Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

P ip and the other mechanics—Escarlish, elven, and troll—huddled around the radio at the back of the hangar, listening to Fieran and his squadron as they fought in the skies over the islands.

The troll communications officer occasionally spoke into the phone, relaying the information to the main communications room several rooms below.

Too bad they didn't get any information sent back to them in return. At least in the Battle over Bridgetown, Pip could see what was happening. Now, even if she stood on the cliffs, the battle was happening so far away that it was nothing but the faint sounds of explosions and flashes of orange, when the fog lifted enough to even see that far.

At least she knew her flyboys were still alive. She could hear their voices on the radio, shouting and cursing and warning each other. Over them all, Fieran gave orders with a ring of confidence, even in what must be utter chaos.

Why did the sound of his voice have to hurt so much? It wasn't like they'd broken up. It wasn't even as if he'd told her he wasn't attracted to her. He liked her too .

He'd just told her not yet , for reasons that were completely valid. They needed to put their duties first and any and all relationships second.

An even louder explosion echoed into the hangar, popping against their ears.

"What was that?" One of the mechanics rubbed at his ears. Another raced toward the hangar mouth, peering out.

As he listened to something on the telephone, the troll communications officer washed an even paler gray. After several minutes, he turned toward them. "The KS Valorous just exploded."

"What?" One of the troll mechanics pressed a hand to the rock wall as his face turned the same pallor as the communications officer.

Pip braced herself against one of the mechanics' carts. How was that possible? Wasn't the KS Valorous one of the dwarf-built ships? How could it explode?

A sharp bang echoed through the hangar. One of the troll mechanics grunted, then collapsed in a pool of red.

"Attack!"

The next thing Pip knew, one of the Escarlish mechanics shoved her to the ground, even as more shots rang out.

Her mind reeled, her body frozen. She couldn't process what was happening.

More shouting. Another body falling. The troll communications officer crouched only a few feet away, shouting into the telephone about an attack.

Her ears ringing, her brain screeching, Pip called up her magic and blasted out a shield, holding it.

Bullets ricocheted off her barrier, and someone on the far side cried out.

The mechanic who had pushed her to the ground cautiously crouched before he reached a hand to her. "Sorry about knocking you over."

"You probably saved my life." Pip grabbed the largest wrench off the mechanics' cart. It made a paltry weapon against guns, but she felt safer with something that could be used as a weapon in her hand.

Baragh knelt by the injured troll, putting pressure on the wound. One of the elven mechanics was also down, but he was alert enough that he was putting pressure on his wound with his hand and a wad of rags he must have grabbed from one of the nearby mechanics' carts. Hopefully Queen Melantha wouldn't mind cleaning grease from a wound.

Past her shield, Mongavarian soldiers—dressed in brown uniforms with blue bands on their arms—streamed into the stairwell. Others stayed in the hangar, shooting up or wrecking whatever they could.

The troll communications officer shouted into the phone. He seemed to have the presence of mind to at least count the number of enemy soldiers passing them. He waited for a moment before he glanced over his shoulder at them. "There's been another attack down below too."

"The Mongavarians must have landed a ship on the north end of the island under the cover of the storm and hiked overland." Baragh gripped his injured mechanic, a grim set to his mouth. For some reason, he was looking at Pip, as if asking her what to do now.

Why would she give orders? Sure, she was the one holding the shield, but it wasn't like she had any more military experience than the others around her. They were all just mechanics, not trained warriors, unless the elf or troll mechanics had a few skills she didn't know about.

If the few troll warriors stationed on the base for security were busy trying to fend off an attack at the docks, how many had been left to protect the commanders and other civilians, like Queen Melantha and the elven healers? Even if those civilians were protected, there wouldn't be any help arriving for Pip and the others.

A second concussive boom tore through the air. Another ship exploding? Alliance or Mongavarian?

The voices on the radio blended together, speaking over each other in a chaos that was nearly impossible to decipher.

What were they supposed to do now? Pip's shield kept her and the others safe, and they could just sit here, waiting out the attack. But the two injured mechanics needed medical attention.

Besides, she couldn't just do nothing while those Mongavarian soldiers destroyed their spare aeroplane parts. Fieran and the flyboys would need those.

Pip stood to her full five feet of height, gripping the wrench. "All right, men. We can't just sit by and watch them trash the place. One of you needs to stay here with the radio and the injured. The rest of us are going to throw these Mongavarians out of our aerodrome."

The other mechanics pushed to their feet. The injured elf crawled forward, then took Baragh's place by the injured troll. "I will stay."

