Fieran wrapped his scarf around his neck, tugged on his cap and goggles, and gave Pip one last quick kiss before he hurried to follow his aeroplane outside.
By the time he climbed into his aeroplane and let the engine spin up, most of Lt. Hadley’s and Capt. Fleetwood’s squadrons had already taken off, headed for their longer flights to turn back the distraction attacks. When Fieran glanced over his shoulder, Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane had taken up the spot behind him, ready to take off once the airfield cleared.
Finally, the crew took out the wheel chocks, and Fieran’s aeroplane rolled forward. He steered his aeroplane to the end of the airfield, even as the final two of Fleetwood’s squadron lifted into the sky on the other end.
Fieran’s aeroplane bumped and rolled over the dead grass as it gained momentum. The aeroplane grew light a moment before the wheels lifted off the ground. He poured on the power as he tipped the nose toward the sky.
Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane lifted off in his wake, following him as they climbed higher into the sky.
“Enemy incoming!” The mechanic serving as the radio operator shouted over the static and sounds of the other two squadrons communicating with each other. “Mongavarian aeroplanes have been spotted by the watch tower, headed for Fort Defense.”
After leveling out his aeroplane with Lt. Rothilion at his back, Fieran raced over Fort Defense, his dacha’s blue magic flaring to life below. Ahead, the black dots of enemy aeroplanes appeared on the horizon, glinting in the rising sun.
More of Flight A took off, trailing after them. But for the moment, Fieran and Lt. Rothilion were on their own.
It was too much like before. And yet Fieran couldn’t do anything but make the same decision as he had that day.
“Rothilion, I’ll come at them straight on.” Fieran kept his hands poised on the control column as he studied the small formation of enemy aeroplanes nearing the Wall.
“I will circle around to come at your target from the side.” Rothilion’s clipped tones cut through the crackling static.
Fieran bore down on the Mongavarians as they crossed over the Wall. The Mongavarians were scrambling to release the bomb canisters secured under their wings or drop bombs over the sides from the cockpit, as if they couldn’t get rid of their load fast enough.
The canisters tumbled downward, headed for the Alliance front lines. Dacha’s magic reached for them, but the canisters burst as soon as they came into contact with it. Clouds of odd-colored smoke billowed, sinking toward the ground despite the magic Dacha poured into his shield.
A gas attack.
Green magic joined Dacha’s blue bolts down below. Uncle Weylind, using his plant magic to sweep the air, cleansing it the way a tree freshened the air of a forest.
After calling up his magic, sending it out over his aeroplane, then Rothilion’s, Fieran lined up on the lead Mongavarian aircraft. He squeezed the trigger of his machine guns, even as the Mongavarian facing him did the same. The flares of the bullets hitting his magic filled his vision, blurring the sight before him.
Then Lt. Rothilion swept in from the side, his bullets slamming into the enemy’s engine. Smoke burst from the engine, and the Mongavarian turned his flyer back toward the border, as if he hoped to get back over before he went down.
Fieran wished the man all the luck. He knew the feeling all too well.
The Mongavarian’s wingman roared in, his bullets targeting Rothilion. Fieran turned his aeroplane, triggering his machine guns again.
This time, the enemy dodged his stream of fire. The other Mongavarian aeroplanes roared past him, engaging with the incoming aeroplanes of Flight A.
As the others came into range, Fieran stretched out his magic, adding them into his protective network. Every time his magic brushed a Mongavarian aircraft, that foreign magic made his magic skate off.
Fieran looped his aeroplane to turn around, sweeping behind the nearest enemy.
“Coming in hot!” Aylia whooped into the radio, her voice a cheerful counterpoint to the otherwise silent elven pilots.
Fieran had forgotten how dull it was flying with Flight A without the constant banter of Flight B.
He took a shot at the enemy, but the aeroplane dodged out of his path. Fieran didn’t waste time chasing the Mongavarian. Instead, he maneuvered through the whirling aeroplanes, Lt. Rothilion behind him, until he reached Aylia, Merrik in his new Soarwing Defender flying behind her.
“Ready to swap wingmen?” Fieran overshot Aylia and Merrik, casting his magic around them, before he looped his aeroplane again.
“Yep! Here is Merrik back.” Aylia sounded as if she was grinning. “Good flying with you, Merrik.”
“You too.” Merrik’s voice was a welcome sound over the radio.
Lt. Rothilion turned his aeroplane around, falling into place in front of Aylia. The two of them shot off to the left, chasing down a Mongavarian aeroplane.
Fieran took up the spot as Merrik’s wingman. If Merrik got into trouble, Fieran wanted to be able to spot it right away. “Lead the way, Merrik.”
