Page 7 of Wings of War

To one side, racks upon racks of filled power cells lined up on carts, waiting to be hauled to the next warehouse over, where they would await distribution to the various companies and people who purchased the magical power cells from the AMPC. Some of the power cells glowed with Adry’s bright blue magic, but most of them flashed with Louise’s more blue-white magic.

Something dinged, and Louise flipped a switch. The machine whirred down, and Adry cut off her magic.

As Merrik stepped inside behind Fieran and closed the door, Louise turned to the two of them. “What took you two so long? That was a rather generous lunch break.”

“I fetched sodas.” Fieran strolled across the warehouse, reached into the deep pockets of his coat, and presented each of his sisters with their favorites, the carbonated beverages sparkling inside glass bottles. The newfangled sodas were all the rage in Escarland.

Louise took the bottles from him, still eyeing him suspiciously. “Getting sodas still wouldn’t have taken you this long.”

Fieran just shrugged. He wasn’t about to explain about signing up for the Flying Corps. He’d tell the whole family over supper. If he could work up the courage. His stomach twisted in knots every time he thought about telling Dacha what he and Merrik had just done.

Popping off the metal cap of his own soda, Fieran headed for the other side of the warehouse, separated from the magical power cell filling machine by a thick stone wall reinforced with both troll stone magic and Dacha’s magic.

On the other side of the protective wall, Merrik was already shrugging into padded coveralls made from thick canvas material. After placing his soda and coat on a table to one side, Fieran claimed his own set of coveralls, though his magic would likely provide more protection in the event of an explosion. But procedure was procedure.

He could follow rules and regulations when he put his mind to it. Joining the army wouldn’t be that bad. Right?

Once Fieran had buttoned up the coveralls and wiggled his safety goggles into place, he strode to the line of magically powered engines waiting for testing. The company had sent over a randomly selected batch of ten engines for AMPC to test their compatibility and hardiness when the magical power cells were installed. Only after AMPC had certified that the engines were safe for their power cells could the company go into full-scale production of the new engines.

Merrik took up his post behind yet another protective barrier. He set his soda on the desk there, shoved the elven-made moss earplugs into his ears, then picked up a clipboard. He pointed with a pencil, his voice raised to compensate for his muffled ears. “We are up to engine six.”

“Right.” Fieran shoved his own earplugs into his ears and made his way to engine six.

That morning, the first five engines had held up decently well. None had exploded, so far. The only problem they had come across was that one of the power wires had a tendency to burn out when the engine was under particular strain. Not an uncommon problem when it came to dealing with the magic of the ancient kings.

Fieran wheeled engine six onto the testing floor and slid one of the cylindrical magical power cells into the space in the engine, locking it tight. “Starting test one of twenty.”

“Test one. Check.” Merrik made a note on his clipboard.

Together, Fieran and Merrik tested the rest of the engines. None of them exploded, sadly. The wire problem persisted, but that was manageable.

More manageable than telling his family what he’d done during his lunch break.

Fieran couldn’t keep his knees from bouncing as he sat at the dining table with his family. At least the table hid his nerves, as long as he refrained from bumping the table and rattling the dishes.

Adry and Louise chattered about how many magical power cells they filled that day. Mama and Ellie described the event they attended to announce the new collection of books translated from elvish now available at Aldon’s largest library. Tryndar babbled about whatever he observed while spending the day with Dacha, though it was hard to understand exactly what Dacha and Uncle Lance had been working on in their top-secret invention workshop. Dacha didn’t clarify.

Mama swallowed her bite of roast. “Fieran, you’ve been quiet.”

Everyone else around the table paused their conversations, turning to him as they realized he hadn’t been adding to the boisterous banter like he usually did.

Fieran drew in a deep, steadying breath, the roast he’d eaten sinking like a stone in his stomach. Time for his announcement. “During our lunch break today, Merrik and I enlisted in the Escarlish Flying Corps.”

For a heartbeat, Fieran’s entire family just gaped at him.

The book that Ellie had been not-so-secretly reading below the table hit the floor with a thump.

“What?” Louise dropped her fork into her roast.

“That’s what you were doing?” Adry waved her fork, flinging bits of gravy into the air.

Tryndar blinked, as if he couldn’t quite process what was going on.

Fieran shrugged and risked a glance at Dacha, his breath tight and aching in his chest. Of everyone, he was most nervous about Dacha’s reaction.

Dacha had gone hard as stone, his jaw set, his gaze on his plate. After a strained moment, he shoved away from the table, spun on his heel, and marched from the room, the door swinging shut with a clunk behind him.

Fieran sagged in his chair, his stomach twisting into even more painful knots. All he wanted was for Dacha to be proud of him. Instead, it seemed Dacha was angry.

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