Baragh stood, his hands stained red, as he grabbed a wrench of his own. "Let's work our way to the left. We'll block the entrance to the stairs before we attack."

"And take these." One of her mechanics passed out a few sidearms and boxes of ammo. "Sorry, this is all I found in the locker."

Baragh waved a weapon away, pointing to Pip instead.

Stuffing the wrench into her belt, Pip swallowed and took the gun the mechanic offered to her. They'd had to pass basic firearm safety and shooting as part of their army mechanics training. It wasn't quite as rigorous as actual army training, but they were living on an army base. They had to know how to use weapons.

With the handgun gripped in both of her hands, Pip nodded to Baragh.

Baragh led the way, edging along the wall. Pip kept pace with him, expanding her shield as they moved so that she could cover them and the fallen mechanics.

The other mechanics stalked behind her and Baragh, carrying everything from handguns to wrenches to hammers.

The Mongavarian soldiers glanced up, then spun to face them as they moved. They raised their guns but didn't attempt to open fire again. They had learned something from earlier.

Baragh leaned closer to Pip. "Can you just…knock them over?"

"Maybe?" She'd never tried to wield her magic in a fight like this before.

She tried to call up her magic to blast a second shield outward, but she couldn't seem to split her magic that way.

Not wanting to waste time fiddling with her magic, she switched and instead rapidly expanded the shield she was holding. It rammed into the first line of Mongavarian soldiers, bowling them over as if they were twigs.

She quickly lifted her shield over the fallen men. Baragh and the other mechanics rushed forward, knocking the guns from the hands of the stunned soldiers.

"What should we use to tie them up?" One of the elven mechanics glanced around, his hand glowing green. There seemed to be too much stone around him to use his plant magic.

"Here." Pip grabbed a coil of wire off a nearby rolling cart. While the mechanics pinned the men down, she bound their wrists with the wire, using her magic to meld it together instead of tying knots. She then wrapped the end around one of the stone support pillars. Those Mongavarians wouldn't be going anywhere.

The other Mongavarian soldiers aimed their guns at the shield, but they were shifting and glancing around as if they weren't sure what to do now. They couldn't attack Pip and the others while they were shielded, but they didn't seem eager to retreat either. After all, they still outnumbered Pip and the other mechanics.

With the three they'd captured now secure, the mechanics who hadn't been armed claimed those guns, and they moved forward again.

This time when Pip tried to flash her shield outward, the Mongavarians jumped back quickly enough to avoid being knocked over.

Hmm. What should she do now? They were at a bit of a standoff. The Mongavarians couldn't get at them, but they also couldn't attack the Mongavarians. If she dropped her shield, they'd end up in a gun fight for which they weren't trained or prepared enough to win.

A roar came from the stairway.

Pip whirled around, raising the gun with both hands even as she closed her magic in tighter.

A battle formation of dwarves wielding axes and ball-peen hammers raced out of the stairway, led by Yamrarlig.

Well, that would work.

Pip ducked behind a nearby support pillar. "Take cover!"

The mechanics threw themselves into sheltered positions as she dropped the shield. The hazy, blue-gray shimmer across the hangar vanished.

The Mongavarians raised their weapons again, and Baragh and some of the other mechanics shot off a few rounds as covering fire.

Pip gripped the pistol in both hands, drew in a deep breath, and aimed roughly in the direction of one of the Mongavarians. She tightened her finger on the cold metal of the trigger but hesitated. Shielding during a battle was one thing. But actually pulling that trigger and shooting at someone was something else entirely.

Best not to think about it too much. She drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and pulled the trigger.

The handgun recoiled in her hand, bucking enough that her shot went high. The Mongavarian yelped and ducked behind a pillar.

At least she'd succeeded in keeping him from firing his gun.

With a roar, the dwarves surged forward. They were on the Mongavarians within seconds, swinging their hammers and taking them down.

Pip stayed where she was behind the pillar, her hands shaking on the gun so much that she couldn't rack the slide back to put another round into the chamber.

Baragh halted next to her, carefully extracting the gun from her hands. "You did well."

Pip swallowed and nodded, her legs and hands still trembling.

The crew leader, Yamrarlig, sauntered back toward her, his hammer resting on his shoulder.

Pip rested her head against the pillar behind her as she glanced up at him. "You arrived just in time."

Yamrarlig patted the handle of his hammer. "The troll warriors had all the fun below, so we thought we'd see about fending off the attack up here. We took out a few of those pesky buggers on our way up here. Cleared the stairwell out."

