Page 105 of Winds of Death
It had been Mongavaria’s bad luck that they hadn’t added Rhohen into their calculations. They’d sent machines to counter Dacha, another one to take out Fieran, but the Alliance had had a third warrior with the magic of the ancient kings to stem the invasion before it could cross the border.
Nor had the enemy counted on the strength of the magic of the ancient kings. Even with all those machines leveled against him and the Wall, Dacha hadn’t been fully drained, and only the Wall between Mongavaria and Escarland had gone down. The rest of the Wall along Escarland’s, Tarenhiel’s, and Kostaria’s other borders remained.
Turning back to the north, Fieran flew his patrol route back toward Fort Defense. He waggled his wings as he passed one of the Alliance airships also patrolling the sky over Fort Defense.
The fort itself had been mostly set to rights in the day that had passed since the battle. The trainyard was functioning again, even though piles of rubble still piled against and within the damaged structures.
Even as he flew over the trainyard, a train was parked at the station, and crates upon crates of weapons and ammunition were being loaded on trucks to be hauled to the various warehouses. A few rudimentary armored vehicles rolled off flatbeds, although they weren’t as sophisticated as the dwarven-built tanks. It seemed the Alliance had also been developing such weapons for mechanized warfare, stockpiling them for the day when they took the fight to Mongavaria.
Mongavaria had moved that day up by a month or so by taking down the Wall, but that changed little in the Alliance’s strategy. The time to attack was now.
Fieran passed Lije and Stickyfingers as they piloted their aeroplanes higher into the sky to take up the patrol. Waving to them, Fieran lined up on the airfield, bleeding off air speed as he came in for a landing.
Once he and Merrik had landed, both of them climbed out of their aeroplanes. As it was a short flight, Merrik wasn’t limping since his leg hadn’t stiffened and his stump hadn’t swollen.
When they stepped into the hangar, Colonel Dentley was waiting near where Fieran’s aeroplane was usually parked.
“Sir.” Fieran came to attention, Merrik beside him.
“The recent battle made it clear that a more coordinated effort is needed in the sky.” Colonel Dentley strode closer, a weariness in his gaze. “Capt. Fleetwood and Capt. Hadley both agree that you’re the best man for the job.”
Capt. Hadley. He must have been given a field promotion. Or his official promotion had finally gone through.
“Sir?” Fieran didn’t shift, but he wasn’t quite sure where Colonel Dentley was going with this.
“I’m giving you a field promotion and I’ve put in the paperwork to make it official. Congratulations, Maj. Laesornysh.” With that, Colonel Dentley spun and marched away.
For a moment, all Fieran could do was stand there, blinking. That was abrupt. Perfunctory, even.
But that was the way of things now. They were at war, fighting to keep Mongavaria from setting foot on their soil. There wasn’t time for elaborate ceremonies and speeches.
Merrik clapped him on the back. And that was that.
Fieran stood next to Dacha,his hand and arm raised in a solemn salute as the honor guard carried casket after flag-draped casket down the road between two lines of saluting soldiers and onto the waiting train.
Dark circles still smudged beneath Dacha’s eyes, but he was out of bed, and he was standing. That was all Fieran could ask for at the moment.
Somewhere on that train, the two crates holding the machines Pip had retrieved had already been stowed and even now were under guard for their trip to Aldon. Hopefully they would have answers soon.
The very last casket had a royal red-and-white sash draped over the Escarlish flag.
Fieran’s throat squeezed, but his hand didn’t wobble as the soldiers carried his cousin past. He murmured so that only Dacha could hear, “We need to end this war.”
“We will, sason.” Dacha’s gaze remained locked on the casket. “We will.”
With the final casket gone, Dacha, then Fieran lowered their hands. Dacha glanced at Uncle Weylind, who stood on the other side of him. “I should be there for him.”
“Your duty is here. Averett understands that.” Uncle Weylind clasped Dacha’s shoulder before he stepped out of line and joined the end of the procession climbing onto the train.
Uncle Julien took Uncle Weylind’s spot next to Dacha and, when he spoke, his voice was low and choked. “I know. I wish I could go as well. He was under my command, and I…I sent him there.”
Dacha rested a hand on Uncle Julien’s shoulder, and Uncle Julien matched the gesture, the two of them bolstering each other with their presence.
Fieran swallowed and looked away, staring at the train as the large rolling doors were closed.
Despite the fact that a royal prince of Escarland had been killed, Dacha, Fieran, Uncle Julien, Aunt Vriska, Uncle Rharreth, and Rhohen were all staying here to continue the war. Uncle Weylind had been the only one who could be spared.
With a mournful whistle, the train chugged away from the platform, heading for Aldon. As soon as it was out of sight, the soldiers and officers forming the two lines began to disperse, everyone heading back to the demanding duties of war.
