’s going to be bearing the brunt of it. Then I see that light of his, glowing like a beacon. He’s onto something.

Sitting up, he stretches, arching his body and flexing his fingers.

“Guys? It’s time to go in and see what we’re dealing with. Listen to what I say and work with me. We’ll do our best, whatever we find.”

Chapter Thirty: Flying High