An enemy aeroplane dove at Fieran, and Fieran swung his aeroplane, trying to bring the nose up to target the incoming enemy.
Before he could, Pretty Face came in from the side, machine guns barking. This close, Fieran could part his magic to prevent it from incinerating the bullets.
Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. Several Mongavarian aeroplanes had peeled away from the dogfight and swooped down on the lightly defended bomber aeroplanes. One of the pilots seemed to be fumbling with something, turning in his seat as he hefted something out of a back compartment.
“They have bombs!” Fieran let his aeroplane go into a roll before he pushed it to dive as steeply as the wings would allow. The force of it pressed on him, and he clenched his muscles to resist it. He bore down on the aeroplanes attacking the bombers, Pretty Face in his wake.
The Half-Breed Squadron had bombs tucked under their wings as well, but theirs were all rigged for ground detonation to drop in support of the bombs in the assault on their target.
The pilot of the lead enemy aeroplane dropped something large and cylindrical from the aeroplane. It plunged from the sky downward at one of the bombers.
Fieran lashed out with his magic, grabbed the bomb from the air, and slung it back at the enemy aeroplane.
The bomb exploded even before making contact, spewing fire in all directions with more force than he would have expected. The aeroplane swerved, its left wings on fire.
“They’re incendiary.” Fieran lashed out to catch a second bomb from one of the other aeroplanes attacking the bombers. “And I think they’re on some kind of timer.”
They’d likely been armed with incendiaries to combat Alliance airships, but such bombs would work just as well on the bombers. All they’d have to do was get the bomb somewhat close, and they’d set the bombers on fire.
The second bomb burst within his magic, and his power absorbed the splashing fire. He could taste the sense of human magic, likely fire magic to ensure that the fire from the bomb wouldn’t be easy to put out. At least this magic was something he recognized and could easily overcome.
Fieran wrapped his magic in a denser storm around the enemy aeroplanes attacking the airships, keeping it just far enough away that he wasn’t actually touching the foreign magic. The foreign magic deflected his for a full minute, bouncing the bolts away, until, finally, that other magic began to weaken.
Gritting his teeth, Fieran poured more power into the magical storm. He couldn’t relent. Not until he’d destroyed these aeroplanes.
Finally, his magic touched the flammable lacquer on the canvas, and it latched on, consuming it as greedily as the magical fire of the incendiary bombs would have the bombers if given the chance.
“Lt. Blair!” Stickyfingers shouted into the radio. “Stop!”
Fieran scanned the skies, squinting into the brilliance of his magic. When he couldn’t see Stickyfingers or Lt. Blair, he tilted his aeroplane to peer upward at a better angle.
Lt. Blair’s aeroplane was diving out of the cloud of Fieran’s magic, following an enemy aeroplane with the single-minded tenacity of a falcon on a hunt. Yet two more Mongavarian aeroplanes were breaking away and diving after her, seeing an opportunity to pick off a lone aeroplane.
She was headed away from the rest of the dogfight, in the opposite direction of the bombers. Being lured away, if Fieran were to guess. A mistake by a pilot too green to realize the danger she was putting herself in.
Almost directly above, Stickyfingers had been left alone, and three Mongavarian aeroplanes converged on him. Even withFieran’s magic protecting him, there was a chance that many concentrated bullets could get through.
“Pretty Face, I’ve got Lt. Blair. Go help Stickyfingers.” Fieran raced his aeroplane in the wake of the enemy chasing Lt. Blair. His magic tugged as he was pulled farther from the fight, and he could feel it slipping off some of the aeroplanes farthest from him.
“On it.” Pretty Face’s voice crackled over the radio, but Fieran didn’t turn his head to see Pretty Face veering his aeroplane to assist Stickyfingers.
The two Mongavarian aeroplanes converged on Lt. Blair, blasting at her with their machine guns. Fieran’s magic absorbed most of it, but he was stretched thin, trying to hold magic on his scattered squadron and burn away that other power.
“Lt. Blair!” Fieran gripped the control stick, still too far away to help, as the aeroplane Lt. Blair had been chasing flared its wings and flipped around to join in the attack on her.
She didn’t bother to answer, likely so focused that she wasn’t even hearing what was being said on the radio. She juked her aeroplane, dodging the streams of bullets before her machine guns blasted. At the last moment, she flipped her aeroplane over and turned on the enemy behind her.
She could fly, Fieran would give her that. But that didn’t excuse her recklessness, even if it was a mistake many of them had made in the early days.
And…he couldn’t believe he was the one thinking that. How this war had changed him.
The two chasing aeroplanes scattered away from her before heading out again.
Lt. Blair turned again to chase all three enemy aeroplanes, as if not caring that they were luring her still farther away from the rest of the squadron. Even worse, they were slowly dropping lower in the sky. Perhaps they realized that if they lured her farenough away, she’d lose the protecting magic. They’d catch her in a deadly crossfire.
And if she got far enough away, Fieran would have to let them. He couldn’t leave the squadron or the bombers unprotected. They would be his priority, not one reckless pilot.
“Lt. Blair, halt your pursuit and turn around now.” Fieran tried his best impression of his dacha’s hard, unyielding tone, hoping his voice would cut through whatever battle haze was currently gripping her. “That is a direct order.”
