Part 4 (1/2)
”Whoa, whoa, hang on-that's the freeway. You don't walk across the freeway-not unless you want to get splattered against few winds.h.i.+elds.”
”We can weave our way through tornadoes, Vane. You need to learn to trust your instincts.”
”I've only known I'm a sylph for a month-I don't have any instincts!”
But as the words leave my mouth, I realize I do.
I remember running through the tornado that killed my family, easily avoiding the drafts and debris and keeping my feet on steady ground. I never thought about how weird that was until now.
Still, as I watch the cars and semis whip by at seventy-plus miles per hour, I'm glad I didn't eat my torpedo. Pretty sure I'd be spewing it all over the ground.
”Just watch for the breaks in the air,” Os shouts, crouching on the side of the road like a runner before a race.
”You realize that makes no freaking sense, right?”
He rolls his eyes and reaches for me. ”If you need me to hold your hand . . .”
I know this is my chance to prove that I'm a big, brave Windwalker king and can do this all by myself. But three more semis whizz by and I grab Os's hand and hold on as tight as I can. He sighs. ”Let's go.”
And then we're running. Darting forward and sideways through the lanes like a terrifyingly real game of Frogger. I can see the breaks Os means-wide distortions in the air in front of each car that tell where it's safe to step-but I don't dare let go of his hand. And when we finally make it across both sides of the freeway, my legs are so wobbly I can barely stay standing.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to steady my shaking. ”I'm surprised how disorienting this is for you,” Os says quietly.
”Some things come so effortlessly, like your windwalking and your mastery of Easterly.”
Both of those came from my bond to Audra-but I can't exactly say that. So I shrug and say, ”I'm learning as fast as I can.” He frowns, like he's not convinced that's true. ”Come on-still a ways to go.”
”Seriously?” I'm not sure how much longer I can last. The sun is sucking up what little energy I have.
But Os starts walking away, so unless I want to stay here alone, I have to follow.
We hike across the desert toward some weird piles of rocks that look like giant anthills. My shoes fill with sand and I keep sc.r.a.ping my s.h.i.+ns on the cacti-but none of that is as uncomfortable as the stillness.
The air doesn't move. It presses down on my shoulders like the sky has turned heavy.
”That's the pull of the Maelstrom,”Os explains as I rub my arms, ”a name that is not to be shared-with anyone. Do you understand?” ”Why?”That's the second time he's talked about how secret this place is, and it's starting to creep me out.
Os looks up at the sky, his fingers tracing the lines of his scar.
”The Maelstrom is a place that shouldn't have to exist. It emerged from a necessity the average citizen cannot comprehend, and should they learn of its existence it would shake them to their very core. As king, it is your job to protect them from the shadows and secrets that would rob them of what little security they have.”
Okay . . .
I would ask for an answer that doesn't make Os sound like he's one Fruit Loop shy of a box-but honestly? I'm too tired to care. If this Maelstrom has a place to sit and some shade, I'm game. The closer we get to the weird clumps of stones, the more my head rattles from some sort of high-pitched sc.r.a.ping sound, like a million angry math teachers dragging their chalk across the blackboard at the same time. I thought it was coming from the wind or the giant black birds lining all the rocks, which- by the way-do not make this place more inviting. But when we reach the base of one of the hills, there's a narrow opening in the ground, and I realize the sand around the hole is moving. It swirls slowly downward, like a tornado has been sucked into the earth and kept right on spinning, and in the center is a walkway leading into the darkness.
”Have I mentioned I'm not a fan of small s.p.a.ces?” I shout over the noise as Os starts to descend. He has to bend his knees so he won't hit his head.
”It's not too late to decide to teach us Westerly instead,” he calls over his shoulder.
I gotta admit, as I follow him underground I'm tempted to give in. Fresh air doesn't exist down here. Only a hot, sticky mist that feels too thick to swallow, like I'm trying to breathe inside someone else's mouth. And even though the screeching sound dulls, it's replaced by a low rumble that makes my teeth chatter.
But the scariest part is feeling my connection to Audra fade.
The pain and pull of our bond lessens with every step and I have to remind myself that she's not actually slipping away. I'm the one cutting myself off from the winds.
I wonder if she can feel the change.
