Merrik dove at one of the attacking enemy aeroplanes. “You are not going to simply wipe them out?”
Right. Merrik wouldn’t know how much stronger that strange protecting magic had become. Fieran grimaced as he mirrored Merrik’s maneuver, sticking slightly above to shoot over Merrik’s head. “That foreign magic has gotten stronger. It’s quicker to shoot them down than it is to take them out with my magic.”
“That is disappointing.” The machine guns on Merrik’s aeroplane barked.
“At least my magic still protects us from their bullets.” Fieran squeezed his trigger, also targeting the enemy.
“A good thing.” Merrik rolled his aeroplane as another Mongavarian aeroplane dove at him, as if intent on ramming him.
Fieran strafed that enemy with his machine guns before he matched Merrik’s roll, coming out onto his tail once again.
“Flight B, reporting for duty.” Lije’s voice came over the radio as the formation of Flight B soared in from over the Wall. They had formed up before setting out.
The Mongavarians were now surrounded, their line of retreat cut off by Flight B.
“Good to have you in the sky, Flight B.” Fieran grinned as he whipped his aeroplane upward in Merrik’s wake. “Cut off any Mongavarians who try to escape. Flight A, let’s take these aeroplanes down. We need to bring down at least one of them over Fort Defense so that the foreign magic can be tested. If I do it with my magic, there won’t be any magic left to test.”
The various pilots of both Flights acknowledged, the radio filling with voices in elvish and Escarlish.
The Mongavarians, as if realizing their peril, were trying to escape. Three bolted northward; two others raced toward the south. Still more grouped together, heading straight west for the border that likely felt tantalizingly close.
Lt. Rothilion and half of his Flight raced after the Mongavarians heading north. More of his Flight peeled off toward the south, aided by part of Flight B.
Merrik swept toward the main formation of the remaining Mongavarian aeroplanes.
Fieran gripped the control column as he followed, pressing the talk button. “I’m going to try something.”
“A good something or anI should be worriedsomething?” Merrik’s tone held dry humor, even over the radio.
“Good. I think.” Fieran eased his aeroplane into position slightly lower than Merrik’s.
“I should be worriedit is.” Merrik pulled up slightly so that he and Fieran were level. “Where do you want me?”
Would Merrik be safer in front of him or behind him?
“Stay above me but put a little more space between us. I’m not sure how steady I’ll be able to hold my aeroplane while I’m doing this.” Fieran reached into his chest, letting his magic build.
Unleashing more of his magic, he shoved it outward, surrounding three of the enemy aeroplanes ahead of him. He didn’t try to touch them and instead merely surrounded them in a cloud as he had before.
Now for the tricky part.
Fieran squeezed tighter with his magic. The foreign magic fought his, trying to repel it away. But since he wasn’t actively trying to incinerate the other aeroplanes, the opposing magic acted more like a magnetic repulsion.
Perfect. As he’d hoped.
Yanking on his magic, he dragged the aeroplanes backward, fighting against the force of the enemy’s engines. His magic burned in his grip, the forces pulling at him blurring his vision.
No. He was not going to give in to the dizziness. He could do this. He was a warrior of the magic of the ancient kings, and his magic was strong enough for this.
With a yell, he yanked, forcing the aeroplanes lower.
A few swear words filled the radio.
“Are you…dragging those aeroplanes right out of the sky?” Merrik’s voice held more of a trace of a laugh than the awe in the others’ words.
“Yes. Now don’t distract me.” Fieran resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. He had to remember to fly his own aeroplane, even as he fought the other aeroplanes for every yard. Just a little bit lower. Lower.
Dacha’s magic lashed upward, wrapping around Fieran’s.
