Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

A s they swept over the southern tip of the island, the swirling winds grew worse. The aeroplanes danced on the wind, the dead weight—hopefully that was a metaphor and not literal—of Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane jerking Merrik's aeroplane around.

Fieran fought with his own aeroplane and with his magic to fly the other aeroplane. Merrik shouted orders into the radio, and Fieran worked to follow them the best he could.

As they neared, there appeared to be something burning in the harbor and a few extra craters in the hills surrounding the airfield that hadn't been there before. But Fieran couldn't take more than a moment to note them.

"Any ideas of how we are going to land?" Merrik sounded even more strained. "Lt. Rothilion bound his magic so tightly to mine that I do not think I can retract my vines."

A good question. Fieran dropped his aeroplane slightly lower so that he had a better view of the wheels on Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane. "I'll talk you through touching down. Once his wheels are close to the ground, I'll slice the vines with my magic. Then both of us will pour on the speed and climb back into the sky while Pip stops his aeroplane."

"Understood." Merrik maneuvered the aeroplanes so that they faced the airfield.

The land rushed up to meet them. Far too fast. But if Merrik slowed too much, he'd never keep control of his two aeroplanes. The aerodynamics were already off.

"About a hundred feet. Seventy-five feet." Fieran called out how many feet Merrik had to go before Lt. Rothilion's wheels touched down. "Fifty feet. Shoot."

"Shoot, what?" Merrik gritted out. "Fieran."

"Just a minor problem. Give me a moment." Fieran glanced from the wheels to the ground. Right now he could see them because he was flying lower than Merrik's and Lt. Rothilion's aeroplanes.

But once they neared the ground, he wouldn't be able to do that. Not without landing first. Even then, his aeroplane's nose blocked his view of the ground.

Time to try something crazy. Well, crazier than what they were already doing.

Fieran backed off for a moment, then he gave the engine more power as he lifted higher into the air. Once he had enough clearance over the ground, he checked that his lap belt was secure and drew in a deep breath. He'd done this once before…by accident. Now to do it on purpose.

He cranked the rudder and control stick hard over while goosing the power. His aeroplane flipped onto its side, hanging there for a moment, before it tipped all the way over so that he was flying upside down. The lap belt tightened around his hips, the only thing keeping him from falling out.

At least with the magical power cell, he didn't have to worry about dousing his aeroplane with fuel .

The cambered wings weren't exactly designed for upside-down flight. He had plenty of power to maintain speed, but he'd have to match Merrik's coming-in-for-a-landing speed.

Fieran tried to swing back lower, but the aeroplane pitched upward. After correcting, he took another deep breath before he pushed the stick the other way. Of course, while flying upside down, all the motions would be reversed. He would have to push the rudder and the stick in the opposite direction he normally would.

"Fieran, what in the Alliance are you doing?" Merrik must have glanced over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about me. Just concentrate on flying." Fieran maneuvered his aeroplane behind Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane once again. This close to the ground and in the wake of the other aeroplanes, the lift felt…light. Not as solid beneath his inverted wings. "Ten feet to go."

Any strong puff of wind would shove him downward. If he crashed, his wings would crumble, and he'd be crushed.

Best not to think about it.

"Do not kill yourself." Merrik's words were more an order than advice.

"Lt. Rothilion made me promise not to get you killed. He didn't say anything about me." Fieran worked the stick and rudder. His aeroplane was barely floating above the ground. "Eight feet."

To one side of the airfield, several figures lined up outside of the hanger, but Fieran couldn't glance in that direction long enough to see if Pip was among them.

"You are crazy." Merrik sounded like he might punch Fieran if they all survived.

"You already knew that." Fieran forced the lighthearted tone between clenched teeth. "Six feet. "

The grass blurred below, so close beneath Fieran's upper wing that it felt like he'd scrape the ground at any moment. If he got too much closer, he'd be able to reach out and touch it.

The wheels of Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane inched closer to the dirt. The wing stabilizers on Fieran's aeroplane shook with the tension of flying upside down. If one of those broke, he was done for.

