Second Age of Storms, 51st Summer, Day 25
“This is madness!” Huddled in the doorway to the lift, Sou-Zell stared at the sky outside with fear and loathing. “Storms are deadly enough on the ground. We must be miles above the earth. No shieldcaster, no shelter. If you go out there, you’ll die.”
“I didn’t bring you up here to whine,” Jin said through gritted teeth. “Now listen. This isn’t a natural storm. Falka’s controlling it somehow. And if one sparkrider can call down a storm, two of us might have a chance of getting through it intact.”
Minutes ago, she’d ventured onto the narrow, rocky path leading away from the lift. The wind had battered her so violently she’d thought it would sweep her off the dizzying drop to her right, but she had to see. She couldn’t just give up and wait out the storm. What if Yi-Nereen was being held captive just around the corner?
What she’d witnessed was impossible. Around the mountain’s shoulder was a ruined castle perched above the void, like a gray-feathered saurian overlooking the wastes. The growing storm swirled around a single point atop the ruin where a distant figure stood, so tiny Jin could barely identify them as human.
But she knew in her gut who it was. Just like the first time she’d seen Falka command a storm: the day she’d crashed her magebike on the road to Kerina Rut.
“How?” Sou-Zell demanded. “Convince me you aren’t insane.”
Jin let out a frustrated growl. She’d forgotten—Sou-Zell might have sparktalent, but he wasn’t a true sparkrider. He had certainly never fled down a highway with a storm licking at his heels before.
“Look, if a sparkrider gets caught in a storm, it’s bad. But you can survive for a little while. You have to anticipate where the next bolt is going to strike. If you’re quick enough with your Talent, you can redirect it. Like swerving your bike around a hole.” You didn’t need to be strong to redirect mana lightning, just fast and lucky.
Sou-Zell’s eyes flared violet. Jin’s skin crawled; she couldn’t feel him digging into her mind, but knowing he was doing it was sickening enough. After a moment that felt like hours, the glow faded from Sou-Zell’s eyes and he said brusquely, “You aren’t lying. Or at least, you believe your own words.”
“Why would I lie? To get both of us killed? Fuck, you really don’t trust anyone, do you?”
“It’s still the plan of an imbecile.”
Jin wanted to snatch Sou-Zell by the collar of his bone-studded vest and fling him over the drop. She hoped he was reading that thought. But even if his sparktalent was weak, his help would drastically increase her chances of getting through this storm alive.
In theory, anyway. Jin had never done it before. All she had were Lorne’s stories, and if she was honest, he’d been known to exaggerate.
She turned to Kadrin. “You stay here. It’s going to be hard enough getting the two of us through, and you’re…”
“Deadweight?” She’d never seen him wear such a bitter smile. It didn’t suit him at all. “Forget it. I’ll stick close, and if a bolt hits me, well, it hits me. Just make sure you keep going if it does.”
His tone made Jin’s blood run cold. “Stop saying shit like that!” She shook out her hands, trying to quell the terror building inside her. “There’s no reason to be an idiot. Stay. Here.”
“I won’t do that, Jin.” His voice was calm. But instead of lifting her spirits, that only frightened her more. “Once you get to the castle, who knows what’ll happen? You’ll need backup, someone who can swing a sword, even if he is an idiot. And I’m not about to let you go with only him for company.” He looked at Sou-Zell with palpable contempt. “I once told Reena I wouldn’t hesitate to walk through a storm for her. Well, not in those exact words, but I’ll be damned if I don’t live up to that.”
Jin’s eyes stung with angry tears. “And when you die, am I supposed to tell her you threw your life away for no good reason?”
“As touching as this is,” Sou-Zell said, “if we’re going to go, let’s not dawdle. The storm’s only going to get worse. Let the prince come if he wants.”
Jin bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to taste blood. As much as she despised it, Sou-Zell was right. Gods, why couldn’t he be wrong? She should never have given in to Kadrin after the Council meeting. She could’ve left him in the safety of Kerina Sol. How unforgivably selfish she’d been.
“Stay close to me,” she said. “Fuck, just—hold on to me, okay? And you.” She jabbed a finger at Sou-Zell. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me, but stay as close as you can.”
Sou-Zell’s only response was to curl his lip. Well, she’d have to take that as agreement. Jin turned to face the storm outside the lift, her heart pounding. The path leading up the slope to the castle had looked impossibly narrow. Swirling debris darkened the air, masking the drop to the wasteland below, but Jin knew it was there. The void was calling her name.
Kadrin’s hands settled onto her waist from behind.
“Thank you,” he said in her ear. “And I’m sorry for earlier. What’s between you and Reena isn’t any of my concern.”
Jin turned her head and choked out, “There isn’t anything between me and Reena.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it would have to do. Louder, she said, “Ready? Good. Let’s go.”
She stepped out of the lift and into the howling winds.
Everything else faded away. There was no world but this one, no reality but the storm’s brutal embrace. Dust and darkness. She couldn’t afford to think of anything, not even what awaited them at the end. Her feet shuffled mechanically along the path. Every ounce of her attention had to be focused on one thing and one thing only: the next lightning strike.
