Let the Sky Fall (15 page)

“Yeah—and you said last night you’re too weak to fight them on your own—even with my help.”

“Not . . . necessarily. There’s something I can do that will definitely defeat the Stormers.”

“Uh—if it will
definitely
defeat them, why don’t we just do that?”

“We don’t ‘just do that,’ because it’s the
ultimate sacrifice
.”

The words slip out before I can stop them.

I feel him watching me, but I refuse to look at him—refuse to face whatever emotions he has written across his face. I don’t know what I want him to feel.

I don’t know how
I
feel.

“So if I’m understanding this right,” he says after a minute, “these Gales you worship so much—they’ve sent you on a death mission instead of providing reinforcements?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Really. Then what is it like, Audra? ’Cause it seems pretty clear to me. And it’s wrong. They can’t make you—expect you . . .”

His voice trails off, and I can’t help stealing a glimpse of his face.

My heart skips when I see the look in his ice-blue eyes. It’s been so long since anyone looked at me that way, I almost don’t recognize the sentiment.

He cares.

Vane Weston cares about me.

I blink the tears away before they can form.

It doesn’t change anything. “I’ve sworn an oath to protect you with my life, and I intend to keep it. No matter what.”

It’s a simple statement, but the effect it has on Vane is profound.

He steps closer. Close enough that I feel his warmth in the air. Closer than I should let him stand. “It’s not going to come to that,” he says, his voice more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “Trigger the breakthroughs. Whatever it takes.”

I swallow to find my voice. “You understand that the process is going to be very difficult.”

“Yes.”

“Painful, even.”

“I’ll . . . deal with it.”

Who is this boy and what did he do with Vane?

“You’re sure?”

He takes my hands, gently locking our fingers together. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Audra.”

I look away, battling back the explosion of emotions erupting inside me.

My palms tingle so hard from his touch, they practically throb. My burning, scorching guilt, punishing me for my newest crime.

I deserve it. I’m letting Vane risk everything to save me—and he has no idea I’m the one who destroyed his life.

I’ll never tell him, either. It would break his commitment to the mission. Get him captured and me killed, along with thousands of innocent people.

But that’s not the only reason.

Vane’s the first person since my father died to care whether I live and breathe. I can’t give that up.

The guilt burns hotter as I own up to my selfishness, but I bear the pain. It hurts less than the aching loneliness I’ve endured for the last ten years.

So I take a deep breath to clear my head. “You should probably sit down. This is going to be . . . intense.”

CHAPTER 21

VANE

A
udra has me sit cross-legged on the pile of palm leaves on the floor, and they’re just as scratchy as they look. I can’t believe she sleeps on these things. She rattles off a long list of instructions I should probably be paying attention to—but I can’t focus. My brain’s stuck on auto repeat.

Intense. Intense. Intense.

I’m pretty sure what she means is intense
pain
—and I’m not exactly known for having a high tolerance for that.

At least Audra seems pretty impressed that I’m willing to do this to help her—which is crazy. Does she really think I want her to die to save me?

“Hug yourself tighter, Vane. Northerlies are incredibly aggressive winds.”

It’s hard not to groan. “Aggressive” is almost as bad as “dangerous.”

She adjusts my hands and arms, bending me into a Vane pretzel.

“You okay?” she asks when I jump at her touch.

“Yeah, sorry. Just jittery, I guess.”

Doesn’t she feel the way the sparks jolt between us? Now,
that’s
intense.

The waves of heat make their way to my heart, settling in like that’s where they belong. I know how cheesy that sounds—Isaac would hurl if he knew I was thinking it. But I like it. It feels like she’s becoming a part of me, more and more with every touch.

Makes me want to grab her, pull her against me, feel the warm rush spread as I run my hands down—

“Are you ready?” she asks, ripping me out of my fantasies.

“Yes.” I hate my voice for shaking.

“Okay. Let’s get the most painful part over with first.”

“Sounds awesome.”

