Page 75 of Stalk the Sky

“You are crazy.” Merrik sounded like he might punch Fieran if they all survived.

“You already knew that.” Fieran forced the lighthearted tone between clenched teeth. “Six feet.”

The grass blurred below, so close beneath Fieran’s upper wing that it felt like he’d scrape the ground at any moment. If he got too much closer, he’d be able to reach out and touch it.

The wheels of Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane inched closer to the dirt. The wing stabilizers on Fieran’s aeroplane shook with the tension of flying upside down. If one of those broke, he was done for.

Fieran kept his eyes glued there, his mind aching as it was pulled in so many directions trying to fly his inverted aeroplane and Lt. Rothilion’s right-side-up aeroplane. “At one foot, I’ll cut the vines. Get ready.”

Fieran could barely hear Merrik’s acknowledgment as he continued to speak, counting down in feet. “Four feet. Three. Two. One.”

At one, he raised his hand and sliced a bolt of magic between Merrik’s aeroplane and Lt. Rothilion’s, severing the vines.

Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane dropped to the ground even as Merrik’s aeroplane roared upward.

In that instant, Fieran realized the second thing he’d overlooked. Flying inverted as he was, he couldn’t peel away as quickly as planned. And Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane was slowing far too quickly right in front of him.

Fieran pushed the control stick to try to rise into the sky. But with the inverted wings, the lift was all wrong. His aeroplane crawled upward. Too slowly. At this rate, his upper wing would crash into Lt. Rothilion’s.

His heart throbbing in his throat, Fieran counted the seconds to impact. Five. Four. Three.

He cranked his aeroplane hard over as he blasted his magic between his aeroplane and Lt. Rothilion’s. The blast wave shoved against his wings, tipping his aeroplane onto its side and upwards as he skimmed past Lt. Rothilion’s flyer with only inches to spare.

His aeroplane flipped the rest of the way right side up and climbed back into the sky.

Pip’s heart hammered as she stretched out her already exhausted magic and created a shield around Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane. She moved her shield along with the aeroplane, slowing it rather than letting it slam into the barrier.

What had Fieran been thinking? Her heart had nearly stopped when she’d seen him come in like that, flying inverted so low to the ground. Not to mention Merrik’s aeroplane attached to Lt. Rothilion’s. All three of them could have easily ended up dead if so much as a gust of wind had struck them wrong.

She slowed Lt. Rothilion’s aeroplane, holding it there as the still spinning propeller tried to keep pushing it forward.

As soon as the aeroplane stopped, the ground crew raced forward, along with a medic carrying a stretcher. Not one of the elf healers, but he was as good as they were going to get at the moment.

Pip raced alongside them, running full tilt to keep up on her shorter legs. As they neared the aeroplane, she shrank her shield so that it was only gripping the aeroplane’s wheels and preventing it from rolling forward.

She scrambled up the side of the aeroplane, reached into the cockpit, and switched off the engine.

Only then did she glance at Lt. Rothilion where he slumped in his seat. And promptly wished she hadn’t.

There was so much blood. Staining his shirt and the vines he’d wrapped around his torso to apply pressure to his wounds. Pooled on his seat and puddled on the floor. His skin was so white it was porcelain. Was he still alive? He certainly didn’t look it.

The troll medic joined her on the wing and pressed his fingers to Lt. Rothilion’s neck. He waited for a moment before he shouted over his shoulder, “He’s still alive. We need to get him out of this flyer and to sick bay.”

The medic reached past all the blood to unbuckle Lt. Rothilion’s lap belt. Several of the ground crew hopped on the other wing and the three of them lifted the unconscious elf lieutenant from the aeroplane. The wing struts creaked at all the added weight, but Pip ignored the sound. She’d help the elf mechanics fix whatever they broke trying to save Lt. Rothilion’s life.

As Lt. Rothilion was settled on the stretcher, fresh blood stained the vines and pooled on the canvas. How much more blood could the elf lieutenant stand to lose?

Pip pressed her hand to the lieutenant’s stomach and cast another shield around his middle. She wasn’t sure how much it would help, but she had to try something. She didn’t even like Lt. Rothilion, but he was still one of their own.

As the medic and one of the ground crew carried the stretcher, Pip trotted alongside, holding her shield in place. She barely paid attention as they hurried across the airfield, through the hangar, and into the lift. One of the troll ground crew who had come with them cranked the lever as quickly as possible to lower them, though the levels passed with interminable slowness.

Pip couldn’t bring herself to look at Lt. Rothilion on the stretcher, even as she sensed his warm blood against her shield. Her stomach was already lurching. There was a reason she’d become a mechanic and not a medic, and it didn’t all have to do with her magic.

This was all too much like trying to find the wounded after the bombing of Bridgetown. The stench of blood. The churning in her stomach. The frantic rush to save a life.

The lift jerked to a halt, and the troll flung the cage doors open.

They hurried out into chaos. Stretchers filled the area around the lift while other wounded trolls and humans packed into the space. In the sick bay, Queen Melantha’s voice could be heard, strident and commanding, as she shouted orders.

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