Chapter 33 #3
Tryndar shrieked and cackled, his silver-blond hair flapping free and into Fieran’s face.
As the aeroplane grew light, Fieran pulled back on the control stick, and the aeroplane rose into the sky. Just behind them, Merrik’s aeroplane soared as well, taking up that familiar position at Fieran’s tail.
When the aeroplane gained more altitude, Fieran sent it into a gentle curve, tipping it on its wing. On the airfield, the rest of the squadron was taking off two by two, rising into the sky to join him and Merrik.
By the hangar, Pip, Mak, Adry, Louise, Dacha, Mama, Uncle Iyrinder, and Aunt Patience had lined up, shading their eyes as they peered upward.
Fieran tapped Tryndar’s shoulder and pointed. “Look. They’re watching. Wave.”
Tryndar leaned in that direction and waved. Fieran matched his gesture, not sure if those on the ground would be able to see it from that far away.
Yet moments later, the whole line of those watching waved back.
As he returned his hands to the control stick, Tryndar placed his smaller hands over Fieran’s, as if he wanted to help fly.
Another glance around showed that the squadron was assembling behind him.
Rothilion with Aylia as his wingelf. Stickyfingers in a two-seater with Pretty Face in the rear seat.
Lije, with Aaruk in the second seat of his two-seater, and Tiny.
All the other men and women, both elf and human, who had formed the Half-Breed Squadron.
Fieran gave a whoop and laughed at the sheer rush sweeping through him.
The war might be over, but he still had his aeroplane. He had his squadron. And he had the bright blue sky stretching before him. Nothing was going to hold him back.
Fieran sat on the edge of the wooden platform beside his tent at Fort Defense, the setting sun warm against the back of his neck, the eastern horizon lit with the blue glow of the new Wall he, Dacha, Adry, Louise, and Rhohen created after flooding Mongavaria with their magic.
Perhaps, once the official peace treaty was signed and the tensions finally eased, the Wall would retreat into the ground, as it had been in Fieran’s childhood.
With a sigh, Merrik slowly lowered himself to sit on the platform next to Fieran.
A long, comfortable silence settled between them, filled with the steady hum of large vehicles, distant voices, and tromping boots. All the familiar sounds of an army base.
Fieran released a sigh, not daring to look at Merrik. “Do you regret it?”
He wasn’t sure what he meant. Joining the army. The things they’d done. The people they’d killed. All that the two of them had lost along the way.
He wasn’t even sure if he regretted those things or not. Yes, they held a weight. There were things he wished he had done differently. Tragedies he wished he could have prevented. He’d live with that weight for the rest of his life.
Merrik shifted his right boot, as if thinking of what joining the Flying Corps had cost him. “No. And yes. If that makes sense.”
“It does.” Fieran braced his hands behind him on the platform.
They lapsed into silence once again. This time the weight between them was that of long friendship, the brotherhood they’d forged during this war, and the brothers in truth they would become someday.
“Here you are.” Adry’s cheerful voice rang out a moment later before she appeared around the corner of the nearest tent. “Pip thought we’d find you here.”
“It’s like I know him well or something.” Pip laughed as she strode between the tents behind Adry. Her brother Mak trailed after her a moment later.
Adry settled in beside Merrik, clasping his hand, while Pip took the seat next to Fieran.
He put his arm around her, and she leaned into him. He didn’t even feel too bad about snuggling in front of everyone, even when Mak sat on the next platform over since there wasn’t enough room on this one.
The other flyboys drifted between the tents until Lije, Stickyfingers, Pretty Face, and Tiny were lined up on the platforms on either side. Even Rothilion and Aylia made an appearance. Aylia lounged on another platform over although Rothilion remained standing, leaning against a tree.
Stickyfingers picked up a pebble and gave it a halfhearted toss. “What was the point? To the war? All of this? Everything is just going to go right back to the way it was.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Lije shrugged, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“No, but…” Stickyfingers sighed and threw another pebble. “The entire war was fought so that the border could remain exactly where it was. The Alliance didn’t gain anything. No one gained anything.”
“The last war resulted in the Alliance. It meant something. At least, that’s how it sounds in stories.” Tiny rolled a ball of ice around in his palms.
“We gained the alliance with the dwarves.” Lije pointed toward Pip. “That means something.”
“My dwarven kingdom, at least.” Pip shrugged within the circle of Fieran’s arm. “But it isn’t the close alliance like the one between Kostaria, Tarenhiel, and Escarland.”
“It could become that. The first Alliance started with a mere defense treaty.” Lije grinned, displaying the gap between his front teeth.
“True.” Pretty Face gripped the edge of the platform, his shoulders somewhat hunched as if he was still curled within himself. Recovering from what he’d experienced would take time. “And this war will make a difference for the ogres. Perhaps Escarland will be able to strengthen ties with them.”
“Most of all, this war proved the worth of the Alliance.” Rothilion spoke in a low tone, his arms crossed.
“There has always been some doubt on how well our kingdoms would be able to fight a war while so integrated. Mongavaria assumed we would fall apart into internecine fighting. They were counting on it.”
“It was not an unreasonable assumption.” Aylia’s somber expression quickly disappeared into one of her cheerful grins. “But we did not. We won. The Alliance survived Mongavaria’s attempt to destroy us. And now the Alliance is stronger than ever.”
“We survived. That is the meaning.” Merrik’s voice drew attention. He gave a rolling shrug, even as he stretched out his prosthetic leg. “History books will likely list all those things as the result of this war. But for us right here, right now, all that matters is we survived.”
“And we have each other.” Fieran tucked Pip closer, even as he nudged Merrik with his other arm. “That’s what we gained by the war, awful as it was. We have the Half-Breed Squadron and always will.”
As his friends cheered their agreement and the sun set behind him, Fieran held Pip close, his best friend at his side, ready to face whatever future came their way.