Page 6 of Fly to Fury
“Very well.” Fieran turned to his squadron. “Half-BreedSquadron, line up accordingly. Flight A, if you already have weapons, please step outside to wait.”
Many of the elves would likely already have swords or bows, passed down from warrior ancestors or gifted to them as they reached adulthood. If Fieran had joined the Tarenhieli Army, he would have taken his swords along instead of leaving them behind in Aldon. He might have even carried them now, wearing the symbol of his heritage proudly.
A pang of something almost like guilt speared through his chest. What did it say about him that he left those swords—the ones forged to appear nearly identical to the weapons wielded by his legendary father—behind? Sure, he wouldn’t have been able to keep them during basic training. But he could have sent for them anytime afterwards. As a half-elf serving in a mixed Escarlish-Tarenhieli unit, he was allowed such things.
Perhaps inspired to competency by the chaos of the recruits dating their rifles around them, Fieran’s pilots assembled into the correct lines with quick professionalism. About half of Flight A disappeared back out the doors, likely relieved to escape the noise into the somewhat quieter outdoors.
Fieran stood off to the side with Pip, Merrik, and the mechanics while the flyboys and elves worked through the lines. Lt. Rothilion joined the fringe of their group.
Struggling to keep a blank face, Fieran eyed the raw recruits as their drill sergeants yelled at them for their various choices while dating their rifles. The recruit who had been swimming outside had returned, sand coating his clothes and forming a sand potbelly inside his shirt.
As the outer door creaked open again, a strange stillness fell over those closest to that end of the building before someone called for everyone to stand at attention.
The new recruits froze in what they were doing, glancing at their drill sergeants as if they weren’t sure what to do, before they sloppily came to attention. The elves of Flight A, who were headed for the doors after getting their weapons, also paused. A few of them gave fluid bows before they stood at attention.
Fieran spun, a part of him already knowing who he’d see, as he came to attention.
As Dacha strode into the building, his long silver-blond hair flowed down his back over the deep evergreen uniform of the Tarenhieli Army. Four golden oakleaf emblems glinted on each of Dacha’s shoulders while the hilts of his swords gleamed from where they were strapped across his back, an echo of a bygone era amid the elements of mechanized warfare around them.
Fieran had seen his father armed before. He’d practiced with him nearly every morning since he’d come into his magic.
Yet here on the military base, Dacha strolled with a deadly grace, the aura of power hanging so thickly around him that even the Escarlish soldiers were quelled by it.
Uncle Iyrinder strode at Dacha’s back, also dressed in a Tarenhieli uniform, though he carried both a sword and a bow, the quiver visible over his shoulder.
Beside Fieran, Pip’s eyes went wide, her face going so pale that she seemed about to faint.
“At ease.” Dacha waved, the gesture stiff as his expression.
Everyone in the room relaxed somewhat out of their proper stances, but no one went back to what they were doing. Not with the famous elf warrior-prince still in the room.
As Dacha halted before him, Fieran kept his face properly blank. “General Laesornysh.”
“Capt. Laesornysh.” Dacha reached out and gripped Fieran’s shoulders in the elven style of hugging. After only a moment, Dacha plucked awkwardly at Fieran’s shoulder bars, his voice rough with the words he didn’t say out loud. “These look good on you.”
“Linshi.” As much as Fieran wanted to full-on hug his dacha, he confined himself to a mere quick shoulder clasp. There were too many people around for his dacha to be comfortable with more than that, and Fieran wouldn’t break military protocol to hug a general with so many witnesses.
Instead, he pulled away and gestured to the lines of flyboys and elven pilots. “Dacha, meet the Half-Breed Squadron.”
Dacha’s eyebrows rose at the name, but he turned to better face Fieran’s squadron. While he would have seen some of the flyboys in the aftermath of the attack on Bridgetown, there hadn’t been time for proper introductions.
“You know most of the flyboys from my letters.” Fieran pointed out those in his closest group. “That’s Stickyfingers, Pretty Face, Tiny, and Lije.”
Each of them responded with “Sir,” shifting as if they really wanted to salute, despite being indoors. Fieran might be introducing his father to his friends, but to them, they were meeting a highly ranked general.
Uncle Iyrinder had joined Merrik, and he dipped his head to Fieran in greeting. Dacha gave a similar unspoken greeting to Merrik.
“And this is Lt. Rothilion and his elven pilots.” Fieran held his breath as he gestured to Rothilion. The elf lieutenant’s family, especially his uncle, were particularly stuffy elves who hated Dacha. Rothilion had changed his attitudetoward Fieran considerably in the past few weeks, but would that translate to his interactions with Dacha?
Lt. Rothilion remained still for a moment, his face almost too blank, as if he wasn’t sure what to do.
The elves who were his particular cronies kept shooting him glances, as if they would follow Rothilion’s lead here. Many of the other elves, including Aylia, who didn’t come from elven nobility, gave the small elven bow again. They, at least, revered Dacha for the legendary warrior that he was.
At last, Lt. Rothilion bent in a bow of his own. The movement was stiff, but his mouth didn’t so much as curl. His cronies hurried to follow his lead.
Fieran released a slow breath, met Lt. Rothilion’s gaze, and dipped his chin in a silent acknowledgment.
And now…Fieran suppressed his grin as he reached beside him, gently rested an arm around Pip’s shoulders, and steered her forward. She gave something like a squeak, her body so stiff that she was almost skidding on the floor as Fieran drew her forward. “This is Pip—Mechanic Pippak Detmuk-Inawenys. She’s a big admirer of yours. She went to Hanford University to get a degree in Magical Engineering because she was inspired by you.”
