Page 6 of Stalk the Sky

Finally, a gray-skinned, white-haired troll in a white naval uniform with a commander’s insignia marched up the gangplank. He was tall and well-built as most trolls were with arms bulging with enough muscles that he looked like he could bend metal with his bare hands. After a glance around, he faced Fieran and the others. “Are you the Escarlish pilots?”

“Yes.” Fieran strode forward and saluted the troll. “First Lieutenant Fieran Laesornysh reporting in.”

The troll blinked at Fieran’s name, something flashing through his blue eyes. No surprise that he’d recognize the Laesornysh name. Hopefully Fieran’s dacha hadn’t killed someone this troll knew, back in the wars between the elves and the trolls.

“You and your men, follow me.” The troll spun on his heel.

Fieran set out after him, and his column fell into step as well. They strode down the metal gangplank, then along the stone pier. At the end of the pier, the troll commander gripped the handle of a stone door and yanked it open as easily as one might a gauzy curtain.

He didn’t hold it open for them, and Fieran rushed forward to grab it before it swung closed. As Fieran stepped inside, he held the door long enough for Merrik to take it from him, who then passed it to the next man in line.

Inside the mountain, glowing stones set into the rock walls of the passageway lit the way, casting a white glow. The troll commander waited at the end of the passageway where it branched into a large hallway as the rest of them piled inside.

As soon as they were all inside, the troll glanced both ways, then led the way across the intersection with the main hallway to a staircase that spiraled around a pair of lifts. He marched up the stairs without looking back to see if Fieran and the others were following.

They climbed for several levels before the stairs opened into a large cavern at what must be the top of the cliffs. Stone pillars set at intervals held up the slightly domed ceiling while the very far end of the room gaped open, giving a view of sunlight shining on the green of the airstrip.

Inside the expansive stone space, aeroplanes lined up between the stone pillars, though there seemed only a handful of flyers compared to what this space could hold. Different carts and stations held tools for the mechanics.

In the center of the cavern, a female troll warrior in a white naval uniform stood waiting, her hands clasped behind her back. Her white hair was half-pulled back, though the parts that had been left free were wound with leather and a few stone decorations in the traditional fashion of troll warriors.

About thirty elves—mostly male but with a few females—in the darker, evergreen Tarenhieli army uniform assembled before her. All of them were second lieutenants except for the first lieutenant standing in front of them.

The elf first lieutenant had long honey-blond hair darker than Dacha’s silver-blond. He carried himself with his slim nose tipped slightly high in the air.

As he swung his gaze to Fieran, his nose flared, his eyes narrowed, and his pouty mouth curled in obvious disdain.

Fieran didn’t like him.

Something sparked in the elf’s eyes. At least the dislike was mutual.

Worse, there was something familiar about this elf lieutenant. Fieran was pretty sure he was some kind of elf nobility, though Fieran couldn’t place him. He didn’t attend many of the elven social events, as elven nobility tended toward snobbery.

Fieran halted his column, and they assembled in military formation. They then proceeded with a salute fest as all the lower ranked officers saluted all the higher ranked ones of all the various armies assembled there.

At last, the female troll warrior stepped forward, the insignia of a captain glinting on her shoulders. “I’m Captain Gradrah of the Kostarian Navy, in charge of all flight operations here at Dar Goranth.”

Fieran straightened his shoulders. Captain in the navy was much higher ranked than captain in the army.

For the past seventy years, the Kostarian and Tarenhieli armies and navies had re-structured so that their ranks matched that of Escarland, making it easier for the three armies to deploy together or even have units assigned under each other. The elven warriors had already begun adding ranks such as generals back in the wars with the trolls, and the trolls had eventually adapted their shield bands into a military structure matching Escarland’s, though vestiges of the shield bands still remained in Kostaria’s military.

Captain Gradrah swept a hard gaze over Fieran’s assembled flyboys and the elven pilots. “TFC and EFC pilots, you have both been placed under my command by your respective militaries, and I have been authorized to combine you into one squadron, the Alliance Flying Corps Squadron D. Lt. Rothilion, you and your elves will be Flight A. Lt. Laesornysh, you and your men will be Flight B.”

Rothilion. Now Fieran remembered him. Saranthyr Rothilion. He was a nephew of an elf who had been briefly engaged to Fieran’s aunt Melantha back in the day. The ending of that betrothal hadn’t been a pleasant one, and that particular elven noble family hadn’t gotten along with Fieran’s family and extended family ever since.

As if completely oblivious to the tension crackling between Fieran and Lt. Rothilion, Captain Gradrah continued, “Lt. Rothilion, as you gained your rank two weeks before Lt. Laesornysh, you will be acting commander of the entire squadron.”

This was bad. So very bad. Fieran gritted his teeth, keeping his eyes forward and resisting the urge to glare at Lt. Rothilion. He had joined the Escarlish Army specifically so he wouldn’t have to answer to elven commanders.

Looked like he was going to have to do just that anyway. Worse, it wasn’t just any elf commander, but one with a snobby attitude just dripping off him.

At least Captain Gradrah hadn’t promoted the other lieutenant, just made him acting commander. So he and Fieran were still the same rank, and Fieran didn’t have to salute him. That was some consolation.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lt. Rothilion took the news of his new command with a nod.

“I trust that there will be no issues with combining your units.” Captain Gradrah glanced from Lt. Rothilion to Fieran and back. Perhaps she wasn’t so oblivious to their instant dislike of each other.

“No, ma’am,” Lt. Rothilion stated in that gratingly smooth tenor of his.

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