What had Lorne told her all those years ago, when she was just a grease-stained kid sitting in his garage, handing him tools while he worked on a bike?
You know how your bike feels alive when you’re sitting on it, pushing sparks down the wire? Imagine you’re in a storm, and the air is alive all around you. Burn a little mana, and you’ll hear a hundred voices whispering in your ear, so faint you can hardly make out what they’re saying. No other feeling like that in the world, but it’s playing with fire. If you don’t listen, you’re dead.
She burned mana, but instead of letting it loose as sparks, she kept the energy simmering under her skin. The moment she did, she heard them. Just like Lorne had said. For once, he hadn’t been spinning tall tales.
The storm was alive and whispering her name. Jin. Just as the ruined temple had poured its loneliness into her soul, the storm spoke to her of hatred and longing and regret. Jin, where are you? How could you leave me? Jin. Jin, I’ll kill you.
A bolt came streaking down from the boiling heavens. Jin didn’t see it—she felt it, a manifestation of the storm’s hatred. She threw out Talent and grasped the bolt, flung it sideways. It stabbed down into the void, and the sky howled its displeasure in great crackling booms.
Jin-Lu. Liar, traitor, heartbreaker. Your love is so easily given, but it means nothing. You mean nothing.
Jin hurled another bolt into the void below. She couldn’t afford to respond, though she sensed she had the power to do so. All she had to do was reach back through the voice of the storm to its source, all the way to that tiny figure atop the ruins.
The wind snatched at her like Makela’s grasping fingers, trying to rip her off the path, trying to tear her in two. She kept trudging forward and deflecting bolts, always just a hair short of too late. Exhaustion and adrenaline fought for control of her body. Sweat drenched her clothes. How far had they come? How much was left? She saw nothing, felt nothing but the path climbing steeply beneath her feet and Kadrin’s grip on her waist. Sou-Zell might have been reduced to ashes already, for all she knew. She couldn’t spare a glance over her shoulder.
Jin, the storm screamed. It’s too late. I’m not waiting for you, not any longer. Die. Die!
Jin stumbled. At that precise moment, a bolt slashed down. She couldn’t react in time, but the bolt wasn’t aimed at her—it struck the rock wall above and beside her. Sharp fragments of stone exploded outward, slicing her jacket and her exposed cheek.
Then the ground lurched. The narrow path was giving way to the storm’s fury. The pressure around her waist vanished.
Kadrin! She was part of the storm, and her terrified scream came not from her flesh-and-blood lips, but from her soul, carried on the wind by the conduit of her Talent. All her wits, her resolve to keep going no matter what happened, blew away like dust. Jin turned.
The rockfall had shattered the path, leaving a gap behind them. Kadrin lay flat against the surviving section, hands reaching down into the abyss, grasping for—for what?
Sou-Zell had fallen. He dangled above the dizzying void, his face stark white with terror. Kadrin’s fist was clenched under the collar of Sou-Zell’s jacket, anchoring him above the drop. All his muscles strained against gravity. Jin threw herself down beside Kadrin, but his arms were longer than hers—she couldn’t reach.
Rolling onto her back, she screamed in frustration and sent a bolt skittering sideways. The sky above had turned pure black, and the bolts were coming down faster than ever. Grit stung her eyes.
Oh, Jin, purred the storm. I have you now.
No. She wouldn’t die here, and neither would Kadrin. Not for a scoundrel like Sou-Zell.
“Let him go!” she shouted at Kadrin. “We’ll all die!”
She caught a glimpse of Sou-Zell’s face swaying in the emptiness, his teeth bared in a rictus of pain and hatred—but fear most of all. Jin looked away and sent another bolt flying. She couldn’t let herself care. Kadrin had to live, at all costs.
But Kadrin wasn’t listening. “I’ve got you,” he called down to Sou-Zell, his voice strained. “I’m not letting go.”
Jin screamed at the heavens, a wordless howl. In her soul she called out to Falka, to the gods, to anyone who was listening. Please don’t let him die. I’ll give anything. Please, save us.
And she waited for the next lightning strike, the next attack to parry, knowing it was useless. Her nerves were frayed to ribbons, and the storm spoke in too many voices for her to listen to them all.
If she and Kadrin had just kept going, perhaps they would have made it. Perhaps.
Against the flickering darkness of the clouds, something moved. She recognized that shape, the wheeling pattern it made in the sky.
A pteropter.
The clouds’ dark underbelly lit up in a glowing violet spiderweb. Then a dozen bolts all stabbed down at once, streaking toward Jin, Kadrin, and Sou-Zell as if drawn by magnetism. Jin braced herself to be vaporized. But midair the bolts collided with that wheeling dark shape—the pteropter glowed so brilliantly Jin’s eyes ached. Yet she went on staring, because what she saw made no sense.
Halfway between heaven and earth, Screech drank in the lightning and didn’t burn—instead, he grew. The dark shape swelled, wings spreading to a massive length, horned head stretching outward.
Then a great screech pierced the storm. The pteropter wheeled and glided over Jin as if celebrating its triumph. More lightning stabbed down from the sky, but it split and arced out to either side of the flying saurian, as if afraid to strike it again.
Jin drew breath. The gods had heard her plea. She was alive. All three of them were alive.