Page 52 of Fly to Fury
Besides the telephone calls, he’d also received frequent letters from Mama, Adry, Louise, Ellie, and even pictures from Tryndar, though he had those piled in his footlocker with his other letters rather than tacked on the wall like Dacha had his.
A ringing sounded a moment before there was a click and his mama’s voice spoke through the buzzing crackle. “Treehaven House.”
“Hello, Mama.” Fieran’s chest tightened at the sound of her voice, his throat closing with all the things he wanted to tell her.
This was the last time he’d be able to call her before the big mission. A blackout had been declared for all civilian communications to prevent any word of the attack from getting out. After today, no more mail would be allowed out, nor telephone calls over these civilian lines. Perhaps Dachamight be able to call home using the military line in Uncle Weylind’s office, but with all the coordination going on to prepare for the attack, even that was unlikely.
But Fieran couldn’t tell her that. He had to pretend everything was fine.
“Fieran.” Mama’s voice warmed. The tone changed as she seemed to call to someone else. “It’s Fieran.”
Moments later, Ellie’s and Tryndar’s voices filled the line as well.
“Did you get my picture?”
“Did you get my books signed?”
“We saw the monkeys at the zoo!”
“What was Margaret Grey like? Did you really get to meet her?”
The tension inside Fieran eased at the babble of his siblings’ voices. Soon he’d step back into the grimness of preparing for battle, but right now he’d pretend the world was as simple and safe as the one of his childhood.
He kept up a light conversation with his mama and siblings until his allotted fifteen minutes was up. After reluctantly hanging up, he stepped from the booth, making room for the next flyboy to call home.
Merrik exited the next booth over, falling into step with Fieran as the two of them left the communications buildings.
A few yards from the building, Fieran halted, breathing in the cool evening air. The breeze that whispered past his face held the rich, wet scent of the Hydalla River flowing not far away. When he tipped his head back, the clearing skies overhead deepened with the coming night, the first few stars twinkling into sight.
This moment felt like it might just be the last bit of peace he’d have before he’d fly into the fury of war once again.
Merrik, too, had his head tipped back, his face turned toward the breeze. “Home seems very far away tonight.”
“Yes.” It shouldn’t. Fieran had just talked to his mama and siblings. Yet talking to them only highlighted just how distant his life now was from the peace and safety of his homes at Treehaven and Estyra.
Since leaving for the army, he’d experienced few moments of homesickness. Why he was feeling it now, he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was the weight of the coming battle pressing down on him. Maybe being here at Fort Defense with Dacha just made him miss how their family used to be when they’d been all together.
Perhaps it was the longing for home that stirred other longings. A longing to stop holding back when it came to Pip. Regret over the decisions he’d made back in Dar Goranth. Guilt for still flirting and acting like they were more without any commitment to her.
When battle came in the next few days, what would he regret more? That he’d held off on courting Pip over fear of being distracted? Or if he took the leap and risked his heart and their friendship to pursue something more?
He’d have to talk to her soon. He’d thought he’d been doing the right thing at Dar Goranth, but in the end it hadn’t been fair to either of them to leave things unresolved like this. That was his fault and his duty to fix.
Fieran drew in another deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Do you remember when we were little, and we’d pretend we were great warriors of old riding off into battle?”
They’d wielded their wooden swords in one hand, gripping their stick horses in the other as they galloped around the forest.
“Sometimes you were a human. Sometimes an elf. You never could make up your mind. Not until we were older,and you stopped playing the elf role.” Merrik shook his head, a faint smile creasing his face.
“You were always an elf.” Fieran stuffed his hands in his pockets. “We saw ourselves as great heroes like our dachas.”
“The reality is not like the glorious victories of those childhood stories.” Merrik crossed his arms over his chest, his shoulders hunched.
“No.” The innocence of childhood didn’t include the stench of burnt flesh and metal on the breeze, the taste of death in his magic, and the sourness of destruction in his stomach.
Fieran shook himself and forced a grin onto his face, stiff as the expression felt. He clapped Merrik on the shoulder. “The reality might be harder than anything we imagined as kids, but one thing has never changed. I’ll have your back, and you’ll have mine.”
Merrik gripped Fieran’s shoulder in return. “Always.”
