Let the Storm Break

CHAPTER 40 AUDRA

Everything about this feels wrong.

Leaving Vane alone and unprotected in the middle of nowhere.

Setting my mother free.

Even flying with Gus—though at least he seems as uncomfortable as me. He’s adjusted his hold twice already, but thanks to this dress, there’s nowhere safe to grab.

“What do you think the odds are that Vane will really stay where he is?” Gus asks as he shifts his hands to my waist, holding my bandaged side extra carefully.

“Probably about as good as my mother being a changed woman.”

“So I take it you’re still pissed about setting her free?”

“I just . . . know my mother.”

I know Vane wants to believe she’s different now—and maybe she was when he talked to her. But I’ve learned the hard way that any kindness or concern my mother ever shows lasts only long enough for her to get what she wants.

And now we’re about to let her have her way again.

We follow my mother’s vulture toward circles of dead palm trees, and as soon as we reach them, the Westerlies carrying us turn jittery. I urge the winds to fly on, but they grow increasingly unsteady, breaking into a panic when a frenzied Easterly swarms around me.

The draft’s tone reminds me of my father’s voice, but I know there’s no way it could be him. Its desperate song begs me to turn away and never come back, and my father would never try to stop me from setting my mother free. He loved her beyond life—beyond reason—beyond air.

He would carry me there faster if he could.

“Wow, the Maelstrom sure does spook the winds,” Gus mumbles as the Easterly flies with us, repeating its warning over and over.

I continue to ignore it, and when we reach a series of strange rock formations, the vulture dives and the Easterly finally sweeps away.

We’ve reached our destination.

The other Westerlies take off the second I unravel them, but my loyal shield doesn’t waver, tightening its grip around me like it can feel the evil in the air.

I can feel it too.

The unnatural stillness.

The strange push and pull, dragging me toward the dark opening in the sand up ahead, even though every instinct I have is screaming for me to run away.

“There’s something off about this place,” Gus mumbles, his hand gripping his wind spike as he searches the air.

“It feels just like the other Maelstrom,” I tell him.

Sounds the same too. The horrible screeching that bores into my brain like twisted needles.

Though this one was built by the captain of the Gales.

Gus’s eyes scan the valley, but the only signs of life are the vultures. Dozens and dozens of them, lining the rocks, the scrubby plants, even the sand. They watch us with their silent stares as we make our way to the Maelstrom’s entrance.

I’m tempted to shoo them away—they won’t be getting the meal they’ve been waiting for. But I know they won’t leave. They’ll be loyal to her.

“So . . . we have to go down there?” Gus asks as I start down the sloped, dark path surrounded by the spinning funnel of sand.

“Unless you want to stay here and cover the entrance,” I offer.

For the briefest second he looks tempted. Then he draws his wind spike, holding it in front of him as he pushes past me to take the lead. “Let’s get this over with.”

I try not to touch the walls—try even harder not to imagine bits of my mother being absorbed by them.

But she’s also in the air.

I cover my mouth, breathing as shallowly as I can. Still, every breath makes me want to gag.

I keep my hand to my heart as we walk, wishing I could feel some small trace of my bond. There’s nothing but a cold emptiness.

It makes me want to turn around and run until I find the sky. But I press forward. One foot in front of the other. Each step dragging me away from the light. Into the wasted darkness.

“Okay, I officially hate it down here,” Gus says after several more minutes of walking. “I mean . . . it’s just wrong. There’s no other way to describe it.”

There isn’t.

Maelstroms feel as awful as they are.

And once again I can’t help thinking that a Gale made this.

I almost speak the thought aloud, but stop myself just in time. So I’m surprised when Gus asks me, “What do you think about Os?”

I choose my answer carefully. Now is not the time to cast doubt on our leader. Battles call for trust and loyalty. “I think he’s desperate to protect our people.”

“Desperate,” Gus repeats. He’s quiet for several steps, before he asks, “Do you believe the Gales can win?”