Her lips twist into that small half smile she’s becoming famous for. “The only advice I can give you is to not fight back. I’ll command the winds to slip into your consciousness, but you have to breathe them in. Once the gusts are in there, you have to force yourself to concentrate. They’ll feel foreign and unwelcome and your head will probably throb. Just remember that your mind does know how to do this.”

“You kind of lost me at ‘throb,’ but I’ll do my best. Let’s just . . . get this over with.”

She nods. Then she closes her eyes and whispers something that sounds like a snake singing. The winds kick up around her.

A chill settles over us—which actually isn’t so bad after baking in the heat. The gusts wrap around me, crackling the palm branches as they lift me off the ground. The pressure’s much stronger than I expected, and my twisted limbs uncoil until I’m sprawled out flat, rolling with the storm.

“Breathe them in, Vane. Then concentrate on what you hear,” Audra shouts before the roaring air drowns her out. Leaving me alone, shivering in my icy wind cocoon as the drafts hammer my face.

I want to block them, close off everything and hope they go away. But I lock my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering, and the next time a gust comes full force at my face I take a long, deep breath. Instead of flowing into my lungs, the air pushes into my mind. It burns like when water goes up my nose—only a thousand times more painful.

The winds streak inside my head, forming a vortex and slamming me with the most intense migraine ever, like my brain’s being kicked and punched and stabbed and ripped apart. I want to tear off my scalp to let the gusts out.

Concentrate
, Audra told me.

How the hell am I supposed to concentrate with a wind tunnel in my head? It’s like standing by a waterfall as a jet engine blows past and a million claps of thunder rumble at the same time.

But mixed with all that chaos is a simple, solitary note.

It rings with a long, low whine—nothing I can understand. But the more I strain to hear it, the closer and clearer it becomes, like it’s shoving its way to the front of my focus, demanding my attention.

It reminds me of when Isaac turns on the subwoofer in his truck.
All the music and lyrics get drowned out by the throbbing, pulsing bass, making his truck vibrate and his old, grumpy neighbors glare at us as we
thump thump thump
by their houses.

The pain in my head amplifies as I concentrate on the sound, and the wind feels like it’s freezing me into a Vane-cicle.

Come on, you stupid wind, break through before I seriously lose it here.

This is hopeless. I’m never going to feel or hear whatever freaking thing I’m supposed to hear or feel. I’m a failure as a Windwalker, and Audra’s going to die because of me.

The realization smacks me back to my senses—and that’s when I catch it.

A single word. Over and over.

Strength
.

The instant I separate the word, the wind seeps into my consciousness. It feels like draining a tall glass of water all in one gulp—only my brain’s doing the drinking.

My limbs fall still and I focus on the lyrics behind the melody, which I now understand. The north wind sings of power. Of invincibility. Of balance.

“Vane, can you hear me?” Audra calls from very far away. “Open your eyes.”

I want to obey, but I don’t know how to make my body function at the moment. The winds have coiled around my mind. Teasing. Tugging. Begging me to come with them. And I want to. The Northerlies sound so brave and strong.

They’ll protect me.

“Vane, listen to me!” Audra yells. “You can’t believe everything
the winds tell you. I know it sounds like wisdom, but you have to resist. They’re pulling you away, and if you let that happen, you won’t come back.”

I don’t want to listen to her, but a blast of warmth shoots through both my arms like an electric shock.

My body jerks and my eyes shoot open. The blinding sunlight makes my head pound, and a loud moan slips through my lips. Then my vision clears and I get a glimpse of Audra leaning over me, clasping my wrists with her slender hands.

“Breathe,” she orders.

Why would she have to tell me to . . .

Burning pain in my chest wakes me up to the fact that it’s been a while since I’ve taken a breath. I suck in a huge gulp of air, hacking and coughing as it enters my oxygen-starved body.

Audra pulls me into a sitting position, pounding on my back. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better.” I hug myself, needing to feel my body again. I forgot about it for a second. “What happened?”

