This wasn’t working. He wasn’t doing more than scoring the paint. Hopefully the flyboys and flygirls taking on the rest of the enemy aeroplanes were having better luck.
As he turned away, he glanced over his shoulder as Merrik made his run. His bullets, too, did nothing but wiggle wires and scuff paint.
Behind Merrik, the airship’s machine gun was trained on Merrik, the gunner peering through the sight. He pressed the trigger, a line of bullets stitching the air, headed for Merrik’s unprotected back.
There was no time to warn Merrik. No time to turn his aeroplane to bring his own machine guns to bear. Both Lije and Stickyfingers were well away from the airship, fighting off enemy aeroplanes and too busy to help.
There was nothing for it. Fieran reached deep into his chest and unleashed his magic, not holding back. Gripping the control column with one hand, he reached over his shoulder and blasted out a bolt of magic.
The wires caught his magic, dragging it toward the machine rather than letting it continue its mission onward.
No. Fieran gritted his teeth and poured even more power through the connection, even as bullets punched holes into the nose of Merrik’s aeroplane, each one landing closer and closer to where Merrik sat in the cockpit, trying to turn his aeroplane away.
With a yell, Fieran ripped just enough of his magic out of the machine’s grasp to slam it into the airship’s machine gun. The machine gun exploded, the shrapnel melting against Fieran’s magic. “Merrik. Are you all right? Did any of those bullets clip you?”
Merrik peeled his aeroplane away, glancing over his shoulder. “No. I am fine.” His tone sounded almost like he mighthave muttered a few less-than-proper words before pressing the talk button. “Is your magic caught?”
Fieran tried to draw his magic back but he just…couldn’t. That machine was dragging his magic inexorably into it, and the more it drew in, the stronger the pull. He tried to cut off his magic. Release it. Anything. But nothing stopped the pull. All he could do was grit his teeth and yank back, the sensation blooming into a pounding at his temples and a squeezing in his chest. “Yep. Definitely caught.”
“You should not have done that.” Merrik’s scolding voice held a sharp edge. “If you get knocked unconscious…”
“I know.” Fieran struggled to breathe past the tearing of his magic inside of him. He felt like his brain was being rope burned as his magic was yanked through his mental fingers. “I couldn’t let them kill you. But don’t worry. I’m not going to try to overwhelm this thing on my own.”
At least, not unless that was the only option to save his squadron. But he suspected that was what Dacha had done with the others, and it had rendered him unconscious.
Hopefully unconscious. Hopefully still alive. Not dead.
Granted, Dacha had taken out a whole line of those machines, likely stretching across a large chunk of the border. Could Fieran overwhelm a single machine with his magic without getting knocked unconscious?
But Dacha had more magic and all the magic stored in the Wall backing him up. Fieran had just himself.
“What’s happening?” The question came from several voices. Lije and Stickyfingers peeled away from where they had just taken down the enemy aeroplanes, rushing to help.
“Minor setback. But the plan remains the same. I trust we’ll take this airship down before things get too dicey.” Fieran’s eyes blurred, and he struggled to hold his aeroplane steady. Was it his imagination, or was the magic tugging his aeroplane closerto the airship even as he was trying to fly farther away? “Murray, how’s it coming on the fire magic?”
“We’ve put a few rips in the side, but nothing big enough to risk a throw just yet.” Murray’s voice was strained. “Fighting has been fierce up here.”
“It is one machine.” Merrik paused, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to say this next bit. “Perhaps you cannot overwhelm it on your own, but maybe we all can. It likely cannot stand the mixing of multiple magics from several sources all at once.”
“No. I will not risk more of us falling unconscious. Better it be just me.” Just getting those words out was becoming harder. His magic was slipping from him faster and faster. He didn’t have long to debate this before he would be knocked unconscious regardless.
Perhaps he should just give this machine what it wanted. Surely it wouldn’t be able to hold up under the full force of the magic of the ancient kings.
“You said you trust the squadron.” Merrik’s aeroplane drew alongside Fieran’s. “So trust us to help.”
He wanted to argue. The last thing he wanted to do was give the order that would risk the others.
But he’d learned his lesson in trying to fight this war on his own. His squadron had always been strongest when they fought together.
“All right.” Fieran gripped the control column and, with a supreme effort, turned his aeroplane toward the airship once again. “Tiny, tear into the airship with your magic. Try to rip a large hole before your magic gets caught. Merrik, add your magic as well. Lije, Stickyfingers, keep the Mongavarians off our backs.”
“I will need to get closer and actually touch one of those wires.” Merrik swerved to take the place ahead of Fieran, bearingdown on the airship. “It might take the magic in my aeroplane’s power cell while I am at it.”
Fieran wanted to argue, but he was gritting his teeth so tightly that he wasn’t sure he could form words.
Merrik bore down on the wires trailing below the airship. His machine guns chattered, even as his aeroplane glowed green with his magic.
“Magic incoming,” Tiny called through the radio moments before a wave of icy white magic shot through the airship and added to the glow coming from the machine and lighting up the metal surrounding it.
