Page 80 of Stalk the Sky

Fieran crept down the stairs, then peered around the corner at the next landing down.

Uncle Julien leaned his back against the wall as he held Aunt Vriska in his arms. Her face was hidden against his shoulder, one of her hands fisted in his shirt, the other wreathed with gray magic as she slowly pounded her fist against the stone wall. Her shoulders shook, but Fieran couldn’t hear any sobs, just a tight note in her voice as she murmured, “Our boys, Julien. Our boys.”

“I know.” Uncle Julien’s voice was choked, tears glinting in his eyes and on his cheek above his red-brown beard.

Fieran withdrew around the corner, easing away. He shouldn’t intrude.

When he turned to creep back up the stairs, he jumped, barely biting back his exclamation before he made a noise that would give away his presence to Uncle Julien and Aunt Vriska.

Sathrah slumped against the wall at the top of the stairs on the next landing up, her light brown hair straggling long over her shoulders. She hadn’t been there when he’d walked down a moment ago.

Fieran tiptoed up the stairs, then leaned against the wall next to Sathrah.

“They arrived a few minutes ago.” Sathrah’s voice was little more than a whisper, her tone resigned and lifeless. “They were already on their way when word came of the attack. They had to be here. Famous generals and all that. They did not know they would be here for…for…”

Fieran swallowed. He opened his mouth, but he just couldn’t choke out any words.

Sathrah hugged her arms over her stomach, looking more hunched and small than he’d ever seen her. “I can’t lose them, Fieran. I can’t…not again.”

A lump clogged Fieran’s throat. He couldn’t imagine losing any of his siblings. But Sathrah had lost her entire family once before. How terrified must she be, facing the possibility that she might lose all her siblings yet again?

Fieran cleared his throat, his voice still coming out rough. “We’ll find them, Sathrah.”

“You can’t promise that.” Sathrah glared, tears glittering in her eyes. “Their bodies might already be at the bottom of the ocean.”

An all too likely possibility. But Fieran held Sathrah’s gaze as he said again, “I will find them.”

It might be a promise he couldn’t keep. But he made it anyway.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Fieran flew his aeroplane over the ocean, leaning back and forth over the sides of his cockpit to take in as much of the ocean as he could. A clear blue sky arched overhead, the rising sun warm against his cheek. A beautiful day for a grim task.

Merrik flew several yards to the right and behind Fieran. Farther to the right, Lije and Pretty Face held station with other flyboys ranging to Fieran’s left. Nearly half the squadron, both elves and humans, had turned out.

Four airships came into view, two of them standing guard high in the sky while the other two hovered only feet above the water as they searched the debris field and oil slick for any survivors. So far, all they had retrieved were the dead.

They’d found the remains of the Vanguard in the early hours of the morning, but it hadn’t been light enough until now for the aeroplanes to do a proper search.

In the twenty-four hours since the battle, how far would any survivors have drifted?

“Let’s make a swing to cover the ocean between where the ship went down and the shore.” Fieran spoke into the radio as he turned his aeroplane in that direction. “Keep your eyes peeled. A head bobbing in the water won’t be easy to spot.”

Cold as the water was, it was highly unlikely that anyone would still be alive after twenty-four hours in the water.

But there were many trolls on the ship, and if they had ice magic, they might have been able to survive the dousing. Maybe.

Fieran scanned the ocean as he flew over. So much empty water. How would they ever find any survivors who drifted away from the wreck site?

“I’ve got a body here.” One of the flyboys on the far end of their formation radioed in.

“Alive?” Fieran’s heart jumped in his throat.

“No, definitely dead. He’s floating face down.” The flyboy paused before adding, “He’s an Escarlish seaman. Brown hair, pale skin.”

Not either of Fieran’s cousins. But still someone’s son. Someone’s brother. Maybe someone’s husband. Perhaps a father.

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