Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Fieran sat in the second seat of the aeroplane, tapping his fingers against his legs since he didn’t have anything to do with his hands. He held two large packs of supplies on his lap while his swords—now lethally sharpened by Pip’s cousin—rested across his back.
Darkness closed around the aeroplane, the chill even more pronounced this high up.
Fieran wore his flight jacket, cap, and goggles, but he had to wiggle his toes in his regular army boots to keep them warm, despite the wool socks he wore.
He would need the stiffer soles of his regular boots rather than the soft leather flight boots, which would lack traction.
Merrik sat in the front pilot seat, guiding the aeroplane through the sky by the instruments lit with a blue elven light.
Across the sky, more faint blue lights marked where the rest of the squadron flew, lights that would be covered if the squadron spotted enemy aeroplanes.
In the darkness, Fieran couldn’t see the other two-seaters where Pip, Dacha, and Uncle Edmund were riding, those aeroplanes piloted by Lije, Aylia, and Stickyfingers.
Merrik’s head moved as he checked the instruments. His voice echoed in Fieran’s ears through the radio built into his cap. “Half-Breed, we are five miles out. Prepare to go into battle formation.”
Fieran was now tapping his fingers and his feet. It was strange to sit here without a control column in his hand or a rudder bar at his feet, simply a passenger while someone else commanded his squadron.
At least that someone else was Merrik. He had no doubt that Merrik would take care of the squadron and command it well.
Fieran leaned forward and pulled the receiver sewn into the flaps of his flight cap away from his face so that the radio wouldn’t pick up his next words. He reached out and gripped Merrik’s shoulder. “Merrik, I…”
For a moment, his words failed him, a lump clogging his throat. What could he say at this moment?
In some ways, he and Merrik had already said everything that needed to be said before they’d ever climbed into the aeroplane for this mission. Fieran had said his goodbyes to Mak, Lije, Stickyfingers, Aylia, Tiny, and the rest of the squadron. What else was there to say?
Merrik half-turned in his seat, his face mostly hidden behind the goggles and his flight cap. He gave a nod, as if he didn’t think any more words were needed.
Perhaps they weren’t.
But Fieran couldn’t help but speak them anyway. He squeezed Merrik’s shoulder. “Take care of my sister.”
Merrik gripped the control column in one hand as he pulled the flap of his flight cap away from his mouth as well, raising his voice to be heard over the rush of the wind and hum of the engine. “You know I will.”
“Yes, but she will need you more than ever, now that she will be fighting alone.” Fieran couldn’t put as much meaning into his voice since he had to shout.
But perhaps Merrik would hear what he wasn’t saying anyway.
The way he was stepping back, acknowledging the place that belonged to Merrik in Adry’s life.
“Not entirely alone. She will have Rhohen.” The flight cap didn’t hide Merrik’s lopsided smile.
“Don’t remind me.” If Fieran thought about the fact that Adry would be fighting this war with only Rhohen as magical backup, he might demand that Merrik turn this aeroplane around.
Merrik nodded again, more solemnly this time. “I’ll take care of her.”
“And take care of the squadron.” Fieran gave Merrik’s shoulder a slight shake. “Be the legendary leader I know you can be.”
“Legendary.” Merrik snorted. “That has always been more your thing than mine. I will settle for unassumingly competent.”
“You’re greater than you think you are.” Fieran dropped his hand as the low lights of the airship base came into view ahead.
Airships hovered in the sky, keeping guard, while airship upon airship lined up at docks near the ground, waiting for refits or supplies.
“I think you’ll make a few legends for yourself whether you want to or not. ”
“That is not as comforting as you think it is.” Merrik reached around to hold out his hand over his shoulder. “Stay safe. Do not do anything too reckless. I am counting on Pip to get both of you back more or less in one piece.”
Fieran took Merrik’s hand and gave a firm shake. This was it. Moments from now, they’d part, likely until the end of the war, depending on how long it took Fieran and Pip to fight their way across Mongavaria after rescuing the prisoners.
Withdrawing his hand, Merrik faced forward again, tugging the flaps of his flight cap back into place as a burst of chatter filled the radio.
The aeroplanes of the Half-Breed Squadron swept into a formation of two columns, preparing to attack the guarding airships.
Fieran listened to the orders given back and forth over the radio, the sounds of the fighters going into battle. He was strangely detached instead of being at the heart of the action like he usually was.
