Page 38 of Wings of War

The wings wavered, and the whole flyer felt light around Fieran. Then it crashed back to the ground, and every ounce of Fieran’s weight pressed into the hard leather of the seat.

Then he was pressed even harder into the seat, as if a giant hand was pushing on his shoulders. Yet that same hand seemed to catch under the biplane’s wings and pull the flyer off the ground. The tires left the ground as the nose tilted toward the sky.

They were flying.

Fieran swallowed back his whoop and concentrated on breathing through the rush of air snatching at his nose and mouth. The air grew increasingly cold even as the earth fell away beneath him in a way that sent his stomach into his toes.

Yet even as his stomach dropped, his heart soared. This was what it meant to be alive. The rush of frigid air. The hum of the propeller vibrating through his bones. The freedom of an open sky all around him.

As they leveled off, Capt. Arfeld shouted, “I’m going to turn control over to you.”

Fieran gripped the control column, his heart hammering instead of soaring. Through the stick, he could feel the strange firmness of the air beneath the wings, as if the air was solid rather than immaterial.

“Ease the biplane into a gentle turn. Remember, it will turn slower and tug upward when turning to the left but turn sharper and downward to the right.” Capt. Arfeld shouted his instructions from the rear seat.

Fieran eased the stick over while pressing on the rudder bar with his feet. He’d thought it had been gentle, but the aeroplane was suddenly on its side. Fieran’s shoulder rammed against the side of the cockpit, and he hung from the lap belt strapped across his hips.

He tried to correct, and suddenly his nose was going over and up, the aeroplane wanting to tug into a roll.

“Gentle movements. Feel the way the air interacts with your wings.” Capt. Arfeld somehow managed to sound completely unruffled. Capt. Arfeld’s hand appeared in Fieran’s peripheral vision, pointing. “Keep an eye out for the other two flyers. They are coming up behind and under us.”

Fieran glanced in that direction, leaning over the side of the aeroplane to see a second aeroplane to the side and beneath him, barely visible around the lower wing of Fieran’s biplane.

That was something to get used to. When driving his automobile, he only had to worry about a level plane of directions. But here in the sky, all directions were possible. Even above him and below him.

His magic jumped around his fingertips again, as if to protect him in his vulnerable position in a wooden flyer alone in the unprotected sky.

Fieran squashed his magic until he almost felt like he was smothering, his breath hitching. He couldn’t unleash his magic here. Not only would he risk incinerating his own flyer if his magic got out of control, but he could overset the magical power cell and cause an explosion.

After several moments of wrestling with the flyer, the wings tipping first one way, then the other, Fieran finally managed to level off again, his heart racing, his hands shaking on the control column.

“Not too bad, but let’s try that turn again.” Capt. Arfeld’s shout somehow remained utterly calm.

Capt. Arfeld talked Fieran through a variety of turns and gentle maneuvers. No spins or corkscrews for this first flight. Even a simple turn felt dangerous enough.

The longer Fieran flew, the more accustomed he became to the way the aeroplane handled. He had the growing urge to throw the flyer into a roll or a sharp banking turn, just to truly test the biplane’s—and his own—limits.

But he didn’t. He followed orders like a good recruit and stuffed down both his magic and his soaring excitement.

All too soon, Capt. Arfeld directed him to turn around, and they headed back toward the aerodrome. As they lined up for a landing, dropping lower, Capt. Arfeld took over the aeroplane once again, though he continued to talk Fieran through the process.

They swooped lower and lower, the ground rushing up to meet them. Then the wheels touched down with a jolt, and the biplane went from a graceful bird in the sky to a jolting, shuddering contraption lumbering over the ground, the wings wobbling as if about to tip one way or the other.

The tail dropped, and the tail skid dug into the earth, slowing the flyer. As they slowed, Capt. Arfeld turned the aeroplane, finally halting it to one side of the airfield near the hangar.

The ground crew rushed to meet them as Capt. Arfeld turned off the engine, though the propeller continued to spin in ever slowing circles for several more minutes.

Even as Fieran uncramped his legs and tried to pry himself out of the cockpit, another biplane came in for a landing. It touched down, jouncing back into the air to fly another few yards before falling back to the ground and staying there this time.

Fieran finally managed to unwedge himself from the cockpit. He shakily found the toe grip and lowered himself onto solid ground. As the other aeroplane parked nearby, Fieran pulled off the goggles and drew in a deep breath, not sure if the adrenaline coursing through him was from fear or the excitement of flight.

When Merrik climbed out of the other flyer, Fieran met his gaze, unable to hide his grin any longer.

Merrik grinned back unreservedly as he so rarely did. The flight must have been as freeing for him as it had been for Fieran.

As Lije’s aeroplane landed, skidding a bit on the grass, Fieran joined Merrik as they stepped out of the way of the ground crews.

Fieran’s face hurt from his wide grin, and he had to clench his fists to hold back his magic from dancing around his fingers. “That was even better than I imagined.”

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