Page 17 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)
Chapter
Ten
F ieran strode down the hill toward the hangar, his swords on his back and his arms aching from sword practice with Dacha.
At his side, Merrik too carried his sword, his clothes showing a few spots of dirt and sweat.
After cutting through the hangar, where most of the mechanics were hard at work cutting out rubber insulators, Fieran and Merrik stepped out the other side where their tents were arrayed beside the road.
The flyboys and elven pilots bustled around the tents, moving their cots and footlockers outside, then disassembling the canvas and poles.
A few of the elves clustered around a sapling, using their magic to coax it to grow while some of the flyboys hauled various broken shipping pallets and crates from the hangar.
Mak worked on one of the crates, using his magic to easily take it apart into usable planks.
To one side, Lt. Rothilion barked orders, preventing the work from devolving into chaos.
As much as Fieran had chafed under Lt. Rothilion’s command while at Dar Goranth, the elf lieutenant could keep the squadron organized and focused better than Fieran could. He had been the perfect person to entrust with overseeing this task.
Only Merrik’s and Fieran’s tents remained unaffected. As Fieran strode to his tent, he nodded to Lt. Rothilion. “I’ll clear my things out before I leave.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of it.” Stickyfingers hustled past, his arms laden with a footlocker.
Lt. Rothilion met Fieran’s gaze and gave a nod of his own, his mouth lacking any sign of that curling disgust.
“Thanks.” Fieran ducked into his tent, took off his swords, and set them on his footlocker. He washed as best he could with the tepid water in a pitcher and basin before he changed into fresh clothing.
Once done, he made sure everything in his tent was properly stowed so it could be easily hauled out. After grabbing his rifle, he stepped outside again into the early morning sunlight.
“All set?” Stickyfingers and Tiny trotted up. They were nearly the same height, but Tiny’s muscles and broad chest made Stickyfingers appear small beside him.
“Yes. Go ahead.” Fieran gestured at his tent behind him.
Even in the few minutes he’d been inside, the foot-high saplings had grown into ten-foot small trees.
Mak had joined Lt. Rothilion, and the two of them were consulting with one of the other elven pilots on how best to turn the discarded lumber, trees, and canvas into snug shelters.
It seemed that particular elf had worked in tree-growing construction in Estyra before joining the Tarenhieli Flying Corps.
Merrik strode from his tent, and Fieran moved to join him.
Not a moment too soon. No sooner had he gotten out of the way than Tiny and Stickyfingers barreled out of his tent, carrying his cot piled high with everything in his tent.
“We had best leave them to it.” Fieran had to dodge out of the way as two more flyboys descended on Merrik’s tent.
“Lt. Rothilion seems to have things well in hand.” Merrik hurried to one side, his mouth pressing into a thin line as a few thunks echoed from inside his tent.
As the two of them strolled beside the hangar, footsteps scuffed behind them before a throat cleared.
Fieran halted and turned, finding Pretty Face standing there. “Do you need something?”
Pretty Face glanced around before he lowered his voice so that it wouldn’t carry to the bustle behind him.
“Lije, Stickyfingers, and I are planning an activity for the whole squadron. But the activity is on the more expensive end. For those who are sending most of their pay home, like Stickyfingers and Lije, it’s a stretch.
I’m collecting a fund so that some of the costs can be deferred for those in the squadron who need it. ”
“Dare I ask what you’re planning?” Fieran crossed his arms and eyed Pretty Face. For once, Pretty Face’s closely cropped beard and thin mustache framed a mouth pressed in a line rather than curved in his cavalier smile.
“All innocent fun. Promise.” Pretty Face pressed a hand over his heart, all wide-eyed affrontery. “You know Lije and Stickyfingers wouldn’t allow anything else.”
“True.” Fieran relaxed his stance. For someone who used to act like he had the depth of a puddle on a hot day, organizing a fund like this was surprisingly thoughtful of Pretty Face.
Probably a character growth Fieran should encourage.
“Find me before we turn in. I’ll be happy to donate to your collection. ”
“As will I.” Merrik’s quiet voice barely carried over the noise of all the working flyboys on the other side of the road.
