Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

P ip braced herself at the top of the cliff and poured her magic into her shield, expanding it farther and farther. Could she cover the airfield, hangar, and the harbor below?

Another shell hurtled from the sea and slammed into her shield. She grunted at the force, her shield snapping back several feet toward her as she strained to keep it from shattering.

One of the airships glided closer, and she gritted her teeth. She was strong, but there was no way she could hold back both a bombing and a naval bombardment. She wasn't even sure she could hold back even one of those things.

She held her shield at her limits, protecting the hangar and cliff face, but leaving the rest of the harbor vulnerable.

Several more shells slammed into her shield while others fell into the buildings below, blowing out walls and crumbling roofs.

She cried out at the pressure, nearly falling to her knees.

Then a tromping sound came from behind her. A line of dwarves appeared beside her. They pounded their hammers and axes against the ground, creating a rhythm.

Yamrarlig nodded to her. "We stand with you."

Dwarven magic gathered, funneling into her shield. Pip caught her breath at the iron taste of the magic, so strong and sharp. With the dwarven magic flooding into her shield, Pip pushed it farther, stretching it to better cover the rest of the harbor.

More shells pounded into her shield, a succession of blows that rang in her head and stole the breath from her chest.

She blinked past the blur to her vision as one of the airships drifted over the harbor, the big door opening in the bottom of the gondola.

It was still too much. She couldn't hold the shield, and once that second airship arrived, her shield would shatter.

Baragh halted next to her. "What can we do to help?"

Nothing. No one had magic strong enough to help except Fieran, and he was far away over the main battle. The clouds in the distance glowed blue, marking his progress as he destroyed the enemy airships.

If she asked Baragh to call for Fieran on the radio, he would come. He would abandon his post to rescue her.

But that was just the kind of stupid thing he was worried about doing. And she could never ask him to leave his flyboys undefended to rescue her. She would have to rescue herself.

Bombs exploded against her shield, her senses fraying. Her shield crumbled inward by nearly twenty feet, exposing several of the docks to the bombardment. She couldn't hold out much longer.

If her shield failed more, the underground bunker where the cordite was stored for restocking the ships would be exposed. It should be safe, buried under stone reinforced with magic as it was, but if it exploded as so many of the ships in the battle had, it would take out a good portion of the harbor.

At least the magical power cells were stored separately. If those went off too…

Pip stilled, her mind racing. The magical power cells. Fieran might not be here, but his magic still was. Not to mention his sisters' and dacha's magic.

"Baragh, I need you to fetch the magical power cells." Pip braced herself as another three rounds slammed into her shield. It buckled another few feet. "Send someone down to the shipyard and fetch the ones there too. Press them against the shield and open them up. The magic of the ancient kings will reinforce my shield."

Baragh hesitated. "The ships will need those power cells after the battle. Without power, the fleet will be crippled."

"And if we don't do this, there won't be a harbor to come back to." Pip cried out as another bomb struck her shield. "Besides, we have a Laesornysh here. Between the two of us, I'm sure we can rig something up to refill whatever power cells we drain now."

"Right." Baragh spun on his heel and raced back toward the hangar.

More explosions pummeled her shield. Pip blinked, finding herself on her knees. Around her, the dwarves stepped up their pounding rhythm, but their magic was slackening. It wasn't meant to be used like this, as a shield of pure magic.

That second airship reached them, the large door in the bottom opening up.

Pip drew in a deep breath and gathered the dregs of her magic. She would hold this shield or die trying .

A stream of large, cylindrical objects poured from the airship overhead, hurtling toward Pip's head. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the explosions, the shattering of her shield, then the death that would follow.

A familiar crackle filled her senses even as that same power flooded over her magic.

Pip peeled her eyes open as a wash of blue bolts crackled over her shield, starting from the far side just behind the hangar. When she glanced in that direction, all the elven and human mechanics had magical power cells in their hands as they quickly touched the wires to her shield and turned the knob to let the power flow.

