Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (36 page)

“It’s time?”

“Yup! Come with us!” the gleeful winds prod at us.

Back in Zephyra’s amethyst cove, the girl and tiger are lying in a heap on the floor, pouring over shapes they’ve molded from some stray clouds. It’s a good sign she’s willing to move and play now. I smile but know Jamie still needs to do a thorough exam.

Zephyra stands and rotates her wings in various movements directed by Jamie. Though her skin is pale, she has a healthier glow to her cheeks and the shadows under her eyes are fading. Feeling at her wings, Jamie indicates her bones are holding strong, and he tells her parents her feather nibs are clean and healthy. Most importantly, she wants to fly again. She’d been uncertain at first, but when she learned Storm could travel through the air, she was all over it.

For her first attempt, her parents and uncle join us. Jamie had told them it would be best to have just a few people present, like her immediate family. No pressure. They agreed to his words.

We come together at the ledge above the pillowed gorge, where we’d jumped not too long ago. I don’t know if anyone breathes as she backs up, giving herself plenty of room for take-off.

Zephyra smiles boldly at us, glances over to Storm, waves to her parents with the tip of her wings, and runs. Her wings open and, in a blink, she’s over the edge. We all rush forward to follow her flight. Warm wisps of air greet us. She’s winging her way in a combined glide-and-flap maneuver. I don’t know about anyone else, but inside I’m soaring through the clouds with her. She descends at a smooth and controlled pace, which, while not exactly active flying, is definitely not just falling. She lands and in a heartbeat her parents are down there too, their wings tucked around her in a triumphant hug.

I lift my fist to Jamie’s and he bumps with his own, in triumph. Mission accomplished.

Almost.

Now it’s my turn to finagle some help for us.

Luckily, the People of the Wind are interested in hearing our modified story. We see no reason to tell them we hadn’t known about Zephyra’s predicament prior to our arrival.

They, themselves, bring up their offered reward—an amount of gems large enough to buy a small country. What we want isn’t as simple as money, which for them would be easily given.

We want these people’s help, which could be harder to extract, since they feel no ties to the Lower Dwellers. They’d have to be willing to risk their lives for beings they consider inconsequential, even inferior.

I’m glad to sit here for this part because I feel like I’m finally contributing something to the cause. The involved debate-and-discussion finale are as invigorating as watching Zephyra jump. My gut tells me we’re good, and, sure enough, they vow to give their assistance. The Dweller armies will now have full access to controlling and creating the winds. Wreaking havoc on the enemy will be much easier with the People of the Wind’s skills combined with the fairies’ magic.

Now I understand how everyone is going to be able to show up when and where they’re needed. Both those groups will be in charge of transportation. Put that together with an army led by people who know and understand what’s at risk, and our mission is looking up. In return, Zephyra’s people ask for Storm to continue visiting with Zephyra. He consents enthusiastically to coming back whenever Thunder allows it, but first he’s going to bring us back to Olivia and Ethan.

We say our farewells, wet from Queen Rabiah’s tears, taking with us the gratitude of the People of the Wind.

Unfortunately, all the gratitude in the world cannot save us when we are captured by the People of the Flame.

Chapter Thirty-One: Nightmares

(OLIVIA)

J
AMIE AND SAM ARE STRAPPED
to an ash-covered stone floor. Blood oozes thickly from their wrists and ankles, where they are secured by dark metal shackles, showing how aggressively they have fought against their bonds. The room itself, which appears to be hewn from rock, is hazy with smoke and heat, and it glows with a deep red-orange fury—a color that reflects itself against my brothers’ blistered skin. Their eyes are swollen closed, their lips cracked.

In the shadows, partially hidden by a porous boulder, stands the silhouetted form of a tall man. He is unmoving, silent. Though I can’t clearly see his face, something about him makes my soul quake. For some reason, I know his being here makes everything even worse.

The ash on the floor puffs up around my brothers’ bodies as they make a last feeble attempt to twist and jerk free. They yell and holler first for me, then for anyone, and finally for mom. Their choking voices eventually croak away into nothingness. After a while both lie still, defeated and broken, and I can’t turn away as I witness their labored breathing. The rising and falling of their chests changes cadence as the gasps for air become fewer and further between. Eventually they’re no longer capable of any movement, any intake of breath. I feel my own sweat bead across my skin and my tears stream down my cheeks as I scream soundlessly, my voice silenced as much as theirs had been, and I crumple to the floor in despair. When I lift my head, the shadow man is still there, but now he is staring right at me and my blood turns cold. It’s the Slider creep, last seen in New Hope.

My brothers have been taken from me and I have lost my entire family. I am utterly alone, abandoned and forgotten. In the back of my head, I know there is something I still need to accomplish. Something important. But I’m just one stupid kid. How could I be responsible for anything significant? I couldn’t even reach my brothers in time. The guy’s still staring straight at me and there’s no longer a point or purpose to anything. The very fact I’m alive is a direct insult to my brothers’ memories. Something inside me cracks and splinters and I know I’m beginning to break.

I jerk and my eyes fly open. I have no idea where I am. My pulse is racing and my breath burns in my chest as my lungs scream for air. Before I can focus on my surroundings, the world begins to close around me once more. At first, I welcome the sensation, thinking:
At last. Sweet, cool darkness
. And I gratefully allow myself to sink into it. Then the darkness shatters into puffs of drifting soap bubble flakes and, though I try to turn my face away, I see my family’s SUV weaving its way around the sharp bends of a mountainous road, careening out of control, sliding, sliding …. Over and over again I see it. I hear it. I feel it. I live it.

Somewhere within me, I am aware of something warm resting against my chest. My fingers twitch and grasp onto a smooth hard object. Like a medallion the size of a skipping stone. I can’t recall what it is, but it calms me. With the calming comes a subtle twist and the world tries to right itself and I see clear daylight streaming through branches.

