Page 44 of Wings of War

Fieran laughed at the movement beneath him, not pausing in his invisible sword fighting. He released the tight clamp he’d held on his magic for weeks. It burst around him for a moment, wild and crackling, seeking to devour anything it touched.

Then he squashed down on it again, letting only a trickle of it twine around his fingers and arms.

Still, just that much of a release eased the tightness in his chest and the jitters he’d been suppressing for weeks.

Merrik, too, let his magic glow green around his fingers, despite the lack of nearby plants. He was moving through sword fighting stances of his own, as the airship below them ascended into the heavens.

Fieran gave one last flip, and Merrik mirrored his movements. Both of them landed in a crouch facing each other, imaginary swords in front of them. Both of them were breathing hard, though only a hint of sweat slicked Merrik’s forehead. When Fieran broke his stance to swipe at his own forehead, his sleeve didn’t even get damp.

Straightening, Fieran let out a long exhale and mimed sheathing swords across his back. “I needed that.”

Merrik, too, straightened. “I know. Trust me, I did not want to risk your magic breaking loose while we were stuck on this rather incinerable airship. I would rather risk the extra PT.”

“Even if it’s swabbing the deck after Tiny has lost his breakfast all over it?”

“Even then.”

Pip took in the thrumming magical engines that filled the engineering space at the stern of the airship’s gondola. Her fingers itched to dive in and explore all the nooks and crannies of this engineering marvel.

Banks of magical power cells lined one wall, waiting to be swapped out for depleted ones. Each of the two engines had four power cells—two on each side—for a total of eight magical power cells in use at any given time. Each engine turned a massive shaft, which whirled the even more ginormous propeller—or airscrew—on the stern. The two propellers could be controlled independently, making the airship as nimble as possible through the air.

The head engineer swept a glance over each of them, his gaze passing Pip, then flicking back to her, as if he couldn’t quite believe a female had been assigned to his crew. “You will be assisting here in the mechanical spaces of the airship in shifts of four. Beyond the engines, the mechanics also maintain all the other mechanical spaces throughout the airship.”

She couldn’t wait to scramble all over this airship. This was the reason she’d joined the Mechanics Auxiliaries. She’d wanted to see and experience things she wouldn’t have if she’d stayed tucked away at the far western side of Tarenhiel.

A series of bells sounded, and the men in the engine room jumped as if to obey a set of orders.

The deck below Pip’s feet jolted. Then she had the sense of rising through the air, even though the world around her remained static.

They were lifting off. She resisted the urge to grab something to steady herself. Instead, she kept her knees loose, telling herself that she was half elf. Stuff like this should be perfectly normal for her.

As the airmen didn’t appear to be paying any attention to the army mechanics unwillingly foisted on them, she walked across the space and peered out the round porthole window set into the rear of the gondola. The blades of the propeller flashed past, but between the blur she could make out the ground vanishing below.

Her stomach dropped, though she wasn’t afraid. Not exactly. It was as if she was at war with herself. Part of her—her elven half—thrilled at the height. Her other half—the dwarven part of her—couldn’t help a twinge of discomfort at seeing the safety of the ground disappearing so far below.

A whistle came from the door before someone called out, “Officer on deck.”

All the airmen in the engine room spun on their heels and saluted the blue-coated officer who stepped through the doorway.

The officer saluted in return, then glanced around the room, his gaze falling on Pip. He strode across the room toward her. “Mechanic Pippak Detmuk-Inawenys?”

“That’s me.” She was rather impressed that he was able to say her name without stumbling over it. Perhaps he’d been practicing it in his mind the whole walk from the pilothouse to the engine room.

“As you are…” The officer—a young man who couldn’t have been much more than eighteen or nineteen in human years—trailed off, his neck growing red.

“Female?” She guessed that was probably the reason for the awkwardness.

“Yes.” The officer straightened his shoulders, regaining his professional mien. “You’ve been assigned a room near the officers’ quarters. You’ve also been authorized to use the officers’ head. I’ll show you where to find those, if you’ll follow me.”

The officer spun on his heel, then strode off at a long-legged brisk pace.

Pip trotted to keep up, but she wasn’t about to ask him to slow down.

By the time they reached the bow of the gondola, she was panting from jogging the whole way, though she tried to keep her panting quiet so that it wasn’t so obvious that she was out of breath.

Her room was basically a closet with barely enough space to stand next to the hammock that gently swung with the motion of the airship around them.

The officers’ head was at the end of that same walkway, complete with a locking door, which Pip appreciated.

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