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As Fieran’s aeroplane rose into the sky in Merrik’s wake, the radio crackled with Fieran’s voice. “I think you gave the ground crew a collective heart attack.”

“I could not leave you to takeoff alone.” Merrik’s aeroplane slowed as it lost the momentum from his plunge and crawled upward once again. “What happened? We saw the Wall come down.”

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. The Wall had been considered the magical wonder of the age. It seemed impossible that such a thing could simply be gone.

“The Mongavarians have some kind of magic-stealing machines.” Fieran’s voice held a grim note. “Those machines are powerful enough that they nearly drained Dacha of his magic.”

Merrik caught his breath at that, his mind whirling. Uncle Farrendel was the most powerful person in the world. No elf, troll, ogre, dwarf, or human had as much magic as he did. “How?”

“I’m not sure.” Fieran’s voice lowered, as much as it could over the radio. “They must have had a lot of those machines all along the border. I think Dacha fried them all when he turned his magic and the magic of the Wall against them. But let’s hope they don’t have any more.”

Merrik grimaced and turned his aeroplane toward the dogfight in the sky. At least now that Fieran was in the air, the beleaguered squadrons stood a chance of clearing the skies of the enemy.

The Mongavarians indeed had another one of those magic-stealing machines. They’d just mounted it underneath an airship this time, likely with the intent to take out Fieran as they’d done his dacha.

And right now, they were succeeding.

Merrik drew on his magic, letting it flow down his hands into the wooden control column and into the rest of the aeroplane’s fuselage. The huge shape of an enemy airship loomed before him, the outer skin and the machine gun muzzles glinting in the sunlight.

He turned his aeroplane and pointed its nose at the forest of wires dangling from the bottom of the Mongavarian airship, surrounding the metal box that protected the magic-stealing machine currently draining Fieran dry. Even now, a stream of Fieran’s crackling blue bolts of magic poured at that machine, and Fieran had been unable to tear his magic free.

“I will need to get closer and actually touch one of those wires.” Merrik placed his aeroplane ahead of Fieran’s, though he made sure he didn’t get caught in the crackling column of Fieran’s magic.

They needed to overwhelm the machine with the magic from several people, including Merrik, and hope none of them were drained so dry that they passed out and crashed. But since he needed physical contact to wield his magic, Merrik would have to actually touch one of the wires running back to the machine. “It might take the magic in my aeroplane’s power cell while I am at it.”

It was anyone’s guess if the wires could yank away that stored power by dragging across his aeroplane, but that was the chance Merrik had to take.

Fieran’s magic had been caught by the machine because he’d been protecting Merrik. Even now, Merrik could still feel the machine gun bullet slamming into the wooden calf of his prosthetic, hitting nearly the same spot as the bullet that had struck his flesh-and-blood calf months ago. With the path the airship’s machine gun had been tracing, the next few bullets likely would have caught Merrik from his hip up to his shoulder.

Instead, Fieran had unleashed his magic, taking out the machine gun and saving Merrik, but dooming himself if they couldn’t destroy this magic-stealing machine.

His jaw clenched, Merrik focused on the trailing wires, the machine, and that crackling power of Fieran’s magic being yanked away.

This was far too much like last time. A bullet in his leg. A choice that could kill him. And yet he was going to do it anyway without a shred of hesitation to save Fieran.

Dimly, he registered the radio chatter as Tiny unleashed his ice magic, slicing a hole in the top side of the dirigible’s outer skin. A heartbeat later, the white glow of his ice magic joined the roil of magic being drawn into that machine.

Other voices announced first human fire magic, then an incendiary bomb incoming. The airship would blow up any moment now, and it would be highly inadvisable to be underneath it when it did.

Exactly where Merrik and Fieran would be.

With a deep breath, Merrik triggered his machine gun as he plunged into the wires. The bullets did nothing against the metal barrier around the machine, but it was the only semi-defiant gesture he could make in that moment.

As the wires closed around him, scraping against the fuselage, something grabbed his magic and yanked.

He gasped, his head going instantly light at the relentless pull. How had Fieran withstood this drain for so many minutes?

The radio cut out in an abrupt silence, even as the machine gun trigger just clicked instead of firing. The propeller didn’t instantly slow, but the whine of the engine slowed to a dying hum rather than the powerful thrumming.

Above him, his green magic joined the glow surrounding the machine, his magic a mere thread compared to the torrent the machine drew from Fieran.

Merrik tilted his aeroplane’s glide slightly downward to attempt to put more space between him and the about-to-explode airship. He didn’t dare dive or make any sudden maneuvers, given his aeroplane no longer had any power.

He breathed, blinking rapidly to stave off the weariness from the drag on his magic. Was this working? He thought the tug on his magic was less strong, but it was hard to tell past the buzzing in his head.

A brilliant flash reflected off his windscreen as something exploded behind him. The pull—so relentless a heartbeat earlier—broke with a snap that left him gasping.

He’d barely dragged in his first deep breath before a second, deeper explosion ripped the world apart. Shards of metal tore through the air, ripping through Merrik’s wings even as the pressure of the explosion battered his aeroplane. He gripped the control stick, fighting the tossing, slamming air currents.