Page 68 of Wings of War

But this…this was on a whole different scale. The Mongavarians had no hope of fighting back. He could wipe out every single person on that airship with a twitch of his magic. It was not equal. It was not an honorable battle decided in a test of measure for measure. It wasn’t even self-defense, as he was no longer in any danger from the Mongavarian guns.

This was just death. Doing what he had to do to defend his squadron and his kingdom. Killing on a scale the world had not seen since his dacha had fought in the wars between the trolls and the elves.

With one last bracing breath to steel himself, Fieran mentally squeezed his magic tight, devouring the hard sides of the dirigible, the air bags, the catwalks, everything in mere minutes, leaving only tatters of flaming canvas and twisted shards of metal to tumble, burning and groaning, toward the darkness of the waters far below.

He left the gondola, though he wasn’t sure if the people within would survive the crash into the water or if he was condemning them to a fate of falling to their deaths if they did not get to their parachutes in time. Assuming the Mongavarian airships came equipped with parachutes.

But right now, there was no time to spare a thought for mercy or regrets. Only logic and cold-hearted duty.

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Pip blinked rapidly to stave off the blackness at the edges of her vision. Her magic burned inside her, as if strained to the breaking point. She was on her knees, though she couldn’t remember getting there.

Above her, her shield strained, and she sucked in a painful breath, squeezing her eyes shut. She couldn’t withstand another direct hit like that.

Something bright and sizzling burst across her senses. She forced her eyes open as Fieran’s magic blasted over hers, a crackling tide shoring up her shield.

Pip gripped the flagpole and struggled back to her feet. She braced herself with her back to the pole, using the metal to strengthen her, even as a second burst of Fieran’s magic spread over her shield. Gritting her teeth, she unleashed more of her magic, letting their two powers blend together.

Through the blur of crackling blue and shimmering silver, the black specks of the flyers darted around the huge airship, seeming more an annoyance than a deterrence.

At least the airship seemed too distracted to drop more bombs.

Using the respite, Pip gathered herself, her gasps coming hard in her chest.

Something bright and blue flared across the sky, streaking toward the airship. Moments later, a brilliant burst of blue spread against the darkness over the airship, bathing the night in light.

Fieran. Pip might have breathed his name out loud, though she couldn’t have been sure.

One of the infantry men who had been racing toward the headquarters halted, gaping upward. More men halted, gathering into a crowd as they stared upward. Someone nearby murmured, “Laesornysh,” loudly enough for the name to carry on the breeze.

The blue magic flared even brighter, and it took Pip a moment of squinting to make out what was happening. The magic almost seemed to be eating the airship, incinerating it to ash before their eyes.

The sheer power he demonstrated was almost enough to make her quake, even knowing him as well as she did. Even knowing he was on her side.

This was the magic of the ancient kings fully unleashed.

The Mongavarians had no idea what power they were up against.

Cheers broke out all around her. Doors slammed open as those inside headquarters and the infirmary stepped out to see what was going on.

The black shape of the airship’s gondola plummeted from the sky, looking like it would land in the river beside Fort Linder. A few smaller black shapes jumped from the gondola, their white parachutes opening against the sky a moment later.

Pip propped herself up against the flagpole, finally daring to exhale a long, relieved breath. High above her, the three flags stirred in the breeze, undamaged and undaunted.

Someone—likely a high-ranking commander of some kind—barked orders, organizing a special detail of men to round up the Mongavarians before they could escape into the night. He also called for volunteers to head into Bridgetown, even while that city remained under attack, to provide aid.

Pip pushed away from the flagpole and hurried toward the officer. “Sir, I’d like to go along.” She pointed upward. “I’m the one shielding us. But now that Fort Linder is safe for the time being…”

“Go.” The officer barely blinked at her offer, despite the fact that she was a tiny girl volunteering to go into a war zone.

This night had changed them all, it seemed.

The next thing she knew, she was being lifted into the back of a truck, packed in with a squad of infantrymen on their way to help the stricken city. A few of the nurses, including Chelsea, also squished inside, clutching boxes overflowing with medical supplies.

Within moments, Pip jounced in the back of a truck as it rumbled at dangerously high speeds over the pitted, bomb-damaged road stretching between Fort Linder and Bridgetown with only the weak beams of the headlights to illuminate the craters before they could plunge into one. Through the canvas flaps at the rear, the headlights from the truck behind them wavered as it mirrored their swerves and dodges.

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