The bombs thundered against her shield. A few deflected, but the rest exploded with such force that even with the magic of the ancient kings threaded through her magic, the force still pummeled her chest and pounded painfully in her head.

More power burst across her shield, even stronger than the amounts contained in the power cells used in the aeroplanes. At the edge of her shield below, several trolls hefted the larger magical power cells that fueled the battleships, pressing the wires against her shield as the magic poured out. Baragh must have used the telephone to call to someone below for them to respond so quickly.

Pip remained on her knees near the edge of the cliff as she drew in a deep breath. A different kind of burn filled her chest as she struggled to hold her shield while it conducted so much of the magic of the ancient kings. She was used to Fieran's magic—it felt like him, somehow—but this magic wasn't all his. Some of it felt pretty similar, while one thread of it thrummed over her shield with even more, almost incomprehensible power.

Beside her, the dwarves stopped chanting, yanking their magic back. Or what was left of it. It seemed their magic had been mostly burned away by the magic of the ancient kings.

More bombs fell. Shells shrieked. But none of them so much as shuddered through her shield, much less shattered it.

Through the smoke, another two airships glided at full speed, heading for the harbor. But these had the green, gray, and red circles of the Alliance painted on their sides. They opened fire as soon as they were in range, pummeling the enemy airships.

With a whump , one of the enemy airships exploded, flaming debris raining down to be consumed against her shield.

Before the harbor, an Alliance battleship and battlecruiser closed on the Mongavarian ships. Plumes of black smoke speared the sky as the Mongavarian ships steamed away, even as the Alliance ships opened fire.

Pip sank back to sit on the grass with a sigh. She couldn't release her shield just yet, but this battle seemed to be nearly over.

Fieran's magic burned through his veins, his sight blurred blue. As he righted his aeroplane out of a spin, he had to blink away a wave of lightheadedness, followed by the dull ache of exhaustion pressing at his eyes.

Still, when he reached for his magic, there was still more of it crackling deep in his chest. Ever more. He'd yet to find the end. Only the end of his stamina and his magical reach, it would seem.

As his magic consumed another enemy airship, sending it plunging toward the ocean far below, he glanced around .

Acrid smoke and the heavy cloud bank still choked the sky, limiting visibility. Yet the only airships he could see belonged to the Alliance.

"Anyone see any enemies left?" Fieran peered around as he weaved his aeroplane between the airships. Based on his rough count, they hadn't shot down all of the enemy airships, though they'd pretty much wiped out the aeroplanes.

"No."

"Nope."

"I think they must have made a run for it." This last was Aylia. During the fight, Flights A and B had worked their way toward each other until now their aeroplanes mingled among the Alliance airships. "Their ships made a coordinated retreat a few minutes ago."

"Then we won." Fieran glanced to the south, but he couldn't see the retreating—disappeared—Mongavarians.

Why didn't it feel like a victory? Yes, they had driven the Mongavarians away from Dar Goranth, which had been their primary goal. But if the Mongavarians managed to retreat in force, then they hadn't succeeded in destroying their fleet.

Burning flotsam and ships coated the ocean below as far as Fieran could see. He couldn't tell what carnage belonged to the Mongavarians and what to the Alliance. But the fleet below seemed thin, and Fieran had seen a few Alliance airships go down in the chaos.

Perhaps the celebration of victory was something that belonged to civilians.

"Laesornysh, channel 2." Lt. Rothilion's voice was clipped and official over the radio.

If the elf lieutenant had more orders for their squadron, he would most likely give it over the wider channel. That meant he wanted to tear into Fieran for some reason.

What could Lt. Rothilion want to berate Fieran about now? Fieran had done what he was supposed to in the battle. Surely there was nothing Lt. Rothilion could get his knickers in a twist over.

With a sigh, Fieran flipped the switch to channel 2. "All right, Rothilion. What do you want?"

There was a longer pause than he'd been expecting. When Lt. Rothilion spoke, his voice was far more ragged than it had been a few minutes ago. "I want you to take care of my pilots."

