Page 37 of Fly to Fury
As black spots danced through the white heat across Fieran’s vision, Dacha’s magic gave one last surge upward before it exploded into a shower of sparks.
Fieran gasped in a shaking breath. His magic felt slippery and hot in his mind, and as tempting as it was to simply release it beyond his control, he didn’t dare for fear he’d take out his own squadron.
With his senses burning, he peeled his magic away from his squadron’s aeroplanes and shoved it upward before he let it go. It burst into a shower of sparks that twinkled as they rained down on the aeroplanes of his squadron.
Fieran’s vision cleared, though he had to blink rapidly at the sweat trickling into his eyes.
“Fieran?” Merrik’s voice broke through the otherwise silent radio as Merrik’s aeroplane surged forward to parallel Fieran’s.
“I’m fine.” Those words were harder to form than they should have been. A tired dizziness filled his head, and for a moment he had the uncomfortable sense that he didn’t know which way was up.
“We’re going to land. Now.” Merrik curved his aeroplane, as if to show Fieran the way back to the airfield.
Fieran’s arms felt weak as cooked noodles as he nudgedhis aeroplane to follow Merrik’s. “We should probably…patrol…”
“I do not think the Mongavarians will attack again today.” Lt. Rothilion’s voice was somewhere between sharp and subdued. “But I will remain in the sky until we are sure.”
With a few more orders, Lt. Rothilion called for a few others to stay on patrol with him. But Fieran couldn’t seem to concentrate enough to register the exact words. It took all his willpower—and a supreme effort of concentration—to keep his eyes open and his body moving to fly his aeroplane.
Chapter
Thirteen
Pip dashed to the hangar doorway and halted there, frozen, as Merrik’s and Fieran’s aeroplanes soared closer, coming in for a landing.
Was Fieran all right? His voice had been weak, even as he’d protested he was fine, and Merrik’s tone had been sharply worried in a way she’d rarely heard from him.
Merrik’s aeroplane touched down with as much finesse as always. Fieran’s aeroplane wobbled, bobbing up and down for a moment as if Fieran couldn’t quite tell where the ground was.
Then Fieran’s wheels touched down, harder than he normally landed. Yet the wheel struts held, and the tail slammed to the ground, the tailskid digging into the earth to slow the aeroplane.
Someone halted next to Pip in the doorway, though she didn’t look to see who it was. Likely Mak, though he didn’t say anything.
Merrik’s aeroplane bumped across the ground, headed for the hangar and followed by Fieran’s. The two aeroplanes rolled to a halt about fifty feet away.
As soon as his aeroplane halted, Merrik was already levering himself out of his seat, leaping down even before the ground crew could reach the aeroplanes.
Pip would have taken a step, but the figure beside her dashed forward.
Not Mak. Nope, definitely not.
Instead, Prince Farrendel Laesornysh jogged onto the airfield, his swords strapped to his back, his silver-blond hair flowing over the hilts.
Fieran climbed out of his cockpit more slowly than usual, though he waved Merrik off, protesting that he was fine. As Fieran leapt to the ground, his knees buckled. Only his grip on the wing and Merrik grabbing him beneath the elbow kept him from falling.
Pip pressed a hand over her mouth, though she remained frozen. Was Fieran all right? What was wrong? Had he simply used too much magic or was it something else?
Prince Farrendel broke into a run, reaching Fieran’s side as Fieran struggled back upright. The elf prince swept a glance over Fieran, as if searching for injuries. Despite the distance, his words carried. “Fieran, sason.”
“I’m fine, Dacha. Just tired.” Fieran, crazy elf that he was, smiled, his weary voice holding a trace of a laugh. “It was just a lot of magic.”
“It was, but you should not be at the limit of your power.” Prince Farrendel took one of Fieran’s arms over his shoulder while Merrik took the other.
“I’m fine. Really. I’ve had this before after using a lot of power. I’ll be fine after a moment.” Fieran staggered slightly. He likely would have fallen if he hadn’t been propped up by both his dacha and Merrik.
“You have never mentioned this before. Are you inpain?” Prince Farrendel’s mouth pressed into a tighter, harder line.
“No. No pain. Just tired.” Fieran shook his head, then squeezed his eyes shut as if the motion had made him dizzy.
