Page 86 of Stalk the Sky
The elf official handed the elven medal to Aunt Melantha, who pinned the medal on Merrik’s uniform.
Once she stepped back, Uncle Julien pinned the Escarlish medal on Merrik’s uniform. But Uncle Julien didn’t immediately step back. Instead, he pulled out a set of silver shoulder bars and a matching set of wings. When Uncle Julien spoke, he raised his voice loudly enough for those gathered to hear. “It is also my pleasure to announce that you have been promoted to First Lieutenant in the Escarlish Flying Corps.”
It was all Fieran could do to resist clapping Merrik on the back when Merrik returned to his spot in line.
Then Captain Gradrah’s voice rang over the airfield again. “First Lieutenant Fieran Laesornysh, step forward.”
Fieran worked to keep his face straight as he did as ordered. He’d had an inkling he would get a medal at this ceremony today, but it still felt surreal to hear his name called. In some ways, he didn’t feel he deserved a medal. Saving Lt. Rothilion hadn’t been so much a brave act as one of rash desperation not to lose another man on his watch.
But perhaps all medals were awarded for things that didn’t feel so much like courage in the moment. It was just doing what needed doing.
“First Lieutenant Fieran Laesornysh, during the Battle for Dar Goranth, you used your magic with great effect to eliminate much of the Mongavarian air fleet, thereby sparing many lives among your fellow pilots, the Alliance naval fleets, and in Dar Goranth. You also demonstrated great skill with your aeroplane and your magic to save the life of a fellow pilot at no small risk to yourself. For these actions above and beyond the call of duty, you have been awarded the Kostarian Stone of Duty, the Tarenhieli Silver Beech, and the Escarlish Royal Valor.”
Aunt Vriska and Aunt Melantha stepped forward. The moment was so solemn that Fieran didn’t even have to fight a smile as his aunts pinned first the Kostarian medal, then the elven medal on his uniform.
The Kostarian medal was made of steel with stone embedded into it. The stone was formed in the shape of the ancient rune for the word duty. The Tarenhieli medal was crafted of silver with the shape of a beech tree embossed on it.
Both of his aunts gave him a slight nod they hadn’t given the others before they stepped back into place.
When Uncle Julien replaced them, he met Fieran’s gaze with a hint of a smile half-hidden by his beard. He pinned the Escarlish medal, a plain brass medal featuring a stylized sword and crown, onto Fieran’s uniform.
Like with Merrik, he didn’t step back. Instead, he pulled out silver shoulder bars from his pocket. “It’s also my pleasure to announce your promotion to Captain in the Escarlish Flying Corps.”
Captain. Fieran’s ears rang as Uncle Julien added the bars to each of the shoulders of his uniform.
Fieran barely heard the rest of the ceremony nor the dismissal. He didn’t have time to give Merrik a thump on the back before he was swarmed by family. Uncle Julien, Aunt Vriska, Aunt Melantha, Sontar, Rokyd, Lucien, and Sathrah all gathered around him, shaking his hand, telling him congratulations, or thumping his back hard enough to make him stumble.
As the chaos began to break up, Uncle Julien pressed a folded set of papers into Fieran’s hand. “Your orders, Captain Laesornysh.”
Fieran didn’t have a chance to open and read the papers before Uncle Julien nodded and strolled away.
As his family dispersed, Fieran finally glanced around. All his flyboys had vanished, as had all of the elven pilots. Strange, that. He would have expected a few to stay. But even Merrik was gone.
Only Pip remained. She joined him, tapping one of the medals. “These look good.”
“Yours does too.” Fieran grinned back. “Now let’s head for the hangar. I think the flyboys are up to something. Unless you were tasked with delaying me?”
“No. Well, yes. But your family already did a good enough job of that.” Pip’s smile took on a mischievous tilt.
Fieran kept his stroll easy so that he didn’t force Pip to trot to keep up. As they stepped into the hangar, Fieran stopped short.
All the flyboys were lined up, blocking his way and his view of much of the rest of the space.
Lije stepped forward. “We’ve been thinking. Our squadron is so new that it doesn’t have a name.”
Stickyfingers waved his hand. “Every unit needs a name.”
“Not to mention, you have been sadly negligent on picking out art for your aeroplane.” Pretty Face sauntered forward a step.
“So we took it upon ourselves to pick a name and paint your aeroplane.” Murray gestured over his shoulder.
The pilots stepped apart, leaving an opening between them to reveal a canvas-covered aeroplane. Next to the aeroplane, Tiny gripped the canvas and yanked it off, revealing the artwork.
A pointed elven ear had been painted on the side of Fieran’s aeroplane. Waves of red that looked like they could be hair turned into flames at the tips. Blue bolts twined among the red hair-flames while tiny images appeared among the blue magic and red hair-flames. An upside-down aeroplane. An airship wreathed in blue magic. Two elven swords.
It was bold. A bit gaudy. And very perfect.
But more than that, Fieran finally got a glimpse of the aeroplanes beyond his. All of them had pointed, elven-style ears painted over or incorporated into whatever design had already been there. Even Pretty Face’s lounging self-portrait now sported pointed elven ears.