"Pardon?" Fieran flew his aeroplane between the airships, searching for Lt. Rothilion's flyer. Something was seriously wrong.

Even without knowing what was going on, Merrik mirrored Fieran, keeping his aeroplane tucked behind Fieran's.

"I will not be able to…to keep flying for much longer." Lt. Rothilion's voice was growing more pain-filled by the moment. "The squadron will be yours. Take care of them."

There. Fieran drew up alongside Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane. He was flying level, his aeroplane in seemingly good condition.

Except for the line of bullet holes along the fuselage. Even with the hint of green elven magic reinforcing the wooden frame, those bullets had punched right through into the cockpit. Even if only one or two of those bullets hit Lt. Rothilion, he would be in a bad way.

Already, Lt. Rothilion's head lolled against the back of the cockpit, as if he couldn't hold his head up much longer. Within a few more minutes, he would pass out, and his aeroplane would plunge from the sky into the sea .

And Fieran would have to watch him die.

Lt. Rothilion was a pain in the rear end, but he was still a part of Fieran's squadron. After all the death and loss that day, he just couldn't stomach having to watch yet another person die.

He was going to save him. No matter what it took. Or how crazy the idea currently spinning through his head.

"Rothilion, hold on for a few minutes longer." Fieran didn't wait for his reply. He flipped back to the main channel even as he matched his aeroplane's speed to Lt. Rothilion's. "Erendriel, take over Flight A. Swing to the southwest and make sure the enemy is fully gone. Pretty Face, you're in temporary charge of Flight B. Swing to the southeast and do the same thing. Let Erendriel know if you see anything because I'll be on channel 2. Merrik, switch to channel 2."

Fieran switched back to channel 2. "Still with us, Rothilion?"

"What are you planning, Laesornysh?" Even dying, Lt. Rothilion's voice still had an edge to it.

"Something crazy, I am sure." Merrik's voice held a grim note. He might not have heard what Lt. Rothilion said on channel 2 originally, but as he flew just behind Fieran, he would be able to see the bullet holes as well as Fieran could. "What are you thinking, Fieran?"

"Can you grow vines down from your aeroplane without weakening it too much?" Fieran flexed his fingers on the control stick. "If you fly over Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane, could you grab it?"

"That is a crazy idea." Lt. Rothilion sounded stronger in his scorn. "You will get both of us killed."

Fieran ignored him. "Merrik, can you do it?"

Merrik didn't reply right away. He wouldn't say yes unless he thought he could manage it. He wasn't as reckless as Fieran. Just somewhat reckless if he thought the cause was good enough.

"Yes, I think I can." Merrik spoke slowly, as if he was still hesitant even as he said yes. "Lt. Rothilion, I will need you to reach out with your magic to get a better hold."

Lt. Rothilion didn't answer right away, the pause long enough that Fieran swung his aeroplane closer to see if the lieutenant had passed out.

He hadn't. He tilted his head toward Fieran, as if trying to meet his eyes. His voice was growing quieter, more strained. He didn't have long. "If I do this, promise me, Laesornysh, that if it becomes clear that you cannot pull this off, that you will make the choice. I do not trust Lt. Loiatir to do it."

Merrik made a noise over the radio, as if he thought about interrupting and arguing but then realized it would be futile.

Lt. Rothilion continued speaking as if he hadn't heard. "Now that he has committed to saving my life, he will do it or die trying. But I know that if it comes to it, you will choose his life over mine."

A chill went down Fieran's spine at what Lt. Rothilion was asking. It would be up to Fieran to make the call if this wasn't going to work. If it was time to let Lt. Rothilion die, that would be Fieran's decision.

"I understand." Fieran let the weight of that sink into his gut.

Merrik's aeroplane was already glowing green with his magic. Vines extended down from the fuselage, and Fieran could only guess what part of the flyer Merrik was taking the wood from.

"When you are ready, Lt. Rothilion." Merrik maneuvered his aeroplane so that he was flying above and just behind the lieutenant's flyer.

Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane glowed even more green than it had before. "All right, Lt. Loiatir." Lt. Rothilion sounded like he was breathing heavily, as if using his magic was a strain after all the blood loss.

Merrik swooped forward and lower until only a few feet separated the wheels of his aeroplane from Lt. Rothilion's upper wing. The vines trailed over Lt. Rothilion's flyer before they snagged, new vines growing up and gripping Merrik's vines.

Merrik's aeroplane lurched as it was tugged back by the weight of Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane. After a moment, Merrik eased his aeroplane's speed to better match Lt. Rothilion's.

It was masterful flying, and Merrik made it look easy.

Fieran took up a station as the rear wingman as Merrik and Lt. Rothilion's tandem aeroplanes set out northward.

Over the course of the battle, the fight must have drifted even more south than Fieran had realized. The islands were nothing but a smudge on the horizon with Dar Goranth completely out of sight.

A long flight. Too long, perhaps? Would Lt. Rothilion live long enough?

Fieran pressed the talk button. "Ground crew, come in."

He waited for several long moments, but there was no reply.

Perhaps they were only monitoring channel 1. He switched back and tried again. "Ground crew, come in."

Still no answer.

What was going on? Surely Pip and the other mechanics had been glued to the radio during the battle. They wouldn't have left .

Was Fieran out of range? Or had something happened to the radio?

Or, worse, had something happened to Pip and the mechanics? Had Dar Goranth been attacked while he had been busy elsewhere? What if they had been bombed? Pip would have done her best to hold out against an attack, but her magic couldn't hold out against a large attack.

Fieran kept switching between the channels, calling out to Dar Goranth. His stomach sank with every moment that passed without an answer from Pip or anyone else at Dar Goranth.

As he changed back to channel 2, Lt. Rothilion's breathy voice broke through before Fieran could call out again. "Laesornysh?"

"I'm here." Fieran dipped his aeroplane lower and to the side to get a better look at Lt. Rothilion.

Lt. Rothilion was slumped over, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. The skin visible between his scarf and his goggles was even more silvery pale than normal.

"I will not…be able to fly…much longer…" Lt. Rothilion's whisper barely carried over the radio.

In the cockpit, the elf lieutenant lifted a shaky hand and tugged off his goggles. In the event of a crash landing, one took off the goggles so that the glass lens didn't crack and gouge out one's eyes. Lt. Rothilion was preparing now, knowing he wouldn't be awake for whatever landing would come.

"Stay with us, Rothilion." Fieran gripped the control stick, helpless to do anything for the lieutenant but watch and talk. Ahead, the lighthouses marking the channel between the islands rose as white glints against the dark smudge of land. "We're almost there. Just a few more minutes. Hang on a few more minutes, all right? "

"Take care…my pilots…" Lt. Rothilion's breathy voice faded into nothing.

"Rothilion?" Fieran waited a moment. What was the elf's first name again? "Saranthyr?"

No answer. In the cockpit, Rothilion's head lolled, his eyes closed. Based on the way his body flopped loosely as the two aeroplanes were jostled by turbulence, he wasn't conscious.

Was he even alive? There was no way to know until they got him on the ground.

"Fieran." Merrik sounded like he was speaking between gritted teeth. Another buffeting puff of wind tossed Merrik's and Rothilion's aeroplanes up before slamming them a few feet down. "He does not seem to be flying his aeroplane any longer."

"He passed out." Fieran returned to his station behind the two aeroplanes.

"I do not think I can keep us aloft without him steering." Merrik's gritted tone showed how reluctant he was to admit that. "His aeroplane is just a weight hanging off mine, interfering with the lift. It will fight me, especially as we come in to land."

"Can you steer his aeroplane with your magic?" Fieran glanced from the aeroplanes to the islands edging closer.

Too slowly for both Merrik and Rothilion.

