Chapter 8 #4
Merrik had a grim set to his jaw while Rothilion flexed his fingers. Yet there was a glint of hope in their gazes as well.
That same hope twisted in Fieran’s chest. Could Pretty Face be there? Was this why he hadn’t been able to escape back to the Alliance?
“We believe so, yes.” Uncle Edmund’s gaze lifted past the pack of generals at the table to meet Fieran’s across the room.
So this was why Fieran had been included in this meeting. This had something to do with the Flying Corps, and Fieran was the ranking officer in the area.
“Several months ago, a shipload of Alliance prisoners was taken from the main prisoner of war camp outside of Landri.” Uncle Edmund shifted his gaze away from Fieran and back to the men around the table.
“The paper trail is hazy, but our best guess is that they were taken to the Ontocotee Naval Base and from there to Ludin. They are likely intended to be laborers of some sort. The reconnaissance photographs show what appears to be a factory on the site—likely manufacturing the Mongavarian version of a magical power cell to hold the stolen ogre magic. All the elves at the prisoner of war camp were included in this transfer.”
“Are they going to experiment on elves now?” the male elf general sputtered, his face going white beneath his already pale silver complexion.
“It is a possibility, yes.” Uncle Edmund’s voice had a catch in it.
Fieran shifted, sneaking a glance at Dacha before taking in the other elves. All the elves in this room were now very motivated to shut down Ludin.
As was Fieran. If Pretty Face was there, then Fieran would do whatever it took to rescue him.
Yes, Pretty Face might be at the larger prisoner of war camp near Landri. Those Escarlish Flying Corps wings could have been done by any number of flyboys who had crashed in Mongavaria since the war began. Still…there was just something about it that Fieran couldn’t shake.
“If you are saying we can’t bomb this facility because our people are there, are you suggesting we launch a ground strike against it?
” The blustering Escarlish general broke the moment.
“Thousands would die in that case. Are a handful of ogres and a few of our own men worth the cost it would take to spare them? Even an ineffective bombing campaign would be better than that. The losses to the Flying Corps, and to the Alliance prisoners of war, would be far more manageable.”
Fieran used to think that generals should be like his Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska. Good warriors who held to a strict code of honor.
But perhaps effective generals were also those who were rather awful people. It took a certain level of cold ruthlessness to send men into battle and keep sending them to their deaths until the battle was won.
Even if this Escarlish general had a point, Fieran didn’t have to like him or like his suggestions.
“No, I agree that any kind of ground strike against this facility prior to the end of the war would be inadvisable.” Uncle Julien shook his head. “It’s in a too heavily fortified area of the kingdom, and any attempt would just dangerously split our forces and focus.”
“What about a small infiltration force? Possibly from the Cartmer Gorge or landed from the ocean?” another general suggested.
“The fields surrounding the Ludin facility are too well-guarded with hidden bunkers, and the Mongavarians would likely kill all the Alliance prisoners before we got there.” Uncle Julien held up another series of photographs, showing bunkers and strong points in the area around Ludin.
“Even if we were willing to sacrifice the prisoners for the greater objective of shutting down the experiments, an attack with a small group would need a warrior of the magic of the ancient kings to succeed, but any use of the magic of the ancient kings would need to be limited around Ludin until it was securely in our hands. The chance of actually succeeding would be very low.”
“What about parachuting from an airship or aeroplane?” Fieran hadn’t even realized he’d spoken out loud until all eyes in the room swung to him, the general directly in front of him whirling around, as if they’d forgotten he and his friends were even in the room.
At their gaping looks, Fieran shrugged. “Just a thought. If you got an airship over Ludin once, perhaps you can do it again.”
“We considered it.” Uncle Julien nodded to Fieran.
“But the height the airship traveled was far too high for a safe parachute jump. And while the army and navy have been conducting experiments with parachutes and parachute designs, our technology isn’t there yet.
We wouldn’t have a way to guarantee a force would actually land in Ludin.
They’d probably be shot out of the sky long before reaching the ground. ”
Fieran sighed. It had been a thought. But Uncle Julien was right.
They hadn’t even figured out how to include parachutes in the cockpits of aeroplanes so that pilots could jump out of a crashing aeroplane and possibly survive.
Trying it on some kind of dangerous mission was still impossible. Maybe someday, but not now.
“How are we going to take it out?” The loud Escarlish general appeared ready to punch someone in frustration. “So far, all you’ve done is convince us that taking it out is necessary, only to prove that doing so is impossible.”
