Page 71 of Stalk the Sky

“I think they must have made a run for it.” This last was Aylia. During the fight, Flights A and B had worked their way toward each other until now their aeroplanes mingled among the Alliance airships. “Their ships made a coordinated retreat a few minutes ago.”

“Then we won.” Fieran glanced to the south, but he couldn’t see the retreating—disappeared—Mongavarians.

Why didn’t it feel like a victory? Yes, they had driven the Mongavarians away from Dar Goranth, which had been their primary goal. But if the Mongavarians managed to retreat in force, then they hadn’t succeeded in destroying their fleet.

Burning flotsam and ships coated the ocean below as far as Fieran could see. He couldn’t tell what carnage belonged to the Mongavarians and what to the Alliance. But the fleet below seemed thin, and Fieran had seen a few Alliance airships go down in the chaos.

Perhaps the celebration of victory was something that belonged to civilians.

“Laesornysh, channel 2.” Lt. Rothilion’s voice was clipped and official over the radio.

If the elf lieutenant had more orders for their squadron, he would most likely give it over the wider channel. That meant he wanted to tear into Fieran for some reason.

What could Lt. Rothilion want to berate Fieran about now? Fieran had done what he was supposed to in the battle. Surely there was nothing Lt. Rothilion could get his knickers in a twist over.

With a sigh, Fieran flipped the switch to channel 2. “All right, Rothilion. What do you want?”

There was a longer pause than he’d been expecting. When Lt. Rothilion spoke, his voice was far more ragged than it had been a few minutes ago. “I want you to take care of my pilots.”

“Pardon?” Fieran flew his aeroplane between the airships, searching for Lt. Rothilion’s flyer. Something was seriously wrong.

Even without knowing what was going on, Merrik mirrored Fieran, keeping his aeroplane tucked behind Fieran’s.

“I will not be able to…to keep flying for much longer.” Lt. Rothilion’s voice was growing more pain-filled by the moment. “The squadron will be yours. Take care of them.”

There. Fieran drew up alongside Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane. He was flying level, his aeroplane in seemingly good condition.

Except for the line of bullet holes along the fuselage. Even with the hint of green elven magic reinforcing the wooden frame, those bullets had punched right through into the cockpit. Even if only one or two of those bullets hit Lt. Rothilion, he would be in a bad way.

Already, Lt. Rothilion’s head lolled against the back of the cockpit, as if he couldn’t hold his head up much longer. Within a few more minutes, he would pass out, and his aeroplane would plunge from the sky into the sea.

And Fieran would have to watch him die.

Lt. Rothilion was a pain in the rear end, but he was still a part of Fieran’s squadron. After all the death and loss that day, he just couldn’t stomach having to watch yet another person die.

He was going to save him. No matter what it took. Or how crazy the idea currently spinning through his head.

“Rothilion, hold on for a few minutes longer.” Fieran didn’t wait for his reply. He flipped back to the main channel even as he matched his aeroplane’s speed to Lt. Rothilion’s. “Erendriel, take over Flight A. Swing to the southwest and make sure the enemy is fully gone. Pretty Face, you’re in temporary charge of Flight B. Swing to the southeast and do the same thing. Let Erendriel know if you see anything because I’ll be on channel 2. Merrik, switch to channel 2.”

Fieran switched back to channel 2. “Still with us, Rothilion?”

“What are you planning, Laesornysh?” Even dying, Lt. Rothilion’s voice still had an edge to it.

“Something crazy, I am sure.” Merrik’s voice held a grim note. He might not have heard what Lt. Rothilion said on channel 2 originally, but as he flew just behind Fieran, he would be able to see the bullet holes as well as Fieran could. “What are you thinking, Fieran?”

“Can you grow vines down from your aeroplane without weakening it too much?” Fieran flexed his fingers on the control stick. “If you fly over Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane, could you grab it?”

“That is a crazy idea.” Lt. Rothilion sounded stronger in his scorn. “You will get both of us killed.”

Fieran ignored him. “Merrik, can you do it?”

Merrik didn’t reply right away. He wouldn’t say yes unless he thought he could manage it. He wasn’t as reckless as Fieran. Just somewhat reckless if he thought the cause was good enough.

“Yes, I think I can.” Merrik spoke slowly, as if he was still hesitant even as he said yes. “Lt. Rothilion, I will need you to reach out with your magic to get a better hold.”

Lt. Rothilion didn’t answer right away, the pause long enough that Fieran swung his aeroplane closer to see if the lieutenant had passed out.

He hadn’t. He tilted his head toward Fieran, as if trying to meet his eyes. His voice was growing quieter, more strained. He didn’t have long. “If I do this, promise me, Laesornysh, that if it becomes clear that you cannot pull this off, that you will make the choice. I do not trust Lt. Loiatir to do it.”

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