Page 39 of Fly to Fury (War of the Alliance #3)

Chapter

Twenty-Two

P ip went through the motions of cataloguing the battle damage on the squadron’s aeroplanes. The ones that had returned to the hangar, anyway.

While she’d held a shield over the hangar and headquarters, only a few enemy aeroplanes had made it that far and attempted to strafe the people below.

The three Alliance squadrons had fought with bitter tenacity, holding the enemy at the Wall.

The Alliance airships, too, had achieved what could be termed a victory, as they had taken down more Mongavarian airships than they had lost.

But the losses…Pip stared at the clipboard before her, unable to concentrate past the well of emptiness filling her. That emptiness mirrored the empty spaces around the hangar, most conspicuously the places where Fieran’s and Merrik’s aeroplanes normally rested.

“Pip.” Mak halted next to her. Were her shoulders as slumped and her eyes as bruised with dark circles as his were? He looked like he’d been up for days on end, when it was only a little past noon. “Colonel Dentley is gathering everyone in Bay 10. ”

All she could manage was a nod. She fell into step with him, detouring to the wall long enough to set her clipboard on her workbench.

Just before the door to Bay 5, her flyboys were waiting, clustered to one side in a huddle.

Pretty Face had a bandage around one of his arms while Lije had a scratch on his cheek.

Stickyfingers leaned on crutches, one leg bandaged and held up off the ground.

Tiny had his broad arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if to hold himself together.

None of them spoke, just shuffled closer to her.

As they trudged through Bay 5, Aylia silently joined them. It felt almost like a funeral as they made their way through bay after bay, past damaged and shot up aeroplane after aeroplane, until they finally reached Bay 10.

Ranks of pilots filled the otherwise nearly empty space, further highlighting just how few aeroplanes had returned from Capt. Kentworth’s squadron.

Pip swallowed back a lump at the sight. She’d never liked Capt. Kentworth. His pilots and even his mechanics had kept themselves apart, and some of them had sneered at the Half-Breed Squadron.

Yet when their kingdom needed them, they fought with bravery and went down with honor, giving the ultimate sacrifice to win the day.

Pip and the others found a spot in the back with the rest of the Half-Breed Squadron.

Colonel Dentley stood at the front of the large hangar bay with Capt. Fleetwood and Lt. Rothilion. It seemed no one had sorted out just who was in command of the late Capt. Kentworth’s squadron just yet.

Pip further hunched over the arms she’d wrapped over her stomach. With both Fieran and Merrik down, Lt. Rothilion was once again in temporary command of the Half-Breed Squadron.

After the last few people filtered inside, Colonel Dentley cleared his throat.

“Today, we lost friends. Brothers. Respected commanding officers. We mourn, but in our mourning let’s not dishonor their sacrifice by thinking it was in vain.

They gave their lives fulfilling their duty.

Thanks to the battle hard-fought and hard-won in the skies today, the Alliance armies completed the planned mission of driving the Mongavarian Army from the field, resulting in a large loss of men and material for the enemy.

We have shown the enemy that we will not bow beneath their ambitions for conquest and empire. Carry on and do your duty. Dismissed.”

A victory, but at what cost? Worse, the Mongavarians had unleashed both that strange magic that somewhat protected their aeroplanes and those bombs filled with an unknown gas. The war had changed, and none of them knew what the consequences would be.

As Colonel Dentley spun on his heel and left, Capt. Fleetwood and Lt. Rothilion strode in separate directions, heading for their gathered squadrons.

Lt. Rothilion halted before the huddle that was the Half-Breed Squadron. The elf lieutenant swept a glance over them, something in his stance more burdened than Pip had ever seen. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. Just stared out at the pilots, who stared back with the same mute, shared grief.

Then Lt. Rothilion clasped his hands behind his back, straightened his shoulders, and some of the put-together veneer returned. “I have received word that both Capt. Fieran Laesornysh and Lt. Merrik Loiatir are still alive and currently resting. ”

Pip released a breath, her knees nearly buckling. Mak placed his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him as she struggled not to burst into tears again right there in front of the whole squadron.

Lt. Rothilion listed the status of the others who had been taken to the hospital before he paused to sweep another glance over them.

“I know we all would like to rush to the hospital to see our comrades. But the healers have asked that we refrain from visiting tonight while they are still healing all those injured in the battle today.”

