Page 51 of Winds of Death (War of the Alliance #4)

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 closer to 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, bearing down 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.

“Yes! Finally!” Murray whooped into the radio. “There’s a huge hole in the airship’s skin. Fire magic incoming.”

“Bombs incoming after that.” Fleetwood’s pilot seemed to have fallen in with the squadron easily enough, even mimicking their cheerful cadence. “I wouldn’t recommend being underneath the airship when all of this explodes.”

Fieran muttered cat names under his breath. That was exactly where he and Merrik were going to be when the bombs went off. But they didn’t have much of a choice. With both Fieran’s and Tiny’s magic caught, they couldn’t risk that the machine would avoid destruction in the airship’s crash.

Merrik dove into the forest of wires, the ends trailing over his aeroplane’s wings and fuselage.

The green of his magic pulled away from his aeroplane, running along a wire before disappearing into the machine to join the brightness of Fieran’s magic.

Less than a second later, Merrik’s machine gun fell silent.

“Merrik. Merrik!” Fieran shouted into the radio, but there was no response. Merrik’s aeroplane must be dead in the air, its propeller spinning only from its own momentum.

There was nothing for it. Fieran dove into the tangle of wire, reaching into his chest and unleashing his magic. He didn’t even try to use his machine gun.

The wires gobbled up the magic in his magical power cell, and the chatter of voices on the radio cut off, leaving him in a silence his cockpit hadn’t experienced since they’d installed the radios back at Dar Goranth.

And yet he could feel it. There was less strength behind the tug on his magic. The machine glowed brighter, brighter, sparks flying, a high-pitched whine filling the air even over the noise of battle and the clanking of the airship engines.

He gave one last shove with his magic. With a brilliant burst like sunlight, the machine below the aeroplane exploded, sending a shower of shrapnel in all directions.

Fragments of metal tore through the tail of Fieran’s aeroplane, and he scrambled to blast his magic, now returned to his control, outward to incinerate the shrapnel before it could tear into him or Merrik.

The sheer relief of his magic releasing was heady. He drew in a deep breath, his mind clearing from the painful tearing of a moment before.

With a great whump , an explosion detonated somewhere deep inside the airship.

Debris lashed outward in a deadly storm of shredded metal.

Flames wreathed the ship, tongues of fire licking out of each of the busted windows and holes in the sides.

With a groan of metal, the airship began plummeting toward the earth…

and toward where Merrik’s and Fieran’s aeroplanes were gliding, powerless, through the sky.