Page 40 of Fly to Fury
With one last searching glance, as if double-checking that Fieran was indeed all right, Dacha spun on his heel and marched toward the nearby headquarters.
As Dacha strode away, Fieran sighed and shook his head. “Now to go reassure the squadron that I’m fine.”
“And confess that their intrepid captain is not as invincible and limitless as he thinks he is.” Merrik nudged him, giving him a look that was somewhere between stern and teasing.
“Fine, fine.” Fieran nudged him back. “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”
“Nope.” Merrik grinned as the two of them fell in step behind Dacha. “What are seconds-in-command for but to keep you humble?”
Chapter
Fourteen
Sitting on a low stool outside of the hangar, Pip ran a wire through her fingers, infusing it with her magic as she went. The rays of the setting sun glinted off the metal side of the hangar behind her while the far hills covered all but the very top of the orange sun. A cool breeze whispered up from the Hydalla River, providing some relief from the heat of the day.
Most of the Half-Breed Squadron perched on chairs, stools, or boxes along the outside of the hangar with donuts, bowls of ice cream, and other treats in their hands. Many of the elven pilots had opted to sit on the ground, the grass around them appearing a little extra green rather than the burnt brown of the stalks elsewhere. Even a large chunk of Capt. Fleetwood’s squadron had joined the outdoor party, with Capt. Fleetwood himself sprawling on the ground as he sipped from a bottle of soda.
After Fieran had wiped out the Mongavarian airborne attack, Capt. Fleetwood and his squadron had come hurrying to the hangar from their day off in Little Aldon, arriving well after the battle had been over.
Not that it had lasted long. Fieran and his dacha had annihilated the enemy in a matter of minutes.
Fieran held court from a chair to one side of the large hangar door. After he’d returned from the healer at the hospital, the squadron had all but shoved him into the chair and wouldn’t let him so much as lift a finger. He laughed between bites of ice cream while a bottle of cherry-flavored soda rested beside his chair.
To one side of him, a table formed of two sawhorses and an old door had been set up. Donuts, sandwiches, a variety of chocolates and other candy, soda bottles, and tubs of ice cream had been laid out with the latter two items kept cold by Tiny’s ice magic.
Items had been arriving all day, sent up from the various vendors and shop owners in Little Aldon to reward Fieran and the Half-Breed Squadron. It seemed everyone wanted to celebrate such a decisive victory.
Another burst of laughter came from those clustered around Fieran.
Pip ducked her head and forced herself not to look. Fieran had been so mobbed all afternoon that she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him since he’d returned from the healer. Even Merrik had been pushed to the outskirts of the group and instead had taken up a quiet spot a few yards away from Fieran and the center of the party.
The roar of an aeroplane came from overhead as the flyers of Capt. Kentworth’s squadron circled above the airfield, two of them dropping lower for a landing.
“You haven’t had any ice cream yet.” Mak sank onto the grass beside her and held out a bowl of vanilla ice cream topped with chocolate fudge sauce. The bowl of ice cream he held in his other hand had strawberries on top of the fudge.
“I was getting to it eventually.” Pip finished easing hermagic into the next section of wire before she set it aside. “I want to get more wire made to replace the burnt-out bits as soon as possible.”
With so much magic running through them, the wire rigging on the squadron’s aeroplanes had held up, but some had been damaged.
“It can wait a few minutes for ice cream. The Mongavarians aren’t about to attack again today.” Mak leaned against the metal wall of the hangar behind him, stretching out his long legs.
True, but she still didn’t like to leave the aeroplanes in less than fighting readiness.
Capt. Kentworth and his second-in-command climbed down from their aeroplanes. After a glance around, the senior squadron captain stalked toward Fieran and Capt. Fleetwood, a glower twisting his face.
Pip tensed, bracing herself for the captain’s reaction. He and his squadron had been a thorn to Fieran and the flyboys since they’d arrived. Even the mechanics for that squadron were a bunch of sourpusses.
“What is the meaning of all…this?” Capt. Kentworth swept a hand at the table of food, then at the two squadrons of pilots lounging about.
“Didn’t you hear over the radio, Kentworth?” Capt. Fleetwood raised his bottle of soda to gesture at Fieran. “Laesornysh here single-handedly wiped out the Mongavarian air fleet.”
“It wasn’t single-handedly. Most of the magic was my dacha’s, and I couldn’t have done it without the ingenuity of my chief mechanic and the steadiness of my squadron.” Fieran didn’t rise from his chair to stand toe-to-toe with the other captain. Instead, he remained lounging as he was, gesturing as he spoke.
Capt. Kentworth’s eyes flashed, as if Fieran’s casual air only infuriated him. He opened his mouth, his jaw working, before he clamped his mouth shut and stalked past Fieran and the others, disappearing inside the hangar.
Capt. Fleetwood sank back into his relaxed position on the grass. “Don’t mind him, Laesornysh. Until I arrived, and now you, Capt. Kentworth and his squadron held this border alone. They endured heavy losses in the first month of the war, and over half of Capt. Kentworth’s squadron are replacements for those who died.”
Pip swallowed, holding the bowl of ice cream in her hands rather than taking a bite. What would it be like, watching so many members of one’s squadron die? They’d lost a few flyboys over the past months, but their losses had been only a handful. Not over half of the squadron.