Now she was blinking rapidly, her stomach sinking further. She couldn’t even go see Fieran to reassure herself that he was all right. Merrik, too. She didn’t even try to pay attention to the last of Lt. Rothilion’s instructions.

Once he dismissed the others, Lt. Rothilion wove his way through the departing elves and flyboys before he joined Pip and their little group where they stood against the wall near the back.

The elf lieutenant lowered his tone as he met each of their gazes for a moment.

“I know your group has been the closest to Laesornysh and Loiatir. While I discouraged the others, I give all of you leave to attempt to see them, if you are allowed to do so. I would suggest sticking to small groups. Loiatir is at the hospital while Laesornysh has been moved to Prince Farrendel’s quarters. ”

Pip nodded, the lump in her throat making it too painful to speak.

“Pip, of course, needs to see Fieran.” Lije gave her a look she couldn’t quite read, his hands tucked in his pockets. “I’ll go with you, if you’d like.”

“Linshi.” The elvish thank you slipped out, and she didn’t have the strength to correct it with Escarlish.

Stickyfingers and Tiny shared a look before Stickyfingers faced them again, balanced on his crutches. “Tiny and I will see if we can visit Merrik.”

“Then I’ll go with Pip and Lije to see Fieran.” Pretty Face gave a sharp nod, his eyes bleak.

“Do not take this as a lack of loyalty to either Merrik or Fieran, but I believe it would be best if I gave this first chance to the rest of you.” Aylia tipped her head before she glanced at Lt. Rothilion. “I fear I have too much to see to here.”

As Lt. Rothilion’s second, she was now in temporary command of Flight A.

Mak kept his arm around Pip’s shoulders. “I won’t go in with you, but I’ll walk with you, Pip.”

She appreciated that. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to stay upright, much less walk, without her brother’s steady support.

In a daze, she stumbled her way from the hangar, between the pilots’ shelters, and down the rise toward headquarters with the others keeping pace.

As they neared the long wooden building framed with living trees that formed the quarters for the elven commanders, Stickyfingers and Tiny headed off down the road toward the taller wooden building not far away that was the main hospital for Fort Defense.

A few yards from the quarters for the elven commanders, Mak halted. “It’s probably best if I wait here.”

Pip nodded, drew in a deep breath, and forced her feet toward the two end doors where she’d come across King Weylind and Prince Farrendel. Was that only this morning? A mere handful of hours ago, although it felt like a lifetime.

Elven guards in armor stood before the doors, their drawn swords glinting.

Pip swallowed and forced herself to take the lead, speaking in elvish. “We are here to see Capt. Fieran Laesornysh. We are members of his squadron, and we were told he is resting in his dacha’s quarters.”

The elf guard on the left tilted his head. “Wait a moment.” He ducked inside the door closest to him, moving so swiftly that Pip didn’t catch more than a glimpse of the room inside.

The other guard remained poised, ready to leap forward if they proved hostile while they waited.

Only moments later, the elf guard returned, leaving the door open as he stepped to the side. “You have been allowed entry.”

“Linshi.” Pip motioned to Lije and Pretty Face, switching to Escarlish. “We can go in.”

Thankfully, Pretty Face strode forward and led the way inside, followed by Lije. Pip wasn’t sure she would have been bold enough to take that first step if she’d had to be the first one across the threshold.

She inched her way inside, her hands shaking as she closed the door softly behind her.

They were in a small, neat room with a table lacking any chairs in the center, a desk on one side, and a bench with a plain green cushion along the other. A single window in the wall over the desk allowed sunlight to stream inside.

Across the room from them, Prince Farrendel Laesornysh stood in a doorway, one hand braced against the doorjamb.

Pip froze where she stood just inside the outer door, her breath clogging in her throat. Right. In all the whirling emotions and shattering emptiness, she hadn’t let herself think about the fact that Fieran was in his dacha’s quarters and that dacha was Prince Farrendel Laesornysh .

Pretty Face gave a bow, as if he thought the moment warranted the extra formality. “We’re some of Fieran’s friends from his squadron. If we could just see Fieran for a moment, we won’t stay long.”

Prince Farrendel gave a slight nod, though he didn’t yet move out of the doorway.

“Fieran has been in and out of consciousness. He might not wake while you are here. And if he does…” He paused, something almost like a grimace breaking through the otherwise blank expression.

“He is dosed with both elven healing magic and human morphine.”