Page 11 of Storm to Victory
After a few minutes of awkward shuffling, everyone squished into seats around the table. Adry and Merrik took the cushioned bench with Pip in the chair next to Adry. Fieran sat on the other side of Pip with his dacha on the other side of him. Uncle Iyrinder took the last chair between Dacha and Merrik. With the table so small, all of them were basically elbow to elbow, everyone’s feet and knees knocking into each other.
“Well, this is cozy.” Adry nearly elbowed Pip as she grabbed one of the covered dishes.
Merrik reached beneath the table, a moment later straightening with his prosthetic foot in hand. He tucked it onto the bench next to him. “One less foot to worry about.”
His joking tone didn’t fully hide the edges of pain lingering around his eyes.
Fieran shifted on his chair until he was only half on the seat. To most of those around the table, it probably looked like he just wanted to get closer to Pip. But he met Merrik’s gaze across the table and tilted his head toward the open spot he’d created.
Merrik nodded, and a moment later he propped his left foot on the chair beside Fieran where he could elevate the ankle after their long day of walking.
Beside Fieran, Pip had shrunk small onto her chair, as if hiding. On Fieran’s other side, Dacha was stiff and silent. This was going to be one long, awkward meal if Fieran and Adry couldn’t spark some kind of conversation.
“Look at these bracers Adry, Merrik, and I got in the market. Well, Adry and Pip got them. Merrik and I were given them.” Fieran held out his arm to show off his new bracer to Dacha.
Dacha made a small noise of approval in the back of his throat as he examined the bracer on Fieran’s arm. “The dwarves do excellent work.”
“Perhaps we will need to venture into Defense City ourselves if we get the chance.” Uncle Iyrinder glanced at the bracers Merrik was wearing.
Dacha made another noise in the back of his throat, part agreement, part discomfort. As if he wasn’t sure he wanted to agree and lock himself into a commitment.
But the conversation had broken the ice somewhat, and laughter and talking took over between the clink of forks and knives on the plates.
Fieran took in the table, squished as it was, and he could imagine this scene after the war. His family gathered around the much larger table at Treehaven, yet with Pip and Merrik added to their numbers.
It was strange, getting used to his family expanding and growing like this. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Chapter
Four
Fieran wandered into the hangar, dodging around the bustle of the ground crew returning the aeroplanes to their places.
He finally found Pip in Bay 7, one of the bays claimed by the Fighting Second, beside one of the newly-rigged aeroplanes. “How is installing the new shields going?”
“Going almost too well.” Pip checked off something on her clipboard. “The mechanics for the Fighting Second have nearly all of their aeroplanes rigged, and I’m just doing the final checks for them. But they have things well in hand. Honestly, they don’t need me to check their work.”
The military command had waited for only the most cursory of tests by Fieran to give approval to move forward with protecting all the fighter aeroplanes. Pip trained both the mechanics under her and those in the other squadrons on how to install the protective shield system, and the other mechanics had done most of the work. She hadn’t even had to create the wire and aluminum shielding since several dwarves with metal magic had infused their magic into the metal similarly enough to Pip’s version to function the same way.
“Glad it’s going smoothly.” Since Pip was working, Fieran kept his hands firmly clasped behind his back instead of pulling her close. This wasn’t the time for distractions.
“The Wardogs will have their aeroplanes rigged within a day or two.” Tucking the clipboard under her arm, Pip climbed onto a ladder and peered into the engine compartment. “The bomber squadrons are coming up with a spare aeroplane that I can experiment with to figure out how to rig a shield over it.”
“Want help?” Fieran grinned, rocking back on his heels to keep himself from leaning closer to the ladder.
“Always.” Pip shut the hatch for the engine compartment and jotted a few notes on her clipboard. After climbing down the ladder, she pointed at it. “You can carry that for me.”
Fieran’s grin widened before he followed her, toting the ladder, as she made her way to the next aeroplane needing the final check.
“Maj. Laesornysh.” A clipped, tenor voice called from behind him.
Fieran turned and found Lt. Busher, Col. Dentley’s adjutant, standing at attention there with his customary clipboard and crisply ironed uniform. “Yes?”
“Col. Dentley requests that you, Lt. Rothilion, and Lt. Loiatir report to his office, sir.” Lt. Busher’s starched posture and blank expression gave away nothing.
“We’ll be there shortly.” Fieran waited for Lt. Busher to spin on a heel and march away before he sighed and glanced up at Pip. “I guess I’d better round up Rothilion and Merrik.”
Pip halted in her inspection, worrying her lower lip as she peered down at him. “Do you think everything is all right?”