Good. Then Pip didn't have to worry about the Mongavarians who had gotten past them in the initial chaos.

As Pip straightened, a huge thump shuddered the stone beneath their feet. Another whistling sound filled the air a moment before something slammed into the dirt of the airfield just outside the hangar's mouth.

"What was that?" Pip braced herself against the pillar. Those hadn't been explosions like the bombs the airships had dropped on Fort Linder and Bridgetown.

Baragh's brow furrowed as he moved toward the hangar mouth. "Those were shells from the big guns of a battleship. Some of the Mongavarian ships must have broken through."

With a range of nearly fifteen miles, the Mongavarians wouldn't have to get far into the ice floes to shell Dar Goranth.

Calling up her magic again, Pip jogged for the mouth of the hangar, circling around where the dwarves were securing the Mongavarian soldiers with great alacrity. At the opening, she halted.

Some of the fog had burned off. Flashes, smoke, and gouts of flames marked the furious naval battle at the edge of the ice floes. The main Mongavarian fleet didn't seem to have moved as far into the ice floes as the leaders had hoped. But a contingent of Mongavarian ships had fought their way through and now ranged several miles out with their guns facing the harbor.

Above the ships, several airships with the blue and white stripes of Mongavaria headed in their direction as well.

Pip clenched her fists, her heart pounding.

Whatever the battle plan, it had gone horribly wrong somewhere. Dar Goranth would soon be under heavy bombardment, and Fieran wasn't here to stop it.

As Fieran bore down on another airship, the sun broke through the clouds, burning away some of the fog below.

Ships arrayed on the ocean below, blasting away at each other. Even as he watched, another ship listed to the side before rolling over and heading for the bottom.

More ships seemed to be dueling farther out. Fieran couldn't get a good look between the lingering fog and the smoke and the airships all around, but it appeared the flank of the Mongavarian battle line had intercepted Battlegroup Hammer, preventing them from pinching the Mongavarians between them as planned.

He had no more time for gawking at the rest of the battle. The airship's gunners opened fire on him, though they were simply wasting their bullets. Fieran's magic ate the bullets before they got anywhere close to him.

A swarm of Mongavarian aeroplanes dove around the nearest airship, bearing down on Fieran.

"I got the one on the left!" Stickyfingers was already letting loose a burst of gunfire even as he and Holleran swooped in from the left.

"The ones on the right are ours." Pretty Face and Lije roared from somewhere above Fieran.

Fieran tried to ignore the other aerial battles going on around him. He tucked his aeroplane close to the airship so that no one would dart in between before he let his magic rage. It burned through his veins, licking over the airship, consuming the canvas, melting the metal.

With a groan, the metal ramp collapsed, falling through the air balloons and tearing apart what was left of the dirigible. The airship's wreckage plunged from the sky, trailing black, acrid smoke.

Even as that airship fell, two more Mongavarian airships converged on Fieran, their machine guns blasting away as they flew one above the other.

Fieran headed straight for the lower airship, his magic dancing over his aeroplane's wings and before his eyes. When he was nearly upon the airship, he shoved the rudder, pulling hard on the stick. His aeroplane banked hard, the force pressing his rear end hard into the barely padded seat.

Straining to hold the stick with one hand, he held out the other and unleashed his magic. Bolts of blue magic burned through the canvas and the air balloons.

Gripping the stick with both hands again, Fieran tugged the stick and rudder hard over. He darted his aeroplane between the two airships before he climbed upward on the other side.

This time, he gripped the stick with his right hand as he blasted outward with his left hand.

The aeroplanes had been a tactical surprise, but those metal ramps and cages to launch the aeroplanes proved to be quite destructive once he destroyed the rest of airship's structure.

A few yards away, two Alliance airships—the KAS Dominion and the Tarenhieli airship Flying Rose —pounded away at a Mongavarian airship between them.

Another one of those concussive explosions boomed, this time from that second line of surface ships farther out.

Other ships burned, columns of black smoke rising into the sky. The wreckage of airships dotted the waves, flames dancing as they, too, burned .

"Lt. Laesornysh." A flyboy's voice came over the radio. "They got Grady."

Fieran flexed his fingers on the control stick, his magic burning hotter in his veins.

Grady, who wasn't the shiniest tool in the toolbox. Grady, who had taken to the penguin sliding so much.

He hadn't made it.

Another Mongavarian aeroplane swooped at Fieran, and he blasted out a bolt of magic. His magic ignited the gasoline, and the aeroplane exploded, what was left of the wings and tail spiraling toward the sea far below.

Time to end this before any more of his men didn't make it.