Page 7 of Stalk the Sky

“Not at all, ma’am.” Fieran would have to make sure of it. He could be professional. As long as Lt. Rothilion was the same.

“Your immediate commander will be Commander Druindar.” Captain Gradrah gestured to the troll commander who had led them from the airship. “Commander?”

Holding a clipboard he must have grabbed, Commander Druindar joined Captain Gradrah at the front, sweeping his gaze over Fieran’s men, his gaze lingering on Fieran and Merrik. “Lt. Laesornysh, do any of your men suffer the elven weakness for stone and troll magic?”

Across the way, Lt. Rothilion’s elves shifted, as if uncomfortable at this conversation. Elves not only hated being underground, but being surrounded by a lot of stone could give some elves physical symptoms, like headaches. Enough stone and troll magic could make it difficult for an elf, especially younger elves, to use their magic.

It was how the trolls had kept Fieran’s dacha imprisoned twice during the wars between the trolls and the elves.

Fieran glanced over his shoulder at Pip. She gave a slight shake of her head. He hadn’t thought she was affected by stone, based on the stories she’d told about visiting her dwarven grandparents, but he’d wanted to be sure before he spoke.

Facing the troll commander again, Fieran shook his head. “No, sir.”

Neither he nor Merrik, the only other half-elves in the squadron, experienced any side effects from stone.

Much to Dacha’s relief.

“Very well. If any of you should develop symptoms caused by all the stone, do not hesitate to report to sick bay, where healing stones will be issued to you.” Commander Druindar flicked a glance at Lt. Rothilion’s elves.

A few of the elves had shifted, some reaching as if to touch something tucked beneath their shirts. They must have already been issued healing stones, which counteracted the symptoms of the elven weakness.

How long had Lt. Rothilion and the elven pilots been here? Perhaps they’d come straight here after their training had finished two weeks ago. The Escarlish and Tarenhieli training programs were staggered so that a group of new pilots would be graduating every month. But Fieran’s group had been sent on their way two weeks early.

Commander Druindar consulted his clipboard. “Lt. Laesornysh, you and your men will be housed on Level 23 in sections A-D with the male mechanics for both Flights in Section E. Your female mechanic will bunk on Level 24 in section E with the female elven pilots and mechanics. Lt. Rothilion’s male pilots have been assigned sections A-D of Level 24.”

Lt. Rothilion’s mouth pressed into a thin line that had that disdainful curl again. It seemed he didn’t enjoy his underground accommodations, even with the healing stones negating the physical discomfort.

Though from what Fieran had seen from the airship as they were coming in, Dar Goranth didn’t have much for accommodations that weren’t underground. In the event of a bombing attack like the one on Fort Linder and Bridgetown, living underground would be preferable.

“Level 1 is comprised of the command rooms, communications, and the parade ground. The mess halls and kitchens are Level 2. Sick bay is Level 3. The commissary is Level 4. Levels 5-8 are officer quarters while Levels 9-20 are quarters for enlisted men and women and other assorted personnel. Levels 21-22 are storage. The training arena deeper inside the island can be accessed via several passageways connecting to Levels 1-3. The schedule for the arena is posted on the wall of the parade ground, and you must check with one of the base’s clerks to request a slot on the schedule.”

Fieran made a mental note of that as much as he could. It would take some exploring to learn his way around, though it sounded like he would mostly need to know how to get from his rooms to this hangar bay—Level 25 according to the large number painted on the wall by the stairs behind Captain Gradrah—and down to Level 2 for food.

While using what was likely a spacious training arena for practicing his magic would have been nice, signing up for a time on what was likely a packed schedule—knowing how trolls liked their fighting bouts—would be a hassle. Far easier to just find a secluded spot on the island somewhere.

“As you can see, we currently don’t have enough aeroplanes for the full squadron.” Commander Druindar’s heavy gaze landed on Fieran. “Lt. Laesornysh, the Escarlish Army assures me that they will be shipping your aeroplanes shortly, and they should arrive in the next few weeks.”

Wait. What? There weren’t even aeroplanes here for them? Fieran’s stomach plummeted. So much for getting back in an aeroplane anytime soon.

He probably should have expected this. After all, aeroplanes would need pilots to deliver them.

Which begged the question of how the army was shipping them. Perhaps parked on the deck of a barge?

Grounded. After everything Fieran had done to get into a flyer, he was once again trapped on the earth. Or under it, in this case.

Lt. Rothilion gave another nod, an even more self-satisfied curve to his mouth. “Flight A will be more than capable of handling the patrols, as we have for the past two weeks.”

Fieran was going to grind his teeth to nubs if he kept gritting them like this.

Commander Druindar shot a glance at Lt. Rothilion that had the other lieutenant snapping his mouth shut. At least the troll commander wasn’t the type to appreciate such flagrant butt-kissing. “In the meantime, Lt. Laesornysh, I’d like you and your men to work with the mechanics to come up with a viable way to arm the aeroplanes. I want a working solution by the time your flyers get here, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Fieran gave his own sharp nod at this.

At least arming the aeroplanes would be something productive to do while they were grounded. And it would involve some shooting and experimenting. A few things might get destroyed. That might be kind of fun.

And he’d get to spend the time with Pip. That might be worth being grounded for a week or two.

“We also have a few two-seater scout planes. Lt. Laesornysh, Lt. Rothilion, put together a schedule for Flight B pilots to ride with Flight A pilots.” Commander Druindar gestured from Fieran to the elven half of the squadron. “I’d like any movement of Mongavarian warships to be documented and photographed. We all know Mongavaria needs another decisive strike, and that strike will likely be here. We need to be ready.”

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