Page 70 of Stalk the Sky
Bombs exploded against her shield, her senses fraying. Her shield crumbled inward by nearly twenty feet, exposing several of the docks to the bombardment. She couldn’t hold out much longer.
If her shield failed more, the underground bunker where the cordite was stored for restocking the ships would be exposed. It should be safe, buried under stone reinforced with magic as it was, but if it exploded as so many of the ships in the battle had, it would take out a good portion of the harbor.
At least the magical power cells were stored separately. If those went off too…
Pip stilled, her mind racing. The magical power cells. Fieran might not be here, but his magic still was. Not to mention his sisters’ and dacha’s magic.
“Baragh, I need you to fetch the magical power cells.” Pip braced herself as another three rounds slammed into her shield. It buckled another few feet. “Send someone down to the shipyard and fetch the ones there too. Press them against the shield and open them up. The magic of the ancient kings will reinforce my shield.”
Baragh hesitated. “The ships will need those power cells after the battle. Without power, the fleet will be crippled.”
“And if we don’t do this, there won’t be a harbor to come back to.” Pip cried out as another bomb struck her shield. “Besides, we have a Laesornysh here. Between the two of us, I’m sure we can rig something up to refill whatever power cells we drain now.”
“Right.” Baragh spun on his heel and raced back toward the hangar.
More explosions pummeled her shield. Pip blinked, finding herself on her knees. Around her, the dwarves stepped up their pounding rhythm, but their magic was slackening. It wasn’t meant to be used like this, as a shield of pure magic.
That second airship reached them, the large door in the bottom opening up.
Pip drew in a deep breath and gathered the dregs of her magic. She would hold this shield or die trying.
A stream of large, cylindrical objects poured from the airship overhead, hurtling toward Pip’s head. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the explosions, the shattering of her shield, then the death that would follow.
A familiar crackle filled her senses even as that same power flooded over her magic.
Pip peeled her eyes open as a wash of blue bolts crackled over her shield, starting from the far side just behind the hangar. When she glanced in that direction, all the elven and human mechanics had magical power cells in their hands as they quickly touched the wires to her shield and turned the knob to let the power flow.
The bombs thundered against her shield. A few deflected, but the rest exploded with such force that even with the magic of the ancient kings threaded through her magic, the force still pummeled her chest and pounded painfully in her head.
More power burst across her shield, even stronger than the amounts contained in the power cells used in the aeroplanes. At the edge of her shield below, several trolls hefted the larger magical power cells that fueled the battleships, pressing the wires against her shield as the magic poured out. Baragh must have used the telephone to call to someone below for them to respond so quickly.
Pip remained on her knees near the edge of the cliff as she drew in a deep breath. A different kind of burn filled her chest as she struggled to hold her shield while it conducted so much of the magic of the ancient kings. She was used to Fieran’s magic—it felt like him, somehow—but this magic wasn’t all his. Some of it felt pretty similar, while one thread of it thrummed over her shield with even more, almost incomprehensible power.
Beside her, the dwarves stopped chanting, yanking their magic back. Or what was left of it. It seemed their magic had been mostly burned away by the magic of the ancient kings.
More bombs fell. Shells shrieked. But none of them so much as shuddered through her shield, much less shattered it.
Through the smoke, another two airships glided at full speed, heading for the harbor. But these had the green, gray, and red circles of the Alliance painted on their sides. They opened fire as soon as they were in range, pummeling the enemy airships.
With a whump, one of the enemy airships exploded, flaming debris raining down to be consumed against her shield.
Before the harbor, an Alliance battleship and battlecruiser closed on the Mongavarian ships. Plumes of black smoke speared the sky as the Mongavarian ships steamed away, even as the Alliance ships opened fire.
Pip sank back to sit on the grass with a sigh. She couldn’t release her shield just yet, but this battle seemed to be nearly over.
Fieran’s magic burned through his veins, his sight blurred blue. As he righted his aeroplane out of a spin, he had to blink away a wave of lightheadedness, followed by the dull ache of exhaustion pressing at his eyes.
Still, when he reached for his magic, there was still more of it crackling deep in his chest. Ever more. He’d yet to find the end. Only the end of his stamina and his magical reach, it would seem.
As his magic consumed another enemy airship, sending it plunging toward the ocean far below, he glanced around.
Acrid smoke and the heavy cloud bank still choked the sky, limiting visibility. Yet the only airships he could see belonged to the Alliance.
“Anyone see any enemies left?” Fieran peered around as he weaved his aeroplane between the airships. Based on his rough count, they hadn’t shot down all of the enemy airships, though they’d pretty much wiped out the aeroplanes.
“No.”
“Nope.”