Fieran kept his eyes glued there, his mind aching as it was pulled in so many directions trying to fly his inverted aeroplane and Lt. Rothilion's right-side-up aeroplane. "At one foot, I'll cut the vines. Get ready."

Fieran could barely hear Merrik's acknowledgment as he continued to speak, counting down in feet. "Four feet. Three. Two. One."

At one, he raised his hand and sliced a bolt of magic between Merrik's aeroplane and Lt. Rothilion's, severing the vines.

Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane dropped to the ground even as Merrik's aeroplane roared upward.

In that instant, Fieran realized the second thing he'd overlooked. Flying inverted as he was, he couldn't peel away as quickly as planned. And Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane was slowing far too quickly right in front of him.

Fieran pushed the control stick to try to rise into the sky. But with the inverted wings, the lift was all wrong. His aeroplane crawled upward. Too slowly. At this rate, his upper wing would crash into Lt. Rothilion's.

His heart throbbing in his throat, Fieran counted the seconds to impact. Five. Four. Three.

He cranked his aeroplane hard over as he blasted his magic between his aeroplane and Lt. Rothilion's. The blast wave shoved against his wings, tipping his aeroplane onto its side and upwards as he skimmed past Lt. Rothilion's flyer with only inches to spare.

His aeroplane flipped the rest of the way right side up and climbed back into the sky.

Pip's heart hammered as she stretched out her already exhausted magic and created a shield around Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane. She moved her shield along with the aeroplane, slowing it rather than letting it slam into the barrier.

What had Fieran been thinking? Her heart had nearly stopped when she'd seen him come in like that, flying inverted so low to the ground. Not to mention Merrik's aeroplane attached to Lt. Rothilion's. All three of them could have easily ended up dead if so much as a gust of wind had struck them wrong.

She slowed Lt. Rothilion's aeroplane, holding it there as the still spinning propeller tried to keep pushing it forward.

As soon as the aeroplane stopped, the ground crew raced forward, along with a medic carrying a stretcher. Not one of the elf healers, but he was as good as they were going to get at the moment.

Pip raced alongside them, running full tilt to keep up on her shorter legs. As they neared the aeroplane, she shrank her shield so that it was only gripping the aeroplane's wheels and preventing it from rolling forward.

She scrambled up the side of the aeroplane, reached into the cockpit, and switched off the engine.

Only then did she glance at Lt. Rothilion where he slumped in his seat. And promptly wished she hadn't.

There was so much blood. Staining his shirt and the vines he'd wrapped around his torso to apply pressure to his wounds. Pooled on his seat and puddled on the floor. His skin was so white it was porcelain. Was he still alive? He certainly didn't look it.

The troll medic joined her on the wing and pressed his fingers to Lt. Rothilion's neck. He waited for a moment before he shouted over his shoulder, "He's still alive. We need to get him out of this flyer and to sick bay."

The medic reached past all the blood to unbuckle Lt. Rothilion's lap belt. Several of the ground crew hopped on the other wing and the three of them lifted the unconscious elf lieutenant from the aeroplane. The wing struts creaked at all the added weight, but Pip ignored the sound. She'd help the elf mechanics fix whatever they broke trying to save Lt. Rothilion's life.

As Lt. Rothilion was settled on the stretcher, fresh blood stained the vines and pooled on the canvas. How much more blood could the elf lieutenant stand to lose?

Pip pressed her hand to the lieutenant's stomach and cast another shield around his middle. She wasn't sure how much it would help, but she had to try something. She didn't even like Lt. Rothilion, but he was still one of their own.

As the medic and one of the ground crew carried the stretcher, Pip trotted alongside, holding her shield in place. She barely paid attention as they hurried across the airfield, through the hangar, and into the lift. One of the troll ground crew who had come with them cranked the lever as quickly as possible to lower them, though the levels passed with interminable slowness.

Pip couldn't bring herself to look at Lt. Rothilion on the stretcher, even as she sensed his warm blood against her shield. Her stomach was already lurching. There was a reason she'd become a mechanic and not a medic, and it didn't all have to do with her magic .

This was all too much like trying to find the wounded after the bombing of Bridgetown. The stench of blood. The churning in her stomach. The frantic rush to save a life.

The lift jerked to a halt, and the troll flung the cage doors open.