Merrik directed his two-seater toward the front of the formation, and Aylia mirrored his movements until their two aeroplanes flew side by side.
Fieran glanced over at the other aeroplane, his dacha so bundled underneath flight cap, coat, and goggles that even his distinctive hair wasn’t visible. His dacha’s goggles swung in his direction, and Fieran gave a small wave.
Dacha nodded back before his magic sprang around his fingertips.
Fieran, too, drew on his magic, letting it pour from his chest to crackle around his hands. He reached over the side of the aeroplane and shoved his magic outward, stretching for the other aeroplanes.
Dacha did the same so that all aeroplanes were covered with each of them only using a portion of their magic.
The large guns below boomed, and the airborne airships turned toward them, their guns barking as well. The bullets burst against the dual shields of Dacha’s and Fieran’s magic, the fire from the ground as useless as always.
Fieran peered through the gunfire, blue magic, and smoke, searching the airships.
He didn’t see any with a network of wires and a machine dangling below, nor could he feel any tugs on his magic.
Hopefully Uncle Edmund’s information was accurate, and the machines hadn’t been delivered to this aerodrome yet.
If everything went well tonight, this aerodrome would be in tatters by morning, and the shipment of machines would be derailed by the mission of the squadron of fighters and bombers flying out of one of the aerodromes farther south in Escarland.
“Half-Breed, let us attack with everything we have.” Merrik shot another glance over his shoulder. “One last time with Laesornysh on board.”
“For Laesornysh!” The shout echoed through the radio as the rest of the squadron swept in behind Merrik and Aylia.
Fieran grinned as he let his magic build within his chest. He pressed the talk button built into the side of the aeroplane next to the spot where the wire from his flight cap plugged in. “For the Half-Breed Squadron!”
“For the Half-Breed Squadron!” the voices on the radio shouted.
As Merrik bore down on the first airship in line, Fieran unleashed the magic building in his chest and cast a bolt filled with power straight at it.
This airship didn’t yet have that deflecting magic placed on it, and the outer dirigible layer vaporized in a moment. Explosions burst within it, and it tilted downward in a groan of metal.
More blue magic engulfed a second airship, consuming it.
Merrik pointed the aeroplane between the two crashing airships, leading the Half-Breed Squadron into the center of the airship line.
Fieran poured his magic over the airships, sending wreck after wreck plunging toward the aerodrome below.
Several of the airships tied to the docks caught on fire or crumpled as wreckage crashed into them.
What wasn’t hit by wreckage, the squadron destroyed as they swept low over their targets before dropping their small incendiary bombs.
He’d forgotten just how easy it was to destroy a fleet that wasn’t protected by that deflecting magic or magic-stealing machines. Especially with his dacha doing half of the destroying.
At the far side of the aerodrome, Merrik wheeled the aeroplane around, losing altitude as he did so.
Once he leveled out of the turn, Fieran unbuckled his lap belt and wiggled about the confined space to pull one pack onto his back over his swords and situate the other across his chest.
Aylia and Stickyfingers executed their turns as well, maneuvering so that they were ahead of Merrik. Lije, with Pip in his second seat, followed Merrik and Fieran.
“Captain, Prince Edmund has requested that we target the final airship in line to the south. It appears to be taking longer to get into the sky than the others.” Sticky’s voice crackled over the radio.
He and Uncle Edmund were flying in an older two-seater that didn’t have radio wires rigged for the second seat.
Merrik tilted the aeroplane to give them a better view of the aerodrome.
Most of the middle of the aerodrome had been devastated.
Fires burned in many of the buildings, and even as Fieran watched, one of the warehouses went up in a massive ball of fire.
To either side, the undamaged airships were slowly rising into the air with the ones at the farthest end of the line seemingly waiting for those closer to the destruction to get off first.
“I agree. That one will work well.” Merrik swerved the aeroplane’s tilt into a turn. “Half-Breed, we’re making a low pass over the airships to the south for our drop-off.”
The flyboys and flygirls acknowledged, and the squadron closed into a tighter formation around the two-seaters.
Something both painful and somehow fiercely warm filled Fieran’s chest, watching the way his squadron skillfully flew between the crashing airships and bursts of explosions. They’d come such a long way since those first days of training at Fort Linder.
And now he was going to have to leave them behind.