Page 2 of Wings of War

At least there wasn’t much she could have burned. All the trees around them were spindly and bare, not yet even budding with spring. No undergrowth sprouted yet, leaving the loam a muddy mess beneath their boots.

Louise just rolled her eyes, then brushed off her clothes as Dacha turned to her.

Adry shared a glance with Fieran, then broke into a run, her boots squelching on the forest floor. “Dibs on the zip line!”

“No fair!” Louise took off after Adry, racing toward the tree that held the end of the zip line linking this back corner of Treehaven with the rest of the expansive estate.

Fieran sighed and sheathed his swords. He would have joined the race for the zip line, but Dacha was turning to him, something severe in his gaze this morning.

Dacha’s hard warrior mask hadn’t faded yet, and his swords rested far more easily across his back than Fieran’s did his. “You were particularly undisciplined this morning, sason.”

That elven word for son showed the warmth to Dacha’s words beyond the flint in his eyes. Elves often addressed each other by their familial relationship. More than merely stating the relationship, it was an endearment that signified particular closeness.

“Yes, yes, I know.” Fieran shifted, glancing away.

Dacha sighed, crossing his arms. “War is coming, Fieran.”

He nodded, though he didn’t meet his dacha’s eyes. For nearly seventy years, the Alliance Kingdoms of Kostaria, Tarenhiel, and Escarland had been on the brink of war with the increasingly powerful Mongavarian Empire. But recently, reports of Mongavarian soldiers in the ogre kingdom of Groyria to the south of Escarland, increased production of Mongavarian airships, and their navy patrolling international waters off the coast of Kostaria, had all pointed toward war being imminent.

Fieran shrugged and gestured to his dacha. “It won’t be much of a war. The Wall will keep Mongavaria from invading.”

The Wall was a magical barrier that Fieran’s dacha had created sixty-nine years ago, with help from Fieran’s uncles Weylind, king of the elves, and Rharreth, king of the trolls. The Wall had initially stretched between Escarland and Mongavaria, but over the years, it had been expanded to fully surround all three Alliance Kingdoms. As much as the Mongavarian Empire might want to invade, they couldn’t get past the Wall.

All they could do was go over it with airships and the newfangled aeroplanes. The Wall was powerful, but it could only extend so far into the sky. Still, airships and aeroplanes couldn’t launch much of an invasion all by themselves.

“They will figure out a way eventually. War creates invention.” Dacha held Fieran’s gaze, his silver-blue eyes especially stern this morning.

Fieran gave a slight shrug at that. He was rather familiar with inventions. Inventing had, after all, defined most of his life.

Over sixty years ago, Dacha, Uncle Iyrinder, and Uncle Lance had started the Alliance Magical Power Company—AMPC—which created magical power cells with Dacha’s magic. Those magical power cells fueled Escarland’s entire infrastructure, from trains to motorized vehicles to aeroplanes.

Fieran had grown up helping where he could, then he’d gotten a degree in magical engineering so that he was certified to use his magic to fill power cells. His sisters Adry and Louise also worked at AMPC, though Louise was the only one who had inherited Dacha’s love of fiddling and inventing. Fieran and Adry just did it because it was something to do with their magic.

Dacha reached out and gripped Fieran’s shoulders, tighter than was usual for the elven-style shoulder hug. “When war does come, our family will be expected to take the brunt of the fighting. You will need to be ready, sason.”

Fieran tried to nod solemnly, even if his heart was racing more with excitement than fear. Was it bad that he was almost eager for this long-awaited war to finally start? War would be his chance to prove he was worthy of carrying the name Laesornysh and wielding the magic of the ancient kings, as the elves called it. “I’ll be ready, Dacha. You’ve trained all of us well.”

Dacha’s gaze searched his face before he sighed and shook his head with an almost resigned tilt. He released Fieran’s shoulders and stepped back. “Go on. Breakfast must be nearly ready.”

Fieran grinned, his mouth already watering at the thought of bacon. If he hurried, he might even have time for a quick shower. His family would appreciate it if he didn’t reek of body odor at breakfast.

As he spun on his heel to race for the zip line tree, Uncle Iyrinder and Merrik strolled into view, weaving between the trunks of the barren winter trees.

Uncle Iyrinder wasn’t really Fieran’s uncle, nor was Uncle Lance. But as Dacha’s friend, business partner, and one-time guard, Uncle Iyrinder and Aunt Patience were pretty much always there during Fieran’s childhood. They owned a house here on the Treehaven estate, and they lived in a house on the forest floor near where Fieran’s parents lived in Tarenhiel. Calling them aunt and uncle had come naturally.

Merrik, Uncle Iyrinder’s and Aunt Patience’s oldest, was only two years younger than Fieran, and the two of them had basically grown up like brothers. With hair that was shades of red—though Fieran’s was bright red and Merrik’s was a darker brown-orange chestnut—they were often mistaken for brothers.

While Merrik had inherited a bit more of the elven mannerisms from his elven father, including wearing his hair long, Fieran had always had a bit too much human in him. Too loud. Too boisterous. Too unconcerned with dirt and grime. Even his hair was just annoying the times he’d tried to wear it long. Despite using the magical elven shampoo and conditioner Aunt Illyna made, Fieran’s hair still lacked that little extra something that elven hair had.

Another way Fieran just couldn’t measure up to his dacha.

As Uncle Iyrinder joined Dacha, Fieran strode to Merrik’s side and bumped his shoulder. “Done communing with the trees this morning?”

Merrik rolled his eyes. “Done causing explosions?”

“Not a chance.” Fieran grinned and reached for the bottom rung of the ladder formed of living roots and branches that stretched down from the tree. “The latest shipment of engines for testing should be arriving today. You know how I love blowing a few of those up.”

Merrik sent another look heavenward. “You have a problem, you know that? No one should love explosions that much.”

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