Page 92 of Storm to Victory
After a few moments, he located the switch that he thought would turn the two engines on, but he didn’t flip it yet.
Blue bolts flared around Dacha’s hand and burst into the ground. They shot off into multiple directions, rushing through the ground and reaching for various points in the aerodrome.
A building to the far side of the hangars exploded in a flash of blue giving way to orange. More blue magic climbed over many of the parked aeroplanes before they exploded in balls of fire.
A siren alarm rang out over the sounds of shouting and anti-aeroplane guns barking out toward the sky.
As Fieran had hoped when he and Dacha had discussed this plan. The Mongavarians assumed this attack was coming from the air. In the darkness, they wouldn’t have been able to see any aeroplanes in the sky, and with how quiet Alliance aeroplanes were compared to the roar of the Mongavarian engines, they wouldn’t think it strange that they hadn’t heard them.
Men came running in their direction, and Dacha cut off his magic. He stood, poised, although he didn’t climb into the aeroplane just yet. He would need to take out any of the Mongavarians who seemed inclined to take this aeroplane.
Pilots reached the section of aeroplanes that Dacha had left untouched, and engines roared to life.
Fieran waited another few seconds before he flipped the switch.
Nothing happened but a clicking sound.
Was this the wrong switch? He’d never tried to start a Mongavarian engine before.
He peered at the Mongavarians starting their aeroplanes. There seemed to be someone spinning the propeller before the engine roared to life.
“Dacha,” Fieran hissed and gestured at the front of the aeroplane.
For a moment, Dacha glanced from him to the other aeroplanes before he nodded and headed for the front ofthe aeroplane. He gripped one of the blades and tugged it downward.
The engine gave a little shudder, but it didn’t fully catch.
Dacha grabbed a blade again and gave it another quick tug downward.
This time, the engine caught with a shaking rumble. Dacha leapt back as the propeller spun into motion, quickly whirling into a blur.
Fieran grinned at the feeling of an aeroplane coming to life around him again. It had been less than two weeks since he’d last flown an aeroplane, but how he’d missed it.
Several of the aeroplanes that had first spun up were moving forward, headed for the airfield.
After another moment, Dacha grabbed the wheel chocks, tossed them aside, and jumped onto the aeroplane as it rolled forward. He sank into the seat behind Fieran as Fieran steered the aeroplane into line with the others.
In the darkness, no one gave them a second glance, not even the men at the end of the airfield who waved each aeroplane forward once the previous one had successfully taken off.
When it was their turn, Fieran spun the engine all the way up. These fuel-powered engines felt sluggish compared to the quick-responding magically-powered engines. The rumble was so loud that his ears hurt with it even with the slight muffling provided by the flight cap.
At least the feel of the rudder bar on his feet and the control column in his hands was familiar, although there was no talk button. After all, there was no radio. He would have said the cockpit was silent without all the familiar radio chatter, but the engine noise far made up for the lack.
The aeroplane rumbled down the airfield, jouncing and bouncing like a sluggish, drunken turtle. The end of the airfield rushed ever closer, marked only by men holding lanterns.
Finally—finally—the aeroplane’s wings caught the air, dragging the aeroplane from the ground. Fieran tugged the nose upward, willing the aeroplane to claw its way into the sky. It rose slowly, both engines choking the air with exhaust. Hot oil splashed back into his face, and he tugged his goggles down to protect his eyes.
The other aeroplanes ahead of them were only black shapes against the dark sky. In the confusion of the scramble, none of them even got close or seemed to think anything of it as Fieran turned his aeroplane in a different direction, pointing its nose toward Landri.
Toward Pip.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Pip swiped at the tears running down her face.
The screams and shouts of pain had finally stopped, although she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Were they done torturing Prince Edmund? Or had he died?