“Thanks.” Pretty Face nodded before he spun and hurried away, as if to make sure everyone had been too busy working to notice him.
As Fieran turned back toward the hangar, Pip hurried outside, dressed in a clean set of overalls over a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. “Ready to go?”
“Yep.” Fieran resisted the urge to hurry to her and instead forced himself to remain where he was. Simply a friend waiting for another friend to join them.
The three of them strode the length of the hangar toward the airship docks, where they found the platform for a tram that would take them deeper into the Whitehurst Mountains.
After they climbed on board with many troll and elf warriors, the tram rattled its way into the rolling landscape of the foothills.
Airships floated yards above the earth with ropes holding them down and rope ladders stretching to the ground, sheltered from sight by large trees and looming mountains. More airships drifted overhead, guarding Fort Defense and the Escarlish heartland from bombing.
The tram stopped at a platform near what appeared to be a large encampment for elven warriors, their shelters tucked among dense stands of trees. At the next stop, the troll warriors disembarked, heading for what appeared to be a warren of passageways disappearing into the stone of the mountains.
After that, the tram continued even deeper into the mountains to the very end of the line of what constituted Fort Defense.
Here, the tram ended at a platform at what seemed to be a smaller rail station compared to the one found on the flatlands next to the river.
These tracks likely connected to the main Escarland rail system somewhere below the mountains and allowed munitions and magical power cells to be shipped directly to these bunkers in the mountains rather than go through the rest of Fort Defense.
As the tram slid to a stop, Fieran stood and made his way to the opening that formed the door. He hopped to the platform and waited while Merrik and Pip disembarked after him.
They stood in a deep valley formed by the mountains around them, the forested sides rising steeply. These mountains weren’t like the jagged, gray peaks found in Kostaria but instead remained forested all the way to the rounded tops.
Yet like in Kostaria, huge openings had been cut into the stone with the openings framed by large stone blocks to prevent the dirt of the hillsides from sliding. Six MPs—two trolls, two elves, and two humans—guarded each of the cave mouths.
And for good reason. One of these surrounding mountains held the huge munitions bunker that served the smaller bunkers scattered around the Fort Defense complex.
The other mountain held a bunker for the reserves of magical power cells.
Of the two bunkers, the one with the magical power cells was the more destructive, if it should be set off.
Fieran headed for the mountain on the right. As he approached, the human MPs stepped forward while the troll and elf MPs ranged behind them, providing an impenetrable wall between him and the opening. “Halt. State your business.”
Fieran pulled his papers out of his pocket. “Capt. Fieran Laesornysh, here with First Lieutenant Loiatir and Mechanic Detmuk-Inawenys. I believe General Laesornysh added us to the list. ”
Both of the human guards quailed while the elven guards almost instinctively straightened at the sound of Dacha’s name.
Almost tentatively, one of the human MPs checked a clipboard hanging from a nail inside the opening while the other looked at Merrik’s and Pip’s papers. The one checking the clipboard gave a nod. “Yep, they’re here. You may enter.”
All the MPs moved out of the way, and Fieran led the way into the dark interior. The air grew pleasantly cool the deeper they strode into the mountain, a few glowing stone troll lights brightening the space so that they could see.
At the far end, the tunnel opened into a huge cavern.
Racks upon racks held smaller magical power cells while the larger magical power cells used in the airships, warships, and the whole base’s power system rested on pallets along the wall.
A sense of crackling energy filled the room, making the hair rise along Fieran’s arms. All the magic in this room belonged to his dacha, a testimony to how Dacha had been keeping the whole of Fort Defense running all by himself, with magic to spare.
The other side of the cavern held various empty power cells, waiting to be filled. A smaller tunnel branched from the main passageway, leading to a room that held the machine that filled the magical power cells.
At the sight of it, Pip all but ran down the passageway and instantly set to work inspecting the machine with all the preoccupation of someone drooling over their favorite chocolate.
Fieran strolled down the tunnel at a slower pace, Merrik at his side. As they entered the room, Fieran located the safety goggles hanging on stone pegs jutting from the wall, grabbed a pair, and slid them on .