My brain races and trips over its thoughts. I must be okay. I can smell the pine trees and the rich earth beneath my feet, hear the distant calls of geese. This must be where we are now. I must be waking up and we’re—but, wait. Who is
we
? I’m missing someone.

I’m on a deteriorating trail, not made of the rich, dark earth I saw in Faisle or back home at Gunther’s. Instead, it’s a dry and powdery gray, covered with shale. The smell of the undergrowth is putrid and cloying, the trees are twisted and diseased. Pounding footsteps echo around me and my brothers stagger out from the tree line. My breath catches.

They’ve made it back to us. We will make it together to the end. And I am so happy despite the fact that they appear exhausted and weary to their core. They don’t even glance in my direction; they’re obviously running from something.

Lifting my hand, I open my mouth to call out to them. Before any sound escapes my lips, a group of grotesque beasts drops from the trees and converge on the boys. They are tall with shaggy, fur-covered bodies, sharp claws, and red eyes filled with hatred. Their teeth are meant for ripping.

My brother’s cries of fear and pain slice through me. They stumble and try to draw their weapons; but it is too late, too fast, and nothing can be done. Sam manages to throw himself over Jamie, knocking both of them to the ground as he tries to shield him with his own body, hugging him even as he’s literally torn away.

“No! My brother, my brother!” he shrieks, trying to throw his body forward again.

Gagging, I can’t even move. I’m trying to run forward, willing myself to budge, but it is only my heart that races. Again I’m aware of a deep solid warmth against my chest. I hold onto the sensation; it seems more real to me than what my eyes are witnessing. And my body feels like it’s becoming lighter, floating to the surface, and I open my eyes.

Chancing a cautious look around, I sigh in relief when I realize I’m waking up at our campsite; I’m on the mountain with Ethan, searching for the rift. Of course, the rift! Stupid dreams. Had I truly forgotten what I was doing? My brain has seemed extra jumbled recently. I shake my head to clear it, and reach my arms into a stretch that tugs to the tips of my toes. I must have been sleeping hard; my legs are unsteady as I climb to my feet. No one is around. Ethan wouldn’t have wandered too far. I scan our camp area, but see no indication of the direction he took. When I hear voices, I want to cry out with happiness; along with Ethan’s rumble are the tones of both my brothers.

My heart leaps. They’re here! They’ve made it! I run towards them, stopping before I get too close. There’s a distinct change to the air flow. Something is wrong, and my skin prickles. My bow is back where I’d been sleeping. I have a long knife, though, and my little dagger, and they are ready for use. I slide into the shadows created by the dense undergrowth and hold my breath, keeping low and out of sight. I wait in silence and listen, trying to distinguish their words. But it’s like they’re speaking through thick material, muffled.

At first, I’m not conscious of what had alerted me to anything being off, but I am now very aware of a repeated ticking sound, which seems to be coming from all sides. Whatever it is, we are surrounded. I can’t see the boys, but they must have heard the ticking, too, because their voices abruptly stop. From my left, comes the sound of something large crashing through the bushes, like it doesn’t even care it’s alerting us to its presence and exact location. I draw back my hand, ready to throw, but then I see the creature and know why it hadn’t cared about its racket. The thing is at least eight feet long; a disgustingly mucus covered, slimy electric-blue lizard of some sort. It flicks out its lengthy tongue.

I hear more twigs snapping, and this time I see my brothers: They’re running fast, coming straight towards me. I can read the panic in their eyes but, strangely, they don’t call out to me. When their eyes land on the blue figure, they slide to a stop. Sam grabs onto Jamie’s arm and tugs him back as more lizards slither into view. Bright yellow, red, green, orange. All as toxic as poison, all surrounding my brothers, who haven’t been idle. Sam’s slingshot has been firing as valiantly as Jamie’s bow.

They work as a team, completely in tandem, shot for shot. Several beasts are wounded, but their hides are thick and their ooze and slime make a dense protective coating which is hard to penetrate. Two larger reptilian creatures rise to balance on their back legs and thick tails, shooting out their long sticky tongues and nailing the boys right around their necks.

The result is instantaneous, like my brothers have been hit with a tranquilizer gun. Both boys stagger and drop to the ground, unmoving. At this point I realize I haven’t moved at all, not even to help them, and I am filled with a deep loathing for myself. Even when I realize I physically can’t move, I don’t question why. All I can focus on is the fact that I have failed to protect my brothers. I watch in mute horror as the lizards load my brothers like heaps of trash over the backs of two midsized monsters, a red and a green. The air ripples and the jagged mountain peaks morph into the conical shapes of a volcanic range. Smoke billows into the air, which smells heavily of ash and sulfur.

Molten lava glows orange through cracks and crevices, and my brothers are chained up and left alone in a room hewn from stone. The heat sears my lungs and I break out in a sweat. A shadowy figure steps from behind a fallen boulder. This reminds me of something I’ve seen before and I struggle through the waves of heat while my skin crawls. The warmth of my necklace now strikes me as cool, and I hold it tight. My necklace. That’s right. The necklace Ethan gave me. The air begins to clear and the reds and oranges and flickering shadows and stifling temperature fade away.

I am aware of the heaviness of my body, my pounding head, my unsteady pulse. My eyes, caked with sleep, are difficult to open. Thick in my mouth, my tongue feels like an alien creature and makes me want to gag. I don’t even try to sit up. I can tell I’m in a bed with sweat-dampened sheets tangled around my legs, a heavy down comforter lying like a weight across my chest. My bangs are plastered across my forehead and I scrape them away impatiently as I search my memories.

I remember Queen Viola and the fairies.

I have a faint impression of my brothers’ floating faces saying they love me and they’ll see me later.