Page 74 of Wings of War

Yet even with Dacha’s warning, he hadn’t been prepared for killing on this scale. For the deep, shattering knowledge that he’d be asked to repeat such killing many more times before this war was over.

“I killed last night. Not just one person. Not just two. But whole airships full.” Fieran gripped his knees, not daring to meet his dacha’s gaze. Not because he feared he’d see disgust. No. It was the understanding he couldn’t handle. “How many do you think I killed last night?”

“Sason.” Dacha’s voice remained low, dragging out the endearment on a sigh. “Do not go down that branch. It will shatter you under the weight. You are a warrior. Your duty will be death, no matter whether that death is dealt to a few or to many.”

Fieran managed another nod, the reality of that sinking deep into his bones in a way he wouldn’t have understood before.

“Fieran.” Dacha’s use of his name brought Fieran’s head up. Dacha’s gaze held that wealth of understanding, just as Fieran had feared. But there was also a hard layer of respect, the regard of one warrior to another instead of only father and son. “How many would have died in Bridgetown, Calafaren, and Fort Linder last night if you had not acted?”

That answer was easy. Too many. The Mongavarian airships wouldn’t have stopped until they had run out of bombs. Without Fieran, there would have been nothing the Flying Corps training squadron could have done to dissuade them. The entire squadron might have been wiped out in the attempt.

“There were children, Dacha.” The words came out a whisper past the squeezing in Fieran’s throat, and he had to drop his gaze. “There were children in the rubble who were…that I…”

A tear trickled down Fieran’s cheek, and he ruthlessly swiped it away. He hadn’t cried all night, even when pulling little ones from the rubble.

Others had cried. Grown men who just sat right there in the rubble and sobbed.

Dacha rested a hand on Fieran’s shoulder again. “This is why we fight. We are Laesornysh for them.”

“Yes.” Fieran took in the destroyed city before them, this time resolve hardening inside his chest, steadying him.

This was what he’d signed up for when he enlisted in the army. Not glory. Not legends. But to bring death to the enemy before that enemy brought death to others. It would mean killing. He would bear this burden so that others never had to.

Perhaps that was what he’d been struggling with this morning. Because he didn’t regret what he’d done last night, despite the fact he’d killed hundreds of Mongavarian airmen. He couldn’t regret it when he looked out over Bridgetown and saw what those same Mongavarian airmen had done to his home.

The only thing Fieran regretted about the previous night was that he hadn’t been able to stop the destruction sooner and spare more of Bridgetown’s people. The city had been hit harder by the bombing than the fort had been, thanks to Fieran’s protection early in the night.

“How could Mongavaria do this?” Fieran clenched his fists, a heat rising in his chest to wipe away the pain of before. “I understand attacking Fort Linder. But Bridgetown? Calafaren? I know they are communications centers. I know they are a link between the Alliance Kingdoms. But it’s still just…is this the kind of war Mongavaria intends to fight?”

“Sadly, yes. This city is a symbol.” Dacha gestured at the rubble before them, his wave ending at the Alliance Bridge arching over the river. “Bridgetown and Calafaren were born out of the Alliance, and this attack was a strike at its heart. I—and your uncles—suspect the cities, and not Fort Linder, were the true targets of the attack all along.”

That was both a relief and a blow. At least Fieran didn’t have to harbor guilt that his actions in protecting Fort Linder had caused the Mongavarians to shift their attack to the cities. But it also meant that the attack had never been about crippling Escarland’s ability to fight back in the sky. The bombing had been a message.

“Thus the choice in day as well as target.” Dacha’s tone turned even more weighty.

“The day?” Fieran blinked, his groggy mind unable to think of why this particular day would have any meaning.

Dacha’s mouth tipped, though the expression was too grim to be called a smile. “It was seventy years ago today that your macha and I married, and the initial alliance was formed.”

Oh. Fieran had forgotten that today was Alliance Day, a national holiday in all three kingdoms and his parents’ anniversary. Today didn’t feel much like a holiday.

He opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. It didn’t seem right to say happy anything on a day like this. Instead, he managed a croaked, “I’m sorry.”

And he meant it. Dacha and Mama should have been celebrating this day, taking Tryndar to the parade in Aldon or quietly relaxing at Treehaven.

Instead, Dacha was here in a destroyed city, carrying his swords and dressed for war, while Mama remained behind in an Aldon preparing for that same war.

Dacha just shrugged wearily, staring at the city and the arching bridge beyond. “Seventy years ago, our marriage stopped a war before it had begun. Today, our anniversary starts one.”

Fieran had no words for that. Despite the pall of the day, he couldn’t let the grimness linger so darkly. “It was just the Mongavarians’ bad luck that I happened to be at Fort Linder when they attacked.”

“Yes. It seems they were given some bad information when it came to the whereabouts of certain important people.” Dacha shook his head, a note to his tone indicating that there was something to those words. “They had intended to assassinate your uncles Averett and Weylind last night as well, but your uncle Edmund thwarted both of those attacks.”

Fieran straightened, a chill stabbing through him. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No. The assassins did not come anywhere close.” Dacha waved the words away, as if attempted assassinations weren’t a big deal. “I do not wish to worry you but to warn you. After what you did here, you will have an even larger target on your back. The Mongavarians know they cannot kill either of us in a simple assassination attempt, but they might grow desperate enough to try.”

“I’ll be wary.” Fieran resisted a shiver. He’d been shot at last night for the first time, but he’d never been in that much danger. His magic was too strong. But someone lying in wait for him was another thing entirely.

---