"No." Merrik bit off the word as both his and Rothilion's aeroplanes were torn sideways in a gust of wind. "It is all I can do with my magic to hold on to his aeroplane. Besides, the elevator, rudder, and aileron mechanisms are all metal. I would have to grow new mechanisms to manipulate them."

Ah, right. That would be difficult, especially since Merrik already had enough on his hands and his magic trying to keep the two aeroplanes aloft .

"Hang on a moment. Let me try something." Fieran eased his aeroplane even closer until his nose was only feet from Rothilion's tail. He poured magic from his fingers, holding it in tight control so that his magic danced over the skin of his aeroplane without burning any of the canvas.

Now for the hard part. Fieran peeled a bolt of his magic off his own aeroplane and lashed it out toward Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane.

The magic singed the canvas of the flyer's tail, but it was enough contact for Fieran to unleash more of his magic over the other aeroplane.

Fieran gritted his teeth as he struggled to pour enough magic over the flyers while also not incinerating either of them. Harder than it sounded, considering both aeroplanes were made from light wood and canvas covered in highly flammable resin and paint.

Bits of Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane went up in smoke. Fieran drew back his magic, trying to concentrate it only on the rudder and ailerons.

"What are you doing?" Merrik must have been peering around the side of his cockpit because he sounded about one breath away from saying a crude word or two. "Not sure that is helping."

"It will. Just another moment." Fieran resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut to better concentrate. He still had his own aeroplane to fly.

He worked to spin his magic around the rudder and ailerons. The canvas covering the metal frame went up in a puff.

But when Fieran pushed upward with his magic, the ailerons moved.

"Fieran," Merrik growled into the radio. He must be fighting the extra drag on his aeroplane .

"Got control of Rothilion's aeroplane." Fieran gripped the stick, his toes in the rudder, and tried to visualize those same movements in the other aeroplane.

"Yeah, I noticed," Merrik shot right back. "Now do not take down both of us. You need to match whatever I do."

Right. Fieran shouldn't match his own movements, but Merrik's. Those two aeroplanes needed to fly as one—even if Merrik was piloting one and Fieran was essentially piloting the other. While piloting his own flyer. Easy-peasy.

Another gust whipped up from the ocean, swirling against the islands and the land.

Fieran's aeroplane jumped, fighting him. He let his muscle memory worry about his flyer while he concentrated on tweaking the ailerons and rudder of the other aeroplane.

"Rudder right. Down on the stick. Not that much right!" Merrik somehow retained control of his tandem aeroplane, his magic flaring brighter green along the connection between the two flyers.

Fieran tried to follow Merrik's verbal directions, his gaze flicking over Merrik's aeroplane to note the position of the ailerons and rudder before focusing on Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane.

Merrik dropped them lower as they swept in between Brenzuk and Urixidor Islands.

Fieran kept the propeller of his aeroplane dangerously close behind Merrik and Lt. Rothilion. This close, if Merrik lost control, all three of them would get taken out.

As the southern coast of Drogenvroh Island rose before them, Fieran gripped the talk button. "Ground crew, come in."

Just crackling static met his ears for one heartbeat, then two. As he drew in a deep breath to try again, a voice called back, "Ground crew here. Sorry about any delays. We were dealing with a situation here."

By the tone of the voice, Fieran guessed the situation had been resolved. He would have to ask about the full story later. Right now, he needed to save Lt. Rothilion's life.

"This is Lt. Laesornysh." Fieran fought to keep both the control stick and Lt. Rothilion's flyer steady. "Lt. Loiatir and I are coming in hot with a gravely injured Lt. Rothilion. He won't be able to stop his own aeroplane, so someone needs to fetch Pip and have her standing by. An elf healer standing by wouldn't hurt."

"Not sure if we can get one of the healers. They're a bit…busy at the moment." Those words held weight. Perhaps the man was referring to that unexplained situation. "I'll fetch Pip."

Fieran breathed out a strained sigh of relief. At least the ground crew at the airfield would be ready.

Because this landing was going to be rather tricky to pull off without killing all three of them.