Merrik grabbed two more pairs of goggles. “We might as well start right away.”
Fieran glanced at Pip where she still inspected all the buttons and switches that controlled the machine before he sighed and headed for his spot behind the protective barrier.
Unlike in the AMPC building in Aldon, this barrier was a two-foot thick wall of stone with only small windows of tempered glass set into it so that he could still see the machine operator, and the machine operator could see him.
Yet the windows were so small that Fieran felt truly cut off and more alone than he ever did while filling magical power cells at Aldon.
Merrik joined Pip behind the panel of buttons and switches and handed her the second set of goggles. “You will need these.”
“Thanks.” Pip tugged them on, fussing a moment with the strap and her hair before she seemed satisfied.
Merrik stepped even closer to her as he began talking her through the various buttons, switches, and gauges on the panel. An empty magical power cell already waited in the machine on the other side of the second protective barrier between Fieran and the machine in case of explosions.
Something rose inside Fieran, and for a moment he found himself clenching his fists, his stomach twisting.
Was this…envy? He squashed the feeling, taking deep breaths and exhaling slowly.
He had no right to the feeling, nor was there any reason to feel it.
It wasn’t either Pip’s or Merrik’s fault that Fieran wished he was the one there with Pip where he could use the excuse of showing her the machine to put his arm around her.
But he couldn’t. He was the one with the magic of the ancient kings. His place was here on this side of the protective barrier .
“Fieran?” Merrik was staring at him, his eyebrow-raised expression clear even through the thick barrier wall.
Right. Fieran shook himself, hoping Merrik hadn’t been calling his name for too long before he’d noticed. Reaching for his magic, Fieran let a little of it twine around his fingers.
The magic came easily, even deep within the earth in a cavern carved by troll magic as he was. He had inherited Dacha’s magic, but he hadn’t inherited the elven weakness to stone and troll magic.
How uncomfortable must filling the magical power cells be for Dacha? Dacha was sensitive to both stone and troll magic. Aunt Melantha’s healing stone could mitigate the effects, but using his magic deep within the earth would quickly burn through her protections.
At a nod from Merrik, Fieran reached with his magic for the wire running over his head. His magic eagerly jumped along the wire, over the wall separating him from the machine, and down into the power cell.
Pip’s head bent as she took in the various gauges, her eyes dancing in the light of his crackling magic. Fieran would have liked to take credit for the wonder on her face, but he knew her look had more to do with the machine than his magic.
Oh, well. He’d expected as much. Besides, his magic was almost becoming old hat for her, considering how many times she’d seen him wield it both in practice and in battle.
At another nod from Merrik, Fieran withdrew his magic, stuffing it back into his chest despite the depths of his power begging to be unleashed.
Merrik flipped the switches again, walking Pip through shutting down the machine and disconnecting the filled magical power cell so that it could be removed.
Pip’s face fairly glowed, and as Fieran walked around the protective barrier to rejoin them, she just about did a pirouette as she turned to him.
“I’ve always wanted to do this! We studied the machine for filling magical power cells at university, and I briefly saw it during one of our field trips to the AMPC, but this is so much better. ”
“Glad you’re enjoying this.” Fieran pushed his goggles onto his forehead, the better to take in her grin. “Let’s haul in a whole bunch of empties so we can get on a roll with filling them.”
Together, he, Merrik, and Pip hauled in as many magical power cells as Fieran thought he could fill. Then they set to work filling them, and soon Pip had taken over the primary running of the machine while Merrik supervised.
Fieran worked to keep his grin to himself. This might just have been his best idea yet. Well, except for the fact that he hadn’t gotten a chance to use teaching Pip the machine as an excuse for getting close to her.
Once Pip was fully trained—and if she could survive the certification test with Uncle Iyrinder and Dacha without freezing up—he and Pip could head up here by themselves. No Merrik to run the machine required. Not that he disliked working with Merrik. Far from it. But Pip…
Well, Pip was Pip, and even if he didn’t dare take the next step into a romantic relationship just yet, he would take all the time with her that he could get.