Page 73 of Stalk the Sky

Was he even alive? There was no way to know until they got him on the ground.

“Fieran.” Merrik sounded like he was speaking between gritted teeth. Another buffeting puff of wind tossed Merrik’s and Rothilion’s aeroplanes up before slamming them a few feet down. “He does not seem to be flying his aeroplane any longer.”

“He passed out.” Fieran returned to his station behind the two aeroplanes.

“I do not think I can keep us aloft without him steering.” Merrik’s gritted tone showed how reluctant he was to admit that. “His aeroplane is just a weight hanging off mine, interfering with the lift. It will fight me, especially as we come in to land.”

“Can you steer his aeroplane with your magic?” Fieran glanced from the aeroplanes to the islands edging closer.

Too slowly for both Merrik and Rothilion.

“No.” Merrik bit off the word as both his and Rothilion’s aeroplanes were torn sideways in a gust of wind. “It is all I can do with my magic to hold on to his aeroplane. Besides, the elevator, rudder, and aileron mechanisms are all metal. I would have to grow new mechanisms to manipulate them.”

Ah, right. That would be difficult, especially since Merrik already had enough on his hands and his magic trying to keep the two aeroplanes aloft.

“Hang on a moment. Let me try something.” Fieran eased his aeroplane even closer until his nose was only feet from Rothilion’s tail. He poured magic from his fingers, holding it in tight control so that his magic danced over the skin of his aeroplane without burning any of the canvas.

Now for the hard part. Fieran peeled a bolt of his magic off his own aeroplane and lashed it out toward Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane.

The magic singed the canvas of the flyer’s tail, but it was enough contact for Fieran to unleash more of his magic over the other aeroplane.

Fieran gritted his teeth as he struggled to pour enough magic over the flyers while also not incinerating either of them. Harder than it sounded, considering both aeroplanes were made from light wood and canvas covered in highly flammable resin and paint.

Bits of Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane went up in smoke. Fieran drew back his magic, trying to concentrate it only on the rudder and ailerons.

“What are you doing?” Merrik must have been peering around the side of his cockpit because he sounded about one breath away from saying a crude word or two. “Not sure that is helping.”

“It will. Just another moment.” Fieran resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut to better concentrate. He still had his own aeroplane to fly.

He worked to spin his magic around the rudder and ailerons. The canvas covering the metal frame went up in a puff.

But when Fieran pushed upward with his magic, the ailerons moved.

“Fieran,” Merrik growled into the radio. He must be fighting the extra drag on his aeroplane.

“Got control of Rothilion’s aeroplane.” Fieran gripped the stick, his toes in the rudder, and tried to visualize those same movements in the other aeroplane.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Merrik shot right back. “Now do not take down both of us. You need to match whatever I do.”

Right. Fieran shouldn’t match his own movements, but Merrik’s. Those two aeroplanes needed to fly as one—even if Merrik was piloting one and Fieran was essentially piloting the other. While piloting his own flyer. Easy-peasy.

Another gust whipped up from the ocean, swirling against the islands and the land.

Fieran’s aeroplane jumped, fighting him. He let his muscle memory worry about his flyer while he concentrated on tweaking the ailerons and rudder of the other aeroplane.

“Rudder right. Down on the stick. Not that much right!” Merrik somehow retained control of his tandem aeroplane, his magic flaring brighter green along the connection between the two flyers.

Fieran tried to follow Merrik’s verbal directions, his gaze flicking over Merrik’s aeroplane to note the position of the ailerons and rudder before focusing on Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane.

Merrik dropped them lower as they swept in between Brenzuk and Urixidor Islands.

Fieran kept the propeller of his aeroplane dangerously close behind Merrik and Lt. Rothilion. This close, if Merrik lost control, all three of them would get taken out.

As the southern coast of Drogenvroh Island rose before them, Fieran gripped the talk button. “Ground crew, come in.”

Just crackling static met his ears for one heartbeat, then two. As he drew in a deep breath to try again, a voice called back, “Ground crew here. Sorry about any delays. We were dealing with a situation here.”

By the tone of the voice, Fieran guessed the situation had been resolved. He would have to ask about the full story later. Right now, he needed to save Lt. Rothilion’s life.

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