“Get ready. Magic incoming.” Fieran let his magic twine around his fingers, then down the control column. As he unleashed more magic, it jumped eagerly to the shielding wires Pip had run over his new aeroplane.
Once his magic was steady over his own aeroplane, he pushed it outward until it wrapped around the nearest aeroplanes.
Pretty Face gave a whoop. “I missed going into battle like this.”
“Didn’t my dacha use his magic while flying with the squadron?” Fieran glanced over the side as the Wall flashed by below.
“Yes, but we stayed on the Escarlish side of the Wall. It was more demonstration than battle.” Lije joined the conversation. He also had one of the flygirls for his wingwoman. Fieran hadn’t wanted to pair any of the flygirls together until he’d assessed how they handled themselves in battle.
“And your dacha is scary when he wields his magic.” Pretty Face sounded like he was giving an exaggerated shudder. “So silent. No jokes over the radio.”
“It was quite serene,” Lt. Rothilion, of all people, added, his tone so flat and unamused that it was clearly a joke, coming from him.
“Quite scary, you mean,” Stickyfingers chipped in, before adding as if worried he’d offended Fieran, “Not that your dacha doesn’t seem nice. He seems nice enough. For a general and all that.”
Just how many attempts at bonding with the squadron had Dacha attempted?
Fieran shook the thoughts away as the Mongavarian front lines rushed below. They were set farther from the Wall and the Chibo River than they had been before, the previous trenches left abandoned and water-filled.
A few of the gun emplacements boomed out, but the fire was limited as the Mongavarians were still rebuilding their entrenchments after Dacha had destroyed them. Fieran had heard the Alliance had conducted a few other lightning raids into Mongavaria, further hampering efforts to refortify.
“Pretty Face, let’s take out the guns while we’re at it.” Fieran eased up on the control column, and his aeroplane rolled into a dive almost of its own accord.
Taking out the guns would make future bombing runs easier, especially for the other two squadrons who weren’t protected by Fieran’s magic.
Fieran’s connection to his magic wrapped around the other aeroplanes stretched, but he stayed close enough that he didn’t lose control of it.
As another gun barked shells at the bombers, Fieran unleashed his magic still more, following the line of bullets back to the gun. Another burst of his magic, and the gun exploded.
The other guns fell silent, as if the gunners realized they would be better off simply letting Fieran’s squadron go by rather than give him an easy way to destroy more munitions.
If destroying the guns had been Fieran’s mission, he would have swooped lower and finished the job. But right now, protecting the bomber squadron was his primary goal. He couldn’t put them at risk for side destruction.
Fieran peeled away and pointed his aeroplane’s nose upward again, Pretty Face following in his wake. The two of them rejoined Flight B, taking up the spot at the fore of the formation.
The Mongavarian countryside crawled by below. Now that they were past the front lines, the land sprawled in a patchwork of farm fields and tree-lined rivers. It looked so much like the Escarlish side of the border that Fieran almost could have fooled himself that he was flying over his own backyard instead of enemy territory.
Above him, the formation of bombers flew in a cluster, their wings loaded with the bombs they planned to drop on the target within Mongavaria. The entire squadron of bombers could only hold as many bombs as a single airship, but the bombers could make a dash into Mongavaria and return in a few hours while the same run would take an airship a full day.
Today, their mission was to bomb an army base and airfield two hundred miles into the Mongavarian countryside. Part of a defensive line Mongavaria had set up several hundred miles within their own borders.
This was the most ambitious bombing run the Alliance had conducted yet. They’d done some small bombing runs on various army bases and airfields, using airships, since the war had begun. Not to mention numerous scouting missions in recent weeks. In the days since the first bomber aeroplanes arrived, Capt. Fleetwood and Lt. Hadley had escorted the bombers to destroy the airfields nearest the border out of which all the attacks on Fort Defense were flown.
But for this run deep into Mongavaria, headquarters had waited until Fieran was ready to provide protection.
Hopefully he was ready. He stretched his legs as best he could in the cockpit without accidentally sending his aeroplane into a turn by twitching the rudder. His body felt fine, but he’d have to see how he felt after the planned four hours of flying.
Fieran settled in, and the next hour and a half proved to be rather boring as the countryside rushed by below. Some of the flyboys made nonsense chitchat, and Fieran joined in occasionally. But it wasn’t the same without Merrik chipping in.
“Capt. Laesornysh.” Lt. Rothilion’s sharp tone cut through the chatter. “Enemy incoming ahead. Coming in high. Moving to intercept.”
Fieran scanned the sky. From his position below the bombers, he couldn’t see the enemy coming down at Flight A.
A look at the landscape below showed more empty fields and small villages. He couldn’t see far enough to know if there was a gun emplacement somewhere ahead, but he doubted there would be anything until they got closer to their target. Mongavarian aeroplanes didn’t have the range of the Alliance aeroplanes, and the Alliance hadn’t executed a raid quite like this before.
“More enemy coming from the rear! They’re trying to use the sun as cover.” Aylia’s voice rose in pitch.
Some of the Mongavarian aeroplanes must have circled around. The Alliance raid had been spotted and reported.