“The wind started to carry your consciousness away.”

I rub my throbbing head. “How about in English this time?”

She flashes a small, sad smile. “I don’t fully understand it myself. My father used to tell me Windwalkers are caught between two worlds. Neither purely of the earth nor the sky, and when we allow ourselves too much contact with either, it starts to lead us astray. In the earth’s case, food and water ground us, bind us to the land. Limit our abilities. And the wind’s call tries to take us with it, like an old friend begging us to come along for the journey.”

That I understand. Part of me still wants to follow.

“But if we let it lead us away, we leave our earthly forms behind, never to return,” she warns.

“How come it didn’t feel like that last night?” I was asleep for most of it, but I don’t remember having a hard time waking up.

“When I triggered your Easterly breakthrough it was me inside your head, and I could control the drafts and build the connections you needed to make without exposing you to the full force of the winds.”

“So . . . you were literally
inside
my mind—like how the wind just was?” I shudder, remembering the weird swishy, spinning feeling.

“Yes. When we shift into our true forms, we are the wind. We move and work and feel exactly the same way, only with more control.”

“That might be the freakiest thing you’ve told me yet.”

She rewards me with another partial smile. Then she looks down, watching her fingers as she twists them together. “I’m not sure if I should trigger the Southerly breakthrough. It might be too much for you to handle right now.”

I can’t begin to explain how much I don’t want to go through that again—ever. But this isn’t about me. “I need to learn the three languages, right? As soon as possible?”

A few seconds pass before she says, “Time is running out.”

“Then we have to do it.”

I can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth.

But I can’t wimp out now. People might die.
Audra
might die. “I know what to expect now. I’ll be fine.”

“If the lure was that strong from the harsh, cold Northerlies, it’ll be ten times worse from the warm, welcoming Southerlies.”

“I’ll come back.”

“How can you be so sure?”

I take her hands. She tries to pull away, but I hold tight. “When you touched me, it yanked me back. So just do that again, and I’ll come back. For you.”

The last words I kinda mumble, but I’m pretty sure she caught them, because a hint of pink colors her cheeks.

She stares at our hands for a second, taking slow, deep breaths. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

CHAPTER 22

AUDRA

V
ane has no idea how irresistible the Southerlies’ pull will be.

Their warm rush is intoxicating. The comfort they promise so alluring. Tempting you to slip away forever in their soft, wandering drag.

I’d been ready to follow their whispers anywhere they led, and I very nearly had. The vow I made my father was the only thing that pulled me back.

But all I can do is stick with the plan and hope Vane really will come back for me.

To me
, I correct. And not even
me
—specifically. Come back to the world, to continue with his training. Live up to his potential. Step into his role as king. Those are my primary—my only—concerns.

I repeat the reminder in my head as I reach for the winds. The nearest Southerlies are several miles away, ambling through a stretch of empty dunes. They shift toward me when I whisper their call.

I hold Vane’s gaze as the winds form the first tendrils of his cocoon. “You must come back,” I order.

“Hold on to me and I will.”

His honest trust, his willingness to face such a challenge for me—not to mention the intensity in his eyes—makes my guilt burn hot in my hands. In my heart.

I stuff the pain as deep as I can shove it. Then I whisper the last command, close the cocoon, and Vane’s gone, tangled in the silky strands of Southerlies.

I catch myself holding my breath and force air into my lungs. I have to keep my head clear. Be prepared for anything.

Vane’s limbs stay locked in place as his body lifts off the ground. No thrashing or flailing like the Northerlies caused. It’s hard to make out his form through the sandy gusts, but I can see his face and he looks peaceful. Happy.

I remember that feeling. The Southerlies carry pure bliss.

My nails press into my palms as I count the passing seconds, watching for the breakthrough to occur. The longer he’s at the wind’s mercy, the more he relinquishes control.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

I live an eternity in each moment. I could have destroyed our only hope with this hasty decision.