Page 91 of Storm to Victory
Then she flicked the reins, and the cart horse set out once again, plodding down the road toward the village they’d left far behind.
Once she was gone, leaving the three of them standing in the road, Fieran turned to Dacha. “Where to now?”
They’d had a good night of sleep and their first decent meals in several days. But while the woman had spared some of her food to provide a good supper and breakfast, she hadn’t had anything else to give them for their travels.
Dacha reached into a front pocket of the Mongavarian uniform and pulled out their much-folded and abused map.Stepping off to the side of the road, he held up the map. “We are here, I believe.”
It had been rather difficult to tell where they were going when they had been meandering through endless fields and tiny paths.
Glancing at the map, Fieran took in the miles they had to go, his stomach sinking. “At this rate, we are not going to arrive in Landri on time.”
Walking was taking too long. Even if they stole another truck, it would be difficult to arrive in time, thanks to all of the displaced Mongavarian citizens filling the roads and pouring into the towns, severely slowing any travel.
He peered closer at the map, grinned, and pointed. “There. That’s how we’ll get to Landri.”
Dacha raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
“We hijacked an airship. Hijacking an aeroplane should be far easier.” Fieran’s grin stretched wide across his face. Inside his chest, his magic burned, eager to leap to his fingertips. No pain accompanied the inner crackle of his magic, and that buoyed him still further.
His magic was healing, and he was going to fly again.
Darkness shroudedthe outskirts of the Swenson Aerodrome while only a few low red lights inside one of the hangars provided light. The other three hangars were dark, and giant holes were punched in the roof of the nearest one, steel ribbing visible. Piles of wreckage were heaped against one of the other hangars while the whole area was pockmarked with craters. Another destroyed building was still smoking.
At least the Alliance Flying Corps bombing had been rather effective here.
The fear of more bombing worked in their favor as Fieran, Dacha, and Aaruk crept through the surrounding field and dodged the various patrolling guards, whose only sources of light were shielded lanterns. If the place had been well-lit, they would’ve had a much harder time infiltrating the aerodrome.
They’d already had a hard enough time hiking across the rolling hills of Mongavaria for the past several days, avoiding the crowded roads and villages. It had been a long hike with very little food, an aching wound because he didn’t have access to an elven healer, and nothing but a bed on the ground to look forward to each evening. If Fieran had wanted to be that footsore and hungry, he would have joined the infantry.
But now, a single row of aeroplanes were parked beside the airfield, just waiting for him to steal one and finally fly once more.
Fieran darted between the aeroplanes, peering at each one. He needed to find an aircraft that had at least three seats. A fighter or scout with only one or two seats wouldn’t fit all of them.
As he went down the line, his stomach sank. At this point, he’d take an aeroplane that was even somewhat functional. While it was gratifying to see how shot up and destroyed these aeroplanes were, it was rather inconvenient for their hijacking plan.
At the end of the row, he finally located four aeroplanes with three seats. They appeared to be some kind of scout aeroplane or small bomber with two seats facing forward in a cockpit with a third to the rear manning a machine gun. They must have been new or transferred from somewhere else recently since they were in much better shape than the rest of the aeroplanes.
“I think one of these will work,” Fieran whispered and rested a hand on the side of the nearest aeroplane. “Let me check the fuel levels before we pick one.”
They wouldn’t have a chance to refuel, even if he knew how to do that. He had to make sure whatever aeroplane they picked wouldn’t just conk out on them.
Annoying fuel-burning engines. He couldn’t wait to get back to the Alliance with magic-powered engines.
He climbed into each of the aeroplanes, checking what he guessed was the fuel gauge. Two of the aeroplanes were completely full while the other two only had half tanks.
Fieran chose the aeroplane with a full tank that was farthest down the line and motioned for Dacha and Aaruk to join him. Once they’d crept to him, he whispered, “We’ll take this one.”
Dacha peered around before he knelt. “Get it. I will start the distraction.”
“I can help if you wish.” Fieran held up his hand, although he didn’t unleash his magic. “It has been nearly a week.”
“No, not yet. Rest your magic for one more night.” Dacha laid his hand on the ground. “I can handle a small distraction alone.”
He hadn’t expected anything else. Fieran motioned to Aaruk. “Take the rear seat.”
Aaruk nodded and clambered into the aeroplane, settling into the rear-facing seat. Fieran found the toe step on the side and settled into the unfamiliar pilot seat. Thankfully, the pilots had left their flight caps and goggles in the aeroplane, and Fieran tugged them on, though he left the goggles on his forehead for the moment.
He swept a glance over the gauges. They had a few not installed on Alliance aeroplanes, including the fuel gauge, and far more switches.