My fingers rub the skin on my wrist, finding the remnants of Aston’s burn. His haunting warnings still ring in my mind, and I can see now why he was so sure we had no chance. But I have to believe there’s still hope.

“No matter how powerful Raiden gets,” I tell Gus, “the wind will always be stronger. And I can’t believe that the wind will let him keep on destroying it for much longer.”

“You talk about the wind like it’s alive.”

“In some ways it is.”

I think of my loyal Westerly shield, journeying with me into this dark place where no other winds dare to go. It stays because it wants to. The same reason it rallied the other Westerlies and came to our rescue in Death Valley.

Yes, some of the winds may be willing to let Raiden dominate and ruin them. But others will fight. And if we can enlist their help, get them to join our side, nothing can stop us.

Perhaps that’s the secret we’ve all been missing. It’s not about finding the right commands. It’s about finding the right winds.

Which might actually mean my mother can help us—much as I hate to admit it. She understands the wind in ways none of us ever have. If anyone can find the winds we need, it’s her.

A dim light appears ahead and I brace myself for the sight of my mother dangling from a chain, like the victims in Raiden’s prison. But when we finally reach the tunnel’s end, it’s an empty, round cavern with mesh curtains of metal partitioning off two small cells.

Apparently, Os’s cruelty has a much finer line.

“Audra?” my mother asks, her voice so weak it’s almost unrecognizable.

“Yes,” I force myself to say, the single word carrying seventeen years of my pain and regrets.

A pale form approaches the mesh of metal, and when I step closer I can see her face—though I barely recognize her.

I should rejoice at her greasy hair and sweaty skin covering her thin features. But it feels like too much of a waste.

All of it, this whole thing.

My beautiful, powerful mother.

Our small, happy family.

Our quiet, dedicated lives.

It’s all been sucked up and torn away. Like my entire existence has been trapped in a Maelstrom of my mother’s making.

Tears sting my eyes as she studies me, but I blink them back. I’ve shed my last tear for this woman.

“You came,” she whispers, pressing her hand against the metal.

I take a step back, even though she can’t reach me.

“Still my same stubborn girl.” She gives me a sad smile and turns to Gus, doing a double take. “You’re not Vane.”

“Are you sure?” Gus feels his face like he can’t believe it.

My mother doesn’t smile. “Where’s Vane?”

“As far away from here as I could keep him,” I tell her.

“But . . . you’re his guardian. You’re supposed to be with Vane.”

“You sure know how to make a guy feel wanted,” Gus grumbles, shoving against the mesh curtain, trying to free her from her cage.

It won’t budge.

“Didn’t think about that,” he says, shaking the metal to no avail.

“Try your wind spike,” I tell him.

“On what?”

I look closer at the curtain, surprised to find there’s no lock. I honestly can’t tell how it’s held in place.

“I’m so sorry, Audra,” my mother whispers, and I glance up to find her looking at me.

She’s such a drippy mess, it’s hard to tell if she’s crying or sweating. But it makes my throat feel thick anyway.

Now I understand why Vane was ready to trust her. I’m feeling the same urge.

But can I?

Should I?

“I had no choice,” she tells me, pleading with her eyes for me to forgive her.

My life would be so much easier if I could give her what she wants.

But I can’t ignore the rage that’s always with me, simmering beneath the surface.

“What are you even sorry for?” I snap. “Killing dad? Blaming me? Murdering two innocent people? Ruining the lives of everyone you’ve ever met?”

“Yes to all of those things,” she says quietly, turning and walking away. Bones poke out of her frail, hunched shoulders as she hangs her head and mumbles, “But mostly . . .”

I can’t understand the last words.

It sounded like she said, “But mostly for this.”

But that doesn’t make any sense.

Or, it doesn’t until I hear a loud thump, like metal hitting bone, and Gus collapses. Before I can even scream, the needled edge of a windslicer presses against my throat and a strong arm wraps around me, pinning me against my captor’s body.

“You were the one I wanted anyway,” a sharp voice whispers in my ear, and it takes a second for my panicked brain to recognize it.

Raiden.