”So what exactly is the Maelstrom?” I ask, brus.h.i.+ng my hand along the slowly spinning wall. My fingers sink into the sand, leaving tiny trails. I'd be tempted to write ”Vane was here,” but I'm not sure I want to leave my mark on this place.
”It's a special vortex that can only be woven from hungry winds.
They consume any normal drafts that dare to come close, swallowing them into the earth and keeping this place completely sealed off from the sky.”
”How do you make the wind hungry? Wave a cheeseburger in front of it?”
Os spins around, his face all tight and twisted. ”You dare to disrespect their sacrifice?”
”Whoa, easy, it was just a joke.”
”Altering the essence of the wind is not a joke, Vane. The wind is our kin. It deserves respect and dignity. Exerting our dominance over it is a last resort-a reluctant choice I made because there was no other option.”
”Hey, relax, okay? I get it-it's a big deal. I never meant that it wasn't.”
He bites his lip, like there's something else he wants to say. But he turns around without another word.
We walk in uncomfortable silence for a few steps. Then he mumbles, ”I know you grew up without your heritage, and that you still have much to learn. But you are our king, Vane. People will look to you for guidance.” He turns to face me, grabbing my arm like my dad does when he wants to make sure I'm listening. ”You have to understand, our world has been ruined by Raiden-scattered and broken by a tyrant who cares only for power. He'll break and destroy anything to serve his own agendas. And in this case, I've had no choice but to do the same. But I-we-all of us-have chosen to put our faith in you because we're hoping that you're going to be different.”
Funny, I thought they'd put their faith in me because I'm the only Westerly left.
I'm about to say that when my eyes find the scar on his cheek. ”What happened?” I ask, pointing to the deep red marks. He traces a finger over the lines again.
”A gift from Raiden. He branded me a traitor when I refused to be his second in command.” He smiles sadly when my eyes widen.
”Raiden used to be my friend, Vane-as he was for many of us in his generation. We worked in the Gales together. Fought together.
Trained in the might and majesty of the storms, pus.h.i.+ng ourselves to master their power. I thought we were doing it to be better guardians. To better control the forces that were wreaking havoc on the earth and spare the innocents who weren't strong enough to fight them. But it was different for Raiden. The more powerful he grew, the hungrier he was for more, pus.h.i.+ng the lengths and limits beyond any reason. Beyond what was natural. When I saw what he was doing, I tried to pull away, but I now wish I hadn't. Maybe I would've uncovered his mutiny before it was too late.”
He looks away, and I take the chance to study his face, trying to guess how old he is. It's hard to tell in the dim light, but he can't be that much older than my parents-which feels wrong to me. I mean, I know the rebellion went down within the last few decades. But I guess somehow it felt farther away than that.
Could an entire world really crumble in one lifetime? Isn't that supposed to take like . . . generations?
”I organized an early counterattack, trying to stop Raiden before it went any further,” Os says through a sigh. ”But we weren't prepared for his unfathomable brutality. He overran us without a single loss on his side. Bound us all in strange winds that dragged us back to him if we tried to run and made me watch as one by one he murdered my guardians. But he didn't kill me. He told me I should have to watch the rest of our world fall to him and know that I was too weak to stop it. And he's right-I am too weak. I've had to make compromises that shouldn't have had to be made.” He runs his hand along the wall, whispering something I can't make out before he turns back to look at me. ”But now I have you. You have the power to fix things, bring them back to their natural order. Erase the black marks Raiden has carved into our history and usher in a new period of peace ” I swallow the lump in my throat.
I have no idea how I'm supposed to be the savior he expects me to be. But I'm surprised to realize that I want to.
Someone needs to stop Raiden. And if that someone has to be me, well, then . . . I guess I'll find a way.
I wonder if my resolve shows on my face, because Os nods, like he's pleased with what he sees. Then he squeezes my shoulder and turns to head down the dark hallway.
I follow him until the ground levels off and we reach a round cavern about the size of my bedroom. A pale, tired-looking Gale stands between two curtains made of some sort of metal mesh. They look as flimsy as my mother's flowery drapes, but when I touch one it's solid like a wall. Os hisses a word I can't understand and the curtain on the right sweeps to the side.