“We get sneaky.” Uncle Edmund’s smile was more sharp danger than mirth. “We have come up with a plan that will not only take out Ludin but also end the war.”
That created a flurry of comments and questions around the room.
Fieran was all for doing something to end the war quicker. He’d already witnessed too much death. He’d lost his cousin Myles. Lost members of his squadron. Lost Pretty Face to either captivity or death.
It was beyond time for this war to end.
Yet what could Uncle Edmund and Uncle Julien have come up with that would possibly accomplish both goals?
“I’m afraid we can’t share too many details as this mission is top secret.
” Uncle Edmund swept a glance around the room, that edge still in his eyes.
“But it will involve two of our warriors of the ancient kings venturing into Mongavaria, leaving you to proceed with the invasion with the remaining two warriors.”
“That will severely hamper our efforts!”
“What if they’re killed?”
“Or, worse, captured? If Mongavaria gets their hands on them…”
Fieran glanced at Adry and Dacha. Of course Dacha would be one of the warriors going into Mongavaria, leaving either Adry or Fieran as the second since Rhohen was too young for such a mission.
Some clenching in Fieran’s chest told him he would be the one sent with Dacha.
By the way Pip gripped his hand in a vice, she knew it too.
“This mission has been carefully calculated and planned in conjunction with an attack by our naval forces.” Uncle Julien gave each general assembled there a hard stare.
“It is a risk, but the time to strike is now. Yes, we could continue as we are, forging across Mongavaria foot by foot. We would win eventually, but we would pave every mile of Mongavaria with our blood.”
Uncle Julien had the room in the grip of his voice, his fervor wrapping around each of them.
The generals around the table were leaning closer, the trolls with clenched fists and savage grins, the Escarlish with brutal resolve to the sets of their chins, and the elves with that finely honed edge like swords about to strike.
“As you pointed out”—here Uncle Julien nodded to the bellicose Escarlish general—“our greatest weapon is the magic of the ancient kings. If we can’t drop a bomb with that magic on Mongavaria, then the next best thing we can do is drop them”—Uncle Julien waved to where Dacha, Adry, and Fieran stood along the wall—“and let them do what they do best: end the war.”
“In that case, why didn’t we just do that months ago and save ourselves all the trouble of fighting this war?” The Escarlish general seemed determined to remain pugnacious.
“At the start of this war, we only had one seasoned warrior with the magic of the ancient kings. The next generation of warriors did not yet have the battle experience or magical stamina necessary to fight as full-fledged warriors as they can now.” Uncle Julien remained just as unflinching as the general he faced.
“Nor was Mongavaria ready to surrender back then. We were facing an equally matched opponent with nearly identical industrialized capacity and food production. If anything, their army was the more experienced and battle-hardened after their years of conquest. If we had sent in a warrior, assuming we could do so given we didn’t yet have control of the skies or the seas as we do now, it would have only strengthened their resolve instead of making them break. ”
Fieran felt the truth of that to his bones. It would have been nice if Dacha could have just marched on Landri and ended all of this before it had truly begun.
But that would have just reinforced the Mongavarian propaganda about the dangers of the elves. They would have doubled down on their efforts to exploit the ogres and build those machines.
At the start of this war, Mongavaria hadn’t been able to invade Escarland because of Dacha’s magic. But the Alliance hadn’t been militarily strong enough to invade Mongavaria either. They’d been equally matched in that.
It had taken this war with all its defeats and victories, death and carnage, for the Alliance to fight its way to the military edge it had now.
“We have gained this opportunity to end the war thanks to all the blood we’ve already shed and the sacrifices we’ve already made.
Let’s not waste it.” Uncle Julien pounded a fist on the table.
“We are going to give Mongavaria everything we’ve got.
We will hit hard, and we will be unrelenting.
We need to have Mongavaria on its knees when our warriors go for the throat.
They won’t surrender to anything less than that.
This is a gamble, but if it succeeds, the war will end in mere weeks rather than months or even years from now. ”
The generals weren’t raucous enlisted men to meet that statement with something as undignified as cheers. But there were fervent murmurs, firm nods, and a few more fists pounded on the table.
Fieran gripped Pip’s hand and held Merrik’s gaze, seeing the same determination mirrored there. Whatever his uncles’ plan, whatever it took to end this war, they’d do it.