They hurried out into chaos. Stretchers filled the area around the lift while other wounded trolls and humans packed into the space. In the sick bay, Queen Melantha's voice could be heard, strident and commanding, as she shouted orders.

The medic and troll carrying Lt. Rothilion's stretcher shoved their way through the chaos. Pip hurried to keep up, tripping over one of the stretchers on the ground and nearly stepping on the poor man's hand.

As they stepped into sick bay, an elf halted them. "You need to wait—"

"This pilot has been severely wounded. He needs to be seen right away." The medic nodded his head toward Lt. Rothilion.

The elf must have finally glanced at Lt. Rothilion for his eyes widened, and he motioned. "Yes, take him this way." The elf led the way down the hall before darting into one of the large wards, calling, "Queen Melantha!"

Fieran's aunt looked up from the troll she'd been healing. She nodded, said something to the troll, before she hurried in their direction.

Pip could tell when she was no longer needed. She dropped her shield and quietly drifted out of sick bay. As much as she wanted to stay to see if Lt. Rothilion would be all right, she would just be in the way.

She picked her way through the wounded, giving the injured men and women a tight smile. Wounded aeroplanes were much easier to deal with than hurt people .

Bypassing the lift, she headed for the stairs. She'd leave the lift for those carrying in the wounded from the harbor. Some of those who had been hurt on the airships and warships must also be coming in as well, considering the numbers packed in there.

On the first stair, she halted at the sight of a large figure huddled on the landing. His shoulders shook, a noise almost like a whimper coming from him.

Pip stepped closer before she recognized him. "Sontar?"

Fieran's cousin started, his head shooting up. He froze, as if he was paralyzed with the need to both run and curl into as small a ball as possible.

"I'm Pip. I'm a friend of your cousin Fieran." Pip eased slightly closer, not wanting to scare him. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Sontar mumbled as he turned his face away from her once again, his shoulders hunching, his long white hair straggling around his head, as if he was trying to hide.

"You don't look fine." Pip eased into a seat near him but not crowding him. "Do you think it would help to talk about it?"

For a long moment, he remained silent. She couldn't blame him. She was a stranger only loosely linked to him through Fieran.

But sometimes strangers made the best people to talk to.

Sontar let out a shuddering breath, his voice still a mumble that she could barely discern. "Blood and guts make me feel sick."

"Me too." Pip resisted a shudder, trying not to breathe too deeply. Even here in the stairwell, the stench of blood and gore filtered to them.

"Yeah, but I have healing magic." Sontar clenched his fists, but that couldn't hide his shaking fingers. "I'm supposed to be a healer. The first troll healer. Yet I can't stand to be in there."

"It's a lot right now, even for a trained healer." Pip bit off the words before she added that Sontar was young. He had only barely come into his magic. He was still just a kid, really.

"But I'm a troll." Sontar's fetal position loosened slightly. Perhaps talking was helping. His speech was growing stronger, less mumbled. "Trolls are supposed to have strong stomachs and face things like this with bravado."

Pip nodded. "I understand. I'm half-dwarf."

There wasn't much room for someone more sensitive in traditional dwarven or troll culture.

"I should go back in there." Sontar gave a shudder, that tremble starting in his fingers again.

"No, you don't have to." Pip focused on him, waiting until Sontar flicked his gaze to her briefly. "I'm sure your ma would agree. You aren't ready or trained enough for something like this."

"Ma told me to leave." Sontar curled inward again, as if under weight of shame.

"Then your duty is to obey your mother." Pip stood, gestured upward, and held out her hand. "Why don't you come with me to the hangar? I know you don't have enough training to use your magic without a trained healer present, but you can still help me look after the flyboys when they land. They will probably pull long hours yet, and they will need coffee, food, and rest when they land. That's still a healer's job."

Sontar hesitated a moment before he took her hand. He was so large and she was so tiny, so she didn't so much help him up as pretend to do so while he levered himself upright. Even when upright, he still stood hunched, as if trying to make himself look smaller.

Pip started up the stairs, headed back for the hangar. She needed to be ready when the rest of her flyboys landed.

This would be a long day for all of them.