Page 31 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)
“The patrols will be dangerous.” Capt. Fleetwood shot a look at Fieran before he gestured at the map.
“Even assuming the Mongavarians don’t produce more aeroplanes and airships from wherever they’ve been hiding, the gun emplacements will still be a threat.
Especially if we need to fly low enough to capture good photographs of the land below. ”
Fieran resisted the urge to flinch. What Capt.
Fleetwood meant was that such patrols would be dangerous for any squadron except Fieran’s since Fieran could protect his pilots with his magic.
But the other captain was only half-right.
Fieran would need to remove the magical protection under whoever was taking the photographs, otherwise his magic would blur the pictures.
Perhaps even make them not turn out entirely.
“Another consideration, but the generals have deemed the risk worth it.” Colonel Dentley’s tone didn’t waver, even though he must know the order would send some of the pilots to their deaths.
Fieran tapped the paper, ignoring Capt. Kentworth’s glare. “My squadron can take out the gun emplacements on one of our scouting missions.”
Colonel Dentley nodded briskly. “I will take that under consideration.”
And likely run it past his superiors. Taking out the guns would make the patrols safer for the squadrons, but it also could prompt Mongavaria to take their aeroplanes and airships out of hiding once again.
But maybe headquarters would deem such a thing worth the risk. After all, Fieran would just wipe out whatever the enemy threw at him, further securing Escarland’s dominance in the air before the planned attack.
Colonel Dentley shot each of them a stern look. “This is what the Flying Corps has trained for, and we will not shirk our duty any more than the men who will charge through the Wall into enemy fire will shirk theirs.”
Fieran swallowed, resisting the urge to glance to either side at Merrik and Rothilion.
“We will begin patrols immediately, with near constant scouting missions as the weather allows.” Colonel Dentley tapped the clipboard where the usual patrol schedules were listed.
“Command has set the day of attack for six days from now in the afternoon so that the sun will be at our backs. The plan is to schedule the rotation of the patrols so that the Half-Breed Squadron will lead the aerial coverage over the attack, with the Wardogs and the Fighting Second backing them up.”
Capt. Kentworth glowered, his arms crossed over his chest. As the senior commander and squadron, leading the way to protect the charge below should have been his duty, not Fieran’s. Instead, Fieran was being given the prominent duty, despite being the least senior of the three captains.
Fieran met Capt. Kentworth’s scowl with a steady gaze. Despite what Capt. Kentworth might think, Fieran hadn’t gotten where he was because of his family or because he’d had it easy. He’d earned this by the blood on his hands, and that didn’t sit on his shoulders or his soul lightly.
Fieran sat in the chair in the tiny booth with its black telephone mounted on the wall next to him. Even with the booth’s door closed, he could still hear voices from the booths on either side of him as other flyboys from his squadron also called home.
One of the best parts of being here at Fort Defense was the telephone calls home, though the calls were placed from a communications hub near the mess that used the civilian lines and operators. He always had to be careful about what he said.
Besides the telephone calls, he’d also received frequent letters from Mama, Adry, Louise, Ellie, and even pictures from Tryndar, though he had those piled in his footlocker with his other letters rather than tacked on the wall like Dacha had his.
A ringing sounded a moment before there was a click and his mama’s voice spoke through the buzzing crackle. “Treehaven House.”
“Hello, Mama.” Fieran’s chest tightened at the sound of her voice, his throat closing with all the things he wanted to tell her.
This was the last time he’d be able to call her before the big mission.
A blackout had been declared for all civilian communications to prevent any word of the attack from getting out.
After today, no more mail would be allowed out, nor telephone calls over these civilian lines.
Perhaps Dacha might be able to call home using the military line in Uncle Weylind’s office, but with all the coordination going on to prepare for the attack, even that was unlikely.
But Fieran couldn’t tell her that. He had to pretend everything was fine.
“Fieran.” Mama’s voice warmed. The tone changed as she seemed to call to someone else. “It’s Fieran.”
Moments later, Ellie’s and Tryndar’s voices filled the line as well.
“Did you get my picture?”
“Did you get my books signed?”
“We saw the monkeys at the zoo!”
“What was Margaret Grey like? Did you really get to meet her?”
The tension inside Fieran eased at the babble of his siblings’ voices. Soon he’d step back into the grimness of preparing for battle, but right now he’d pretend the world was as simple and safe as the one of his childhood.
He kept up a light conversation with his mama and siblings until his allotted fifteen minutes was up. After reluctantly hanging up, he stepped from the booth, making room for the next flyboy to call home.
Merrik exited the next booth over, falling into step with Fieran as the two of them left the communications buildings.
A few yards from the building, Fieran halted, breathing in the cool evening air.
The breeze that whispered past his face held the rich, wet scent of the Hydalla River flowing not far away.
When he tipped his head back, the clearing skies overhead deepened with the coming night, the first few stars twinkling into sight.
This moment felt like it might just be the last bit of peace he’d have before he’d fly into the fury of war once again .
Merrik, too, had his head tipped back, his face turned toward the breeze. “Home seems very far away tonight.”
“Yes.” It shouldn’t. Fieran had just talked to his mama and siblings. Yet talking to them only highlighted just how distant his life now was from the peace and safety of his homes at Treehaven and Estyra.
Since leaving for the army, he’d experienced few moments of homesickness.
Why he was feeling it now, he couldn’t be sure.
Perhaps it was the weight of the coming battle pressing down on him.
Maybe being here at Fort Defense with Dacha just made him miss how their family used to be when they’d been all together.
Perhaps it was the longing for home that stirred other longings. A longing to stop holding back when it came to Pip. Regret over the decisions he’d made back in Dar Goranth. Guilt for still flirting and acting like they were more without any commitment to her.
When battle came in the next few days, what would he regret more? That he’d held off on courting Pip over fear of being distracted? Or if he took the leap and risked his heart and their friendship to pursue something more?
He’d have to talk to her soon. He’d thought he’d been doing the right thing at Dar Goranth, but in the end it hadn’t been fair to either of them to leave things unresolved like this. That was his fault and his duty to fix.
Fieran drew in another deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Do you remember when we were little, and we’d pretend we were great warriors of old riding off into battle?”
They’d wielded their wooden swords in one hand, gripping their stick horses in the other as they galloped around the forest.
“Sometimes you were a human. Sometimes an elf. You never could make up your mind. Not until we were older, and you stopped playing the elf role.” Merrik shook his head, a faint smile creasing his face.
“You were always an elf.” Fieran stuffed his hands in his pockets. “We saw ourselves as great heroes like our dachas.”
“The reality is not like the glorious victories of those childhood stories.” Merrik crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulders hunched.
“No.” The innocence of childhood didn’t include the stench of burnt flesh and metal on the breeze, the taste of death in his magic, and the sourness of destruction in his stomach.
Fieran shook himself and forced a grin onto his face, stiff as the expression felt. He clapped Merrik on the shoulder. “The reality might be harder than anything we imagined as kids, but one thing has never changed. I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine.”
Merrik gripped Fieran’s shoulder in return. “Always.”
“Care to shake on it to seal our brotherhood?” Fieran held up his free hand, as if preparing to spit into it.
Merrik gave him a light shove as he released Fieran’s shoulder. “No.”
Fieran laughed as he set out for the tram to take them up the bluff to their shelters. “Not even for old time’s sake?”
“No.” Merrik repeated the word with even more emphasis even as he gave Fieran a glare.
Fieran just grinned and strolled toward the tram, his steps lighter now that he’d shrugged off some of the weight of moments ago.